The Hunt (Of Blood and Magic Book 2) Read online

  Becca gazed at the hole, studying it, her eyes suddenly blazing the sharp white of lightning. Her powers seemed to grow with each passing day she was with Luke. She had never done it before, but somehow she realized that she had always known how to do this, she just had never tried. She lifted her right arm and stretched it over the manhole. Suddenly, she could sense the vibrations in the black steel grate. It came alive, almost like a living organism, and she felt its molecules swimming about with mad kinetic energy. She felt where the molecules of the circular grate terminated, and then in the thin perimeter between the blunt edges of the grate and the inner rim of the top of the manhole, she felt the adhesive. It was clearly a very strong brand of glue, but it clearly wasn’t physical. Its molecules seemed of a different kind from the grates; pulsing, radiant, and cosmic.

  Her face broke into a knowing smile. “It’s sealed with some sort of magical glue. You will have been unsuccessful in breaking into it if you had employed physical force.” Luke’s face broke into a curious expression, a smile forming at the corners of his lips.

  Her eyebrows arched with a grim expression. She focused on the vibrations and willed the steel grate to disengage from the magical adhesive. It resisted momentarily but, subjugated by the force of her magic, the molecules of the steel grate bent to her will and detached from the magical glue, which peeled back against the edges of the manhole’s entrance. And then, without especially thinking it, she willed the grate to rise, and so it did, levitating for a moment before landing, with a bit of a clang, at the edge of the hole.

  Luke gaped at her, his eyes shining with what looked like respect. “You possess the power of telekinesis!”

  Becca glanced around at the near empty street, half thankful that no one had seen the stunt she had just pulled, half dazed by the magic she had just pulled. She felt drained, like all the energy in her had dissipated with the wind, but she still had enough energy to stand and gaze into Luke’s eyes, watching his bewildered expression with genuine interest; searching for any shred of information that could explain why she had been blessed with this extremely rare power.

  Luke had never seemed prouder of her than he was in that moment. She felt the whiteness of her eyes vanish, restoring her normal gaze, and the stone returned to the pit of her stomach; the uncertainty that had followed her all the way from Atlanta; an ugly sense of premonition that she had tried to shut off but which had obstinately kept growing as they journeyed closer to their goal, to their destiny; a terrible voice that told her they were heading to their deaths. She shivered, not only from the weight of the powers that lurked within her—most of which she had clearly still not unearthed—but also from the weight of a fear that threatened to paralyze her. She had tried to swallow her worry like a pill, but it refused to go down, hanging in her throat like a goiter.

  And then there was the unexpected power of telekinesis she suddenly seemed to possess. What did all this mean? From where had all this power suddenly emerged? Just a fortnight ago she couldn’t cast a cleaning spell, now she was moving heavy grates with her mind. And it had all begun with Luke. She sighed. Without a doubt, she loved Luke. Even more, she couldn’t complain about her power. As his fated mate, he needed her to rebuild his kingdom. The prophecy had been clear about this. The more power she could wield, the more use she could be to him. Nothing made her more grateful than the fact that she could now be of more use to him; a greater asset in the journey toward their common destiny. Still, she couldn’t help but feel an invisible hand pull at her gut. What if she couldn’t handle this power? What would be the fate of their destiny?

  She sighed again. It didn’t help that the voice in her head, which she had tried unsuccessfully to silence, just wouldn’t stop filling her head with images of death; of their corpses splayed on the cold floor, side by side, battered by magic.

  All of this had gone through her mind like a blitz in the space of a millisecond. When Luke’s voice hit her ears, she watched his eyes widen with kind affection, clearly oblivious of the tempest roiling inside of her.

  “You’re just a fat basket of surprises, aren’t you?” he chuckled, brilliant white teeth glittering in the emerging sunlight. And, without warming, he leaned in and enveloped her in a kiss that tasted of love and admiration and passion and all those emotions that tasted like milk and vanilla and honey. His hands squeezed her ass as his tongue greeted her mouth, warm and throbbing with passion.

