Destiny's Witch (BxB)

Chapter 1: The Myth

Perry

I would rather be punched than to fall in love.

Context. You need context. Imagine you are living your life as a regular high school student, and suddenly you are launched into a world of demons and magic. By demons and magic, I mean more demon and less sparkly unicorns.

It makes the world a little less starry.

Because it is.

I should probably explain, among other things, who I am. My name is Perry Renner. Well, Bennett. It depends on which day you ask, and which parent. My father is an old-fashioned guy while my mother, and grandmother, believe my brother and I should take their family's name. My grandmother told me that my brother, Porter, and I are the first males in the to be born in the family in many generations.

To make a an egregiously long story short, the women in our family always keep the Bennett name. It was always in question on whether that was the true reason or if it had more to do with my mother's hatred of my father's family. The topic is a sore subject in our household because my grandmother and my father cannot seem to find common ground on anything.

I am doing it again. I tend to be very sporadic. My friends describe it as chaotic, my father calls it unfocused, and Porter swears it is annoying. I prefer to think of it as cagey and unpredictable. As the baby of the family, it works for me.

Back to the punching.

"Duck!" Alan Renner yells.

The large umber-skinned man with an astoundingly prominent nose cheers me on from the crypt he is watching from. Our new normal is trekking through cemeteries in the hopes of finding a putrid-smelling demon to hone my skills on.

His unimpressed tone indicates his worry because it would kill him to express it normally.

I strafe backwards, away from the punch being thrown at me. A swift twirl puts me behind the grey-skinned former linebacker in the tight black suit. The suit, as expensive as it once was, is in tatters on the man. His bald head and glowing blue eyes make it impossible not to notice him. A roar rattles me as he swipes at me.

"The legs! Go for his legs!" Alan shouts.

"Yes, dad," I duck a punch, "announce what I should do! Great idea!"

"Stop talking!" The lumbering man mutters.

"Right. Sorry."

With another large swipe, I am thrown backwards. I roll to a stop as my skinny frame aches. The attack caught me off guard. It has sparked a fire in me that needs to be extinguished in one way, and one way only. My eyes catch sight of gardening tools, including a shovel, leaning against the nearby crypt.

The gravedigger left his tools. Or died. Either way works in my favor.

The vampire attempts to stomp me. I roll forward, grabbing the shovel. I brandish the shovel as if it is a staff, swinging it across my body. The metallic end slices through the vampire's neck, decapitating him. He combusts into a bloody mess as the shovel drops to the ground.

"Good job." Alan says.

I sigh. "Yeah. Probably shouldn't have worn my new school shoes. Though, I did not think we'd be...auditing?"

"We're not calling it auditing. I suggest patrolling."

"Patrol is such a been-there done-that thing." I say. "How about shopping? Or exploring? Fishing! You like fishing."

"I am not sure where you came from."

"What exactly am I supposed to tell mom? Exactly where does she think we are?"

Alan sighs. "I told her you were thinking of trying out for the football team."

"And she believed you?"

"No. She thinks you're trying to 'impress' me. As if you'd ever want to impress me." Alan laughs.

The truth is, since I have been hanging out with Alan, I have come to understand how much we do not know about each other. Alan has always had a certain kinship with my brother, Porter, that he has never had with me. As much as he argues, Porter is his favorite. Porter is most people's favorite. I doubt I am in his top two favorite children.

Did I mention he has two children.

"Yeah."

The sounds of the night drown out our awkward silence. The cicadas rise above the other sounds as we stand in the moonlight. The man seems larger here, with a pair of almost unnatural dark brown eyes. He reaches down in his jeans, fishing out a small locket.

The locket is a weird symbol that holds the appearance of someone mooning me.

"I meant to give you this on your birthday, but it's a little late." Alan says. "It's a Akoko Nan symbol. A powerful symbol from Africa. Other protective symbols have been etched into it."

"Wow, you think I need that much protection, do you?"

"You do know that this isn't a game? I can't protect you anymore, not like before. You being called upon by destiny means the Infernum has become active again. This would be the first time in centuries. Demons will flock here, and they won't be happy to meet you."

"Yeah, they shouldn't be."

"Don't get cocky. I've seen a lot of hunters get cocky. Most of them died."

Alan's tone is terse, almost pained. My father's family are demon hunters, like their ancestors before them. Hunters are human beings called to find and vanquish demons of all sorts, including witches and wizards.

Hunters are less concerned with magic practitioners, though if the practitioner catches their attention for nefarious reasons, they will not hesitate to attack them.

Alan described Hunters as enhanced human beings, imbued with hardened durability, above average strength, and the ability to sense supernatural beings. Alan told me the memories of hunters linger, even after a hunter has died and pool into something he likened to a memory bank. Every hunter has access to a collective memory bank.

Hunters first received their powers in the mid-to-late dark ages from a deity of some kind. Most Hunters are born as such, or called, as the art of initiation has been lost to all but the oldest Hunters.

See, I listen.

"We should get home. Remember, we came to practice football."

"Shouldn't we be dirty? Boots notwithstanding."

"We came, but you realized you hate sports. You got angry at me and we went home. Your mother was right. It'll satisfy her to know that." Alan says.

"Right. Lie."

"Only about this."

"Right. Lie."

"No, literally only about this."

I think it over. "I don't know. I literally just heard you say lie. You wouldn't want to be a hypocrite, right?"

Alan groans in frustration as he walks away from me. He heads towards the exit of the cemetery, muttering to himself about boarding school. The comment makes me laugh.

It could be worse. He could have me committed.