Chapter 1 Hector #2
“Oh, really?” I asked, genuinely interested.
Whenever I woke from my spelled periods of sleep, I never had a headache.
Perhaps I had done something wrong or traced the rune on the Hunter’s forehead incorrectly.
“You did drink a lot last night. Maybe lay off the vodka Red Bulls next time, yeah? Might even help with your… erectile dysfunction.”
The Witch Hunter focused on me, his eyes gazing down at the book in my hands, before finally resting on his bag propped against my leg. It was still open, giving the perfect view of everything I’d squirrelled away to steal.
“Are you looking through my things, Hector?”
Hearing my name on his lips sent a jolt of discomfort across my soul, before I remembered I’d given it to him.
In fact, I gave it to all of the Hunters when I met them these days.
Part of me hoped that they’d recognise it, making my mission of locating Arwyn a little more exciting.
But at the very least, those I’d allowed to leave that rave alive would maybe report it to Arwyn or his father, and they would know that I was coming for them.
That Hector Briar, the angel of vengeance and death, was creeping closer and would find them soon.
I didn’t break eye contact with the Hunter as I replied. “Actually, I’m stealing them from you. Consider it payment.”
“For what?” He gasped like a fish, clicking his jaw as if it was going to fall off. “What’s going on?”
“Payment for the shit fuck,” I said, “and the disappointing hosting skills. I’d give you some tips as to what to do for the next unfortunate soul who steps into your home, but then again it would be a waste of my time since there won’t be a next time.”
The Witch Hunter bristled, clumsy hands trying to reach out for me but failing. His movements were sluggish and pathetic as if my spell was still clinging onto his body even after letting go of his mind. “What… what have you done to me?” he mumbled.
Ah, so he figured out something was amiss. Good. Although I’d be lying to say that I wasn’t a little disappointed in this change of events. I would’ve preferred a little bit of a fight with what was to come. Then again, we don’t always get what we want, do we?
“Just a little sleeping spell. Although you’d have to forgive me for any or all side effects you might experience.
This old magic thing is all new to me.” I took my time and slipped the journal into the backpack, all whilst the Hunter studied me.
My intuition told me that he was partly frightened, and also partly dangerous—if only he had full use of his body.
The couple of times he tried to get out of bed, his knees gave way until he flopped down again.
“Wit—witch!” he accused, narrowed eyes as metaphorical as a pointed finger.
“Surprise,” I sang with a smile across my lips.
“Oh, and I read your journal.” I paced slowly towards the bed, coming to stop when I towered above him.
“I see you enjoy keeping tabs on all the innocent people you murder. When you mark your pen across the page, reducing the lives of witches to nothing but a barely neat scribble, does it feed your ego? Stroke it and make you feel mighty and powerful?”
His tired brown eyes widened a fraction, his pale lips fumbling for something to say.
“A lesson for you, Hunter. This is power… I am power.” A darkness rippled through my insides, sparking a pleasure in my groin.
On my knees, I clambered onto the bed until my body forced his to flatten beneath me.
I enjoyed his attempts to hit me, but his fists felt like soft kisses against the hard of my stomach and chest.
“Get off me. Demon—monster.”
“Ah, ah, ah. It was only hours ago you begged me to ride you, and now you want me to get off? Fickle and pathetic. No, you will look in my eyes until you understand exactly the type of demon you’re looking at.”
“Who… are you?”
“I’ve already told you that,” I replied, cocking my head to the side, almost surprised when his eyes glistened with defeated tears. “Aw, don’t cry, darling. I promise it won’t hurt too much.”
His lip curled into a snarl, but the sound that came out was nothing more than a whimper. “Fuck—you.”
“You already tried that, and it was nothing monumental.” I closed my eyes for a moment, opening myself up to my magic.
The darkness stirred inside of me, once unnamed but now something I was far too familiar with.
When I opened my eyes again, I knew they were glowing with a band of silver.
Air-witch, and a powerful one at that. The light of my innate magic glowed across his skin, and in the reflection of his wide fear-filled eyes.
I wanted this man to look into my soul as he died so he knew that the demons he hunted had finally caught up to him.
“I’m going to ask you a question, and depending on the answer you give, I might let you live until morning. Am I clear?”
He didn’t reply, so I took his silence as an agreement.
Muscles flexed in his jaw, teeth grinding together, feigning confidence when in actuality, his body was trembling beneath me like a leaf caught in a maelstrom.
“Where are Tomin and Arwyn Hopkin hiding?”
I’d asked this question close to twenty times in the past week alone. No matter who I asked, the answer was always the same. I almost didn’t bother this time around, but there was no harm in trying.
Since the Witch Trails ended and named its victor as Arwyn Mor—Hopkin, there had been no word from him.
In fact, it had become difficult to find Witch Hunters.
It was like they’d all just disappeared.
Any murders that once pointed at the death of a witch had become few and far between.
Over one night, it was like Witch Hunters no longer existed.
Up until a week ago when they began to flood back into society, picking up where they left off.
I wanted to know where they’d gone, and why. Needed to know. But every Hunter I had the displeasure of stalking since had given me little to no information. Why would this one be any different?
I waited patiently for my prey to answer me.
After all, I was in no rush. He screwed his lips up, as if physically stopping himself from answering the question.
But I was wrong because the entire time he was gathering spit.