  They climbed down the manhole, hands gripping rungs of brown irons that jutted out the side of the concrete wall like lopsided rectangles. Becca felt the heat of Luke’s exhalations envelope her with a blanket of warmth. After climbing down about two hundred meters, and feeling beads of sweat begin to break out on her brow, Becca felt her feet reach solid ground. She shifted back instantly as a sewer rat ran over the top of her boots. Luke burst into laughter, but quit just as quickly, as the untangled waves bounced off the walls of the moist, dank tunnel that lay before them, echoing far into the distance.

  All around her, she heard the perpetual drip-drip of foul water leaking from pipes. The place smelled of waste and abandonment, and the walls were decorated with weird patterns carved into the stone with what one could only assume had been sharp claws. A certain heat radiated from the vast darkness that spread itself out in both directions. Becca couldn’t see a thing.

  “Lexunvertaincendiat.” she mouthed, recalling a simple illumination incantation from her spell book. An orb of silver light, the size of a ripe orange, gleamed into existence right before her eyes, washing the entire space in a warm, surprisingly strong glow that suddenly brought the tunnel out in all its starkness. It was like the lights had been turned on in a dark room with a naked lady on the bed, and now her boobs and pussy were out in the open, in all their glory. All the effects she had noticed earlier suddenly popped at the edges of her vision, gaining flesh. But she also noticed one thing she hadn’t seen earlier—a green, gelatinous substance that dripped from above them, landing on the earth with a weird sizzle and an ever so little wisp of smoke. Becca could almost swear it was an acid, but when she let a drop land on her finger, she felt nothing. And when she brought it to her nose, she smelled nothing.

  Luke nodded meaningfully at her, thanking her for the light, and she acknowledged with a thumb up.

  “Sense anything?” she inquired, keeping her voice as suppressed as possible so it was barely above a whisper. They had agreed to make as little noise as possible.

  Luke nodded stiffly, walking forward with extreme carefulness, his brows furrowed with deep concentration. “The sensation just keeps getting stronger. I can almost feel it in my mouth, at this point. But stay close, and move carefully, there’s something ominous about this place.”

  Just as he said this, he took one more step, and a wave of arrows shot out of nowhere. Luke promptly caught them midair and snapped them on his thighs, save one, which headed straight at Becca. Calmly, she stopped it in the air, where it hung as if trapped on an invisible magnet, promptly flinging it against the left wall.

  They walked for what seemed like an hour, warding off axes springing out of walls, a magical mist that Becca dispelled, and a tiger made out of dust and smoke whose jaw Luke had promptly snapped. With this level of booby-trapping, Becca was now more than sure that a big secret lay beyond these tunnels.

  And just as they took what seemed to be the thirtieth left turn, Luke stopped in front of what seemed to be a harmless wall.

  “There’s tremendous energy behind this wall,” Luke whispered, “I can feel it.”

  He pushed at it. Nothing. He punched it. Nothing. Then he observed a rune just to the left of it. It was no different than the plethora of shenanigans that had been etched into the walls all the way before here, but somehow Luke knew that it was the symbol of a key, written in an ancient language the world no longer spoke. He smiled and bit his thumb until his teeth drew blood, then he pressed the bloody finger in the key, feeling the simmering heat burn his flesh as the stone came ali
ve in response to his liquid offer. The wall groaned as a square slab of stone shifted to the left of them. They weren’t shocked when the shifting stone unfurled to reveal a half dozen soldiers at the entrance of what seemed to be a vast cavern.

  “Move an inch and you die.” a witch among them, whose staff glowed with red energy threatened, a mini hurricane of red sand beginning to form beside her.

  Luke clenched his fist, ready to pounce, but Becca placed her hand on his shoulder in a gesture that eased him, making him stop.

  “These people aren’t High Commission soldiers,” she said knowledgeably, “Look at the markings on their heads.”

  Luke observed the strange markings lining their heads. It looked like a bat, but its claws were the size of eagle talons and it was enclosed in a circle with patterns that suggested inverted sunlight. A bat? On a witch? Who were these people?

  “Why do you have a bat tattooed on your head?” he questioned, “How dare you defile the dignity of the vampire clan?”

