Wicked Hunt Read online

  “Where is she?” Terrance screamed in the witch’s face, losing his temper. He had held her prisoner for a full day now, and she had done nothing but toy with him. He hated witches.

  “Mother is everywhere. She is life and death. Light and dark,” the woman spoke in a sing song voice. “You cannot find her. When she wants you, she will come for you and never before.”

  “She’s already come for me once before.” Closing his fist, he looked down at his dark brown skin. Scars everywhere. He couldn’t see them. When he had been rescued, he was taken to a supernatural doctor who was able to hide the scars from human eyes. But he could feel them hot and waxy over his skin, and they… they could see them. For anyone more than simply human, his scars showed up like bright warning lights of what he had once been, completely covering his chest and back and writhing their way up his neck all the way to his chin.

  Terrance smashed his fist against the warm concrete under him until fresh blood appeared across his knuckles. They had turned him into a monster, and a monster he would be.

  He couldn’t hate all supernatural beings – a vampire had saved his life after all – but witches, no one could stifle his hatred for them. They had kidnapped him, tortured and abused him, ruined him.

  More than a year ago, he had been rescued and his life spared. Since then, he had been using his supernatural connections to track down witches, all the while looking for her… their leader. The one who had picked him from the crowds of humans and chose him to die.

  To her, he was easy prey, and while he didn’t know why she had selected him in particular, he knew that she had made the wrong choice, and when he finally found her, he would let her know just how bad of a mistake she had made.

  “You’re not strong enough to defeat her.” The witch eyed him beadily, gauging his reaction to the news.

  “It doesn’t matter, live or die, as long as I take her down in the process, I can heal.” He clenched his fists, and the fresh blood flowed down to his wrists.

  “Killing her won’t heal those scars,” she cackled. “Killing a hundred witches won’t heal them. Dark magic has touched you; nothing can heal that.”

  Terrance pulled a dark pewter blade from his belt, and the symbols carved into it glinted in the light.

  The witch wasn’t cackling now.

  “You know what this blade is?” He nodded, slowly running it across the air in front of her face.

  “Killing me won’t heal you,” she whispered, and finally he saw the sweet fear he had been looking for.

  “It’ll make me feel better though.” He shrugged.

  “I really don’t know where she is,” the witch insisted. “She’s like smoke, impossible to grab hold of. She appears to us when she wants us, and once she’s given us her orders or collected what she needs from us, she’s gone.”

  “Take a guess,” he insisted, dragging the knife along her cheek for good measure. Black blood oozed along the wound. “If you had to guess where she was, because a mad man was holding you hostage and was going to kill you any second if you didn’t give him what he wanted, where would you guess that she is.”

  “New Orleans.” She nodded, her bloodshot eyes looking into his for sympathy. “Powerful witches are gathering in New Orleans for Samhain.”

  “Beautiful.” He smiled for the first time in weeks. “See, that wasn’t so bad.”

  “You’ll let me go now? You’ll spare my life?” She dared to look at him with hope in her eyes.

  “Would you have let me go? Would you have spared my life?” He whispered the question, his knife dragging along her collarbone.

  She didn’t have to answer. Her eyes gave away the answer before her lips stood a chance.

  “I didn’t think so.” He pushed the knife into the hollow of her throat and watched her bleed out, unable to feel sympathy for taking her life.

  He was unable to feel anything anymore.

  ~

  Blair of the Seven Sisters was not one to be trifled with. She was a natural born witch with a hard to read attitude and a mean right hook.

  The man sitting next to her in first class, however, seemed to have absolutely no idea who he was messing with.

  Nearly old enough to be her grandfather, the fool had sloppily been flirting with her since she had sat down next to him. He had clearly had too much to drink, and while he started out annoying yet harmless, he was quickly making his way onto her hex list.

  “You still haven’t told me where you’re staying in New Orleans.” He waggled a wrinkled finger at her, his Louisiana accent coming out stronger and stronger with every drink.

  “I won’t be telling you where I’m staying. I can hardly wait to get off this flight with you, so there’s no way in hell I want to see you off of this bird.” She smiled brightly at him, her dark brown eyes twinkling.

  For a moment, he simply blinked at her, her viper’s words but sweet smile not quite computing to his pickled conscience. Finally, he must have decided she was joking with him because he started up a rousing chorus of laughter and offered, for the third time, to buy her a drink.

  “Ma’am, are you sure you’re all right?” the female flight attendant asked her, once again coming to deliver a drink for him and seeming a bit worried for her. Blair knew if she asked them to, they would move her seat and put her somewhere quieter, but that wasn’t her style. She wasn’t the kind of girl to move her seat because some asshole was bothering her.

  “Yep. I’ll be fine.” She winked at the flight attendant, and she meant it. Blair didn’t often use her magic on annoying humans. It was sort of like taking a rocket launcher to a mosquito, but this guy was well on his way to getting blasted.

  The flight attendant shrugged and walked off, and Grandpa Touchy next to her took a swig of dark liquid and started humming the tune to a song she didn’t know.

  Whatever, she thought. He could sing all day as long as he didn’t bother her.

