𝕋wo days proceeded, and a beautiful morning graced the sky, despite the clouds slowly rolling in, with a chance of rain. On the mainland, arriving in Penrith were six, muscular men working under the service of Lord Drakuul and his brother, Matrx. David, Sam, Charles and Quintin were Shayds, while Noah and Richard were mortal. Climbing out of an old rusted orange pickup truck parked outside the pub, the men looked around, up and down the streets. David raised an eyebrow, taking in the name of the establishment in its red neon script. He let out a deep scoffing grunt as he and the other kicked the steps as they ascended.
Entering through the doors, Steven and Roberto were behind the bar, stocking new bottles on the shelves or wiping down the counter, when they heard feet shuffling across the floor. In that moment, there were no other patrons, so they were all that lingered in the pub. Briefly sniffing the air, catching their mortal and Shayd scents, the two Wraiths quickly glanced at each other, then sent their gaze toward the men that were all dressed in similar fashions of leather jackets and pants, thick army boots, and large Hunter’s knives tucked in their leather sheaths strapped on their belts. Chains around their necks had glistened from moments of light that highlighted the thin strand of metal, displaying various pendants. Bracelets and steampunk watches graced their thick wrists, and their hands were covered with gloves that had their fingers cut-off.
“Hunters?” Roberto whispered in a Wraith’s whisper.
“Not sure yet.” Steven answered, studying the men further.
The six men looked like they belonged to grunge motorcycle gang, ages between their 30s-to-40s. Quintin’s dark skin and buzz-cut hair with MOTHER F*CKER shaved across the back, appeared to be the leader of the party, and perhaps it was his broad shoulders and tall stature, but he wasn’t a man that one would want to instigate trouble with.
Catching their scents once more, the two Wraiths shared an expression of caution.
Taking a seat far in the corner, hidden in the shadows, the six men scanned the menu, as well as their surroundings, where no one was present except for the two bartenders that pretended to pay no attention to their business.
Grabbing a pen and paper, Steven slowly walked over taking their orders of whiskey and bowls of stew which was the only meal that sounded appealing to them.
“It’ll take some time.” Steven advised.
“We can wait.” Quintin answered in a gruff English voice, as he looked at the Englishman, unknowing of his supernatural status.
Steven nodded, then turned.
Quintin squinted his dark eyes, then leaned in, beginning to whisper softly among the other men, while their conversation was being overheard.
“Get the whiskey, leave the bottle on the table.” Steven gave the pending order to Roberto.
“Si.” Roberto nodded. Watching as his friend retreated into the kitchen, he turned, reaching for one of the newest bottles of whiskey and six shot glasses. Placing them on a tray, the Wraith carried it to the table, laying it on the ledge, “Enjoy.” he watched their uneasy mannerisms, then backed away, as he returned to the bar, continuing to wipe it down.
It little while later, forty minutes, give or take, the stew was cooked. Pushing a trolley through the doors, Steven emerged with large bowls atop. Pushing it carefully toward the men at the table that were eagerly waiting for their food, the Wraith slowly laid the fully served bowls on the table, and as an act of professionalism, he offered them anything else but he received no reply as the men pulled the bowls toward them, without manners or words of gratitude. Backing away, biting his lip, Steven pushed the trolley that rolled smoothly across the room, behind the bar where Roberto continued to wipe its surface clean.
“I don’t think that counter can be any cleaner.” Steven joked.
“Well, I have to keep up the pretenses, no?” Roberto looked at him, receiving a supposed nod in reply, “Mmm.”
The six Hunters devoured the liquid stew, eating all of the contents that included chunks of meat, vegetables, and spices. Once the bowls were empty, wiping their mouths with their bare hands, the men pushed the bowls close to the ledge. One of the mortals, Noah, pounded the ledge, loudly calling out to the two bartenders to retrieve them and bring more whiskey.
“What makes you think anyone came this way, Quintin?” Sam curiously asked, throwing his napkin into one of the empty bowls, “This place is literally out in the middle of nowhere.” his Irish syllables rolled the words off his tongue that eagerly wanted another taste of the whiskey. Pouring the liquid into his shot glass, he quickly gulped it down, “Oi, that’s good.”