  The guards looked at each other, seeming dazed by Luke’s anger. Then, it seemed as though a light bulb suddenly lit up in the head of a Lykae to the left of the witch.

  “Wait, are you Lukai?” his eyes seemed to suddenly dance with excitement, but Luke seemed to fume even more. Becca stepped forward, taking control before the situation escalated.

  “Yes, he is Lukai,” she answered, her voice strong and commanding, “the risen King of Vampires.”

  The guards looked at each other, lowering their weapons in tandem. And, in an unexpected turn, they all fell to their knees with elbows to a knee and head bowed; a sign of deep respect.

  “You’re welcome, o great King of Vampires,” the witch who had spoken earlier said, her body quivering respectfully as she spoke, “We have been waiting for you.”

  ∞∞∞

  Chapter 9

  THE TRAITOR

  Bijou hesitated as he knocked on the door, feeling fidgety despite his hefty build. Bijou was always a man of confidence. His elevated position as head of the Lykae clan notwithstanding, he had distinguished himself as a soldier of high pedigree and skillful illustriousness. He was a highly skilled fighter, whose prowess in battle could only be rivaled by one other person in all the magical realms. And it was before her door he now stood; Celine, the one person who made him feel weak in the knees.

  A waft of chilly air hit his cloak as he finally summoned the courage to knock. It always was this way sometimes on the seven hundred and ninety-ninth floors, seeing as at this point the High Commission building had already breached the first layer of clouds. He didn’t shiver, but he felt the air current creep beneath his thick mass of body hair to chill his bones.

  He knocked again, feeling agitated at this stage. He knew she was in. Was she not receiving visitors anymore? He felt his sense of self-assurance suddenly drain out of him. What was he even doing here? He was about to turn on his heels to return to his quarters when he heard a voice drawl from within:

  “Comiiiinng!” the voice shrieked delightedly, sounding very much unlike the expected occupant. He checked the gold-lettered room number above the door to be sure. ‘01’, it read.

  The door clicked open to reveal a red faced Celine. Her cheeks burned a bright pink and in her left hand swirled a glass of champagne. Bijou connected the dots in his head with the speed of a wildcat. The surprisingly scattered hair. The droopy voice. The cheeks of the same fiery pink as her cloaks. The lost look in the eyes. Celine was drunk, and not only that; she seemed to be having some sort of breakdown.

  Bijou’s eyes darted wildly along the corridor as he entered, to ensure that no one was watching, and then he shut the door quickly, bolting it from behind. He couldn’t believe his eyes at the mess that greeted his eyes as he gazed into Celine’s expansive chambers. The floor was lined with large liquor bottles, emptied of their contents, and the bed looked chaotic, like a child had been jumping in it. Her pillows were everywhere, and his eyes caught broken china at a corner of the room. He was nonplussed. He had never known Celine to exhibit a single sign of weakness or hint of clumsiness. She had always been meticulous as meticulous could be. So, why was she trying to throw it away now? Why had she even opened the door in this state? What if he had malevolent intentions, or was the kind to tattle? This was the kind of the wrong move that could end her career as High Commissioner.

  “What is going on here, Celine?” he asked, in a confrontational voice he had never before had the confidence to use with her. He felt empowered by the ruin around him, but not in a good way.

  “My daughter hates me, and now that I think of it, I find that I nearly hate myself for it,” she giggled dreamily, leaving Bijou speechless, “So I had to clear my head.” Bijou looked around him once more, just to be sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. Clear her head? More like cloud her head. If he wasn’t looking at her usually prim face and perfectly curved body right now, he would’ve sworn it was an impostor.

  “We all have issues with our kids from time to time,” he shot back, his gaze still heavy with disbelief, “But we find a way to set things right. I know you’ve had issues with your daughter in the past, but you never lost your edge like this. This is so unlike you. What has come over you?”

  Celine only giggled, draining her glass, and then, not satisfied, raising the champagne bottle to her lips to glupglupglup its contents. Bijou couldn’t take it anymore. He grabbed her arms and led her to the bed, pinning her against it.