  Time passed, and Blair slowly drifted off to sleep, thinking about what New Orleans would be like. One of the seven sisters always attended the Samhain ball, and this year, for the first time, it was her turn. She didn’t really know what to expect from it, but her sisters had assured her it would be a party she would never forget, so she was ready to rock this thing.

  Maybe she could meet a man there. She felt herself smiling in her light sleep. A mysterious warlock or a vampire pretty boy… images of glowing eyes and broad shoulders swam into her mind.

  It had been a while since someone had gotten her heartbeat up, and she missed the excitement of it all. When they went to dinner, would he lean in close so she could smell his cologne? Would he flash his fangs every time he smiled at her? Would his hand slowly make its way up her thigh? She could almost feel the soft pressure of his hand on her now, gliding its way up.

  Blair’s eyes shot open, and a growl slid through her teeth. There on her leg was an old man’s wrinkly hand.

  He gave her a sheepish grin like a school boy caught in the cookie jar, and it only stoked her rage.

  Her eyes rolled back in her head as she called upon the strength of the mother and her sisters. Within seconds, she heard the old man give a sharp cry and run from his seat.

  Smiling, she watched him barely make it into the bathroom in time. For the next three hours of their flight, Mr. Grabby-Hands would be spending his time in the plane bathroom with explosive diarrhea.

  “I told you not to trifle with me darling,” she murmured with a smile as she picked up his whiskey glass and drained the last of it.

  ~

  New Orleans was a beautiful city full of old world charm, and under different circumstances, Terrance knew he would have liked to explore it. However, the only thing he would be doing on this trip was figuring out where this cong
regation of witches would be and how he could manage to kill them.

  His plan was simple. Humans couldn’t see his scars. To them, he was just another man milling about on the streets. To super natural creatures however, his scars were as protruding as a second head, and they couldn’t help the involuntary moment of shock that passed across their faces at seeing him.

  All he had to do was wait for someone to have that reaction to him and then question them. If they didn’t give him the answers he wanted, he would take steps from there. So far, he hadn’t met a creature that he couldn’t handle on his own, but he knew if he came across something as powerful as a demon, he probably wouldn’t stand a chance. He would cross that bridge when he came to it, though, and wasn’t going to worry about it now.

  The sun shone heavily down on him, something that he used to love. The soft warmth on his skin… now, the sun burned and hissed over his scars and made them feel like they were boiling. Touching his skin when it was on fire like this only gave him more agony, so instead, he sat completely still, just dealing with the pain.

  Women smiled at him as they walked past and then immediately quickened their pace to get away. He knew he was a handsome man, but when he was in this much pain, all he could manage to do was grimace at them and scare them off. In another lifetime, he had dreamt of a wife and children, their smiling faces as he piled them all into a car and took them camping, and hiking, and ice cream birthdays.

  Those dreams were gone now and replaced only by anger and hate. A heavy stone sat in the middle of his chest and burned worse than his scars.

  From a block away, a woman caught his eye. She was dressed normally, just tanned boots, an oversized sweater and jeans, but the way she walked, the way she prowled through the crowds, made him unable to take his eyes off of her. Just from her aura, he knew that she wasn’t human, and because of the bright sunlight, she couldn’t be a vampire. This gave her an excellent chance of being a witch.

  His eyes didn’t leave her figure. She moved slowly and powerfully, and people seemed to move out of her way unconsciously, in a way that said that they themselves didn’t even realize they were doing it. She didn’t look evil like the witches that had captured him. In fact, she looked almost the opposite. Those women looked like front singers for goth rock bands; this woman looked like she was on her way to pick up a pumpkin spice latte and head to Pottery Barn.

  Looks could be deceiving, he reminded himself and shook his head. Her being bright and beautiful didn’t mean she couldn’t be a demon in disguise. Think about all the sirens that lured men to their deaths. Now you know they were real the whole time. Beautiful, murdering creatures.

  Her brown hair shined in the sun, drinking it in like a cold mimosa on a summer morning. She was intoxicating, and he began to hate her for it. Evil things shouldn’t be so beautiful.

  “Whoa.” She stopped in her tracks before she passed him and, instead, adjusted her walk to approach to him. “Who the hell carved you up?”

  Terrance gave her the most menacing face he could conjure and damn near growled at her, but she seemed unphased.

  “I eat hell hounds for breakfast. You’re not gonna scare me, human,” the woman replied. And while her words bit, she wore a smile on her face. She wasn’t bragging; she was simply letting him know who he was fucking with.

  “One of your people. You’re a witch aren’t you?” he sneered.

  “Smart, handsome, and covered in wicked scars? What a man.” She sat down in the seat next to him.

  He wanted her to fear him like the other witches had, but something in her demeanor told him that no matter what he did, this woman had no fear.

  “Why aren’t you afraid of me like the others?” Terrance asked, unable to help himself.

  “What’s to fear?” She shrugged. “Dark magic did that to you, and I am a creature of light. Your fight is not with me. Besides, my family roots are deep in magic and go back to a time that humans cannot recollect. You could try to harm me, but it wouldn’t go well for you, so why not talk to me instead?”