Quintin grunted, holding back his answer as Roberto stood next to the table, pulling the stack of bowls off the ledge, and replacing the empty bottle with a new. Nodding briefly, the bartender turned and walked away.
“Because I know they did.” the man replied, “They didn’t send us this far out for nothing, Sam.” he looked at the man, “We have our orders from our Lord and General, to find everyone that escaped, and it’s our duty to track ’em down. There are many places between the Great City and this place, so we just have to find the right one. Even if that means we burn them all along the way, and that ticket-master at the depot stated their last location before we killed him was Whitehaven, and since we’ve already driven through, coming up empty handed, I know they’re here somewhere. After all, they should stand out with the girl accompanied by the black wolf we’ve heard so much about. Nasty little sh*t, I hear.”
“The wolf, or the girl?” David snorted a chuckle.
“Both.” Quintin leered at him, “We have orders to kill them on sight, but the General wants them both alive.” he glanced toward the bar, “They’re bloody f*cking freaks, all of ’em!”
“Hope you’re right.” Richard stuttered with an American tone, “We got lucky finding that older couple in Whitehaven, and speaking of which, I’m sure the innkeeper must’ve found their bodies by now. Filthy religious fanatics.” he spat the ground.
“They’re to be taken by force, and if, unfortunately, they are brought back dead, we all know that our Lord Drakuul can revive their memories.” Charles stated in an English voice, “Bloody Necromancy, that’s some dark sh*t!”
“Mmm, but I doubt those we’re searching for came this far.” Quintin muttered softly, with a harsh bluntness.
“Why not?” Noah questioned, “They couldn’t have made this far within two days, not without help, nor without having to answer questions about her wolf. Bloody hell, what a trophy that would be, I hear he can tear a man’s spine from his back one massive back while the bloke is alive. Definitely a witch’s familiar, I’d say and the girl that controls it, I hear she’s some half-breed witch or something.” he shrugged.
“All wolves can do that, nothing special about this one, or the girl.” Richard looked at him, “But I hear she’s lovely.”
“Whatever, if you’re into that type of thing. I like my women taller, not smaller.” Noah mocked.
As leader, Quintin sat thinking about their next move, as he tapped his fingers along the surface of the table, little did he, or any of the men in his company, realize that their entire conversation was overheard from across the room.
Steven watched, listening attentively, as he shuffled with the towel in his hand. Seeing the men sitting with their large, and bulky heads huddled together, he grew cautious, not liking their mannerisms. Softly whistling to Roberto, signaling him of the situation, he excused himself, inconspicuously heading up the narrow staircase to the office upstairs. Knocking on the door, he waited until a voice shouted in Hungarian.
“Ne most, menj el!” the man stated to go away.
“Nikolaas, it’s Steven!” the Wraith hissed. Listening as feet shuffled across the room and hands unlocking the door, he watched as it quickly pulled opened.
“What?!” Nikolaas groaned.
“We have Hunters downstairs.” Steven moaned, “They have been here for a quite a while now.”
“Hu-Hunters?” Nikolaas’ dark eyes filled with rage.
“I overheard their conversation, they’re looking for the two women that came through here two days ago. Also, they’re Demon and Shayd, maybe with a mortal or two among them by their scent.” Steven finished.
Hearing they were Hunters, hunting and killing their own, it fueled Nikolaas with an old rage he hadn’t felt in quite a very long time. Stepping aside, inviting Steven into the office, he wanted to hear what was spoken between the men. Leering at the Wraith who stood by the door, his natural dark eyes had changed in color, turning a deep red. Feeling the rage grow, he clenched his fists and he breathed slowly, the lights began flickering as sparks danced around his closed hands.
Staring at the Hungarian, Steven knew he was about to do something he hadn’t done in a century. Stepping aside, he had followed Nikolaas back down the hall and the stairs, slowly appearing by the counter where Steven nodded, returning to work behind the bar with Roberto, while Nikolaas leaned his left elbow against the counter, observing the six men.
With his telepathy, he listened to every word spoken both verbally and telepathically. Gathering enough information from their unsettling conversation, the Hungarian changed the color of his eyes back to their natural brown hue, then he slowly walked over, his steps echoed across the wooden floor, adjusting his vest and cracking his knuckles. Standing beside the table, he courteously asked, while his mannerisms held sinister intentions.