In a blink, he hurled a mouthful of saliva up at me.
It splashed against my chin. I left it to dribble and run down my neck and into the collar of my shirt, showing him how little I cared.
“Is that all you’ve got?”
He snarled. “You’ll burn in hell, witch.”
I leaned down until my lips were so close to his that when his skin prickled I could practically taste his revulsion. “One more chance to answer me, Hunter. Tell me where they are hiding, and I’ll even consider letting you live.”
He turned his head to the side, screwing up his face into a grimace. His lips clenched shut so tight that they practically disappeared into his pale face. If that wasn’t refusal enough, I didn’t know what was.
“Nothing more to say?”
The Hunter stayed silent.
I rocked backwards, pushing off him and getting back to standing over the bed.
“You’d actually die willingly when I’ve given you the chance to live?
And all you need to do is give me the information I need.
” I couldn’t help the harsh laugh that erupted from me.
“Do you really care so much for people who are using the very demon that you and your kind have spent generations hunting us for?”
Something in what I’d said snapped the Hunter out of his stupor of refusal. He rocked up to sitting, face flashing with rage. I almost didn’t notice that he’d pulled something from beneath his pillow until the blade he retrieved was flashing towards my chest.
Not any blade… a Hunter’s athame.
I flicked my hand towards it in greeting, eyes flashing with undiluted silver.
My Gift flooded out of me, catching the handle in the grip of unseen fingers before flinging it away.
The force of my telekinesis was so powerful that the athame whipped through the air before embedding into the wall two inches deep—just as many inches as the Hunter was inside of me hours ago.
“Now, that wasn’t very nice, was it?” My heart beat steady, the same rhythm as before he’d tried to kill me. “Is that how you treat all the poor unfortunate souls that get to share a bed with you?”
My Disney reference was wasted on this tasteless man as he spat hellfire threats at me.
“You can kill me today, and you will still die tomorrow. There’s no hiding from your fate anymore, witch.
We are coming to get you… you can run and hide in the shadows and our master will drag you back into the light kicking and screaming.
Kill me, and it changes nothing. Kill me, and you will follow soon enough.
” He looked at me with a mask stretched into a feral grin, lips dripping with spit and eyes so wide it was a miracle they didn’t pop out of his skull.
“We will drag every one of you demons into the light and burn you for the world to see. There won’t be a secret left, not when the world finds out about you.
And they will… they will all know soon enough. And you will not be able to stop them.”
The symbol for fire—a triangle pointing north—filled my mind. Before the frantic man could finish his boring speech I reached forwards, old magic burning hot beneath my skin.
I laid a simple finger upon his forehead and released. “Would you shut the fuck up.”
Upon impact, the Hunter erupted in ruby-red flames. It took but a second for his entire body to catch until he was a figure bathed in tongues of fire that raged and burned, fuelled by my very own hate.
“Only one of us will burn tonight,” I shouted over his screams.
Smoke billowed up to the ceiling, thick and black.
Before the flames could spread from the bed to the floor, I snatched my goodie bag of stolen goods from the floor and made a move for the door.
Charred flesh hit at the back of my throat, the sweet scent of melted hair and boiled blood clinging to my nose with each inhale.
“You really should’ve just answered my first question,” I called back to the burning corpse as I grabbed the door handle and opened it.
As I stepped out into the corridor beyond, the building exploded with the delayed call of a fire alarm.
Sprinklers were set off, bathing everything in water to put out the fire.
It was pointless, because as soon as I severed the symbol for fire from my mind’s eye, the husk of crispy flesh ceased burning.
The Witch Hunter was right; I was a monster. However, I didn’t wish for the entire block of flats to burn because of one pathetic excuse for a man.
Was I proud of myself for my actions? No, not really.
I would’ve preferred to live a life where revenge and hate were not my strongest personality traits.
But was the demonic shard of power embedded into my soul proud?
From the way it swelled inside of me like a wave wanting to devour me, the answer was yes.
It fed off my dark acts, and it encouraged me to continue leaving destruction in my wake.
And I would continue to feed it until my life’s purpose was complete.
Destroying Arwyn was only the first step. My real enemy was the monster using his skin as a puppet.
Bahmet. The Maker of Deals. The Agent of Chaos. Prince of Darkness. Lord of the Pit.
I fixated on the real demon as I exited the block of flats, followed by a flood of humans who evacuated the building thanks to the alarm and sprinkler system.
Before they suspected that I was the cause, I slipped into the shadows outside, clutching the spoils in my arms, wanting nothing more than for this game of pain and torture to end.
It was moments like this when the loss of Caym—my familiar and closest thing to family—overwhelmed me. My grief was buried beneath my need for revenge, so I rarely thought of him. But when I did, it made doing anything else a chore.
Slumped against the wall of an alleyway, clutching my prizes like a dragon would with gold, I watched my chaos unfold.
And I wouldn’t leave the scene of my crime until I saw them.
Soon enough, members of the Coven arrived, ready to clean up the mess I’d left in my wake.
Satisfied, and before the Coven caught my scent, I disappeared.
No point being caught by them now… considering I wasn’t only the Witch Hunters’ number one most wanted.
I also wore that crown for my people too.
Apparently, not everyone was happy I had killed their acting Grand High, Jonathan Bailey, even if he was a Witch Hunter sympathiser.