Blood Hunter | Tales of the Wild #1

Chapter 1

Kneeling down the dead vampire, the blood that oozed out from her and the feeling of warmth indicated that it had not been long that she was dead. The contents of her stomach had spilled out and as she neared, smelling the cadaver, the missing scent of silver had given her two possibilities. Either it was a werewolf that killed this woman or a witch.

She searched for a bite and there was none. Only burned marks around her wrists and ankles.

Witch.

A twig snapped behind her and running on instinct, she grabbed her bow and arrow from her quiver, drawing back the string and pointing it where she heard the noise. The woman in front of her merely smiled and waved, showing off the branding on her wrist—a wolf painted in black and red. She had bright blue hair tied into pigtails, dark lipstick around thin lips, cheeks flushed, and dark eyes glowing blue.

"Lyrica," she greeted the witch. "seems as if one of you is missing."

The smile was wiped off her face. Though the witch didn't have canine blood at all, she still growled in anger as if she were one. "That's because you killed Lamia, you bitch!"

"Ah," it was now her turn to grin. The satisfaction of knowing that the two witches felt the bond between them break. "It's pleasing to know that she really did die. I apologize I couldn't be there to fully witness the life going out of her eyes, I was too busy to do her the honor of killing and watching her. Too much work. I'm needed in different places."

With a war cry passing from Lyrica's lips, she produced a translucent red glow from her hands and proceeded to throw it where she stood. It merely passed her body and attacked the tree behind her, causing it to explode and fall down behind her. The witch's eyes widened, the natural blue glow that their kind had disappeared.

She could smell the fear in the air, the saltiness of the witch's sweat that broke out from her skin, and hearing the leaves under her foot slightly shake from how she was suddenly afraid. Tilting her head, she winked. "Never really listened to one of your many lessons, didn't you? What did the old man tell you, Lyrica. Not stalk me alone, yes?"

She looked absolutely lost. "I-I—"

"Goodbye, Lyrica." Without missing a second, she released the arrow, hitting the dead center of her neck.

She gargled on her blood, clawed at her neck, and her eyes begged for her to do something. Yet, the two of them knew that she wouldn't be able to save herself even if she uses her power. It was a known fact that silver was the most poisonous to all supernatural beings. A deadly strike with silver, there was no chance for survival. Her death was absolute.

Sighing, she knelt down to the vampire. It was obvious from the young one's face that she was a teenager. Though there was no exact year that a vampire would reach maturity in which they wouldn't age, something just yapped in her mind that this child hadn't reached the age of her maturity, maybe she hadn't even learned how to use her instincts yet and that's why she ventured too deep into the woods. A dangerous place that if one didn't know how to get out, they never would. Alive or dead.

Pulling the tie of her hood around her neck, she covered up her body and carried her in her arms. From the information that she was told, it was clear that they were lower ranks in the clan but all of the people of the clan still searched the woods for almost a month and when they couldn't find her anymore, she was called by the King of the Blackburn Clan.

Not many would reach out to her for help. She was, of course, feared by people but because their Clan was desperate. They didn't have any choice anymore.

Using her speed, she arrived two hours later at the gates of the castle. One of the enforcers had seen her and the body she carried, signaling the other guards to open the gates immediately and contact the royals and family. It didn't take long now when they arrived, meeting her halfway. The mother and father of the child took her from her arms and the three landed on the ground with a thud, crying for the death of their daughter.