  “You will stay here until you’ve calmed down,” he said to her, sternly, “I won’t have you doing something you’ll regret later.”

  Celine chuckled at him and smiled unnervingly, then disappeared in a puff of smoke. Before Bijou could react, the room began to arrange itself. The bottles vanished, along with the glass. The bed began to make itself. The pieces of broken china came back together to remake a nicely patterned plate with hand painted flowers in the middle. Bijou’s eyes widened with realization.

  The sound of applause floated into the bedroom as Celine, actual Celine with the straight face and powerful features and cloak of fiery pink, emerged from her closet. She was the Celine he remembered, brisk in her steps and firm in her purpose. He felt weak in the knees all over again.

  “I see you’ve met my clone,” she had a sparkle in her eyes that almost spoke of regret, “I call her out in those rare moments when I feel emotional and require an avenue to channel it through.”

  Bijou couldn’t hold back his shock. He marveled, not only at the sheer scope of her powers (the clone had felt so real and convincing) but also the unpredictability of her mind. Or what could one say for a person who preferred to experience emotions outside of themselves? Wasn’t that clearly reasoning on another, higher level?

  “You handled the situation remarkably well,” she said with the voice of a teacher commending a student for a job well done, “Now I have all the confirmation I need concerning you.”

  Bijou found that he suddenly couldn’t form words any longer. He felt his blood chill beneath his skin, his heart rate flaring.

  “Why have you come to my room, Bijou?” her voice lashed him like a whip. Her eyes, a steely grey, studied him like an insect.

  He cleared his throat loudly. “Well, you know, I was intending to to ask you a-about the replacement plans for Team Alpha.” Had he just stammered through the entire sentence? He felt like slamming a palm through his brain.

  Celine smiled unexpectedly, her finger pushing aside a stray strand of hair from the center of her face. “We were already going to talk about that tomorrow, at the meeting of the clan heads,” her voice sounded like laughter, “So tell me, Bijou, why are you really here.”

  Bijou gulped, his saliva becoming a rock as it slid down his throat. Gosh was she so intimidating, and gosh did she turn him on. Even his arms shook at her imposing presence, he felt his cock rear its head, aroused by her dominance. He had always fantasized about having her, having her break him apart like putty and lick his pieces ba
ck together. The fantasies had intensified lately, becoming so powerful that he couldn’t think straight anymore. Even now that he had cultivated courage and walked up to her door, it had been more of a blind leap of faith than anything else. He burned with desire for her; a desire which he couldn’t even fully describe with words.

  Celine’s smile became catlike, like she was stalking her prey, waiting for the pounce. “I can sense the desire within you,” she purred, her voice melting him, “It’s like a flame, bright and powerful. And I know it burns for me.” Her eyes glinted at this; those sharp, scheming, crystal eyes that gleamed in their sockets. “It’s up to me to decide. Whether to fan it or whether to quench it.” She made the last statement with such power in her voice that if felt like she had just held his balls in her palm and squashed them. But this only made his cock harden even more.

  “You’ve put me in a good mood with how you stood up for my clone,” she eyed him, her eyes suddenly greedy, “So maybe I’ll grant you this one wish, too.”

  She smiled suggestively and Bijou felt his mouth pool with saliva. She snapped her fingers and, in a blur of magic, their clothes vanished. Bijou jumped at the sight of her nude body. It was glorious, like the insides of split papaya. Her boobs, perfect in their moderation, bunched at her chest. Her pussy looked like the doorway to heaven.

  She walked up to him and held his cock in her hands. His eyes twitched, as a thousand volts of electricity zoomed to his brain. She turned him around by the chest, kissing his hairy nipples, and pushed him to the bed. He landed on his back, cock erect like a telephone pole. Her face lit up with the fire of adventure. Boobs jiggling, she knelt and took his cock in her mouth. Bijou’s body shivered and jolted, her lips doing tricks he never thought they could. She pinched her nipples as she sucked him off, which Bijou found really hot, her cheeks forming a groove as she swallowed his cock but didn’t choke on it.