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Culer’s voice pounds in my head as I snuggle into my soft red chair for the night. What have you learned?
Now? I needed another day at least. I have a lead but nothing solid yet. I’m not giving her more than she needs.
There was another death yesterday. What’s this lead of yours? Her head voice urgent.
It took her long enough. I knew about the death but she doesn’t know that. I found the casing of a silver bullet.
I can practically hear the wheels in her mind spinning. No sign it’s vampires?
I don’t know. Do they use bullets? Most likely they wouldn’t, but lycans and vampires are natural enemies and in Lols anything is possible. The rules are different here.
Her mind sighs. Keep searching. I need definitive proof.
The comicay call ends and I close my eyes. Definitive proof. I’d give it to her, but not until after the protests.
In my short visit I’d found a commoner food to my liking. An English breakfast that includes bangers, bacon, eggs, beans, and potatoes. It is the food source that keeps me going most of the day. I don’t bother to use the power of suggestion to pay my bill. Commoners don’t seem to notice the light created by portals, as if their weak vision can’t filter high energy light.
The roof tops offer a great view of the city without shifting through the crowded streets below. The scene from the previous night doesn’t halt the protesters from filling the streets as they march in the hundreds, maybe thousands.
Signs in their hands with large handwritten letters saying No to War, Don’t Attack Iraq, and other phrases. Vehicles honk, whistles blow, screams, drum beats, and chants rise in the atmosphere. So many of them packed together, yet there is no violence.
If I can convince the realm walkers to do this, starting with my generation, maybe the realm leaders will listen. There are only six of us. If I can convince the older generation we’d have a total of thirteen. Still a small crowd. Would six or even thirteen be enough to grab the realm leaders’ attention? No.
As I focus on the march below I realize something. I’ve spent the past couple days tracking who’s killing hybrids. There are plenty of hybrids in the middle realms. Realm walkers are spelled hybrids, not purebloods. Many realm walkers over the centuries took hybrids as partners. We are essentially still hybrids. We share that connection along with the lack of support in our realms. They have to hide part of their nature. If I can convince enough of them to join the protest then maybe we’ll get the attention of realm leaders.
First, I need definitive proof the killings aren’t by vampires. The four hunters were armed with guns. They hadn’t reached the garage with their cluster of melted weapons meaning they had more stashed in other places around the city. A bow soaked in wolf blood would serve as definitive proof. Vampires certainly wouldn’t collect gear to kill themselves.
The following day I scour the nooks and crannies of London for weapons: garages, basements, cemeteries. Relentless in the search, my frustration mounts. I drop onto the steps of an old building. A teardrop cement dirt-mottled arch above a large door behind me. My senses on overdrive, a snap to my right echoes like thunder, followed by a swish that cuts through the air. A sharp pinching hits my shoulder blade.
Heat radiates through my body as I shift the energy around myself into a protective shield. Reaching an arm behind me I feel a long, slender object and pull. Its teeth embed in my skin and muscles as I rip it out. A scream tearing through my lungs and escaping my mouth. They lie! There is another. Anger boils inside me more than the pain of the bloody gaping hole in my shoulder.
My senses don’t take but a moment to find the sound of shoes running against pavement. I open a portal and appear in front of the runner. A young woman with fiery red hair and curve-hugging leather skids. Her golden eyes widen as she veers to the right. Losing her balance, she finds grip with her hands and pushes upwards from the ground.
Gathering energy, I lift her small frame into the air as she kicks against it. A compound bow on her back and a quiver of arrows. “What was in that arrow?”
Her arms flailing, she tries to reach behind her. I press energy against her arms forcing them to her sides. “Wolf blood,” she squeaks.
I can kill her here and take the quiver and bow. That’s all I need for definitive proof. Pain like fire wraps my shoulder, traveling through my arm, and anger bubbles inside me but I have to be smart. I scoff, “Wolf blood won’t hurt me. Show me your weapon caches.”
“I’ll show you nothing,” she squeaks. Her small frame is no match for me. Unlike a vampire in a tiny package, a commoner in a tiny package isn’t intimidating, only small and powerless.
My shoulder aches as I shrug and an arrow of pain shoots through me. “Fine. I’ll kill you here.” I squeeze the energy around her, compressing her body, not enough to harm her or halt her breathing, but enough to let her know I mean business.
“Stop,” she shrieks. “I’ll show you.”
That’s more like it. “Don’t think of harming me again. My shield is up and the energy around you will crush you should you try anything,” I warn.
One by one I melt the weapons in each cache. I watch her shifty gaze and actions. She searches for an out, tries to think of some way to escape me or harm me and I resist the urge to squash her as the pain from the arrow burns. A reminder she is a barbaric commoner. Even though her thoughts are of escape, she isn’t stupid. I hold the power, bleeding or not, and she takes me on a hunter weapon tour around the city. “Are there any more of you?”
She shakes her head. “No, the others are... gone.” Her golden eyes meet mine and flash in sadness and anger. “You did that.”
The last hunters I ran into also claimed there were no more. They lied. Is she lying? I don’t think so or she’d be cocky like the others. The first two I caught thought the other two would have their backs, save them. They were wrong. She’s alone. “I did. Are there any more caches?”
“No, this is last one,” she says, defeated as if she lost a game. Her face shifts to the weapons hanging on the walls of the room hidden in an old building.
Studying the weapons, I sniff the tips of the arrows. I need wolf blood, as she calls it. My shoulder throbs but it will heal. “Throw down your arrows.”
When she does I use energy to slide them my way and lift them into the air. I’m not an expert at blood identification. I can’t tell wolf blood from vampire blood. I don’t trust her enough to take her word for anything. Collecting the quivers filled with arrows I string them over my good shoulder. The Drakonian realm walker will know. He’ll also keep a lid on what I discovered.
“I’ve shown you everything, let me go,” she pleads, as if I should show empathy for the lone hunter who tried to kill me with a wolf blood-laced arrow. She didn’t show me any and I will return the favor.
“I can’t. You know more than a commoner ever should.”
I collect the bow, burning pain radiating through my shoulder, neck, arm, chest, and back. I use it as fodder to encourage my rising anger. Pushing the bow into place I force her against the wall farthest from me.
“What are you?” she asks. I don’t want to converse. I need to make her disappear and get home and get medical help. My power is strong, but I’m fading.
“No, you don’t want to do this.” Her form small and frightened. She’s no older than me. Sharp pangs radiate through my chest and back. I covet that pain and use it to power my energy as I silence her pleading words. I release the arrow and it splits the air, slicing it beside her left ear. She whimpers and drops to the floor.
It’s time for her to join her friends in a portal to nowhere. “You will never harm, kill, or maim another supernatural. If you try, you will die by your own hand. Be gone!” I push her into a portal, commanding it to leave her in the arctic. A cold, uninhabitable commoner place.
Unable to hold the changes to my appearance any longer, blood drains down my back and arm, puddling on the floor from the tips of my fingers. It’s excruciating. I press my comicay and call the only person I can think of. Preston, the Drakonian realm walker.