First hunter, p.6
First Hunter, page 6
I fall to my knees by his side and cradle his head gently, trying to keep it still while I pull a blue vial from my cloak. “Easy now, Uncle. Everything will be okay, alright? Everything will be fine.” Tears burn my eyes as I speak, and I pour the blue liquid down his throat, administering an antidote that should combat most poisons. I wait. Watch. But his symptoms don’t change. The tears come in full force now.
There’s still a chance the potion will work, but it will take a while for him to heal, and I don’t have a while. I need to find Elias now! I need to warn Callie.
I’d use a cellphone if I could, but most technology doesn’t work within the Black Lotus. Keeps people from snapping pics of the guests or intruders from capturing proof of the paranormal. Also made my teenage years less than awesome, in case you were wondering. So I’ll need to run again. “I’ll be back, Uncle,” I whisper, kissing his forehead. “I’ll be back, okay?”
A chill creeps into my skin, seeping into my bones. It’s just the worry, right? The worry for my uncle. But then I see the frost spreading toward me. I see the flames flicker silver. And then…
I hear it.
He’ll come in the night
In armor of white
Riding a steed of snow
Children singing on the wind. Their voices sound far away, as if they're coming from the main level of the Black Lotus. The White Rider is coming. Is this his doing? Did he have my uncle poisoned? I grit my teeth and follow the tune, drawing my daggers.
Three signs there are
That mean he’s not far
Silver army in toe
The song grows louder. It leads to the hall. To the ballroom. Where I left Callie. No. No. No!
First comes the frost
Second the flame
Third are the voices
of those he has slain
I barge into the party, looking for my foe. The guests have frozen, their bodies turned to ice, locked in whatever pose they had taken moments before. Many have their faces tilted upwards, listening to the haunting melody, looking for its source. Others point at the silver chandeliers and candles. It is so easy to mistake them for sculptures. To marvel at their beauty. Their realism.
But they are people.
Friends.
Family.
I run past them, searching for Callie and the rider. It is much darker now, the silver flames giving off barely any light, and I make my way through what feels like endless shadow, ice cracking beneath my heels. I recognize many of the masks I pass, but there are many others missing. Thalius is not here. Nor anyone else from the council. Perhaps the ice only freezes those of lower power. In which case…
“Iris!” Callie cries out, standing behind a pair of sculptures, Bobby and Poppy, both frozen with their hands inside their suits, reaching for weapons. The succubus runs to my side, a whip coiled around her arm. Thorns run down the length of her favorite weapon, clinging onto her flesh. They don’t harm Callie, her enemies, however, don't fare quite so well. There was this one time, with an ogre, and that whip… well, it was quite a sight. But alas, a story for another time. Priorities.
“They all froze,” says Callie frantically. “I couldn’t stop it. It was like… it was like in the stories. The frost. The flame. The song.”
“I know,” I say calmly, trying to soothe her with my tone. “The White Rider is here.”
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
A horse rides out from the shadows above, where two stairways meet, carrying a rider of white. The steed rears onto its back legs, neighing, as its master lifts his silver sword. His eyes meet mine. And they are full of death.
When the rider speaks, his voice is low and dark, a whisper echoing his every word. “Elias is here, Iris. Hand him over to me, and I will undo what I have done.” He points his sword at the people turned to ice, then at me. “What do you say, First Hunter?”
“Nope.”
“Nope?”
“It’s just, I’ve developed some trust issues lately,” I say, twirling my daggers with a flourish. “Like with my uncle, and my teenage crush, so… how about you unfreeze them first, then I hand him over?”
“What?” he growls back.
I shrug. “I mean, I would just be more comfortable if you handled your part of the deal first. Or maybe like… maybe we could do it at the same time. Like you unfreeze them and I toss Elias your way, or… I don’t know, how do you want to do this?”
He chuckles, the ground rumbling with his voice. “Few people make me laugh, Iris.” He pauses. “Perhaps I’ll kill you quickly as a kindness.”
"We might have to work on your definition of kindness," I say.
He jumps off his steed, his body airborne as he prepares for his attack.
I push Callie to the side and dash the other way, barely avoiding his blow as he lands. His sword plunges into the ice rather than my heart, which is always a good thing. Callie and I slip apart, finding balance on opposite sides of the ballroom. I raise my daggers, turning to face the rider. I move my eyebrows in a pattern, signaling Callie to run.
She signals back. No.
I signal: You’re no fighter. Run.
She signals. No. We’re friends.
I raise both eyebrows twice. Then my right once. Then—
The White Rider stares at my dancing eyebrows, frowning. “I must admit,” he says, “in all my years, I have never seen this before. Clearly, you two are close.” His cheeks creep up in a smile. “If you will not surrender Elias for them. Perhaps you will for her.”
He turns on my friend, walking her way, his sword scraping the ice, sending a screech through the air. Total horror movie move, but it works.
I run after him. On a slippery floor, because, duh, ice. I’m not fast enough. “Run!” I yell.