  “Because I’m full of hate, and all I can think of from the moment I wake up until the moment I fall asleep is killing witches and finding the leader of the cult who did this to me,” he snapped at her, his fists clenched in pure fury. But she didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. He may as well have been giving her a weather report.

  “Well, I can only see your neck, but if those markings are what I think they are, you can forget ever meeting their leader.” She began loosely braiding her hair, and he was absolutely awestruck at how easily she was giving him information.

  “How do you know that?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at her, still not certain he could trust her.

  “She’s my mother’s twin. One of light and one of darkness, the oracle said. One of life and one of death. When she was a young witch, she began plans to destroy the earth and every year grew stronger. Before she could reach the height of her power, my family banded together to banish her. Now, she’s in a place that no one can ever find her, not even a human full of smoldering anger.” She smiled that same bright smile at him, and he hated her for it.

  “I should kill your family then for bringing her into this world,” he growled lowly, feeling the blade in his pocket.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. That’s the wrong answer. See, I was going to invite you to coffee and try and talk to you some more, but now you’ll have to sit here and think about what you’ve done.” She stood up abruptly and, when he attempted to follow her, realized he couldn’t move.

  “Like I said, don’t move a muscle!” She hit him with the brilliant sunshine smile one last time. “Try not to growl at anyone, and think hard about what it is you’re really trying to do, angry man.”

  Terrance watched her walk away down the brightly colored street. He quite literally could not look away, and he waited for the fury to rise up in him – for his scars to burn and that ball of hate to writhe – but he couldn’t get the image of that smile out of his mind, and somehow it almost felt as though the memory of it caused his hate to lighten.

  ~

  Blair was worried about the angry stranger, but she didn’t have time for that messy ball of wax. If he wasn’t so into murder, they could have had a sweet ending tonight. But sadly, she needed her life and didn’t want to give it up just for a nice romp in the sack.

  Besides, she should probably get checked in to her hotel and see which other representatives were here from what covens. She couldn’t wait to hear about all of the drama and gossip and to catch up with old friends.

  The hotel was old and beautiful and classically New Orleans, and Blair was thankful it had been the one chosen. All of New Orleans felt like magic, but this place was special. She almost felt more powerful just for being in it.

  She had brought three dresses for the ball because she couldn’t decide which to choose, but after seeing the beauty of the hotel, her mind was made up. She pulled out a petal pink dress made of all lace and laid it across her bed. After a few drinks at the hotel bar and hopefully seeing some friends, she would get dressed up for the main event that night.

  Looking at herself in the massive brass mirror her room held, she felt tired and a little over worn. She was aging now, her body changing from her twenties to her thirties, and while aging had been kind to her as it was to all witches, she still noticed the difference.

  It dented her confidence in a way she was uncomfortable with. She loved herself, but something about the wrinkles on her forehead made her own mortality that much heavier on her mind.

  “Fuck it.” She swiped her hand across the mirror and it changed from a reflective surface to a solid wall of gold sparkles. “That’s better.”

  She could save all of those horrible thoughts for the times when she couldn’t sleep at night and needed to give herself an extra special bout of torture.

  With a quick freshening of her lipstick, she was off to the bar, absolutely ready for a stiff drink.

  “Bloody Mary
, please,” she asked the bartender.

  “Why not a witches brew?” a smoky voice from behind her called. She would know that voice anywhere.

  “Hey, sexy lady!” Blair called out to her old friend Vanessa. “I’m glad to see the coven of clover represented here.”

  The bartender handed Blair her drink, and the two of them headed over to a table to catch up.

  “Remember smelly shelly from elementary school? She’s married to a Goblin King. According to her, they’re fucking hung. He’s got the biggest one she’s ever seen.” Vanessa immediately began spilling the beans on everyone, and Blairs petty little heart was quenched.

  After three hours in the hotel bar, the girls had to support each other to the elevator as they laughed, hugged, and repeatedly told each other they loved each other until they were back to their rooms.

  Originally, Blair had planned to spend a lot of time making herself over, but with her current state of drunkenness, she barely managed to put her dress on, shake her hair out, and hose herself down with hairspray.

  “Hot mess express!” She put a lipstick print on the mirror and walked out.

  The women downstairs were absolutely stunning, and Blair spent half of her night making sure they knew it. Complimenting people was one of her specialties.

  The night seemed to fly by, filled with dancing and partying, until the High Priestess clinked her glass. Time for her speech.

  Blair had looked forward to this all night because the high priestess was always full of encouraging words and a wisdom that she simply could not fathom at her age. At the end of her speech, everyone would head into the back garden to receive a blessing of power. At the moment, however, something else caught her eye.

  A dark haired stranger, a woman, was slowly making her way through the crowd. Nothing about her really screamed danger, but Blair couldn’t stop herself from staring at the woman. Something about her was… magnetic. So strong that it was all Blair could focus on, completely forgetting about even the High Priestess and her powerful words.

  All around her, other witches began to notice the stranger, and from the shocked whispers, Blair pieced together who the woman was. Thea, a powerful witch who had been kicked from their society for using dark magic against a vampire.