Chapter Six
M y bike is my one guilty pleasure on this planet.
I love feeling the wind blowing through me, around me, calling to my magick. It is the kind of sensation that makes you want to breathe deeply and just exist in that peace.
But let’s be real, even a magickal would get a sore ass after 13 hours on a bike. Even if I did stop for fuel and to stretch my legs. Besides, that snack is starting to wear off and I won’t be able to sneak up on anything with the sounds my stomach is making.
Thankfully, since I have been in this general area before, I know that there is a nature preserve ahead where I can rest for the night.
BLERGHAREMERNAMERELEG …
And eat.
Eating is clearly very important.
Monster hunters shouldn’t have stomachs that sound like those old human music boxes when the battery was giving out. It’s embarrassing. Really cuts down on the macho points, you know? Besides, any monster I’m hunting would hear me coming from a mile away. They would probably laugh at me too. Laugh and then eat me.
I’m not in the mood to be laughed at... or eaten.
Pulling into the parking lot of the nature preserve, I find a spot that is well-hidden by the trees and brush to stow my bike for the night. It’s spring, but it’s still chilly enough that I won’t have to worry about the warmer weather crowds. However, since camping here isn’t exactly permitted, I want to make sure my bike will go relatively unnoticed by any patrolling rangers.
Once my bike is secure–and magicked to be a bit more unnoticeable–I pull my cell phone out of my pack. I still have service this close to the road, but I know I will lose it once I get farther into the woods, so I had planned to just shut it off and conserve battery for tomorrow. I only carry the damn thing since I do have some magickal contacts that would reach out from time to time for a contract to handle creatures the human world would label as “monsters,” when they got to be too much for the local village to handle.
Before I can shut off the device, it vibrates to signal a new email. I don’t hesitate to open and read it right away…
I’m used to his brashness and backhanded condescension. I roll my eyes and quickly type out a reply.
With that done, I power down the device and shove it in my back pocket. I strap my pack on and take a deep breath. Yep, I could totally pass for a hiker… if you ignored my naturally broody aura, and the various weapons strapped to my body.
Yup, totally a hiker.
Oh, whatever.
I pick a direction at random and set my pace. I know I want to head in about five miles to hopefully avoid any actual hikers for the evening. I’m not worried about finding my way back to my bike, as that is one of the only three things I had ever bothered to etch a tethering rune into. The other two objects were the dual-wielding swords, currently strapped to my back. Granted, the swords have many other runes as well.
Yes, I am fully aware that not many magickals use runes anymore. They are thought of as an “old” practice. But I had learned that etched runes in metal were much more difficult to disrupt and virtually never needed replenishing. Rune etching takes a lot of channeling magick during the entire span of the etch. You were basically infusing some of your magick into the carving. Most magickals aren’t strong enough to sustain that type of feed.
Good thing I’m not like most magickals.
Half-breeds are virtually unheard of. The magickal factions don’t get along well, so it isn’t hard to wonder why. That and the fact that only extremely powerful members of the factions have the genetic capability to crossbreed. Then you factor in that those magickals usually paired with those equally powerful, and kept their genetic line full of true bloods.
So yeah, half-breeds are rare.
As in, I’m the only one I have ever met.
Luckily, I got most of my disarmingly good looks from my father, and merfolk look just like witches when they are on land. If I had even looked a little like my demon mother, then most of the villages I have visited would have attacked me immediately.
I just wish that hate wasn’t so misguided.
Once I reach the five-mile mark, I find a small creek close by. Deciding this would be as good of a spot as any, I set up a small ward that stretches just beside the creek bed. I’m not amazing at wards, but it would do for the night. Just enough to push any wandering eyes in another direction, and away from my hasty campsite.
I walk over to a large log and drop my pack beside it. Remembering at the last second that my phone is in my back pants pocket, I pull it out right before my ass hits the wood. I just need to get the phone stashed away and pull out the things I need for dinner. Except I’ve no sooner opened the top of the pack when I’m smacked in the face with a large pair of wings.
“What the Fu—!”
My arms flail outwards and I fall off the backside of the log with a thump. Not my finest moment.
The wings take that as their cue to separate from my face, but flitter close enough that I can see the beautiful dragonfly, in all its panicked glory. Wait. Since when did dragonflies come in jumbo bright blue varieties? Then I notice that it’s flapping its wings so quickly, I’m a little worried it might give itself a heart attack.
Was that even possible for a dragonfly?
“Alright, alright, settle down there little one.” I try for my most soothing voice, but I’m a hunter and I can only sound so gentle before it comes off as fake.
And that is one thing I try to never let myself be perceived as. Fake.
The tiny creature must have understood me though, because it began to slow its wing beats and move more calmly to a bush close to the log I was still sprawled across. What was it doing in my pack? It must have snuck in there when I stopped for a snack earlier. Well, at least this is a good, safe place for it to roam now. Even if this isn’t its original home.
Grumbling at my foolish reaction, I heave myself up to get a better look at my new friend. I plop down on the log again and look it over. It’s slightly larger than an average dragonfly and has the most beautiful wings I have ever seen. They are a deep sapphire blue that stretches out into a vibrant turquoise around the edges. That’s kinda strange–
BLURPERMAGREMPLERWUG …
Ok, I clearly have to eat something because these sounds are ridiculous. And why do I feel like I haven’t eaten for weeks? I pull out a small pot and decide soup is probably the best choice right now. While my supplies aren’t limitless, soup would be easy enough to manage and fairly quick.
“Well little creature, I have things to do, so you can just wander around your new home.” I sigh and chuckle at the thought that I just spoke to a dragonfly.