“Hello, gentlemen. My name is Nikolaas, and I like to greet my customers on a personal basis, so is there anything else I can get for you? Another refill perhaps?” he gestured toward the two empty bottles. Snapping his fingers, the glasses filled to the rip with whiskey.
The six Hunters leered at the Hungarian, eyeing him up and down curiously. The Demon and Shayds, caught the faint red flash of his eyes, keeping it to themselves because they were unsure of what the man’s capabilities were, or what level he was.
“What’re you? A magician?” David smugly mocked, leaning forward.
“No, but I dabble in harmless tricks.” Nikolaas twitched his fingers, flashing a sinister Sweeney Todd kind of smile that was eerie to say the least.
Steven and Roberto stood, watching Nikolaas toyed with the men, becoming a Hunter of his own.
“Well, perhaps you CAN get us something.” Richard urged.
“And what would that be?” Nikolaas’ dark eyes stared, raising a curious eyebrow.
“Information.” the Hunter leaned back, spreading his legs in the cramped seat.
“And what kind of information could I possibly offer?”
The two Wraiths behind the bar, grew faint grins, knowing he taunted them with his riddles and tricks.
“Enough with the coyness, we know travelers came through here two days, give or take, and we want to know where they went after this place.” Sam added gruffly, “The young b*tch has a black wolf and the woman, I think a cat or something. They both have Raven-colored hair, so their description says. Here…” he pushed two photos of the women toward the Hungarian, “perhaps maybe you’ve seen them, or even your bartenders over there?” he veered around the man, glaring at the two men behind the counter.
“Doesn’t ring a bell, sorry.” Nikolaas shook his head, without glancing at the photos.
“Perhaps if you look at the photos.” Quintin frowned.
“I don’t have to do anything.” Nikolaas’ deep voice became blunt and agitated, “I get a lot of people coming through here, and surely if I had seen anyone coming through here with a wolf, I wouldn’t have allowed her here, I have a strict no-pet policy. But let’s just say she might have passed through here, what have they done if six Hunters are following them this far out?” he remarked cunningly.
“None of your business.” Noah barked, studying the man’s fancy silver jewelry.
“Ah, but anyone who comes through my town, or steps foot into this establishment, is my business.” Nikolaas dragged the words in a sinister manner, leaning his hands on the ledge of the table, “Tell you what, I think I can supply you with all of the information you seek, but not here, not inside my place of business. And unfortunately, my office is quite small, so why don’t you fine gentlemen meet me behind the pub in an hour, and maybe I can give you something to look into, hmm?” he slid the photo across the table, “You can keep those.”
The Hunters shared glances between then looked back at the man, all nodding agreeably. Quintin stood, staring into the Hungarian’s dark eyes, feeling an eerie chill.
“An hour.” he rushed the words with a nod.
“An hour.” Nikolaas grinned eerily.
“Where’s the bathroom?” Quintin barked.
“Back there, near the kitchen.” Nikolaas pointed, then turned, slowly approaching the bar. In a low whisper, knowing the Wraiths could hear his words, he commanded quickly, “You two, out back in an hour and keep your eyes on them.”
“My pleasure.” Steven concealed a hiss.
“Si.” Roberto added, releasing a low hiss of his own.
“Mmm.” Nikolaas nodded, then turned, disappearing upstairs.
“There’s something strange about the bloke.” David rasped, as he glanced around, making sure they weren’t overheard, “Did you see the antique jewelry he wore? Could be worth a god damn fortune.”
“Definitely, mate.” Noah replied, “Foreigners like that bloke, they wear the good stuff. Maybe he’s a Gypsy, my money’s on being a Gypsy.”
“Maybe, but he’s a powerful Demon.” Sam added.
“Really?” Noah’s eyes grew curious, “It’s hard to tell anymore. We all look alike, except for the Nightwalkers.” he moaned.
“Doesn’t matter if he’s a Demon or not, the money alone we could split six ways if given a good deal after getting that so-called information from his dying lips.” Sam grew a wide, smug smile, “We don’t know him, he doesn’t know us.”
“Right.” David muttered, clanking his cup, sharing a moment of brief laughter before quieting down as Quintin returned to the table.
“What’d I miss?” he barked.