Callie stays her ground, uncoiling her whip. Her eyes are red and fierce. “You froze my friends,” she spits at him, her eyes shifting to Bobby and Poppy and the others she befriended that I never did. Her voice is low, full of rage and passion. “You will bring them back.”
The rider smiles.
And she strikes at him with the thorn-whip.
He avoids her attacks with ease, leaning away from her blows.
I must do something to slow him down. Anything. “Run,” I yell again, but she doesn’t listen.
“Run,” I yell, but she keeps fighting.
I toss my dagger at his head. Without even looking, he moves out of the way, and my blade bounces against his horns, flying past him on a new trajectory.
Hitting Callie in the shoulder.
She falls to her knees, clutching at my weapon, blood running down her dress.
“No!” I roar. “Face me, rider. Face me, coward.”
He does not stop. He does not turn.
I leap into the air, remaining dagger aimed at his ribs.
He slides forward, faster than I have ever seen, as if he can glide on the ice, skating on it with ease. He is upon Callie in an instant, silver blade in hand.
She looks at me one last time.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
And he runs the blade through her chest.
8
DARKNESS
This has happened before.
A friend.
A monster.
A violent death.
Unwanted memories scratch below the surface of my mind. They are like wraiths trying to break free from a frozen lake. I drown them out. Bury them deep in the depths of my consciousness.
I understand you want to know more, little bird.
And perhaps one day I’ll tell you.
But for now, know this…
Some truths take time.
And right now, I have little.
Something in me snaps. A lock. A door. Energy I have never felt flows through my body, clearing my mind, filling my tendons with power and speed. Everything within me burns with fire. Everything outside me feels too slow. Primal instincts take the lead. Years of training and practice possess my mind and body.
I drop to my knees, sliding forward with incredible momentum, propelling myself with impossible force. The shadows seem to follow in my wake, gathering behind me in a trail of darkness, driving me onward. I slice out with my dagger, and the blade extends into steel dark as night.
The rider leaps away.
I jump, launching ten feet into the air after him, a cloak of endless shadow behind me. My dark sword meets the silver blade, and for the first time, I see something new in the rider’s eyes.
Panic.
“What are you?” he whispers.
His words glance off me. I am not one for talking or planning or persuading. That is better left to people and right now I am no person. I am a force of nature itself.
The rider knows. I can see it in his eyes. He fights not with ease, but with caution, and for a moment we are equal as we dance in the air, black and white clashing in a room of frost.
A pained groan comes from below. It pulls me away from the force that entraps my mind. The succubus rolls on the floor. Callie! She yet lives.
I fall to her side, studying her wounds in an instant. My dagger took her in the shoulder. The silver blade took her in the chest but missed her heart. She is full monster, unlike me. She may actually survive this.
But she needs a healer.
“I’ll get you out,” I whisper in her ear.
She nods, her eyes and mouth closed in pain, tears streaming down her perfect face.
The more I think of my friend, the more my power fades, the more I am myself again. My blade turns into a dagger once more.
The White Rider lands behind us, his steps light on the ice. “I see now,” he says, voice echoing through the hall, “why you rose so quickly through the ranks. I wonder, who else knows your true nature.”
I don’t understand what he’s saying. I don’t understand what just happened.
Only one thing matters.
Callie.
I lift her in my arms and fling her over my shoulder, leaving my right hand free as I run toward the door.
The rider growls. “We are not done yet, hunter.”
An unnatural wind storms through the room. Snow falls from the dark ceiling.
And then the ice itself moves. It grows. Humanoid figures rise from the frost, like skeletons of glass. The first to manifest charges my way, striking with claws.
I spin past the creature, stabbing my dagger in its back, and it shatters, exploding into shards of ice. More of the beasts come my way. Dozens of them.
I take them out one at a time, but they are never-ending. A horde of mindless creatures. A silver army.
How is the rider doing this? Is he really the monster from legends?
“Tell me where to find Elias,” he commands. “Tell me, and I will stop my assault.”
I try to say something witty, but well, I’m busy fighting off twenty ice soldiers while holding a succubus over my shoulder. If only there were two of me.
Which reminds me. Perhaps it’s time I send another signal. I shatter an ice creature with a kick to the face, then whistle toward the door. A meow comes in response.
Yes.
He’s here.
The doors fling open wider. And then emerges—
“Is that a kitten?” asks the rider, eyebrow raised.
A shaggy white kitten with spots of black and brown runs into the hall, his little paws carrying him to my side, his blue eyes squinting in determination.
I turn to the rider, grinning. “That’s no simple kitten. That’s a manticore travel size, bitch.”
The kitten shifts, growing to three times my size, white wings unfurling, blue mane swaying in the unnatural wind. He roars, shattering the ice creatures with his voice.
Theo has found me.
“Take Callie to safety,” I say, holding her up.
He bites down gently on her clothes, carrying her like he would a baby kitten, but I catch a hesitation in his sapphire eyes.
“I’ll be fine, boy,” I say. “Go.”
He growls and sprints out the room, ice cracking beneath his claws. I would catch a ride, but then the White Rider would follow. I need to keep him distracted.