Then again, I’ve done weirder things.
I get up and make my way to the creek with the pot and my water bottle in hand. I fill the bottle to the brim, knowing I will need to refill it and my two reserves before leaving tomorrow. I grab a few larger stones laying close by and stuff them into my pocket. Once the pot has the right amount of water, I make my way back to the log.
The rocks will serve as a barrier for the little flame I’ll conjure for cooking. I set them up in a ring just slightly smaller than the little pot itself. Next, I open my water bottle and stick a finger inside, as well as a finger inside the pot of water. Closing my eyes and breathing deeply, I push out the words on a small breeze…
Scatere
The breeze splits in two, and swirls around both the pot and bottle, before quickly disappearing into the water itself. Making water drinkable is a half-breed ability that I’m incredibly grateful for. Merfolk don’t need to sterilize any water before drinking it, as their bodies naturally filter the impurities. I’m not that lucky, but I do have this nifty trick I can rely on.
I set a few dry twigs down in the center of the stone, then snap my fingers and direct my magick towards the friction I created, and down towards the ground.
Ignire Parvam Ignem
In the center of the twigs a nice little flame blooms to life. I reach into my bag and pull out a small foldable cooking rack and set it over the makeshift campfire. Setting the pot on top, I begin to pull out some of the pouches of dried ingredients I have left in my pack. Tossing in a few tablespoons of dried tomato, a teaspoon of salt, a pinch of pepper, a handful of the dried minced veggies I have left, and a few chunks of dried fish.
Leaving that to cook for a little, I venture around and look for anything I can add to the soup and help the flavor along. While I’m not a witch—who are born with the ability to identify all plants and their uses—I am a culinary nerd and do enjoy cooking. The pickings are slim, but I manage to score a few little sprigs of French Tarragon.
After several minutes of simmering, I notice the soup is smelling great. It is plenty hot and all of the dried ingredients have absorbed the water nicely, so I toss in the tarragon and pull the pot off the fire. Sucking in a little breath, I pull the oxygen away from the flame, extinguishing it quickly. I toss a few splashes from my water onto the twigs just for good measure.
Fire can be a hungry beast. I would rather be overly protective than cause any harm.
I did manage to find my last piece of crusty bread while I was digging in my pack for my spoon, and I let the bread soak up some of the juice before taking a bite. I smile to myself as the taste from that first bite dances in my mouth.
Damn , I’m good.
I make quick work of the remaining bread and soup, before cleaning up the tools I used for my meal.
With a full belly and the exhaustion of a long day, I’ve just barely settled down beside the log, when a yawn takes me. It’s pretty-well completely dark now, but I have fantastic vision at night.
Thank you demon blood.
That doesn’t stop my heavy lids from closing, or the sleep that quickly pulls me under. If only it would last longer than five measly minutes.
GET UP
I jump up in immediate response to the commanding voice still ringing in my head.
Well, that’s not irritating at all.
Now that I’m completely awake and alert, thanks to the loud insistent voice that just broadcasts through my head, adrenaline begins taking over my bloodstream. I almost feel like I’m panicking. While the voice didn’t sound menacing, it certainly had an air of urgency to it.
Like something was coming.
Not one to take a warning lightly, I quickly grab my pack and dissolve the ward. I barely have time to register the fact that my little dragonfly friend is working its way back into my pack, before the deep urge to run begins to pull at me.
My feet set off in a direction before my brain has a chance to register that we are moving. I hop over the creek and take off as fast as my legs can carry me. The cooler air whips past me as I make my way deeper into the forest. I’m not sure where I’m heading, but thankfully my body seems to know where to go. I only know I have to get there quickly.
I’m hit with a heavy tug below my rib cage that teeters on pain.
Faster. I have to go faster. I’m not sure how I know, but this feeling won’t get better until I get where I need to be.
I run for what feels like hours before I pass through an area much deeper in the forest than most hikers would travel, and instantly feel the tingle of a ward that has recently dissolved.
Why the hell was there a ward all the way out in the middle of nowhere?
Too bad my body isn’t ready to let me slow down and investigate.
Further, I push on until suddenly, my brain finally catches up with me and I remember the creature I’m hunting. It all makes sense. The Creatori must have had a ward around it while it was in hibernation. That makes perfect sense, although I’m not sure who would set a ward for that. I keep my pace quick but smooth out my footfalls as I continue to work my way forward.
If I’m being pulled to the Creatori, I need some stealth on my side.
After another half hour of running, more weird shit starts happening. It’s like my sense of smell and sound go into complete overdrive. Then everything gets so bright I have to slow down my pace. I have trained for long-distance running, and have had to navigate much harder terrain when hunting monsters in the past, but with the lack of sleep, I can feel the exhaustion creeping in fast.
I’m panting heavily, trying to even out my breaths, when I notice this little shack not too far in front of me. There are some lights coming from inside, but I don’t feel any malicious magick coming from that direction. The insistent pull continues, and heads right to the building in front of me.
It can’t be the creature pulling me. There is no way it would fit inside without causing serious destruction.
I reach out weakly and again feel nothing malicious. Maybe I could rest a little inside before I continue my hunt.
Yeah, just a little rest.
However, the exhaustion must be too much because when I’m a mere few feet away from the door, I crumble onto the forest floor with an audible thunk !
The door to the shack cracks open and a large strange bird looks out at me before quickly slamming the door shut again.
Wait… a bird? What the fuck?
I mean it’s still really rude. If it can open a door it could at least offer to help a guy out. Right?
No, no. I’m fine, really. I prefer to lay here in the dirt.
On my face.
Ugghhh…
Thanks, Asshole.