“The Gypsy?” Sam answered, “He’s a Demon.”
“Is he now?” Quintin searched for the man in question, “Hmm, interesting.” he frowned.
In his office, Nikolaas rapidly wrote a letter:
“Marxus…I thought you should know that there, or were by the time you read this, 6 Hunters here in my establishment. They are searching for the mother and daughter that came to you, both Steven and Roberto, including myself, overheard their verbal and telepathic conversation, mentioning they worked for a man, Lord Drakuul and a General Matrx, that rule over the Great City. I don’t know if those names mean anything, but fear not we will handle them accordingly.
-Nikolaas A Lazaar”
Rolling the letter, he turned to a caged Raven by the window. Reaching inside, the black feathered bird pecked at his hand, but Nikolaas ignored the sting as he firmly grabbed hold of the birds body. Holding it close to his chest, attaching the letter to its foot, he opened the window, speaking to the bird softly, telling it to deliver the message to Marxus Castillion. Resting the Raven on the windowsill, he chased it out, then listened to its loud squawks before taking flight. Closing the window, gathering his thoughts, Nikolaas prepared himself for what’s to come. Venturing downstairs and outback with Steven and Roberto, they waited for the Hunters until loud voices emerged from around the building.
Suddenly, the six Hunters’ voice died down, seeing the three men standing in front of large barrels and trash cans.
“All right, where’s this information?!” David smugly ordered.
“Before I tell you anything, answer me this.” Nikolaas took a menacing step forward, “Why do you seek these two women?”
“How did you?!” Sam questioned.
“I have my ways.” Nikolaas sneered, “One, you just admitted it and two, your thoughts are pretty clear and three, there are always ears listening.” he gestured toward the men behind him, “Wraiths have their ways of blending in when you least expect it.”
“Wraiths?” the men wondered.
“They seemed innocent enough.” Steven hissesd, revealing his long supernatural, vampiric fangs, then squinted his stern blue eyes that quickly turned red,
“What’d you say, pretty boy?” Quintin asked, placing his left hand on his belt, revealing the hilt of a long Hunter’s knife.
“You heard him.” Nikolaas replied, beginning to roll up the sleeves of his dark red shirt, as did Steven and Roberto; the three men revealed powerful forearms, tattooed or not.
The Hunters also rolled up their sleeves, displaying strong arms, decorated with tattoos.
“Nice ink. Shame too.” Roberto growled.
“What does that mean, you pretty little twat?!” David replied, sneering at the Latino.
“Exactly how it sounds, estúpido!” Roberto snarled, flashing his own vampiric fangs and red eyes.
The six Hunters made it clear from their intentional, bulky body movements that they were about to attack, withdrawing their serrated knives from their sheaths. Taking their stances, the men listened to the two Wraiths hissed deeply similar to that of casts, revealing their upper fangs, and one inch nails on their hands with twitching fingers and for the Hungarian Demon, his eyes flashed red, and lowering his hands, sparks of bright blue spurts of Electrokinetic shot from his fingertips.
However, a tattoo on his right forearm, began glowing faintly, signifying his level 5 demonic ranking, and for the enemy Demons and Shayds standing before him, also revealed their abilities and ranks of two and three.
The two mortals, Noah and Richard, lept forward, swiping their blades, but the two Wraiths swiftly dodged backwards, before punching forward with a violent force, cracking most, if not all, of the bones in their faces.
The Hunters turned their heads, watching as their mortal comrades tried fighting off the powerful and raging Wraiths, but to no avail, their throats had been torn out, and hearts ripped from their chests, before being drained of blood as the Wraiths fed in a frenzy, both on blood and their essence; the two supernatural men dug their nails deeply into the mortal’s chest, draining their energy, turning the men into dried out corpses.
Steven, holding one of the hearts in his hand, bit down on the organ, draining its blood. Afterwards, tossing it away, he let out a deep hiss, flashing his fangs.
The Hunters ignored the screams, focusing on the Hungarian that stood alone in front of them. Sheathing their knives, they cracked their knuckles. David and Sam both dabbled in dark arcane magic, while their leader, Quintin, manipulated the elements within reach.