So I clench my jaw and raise my dagger. “You like to pretend you’re the big bad White Rider, but guess what?”
He smiles, stepping closer. “Enlighten me.”
“The real White Rider has no fear,” I say, rushing forward, locking my blade with his. “He wouldn’t flee from old Uncle Sly. Yet you ran away like a purple baby hippo when you felt his presence at the crone’s party.”
“I did not—”
“With your little tail hanging between your legs.” I hold up two fingers and move them like legs.
He roars, pushing me back, swinging his blade at my torso.
I flip backwards, avoiding his blow. “And this time,” I continue. “You had Sly poisoned before your arrival.” I strike low, cutting at his knees.
The rider slides away. “You assume too much, hunter. Perhaps it was dear Elias who poisoned your uncle. Or maybe one of your precious council.” His cold eyes survey the frozen sculptures. “How appropriate that I see none of them here. I wonder, what schemes do they carry out elsewhere in the hotel while we fight?”
That’s a good point, actually, but I can think about Thalius and the other keepers later. Right now, I have ass to kick and a friend to save.
I slide forward, spinning like a tornado of carnage, a volcano of death, a tsunami of—
The rider easily sidesteps my attack.
What?
He’s toying with me, the bastard. This isn’t good. Somehow, I matched him in power when I was all covered in shadow and stuff, but now he’s always three steps ahead. Make that five steps. Make that…
Why hasn’t he killed me yet?
Not that I’m complaining. Just wondering.
“You have potential, Iris,” he says. “The council will never allow your true power. But I will. Let me teach you.”
Ah, so that’s why.
“No thanks,” I say. “Trust issues, remember.”
His eyes fall. “You think you have a place amongst them,” he says, gesturing to the frozen guests. “But one day, you will understand. They will never accept you.”
I purse my lips in mockery. “Aw, was someone mean to you? Did they hurt your feelings?” I dash around him, striking at his arms. “Is that why you’re after Elias? Did the two of you go on a date and he left without saying goodbye?”
“You know nothing of me,” he roars, sliding toward me in an instant, stabbing his sword through my cloak and pinning me to the ice. He aims a metal fist at my face, ready to crush. “Elias is—”
“Did someone call my name?” The teasing voice comes from above.
The rider looks up and smiles. “Finally,” he hisses, blue eyes glinting, fixed on his prey.
Elias Vane Spero stands on top of the chandelier, dressed all in black, a silver blade in his hand.
The Moonlight Sword.
It glows in the darkness. It’s movements echo on the wind.
“Now, love,” says Elias, winking at me. “How about you go check on your friend while I settle matters here.”
I roll to the side, tearing my cloak but breaking free as I stand. “I’m settling matters myself, thank you very much,” I say, twirling my dagger.
The Prince of Darkness shrugs. Then he leaps down, his new sword aimed at the rider. The creature of legend grins, as he rends his weapon free and jumps up, their blades clashing in the air. Steel rings throughout the hall. A light pulses in the darkness.
The Moonlight Sword. It’s glowing, resisting the attack. This is the real blade. The one wielded by Elias’s father before him.
The rider and vampire pull apart, landing on opposite sides of the hall. Elias gestures at me. “Ever heard of a distraction, Iris?”
“Word sounds familiar.”
“Use this one to run.”
“Listen to him, hunter,” says the White Rider.
Silly men. The First Hunter never backs down. Only one problem… Who is my target now? Both of them? Neither of them? Damn, Elias confuses me. Why did he return? If he stole the sword, why didn’t he flee?
The prince lunges forward, striking at the rider, sword gleaming in the shadows. The blade makes him faster than before, stronger. He seems almost a match for the rider. Almost.
“My dear Elias,” says the creature, “will you never learn?” He grabs the prince’s head.
And slams it into a wall.
So hard the marble breaks.
Once.
Twice.
The prince falls, the side of his face torn open, his eyes twitching. The sword slides out of his hand. He tries to reach for the blade, but the rider kicks him across the forehead, causing him to go limp.
Elias may be a criminal, but he deserves a trial. Not this.
I run forward, but I am not close enough.
The rider chuckles, grabbing the Moonlight Sword and lifting his prey by the collar, dragging the prince behind him into the shadows. “We shall meet again, hunter.”
He steps into the shadows. And—
No. Not this time buddy.
I leap forward, hitting the ice, letting my momentum carry me, and grab the whip Callie left behind off the floor. I lash toward the darkness. The whip finds purchase. And I pull myself forward after them. This time, when I reach the shadows, I do not hit a wall. This time, I fall.
And land in a world of night.
A world of cold and frost.
A blizzard rages around me. The sky is dark and full of stars. The floor is black ice, but not slippery like before. Gray trees sprout from the ground, showing no signs of leaves, no signs of life. They are withered dead things, their branches curling toward me like claws. They surround the area, stretching out into long forests. In their depths, I see red eyes flash and hear the growls of wild beasts. None approach. Instead, they flinch if they ever draw too close.