Nikolaas breathed heavily, standing behind a magical barrier, bouncing off spells that had been cast from David and Sam, and then there was a moment, where the Hungarian released blasts of electricity from his hands like a flame thrower but of pure electric energy. Sam and David thwarted his advances, creating barrier of their own between themselves and him. The sparks bounced off, striking everything nearby like bolts of lightning, leaving scorch marks in their wake.
Steven and Roberto crouched down from the sudden outburst, then sped out of the way, not wanting to be struck down by the power they knew could kill them, or worse.
Nikolaas lowered his hands, watching as David pulled flame from a lighter he removed his pocket, throwing a green acidic fireball toward him, but the Demon missed, striking several of the barrels nearby, that began melting away, leaking its contents. The Hungarian hadn’t seen that in quite a long time, and he was a bit impressed.
Roberto and Steven were prepared to step in, aiding their old time friend, but he held out his hand, shaking his head, for he didn’t want them involved in his fight. Standing back, wiping their mouths with the back of their hands, they smeared more blood on their faces, watching the battle of Demons and dark Shayds.
“Is this is it, you Gypsy bastard?” David mocked, holding out his hands, “Is that all, glitter fingers?!” he laughed loudly in mockery, antagonizing the Hungarian in hopes he would let his guard down.
Quintin grinned, then knelt, slamming his hands engulfed in an orange hue, cracking the ground toward the Hungarian’s feet. Watching as the Demon stumbled back, avoiding the potholes that erupted around his feet, it looked as if they attempted to swallow him. David and Sam also took steps back, knowing that most, if not all, magical advances were tricks of the mind.
Stomping his foot, shattering the illusion, Nikolaas groaned, throwing out his hands, with his tattoo glowing brightly and his eyes filling with a deeper rage. His right hand pushed toward David and Sam, while he reached out his left hand for Quintin and before the two men had the chance to recharge their abilities, Nikolaas released a bold blast of Electrokinetic power like a violent lightning storm. He watched, as the men could only conjure shields to protect themselves from his magic, but because of his level 5 status, their barriers cracked, appearing fragile. Nikolaas stepped forward, continuously releasing his power, and once he stood at least a foot away, the shields between him and the men shattered, sending sigils and light lingering in the air.
Steven and Roberto covered their eyes as they peeked around the corner, watching the light show with admiration.
Sam, David, and Quintin jumped back, panting, watching as the Hungarian lowered his hands, needing a moment to recharge and catch his breath. Before he could gather more Electrokinetic energy, the Hunters attempted throwing their knives but two Wraiths sped forward with their supernatural speed, catching the bladed weapons midair, before tossing them away, thumping against barrels and crates.
“Any last words?” Nikolaas huffed, tilting his head.
“F*ck you, and your bloodsuckers!” Quintin spat at the man’s feet, almost landing on his boots, then spotting a barrel of old water behind the three men along the wall of the pub, the tall Hunter tightened his fists, freezing the barrels’ contents. He created a pressure that cracked the wood, before it exploded violently, sending shards of wood into the air.
Hearing the wood crack and splinter seconds in advance, both Roberto and Steven took most of the debris, standing in front of Nikolaas with their backs facing the shards, while the Hungarian suffered a large splinter to his right thigh. The Wraiths groaned, feeling the sharp stings running through their backs, before falling to their feet, leaning forward on their hands.
Kneeling before them, Nikolaas’ red eyes observed shards of various sizes embedded deeply into their flesh, piercing through the fabric of their shirts.
“D-do it…” Steven muttered, “Nikolaas, do it!” he raised his gaze, looking at Nikolaas, then offered a brief nod.
Knowing what he meant, Nikolaas glanced at Roberto, the Latino also nodded agreeably.
“Get around the building.” Nikolaas advised, then quickly he stood, watching as the Hunters approached, while Steven and Roberto crawled around the building out of sight and out of the line fire from further attacks.
“Listen man, just tell us what we want to know, we’ll end this quick!” Sam panted.
“You come into my town…” Nikolaas’ hands took on another bluish hue, “threaten the lives women and children…” the hue grew thicker and bolder, more intense in color, “and you expect me to step aside and allow you to have your fun killing and torturing them, yes?” he released a deep, guttural laugh, “No…I don’t think so.” and before his enemy could retaliate, the Hungarian raised his hands once more, releasing a more powerful surge of electricity that not only surged through the ground, and buildings, but also boiled the water that splashed from the shattered barrels. Bolts of lightning appeared to be pulled down from the sky in abrupt strikes, but the source was not from nature, but from the electricity poles above the adjacent rooftops. Nikolaas absorbed the energy into his hands, but the sound of generators exploding from an over surge, could be heard like gun fire or grenades going off.
Before David and Sam could create another barrier, both of their energy hadn’t recharged in enough time, and not even Quintin could stop what came toward them, not on his own. The electricity surged along the ground, up through their feet and, as they stood paralyzed, bound in place by the Hungarian Demon before them, the men began burning from within. Managing to scream as their skin burned off their bones, and their organs cooked from within, the blood in their veins, boiled to temperatures that weren’t natural.
Nikolaas relished in the moment, growing a faint grin before he lowered his hands, taking notice that the men standing in front of him, were nothing but a pile of ash and burnt clothes. Chuckling sinisterly, lowering his hands, he fell to his knees, feeling drained. He hadn’t performed magic that powerful in over a century. Leaning forward on his hands that appeared scorched, his demonic eyes faded, returning to their natural dark shade. Staring at the cracked ground beneath him, and around the area, his dark hair hung in his face as he sat up, combing it back before he attempted to stand, but his legs felt weak. Groaning deeply, he remained on the ground, crawling toward both Steven and Roberto, who ejected the wood shards and splinters that laid on the ground, covered in blood.
“Are you two all right?” Nikolaas worried for his friends.
“We are.” Steven panted slowly.
“And you?” Roberto rasped.
Grunting, Nikolaas leaned against the wall opposite Steven.
“It’s been a while since I’ve done that one.” Nikolaas frowned, “Not since…” he recalled using that specific blast of power, after discovering his wife had been murdered by Hunters, but then his thoughts on her, broke for he felt the sharp sting in his leg. Glancing down, there it was, the large splinter still deeply embedded in his thigh, “Sh*t.” he cursed in complaint. Grabbing hold of the shard, yanking it out quickly, he loudly shouted a slur or curse of Hungarian words, “Bassza meg anyádat és apádat, és a lovat, ahova lovagoltak!”
“Here.” Steven leaned forward to heal the wound with his blood, but Nikolaas pushed his hand away.
“I’m fine, I got it.” the Hungarian groaned.
“I can heal it.” Steven urged.
“I said, I GOT IT!” he stared into the Wraith’s eyes, and then looked away, “It’ll heal on its own, you know that. Besides, I can’t or won’t, rely on you always being there to fix my little boo-boos.” he grinned, attempting humor.
“Boo-boos?” Steven raised an eyebrow, knowing the man let out a small joke, “Never thought I’d ever hear those words spill from your lips.” he grinned, leaning against the wall.
“Boo-boos.” Roberto laughed. Looking at his friends, his brief moment of laughter, was contagious, as the three of them just shared the moment of friendship.
Nikolaas flinched, moving his leg, straightening it outward.
Clearing their throats, after the laughter subsided, there was nothing else to say. Sitting there for the longest time, looking at one another, then around the corner toward the carnage they had left behind, they huffed in distaste before each of them stood, helping one another.
“So, who wants to call for cleanup?” Roberto teased, “Hmm? You know, cleanup on aisle four or whatever the f*ck the code is these days?” he placed his strong, blood covered hands on his hips.
Steven and Nikolaas didn’t feel like laughing or smiling, they both glared at the Puerto Rican who shrugged off their gazes.
“We made this mess, we clean it up.” Nikolaas affirmed, as he strolled toward the pile of ash and clothes. Removing both of the sheaths and knives from the burnt belts, he claimed them as trophies.
Steven and Roberto piled the shredded bodies of the deceased mortals alongside the piles of ash then stood back, watching as Nikolaas set them aflame from a spark of the Hunter’s lighter, and the scent of burning flesh filled the air, creating black smoke rising high above. Dusting themselves off and their hands, they approached a water pump that busted, with its water spraying endlessly, washing their hands and faces. Shaking out their hands, wiping them dry on their thighs, Roberto bent the pipe closed, but water still leaked from its damaged cracks.
“Go clean yourselves off, then dispose of the truck.” Nikolaas advised firmly, then glanced down at his vest with disgust, “Damn it, this was my favorite vest.” he complained, noticing blood and singe marks ruined the delicate fabric.
Roberto and Steven grinned, then turned away, parting ways.
Returning to his office, Nikolaas removed his ruined clothing, throwing them into the fireplace. Watching as the fabrics burned momentarily, he turned away retreating into the bathroom, taking a shower, and as the hot water poured from the spout he examined his thigh, feeling satisfied that the wound healed, leaving a faint scar in its place. In clean clothes with his hair combed back, he sat alone before the fireplace, reflecting back when he first used his powers, loving the intoxicating allure. Years later, after encountering Steven and Roberto, he realized using his powers recklessly was wrong, and he had gradually corrected his life. He was a dangerous man then, and still was now, and in his justified mind, the Hunters weren’t innocents, he did what he had to do, to protect all that were involved.
Sipping from a glass filled with Hungarian wine, he knew the men were out to kill and destroy, seeing enough of them over his century and a half, because Hunters killed his wife a little over 105 years ago, when they first arrived in Penrith before his ownership. Nikolaas discovered that she had ventured out alone, shopping, when four Hunters chased her down into an out-of-the-way alley, where no one would hear or see the men violate and murder her. Clenching the glass, remembering the events, he found her murdered with words written in her blood, ALL WITCHES MUST DIE alongside her body and scattered personal belongings, that included a pack of Gypsy Tarot cards. She wasn’t a witch, but a Gypsy, and the men had misinterpreted the look of her, just because of one single item hidden away in her purse, but to Hunters, anyone they suspected of witchcraft or the occult, were fair game and were to be killed for sport.
Nikolaas was never the same after that, especially since it had been revealed that she was two months pregnant. There was a letter and blood test result from the town’s Doctor among her things and basket of fruit, wine, and bread, verifying the pregnancy. It was apparent she had a surprise planned with a romantic dinner. He never found those that murdered his one and only love of his life, but he would’ve loved the pleasure of torturing them in every way imaginable. After her death, he never left Penrith, gradually saving his money to purchase the pub, and investing the rest, until attaining great wealth. Now, he used his finances to help others, especially women and children who searched for help and safety from all of the cruelty of the mortal and supernatural world, and in honor of his wife, and in his mind, killing the six Hunters, was justice served because any Hunter who passed through his town, looking to harm innocents, helped satisfy his quest for those who murdered his wife. Sitting with tears, staring at an older photo of her that he held in hand, he grew content.
“I’m sorry, my love.” he whispered, touching the glass of the picture, “But I had to, there was no other way.” he leaned his head back, thinking about the lives that both Steven and Roberto had claimed, for it had been a while for them too.
In Penrith, he allowed Wraiths to follow their natural thirsts, but within reason, by feeding and releasing, and no victims or fatalities were to be left behind. Demons and Shayds, even a few scattered magical practitioners worked, and lived, among those in the town. His thoughts were then broken when loud knocks tapped on his door. Reluctant to answer, he stood and approached the door, allowing Steven and Roberto inside, as the three men needed to talk about what had occurred, and if it interfered for everyone else involved.
“Something is coming, my friends.” Nikolaas muttered, “And we must be prepared for it, as must the Isle, because this isn’t the first wave of Hunters to come through, nor will it be the last.” he looked at the Wraith, offering them glasses of wine.
“Agreed.” Steven nodded.
“Mierda.” Roberto cursed softly.
A Raven flew hastily to the island, flapping among others that squawked, as if greeting another of their kin.
Marxus stood on the balcony of the study, when he heard the loud squawking, and raising his gaze, a Raven flapped quickly toward him. Holding out his right arm, the bird landed, and panted, leaving its beak open. Pecking at its foot, it alerted the Immortal that it carried a message, and when he removed the parchment, the Raven flew off toward the wall, landing on the perch among the other birds, replenishing itself with a source of water and food left out for the others from the Guardians that fed them during their patrol. Turning away, Marxus unrolled the parchment and quickly read the note, growing worried, and even though the events had been handled, he returned to his desk, placing the note in the drawer to his right. Leaning his elbows on the ledge of the desk, he whispered looking around the room, taking in all the details,
“Now, it begins.” he sat back, rocking the chair.
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