The Hunters Saga #3: The Hawthorn Pearl

Chapter 2: The Hawthorn Pearl

A/N: Chapter 2, everybody!! Whoo ^_^ Enjoy and thanks for reading (and being patient, of course!) ;D

Chapter 2: The Hawthorn Pearl

   The Hawthorn Pearl wasn't a nightclub, and it wasn't run by vamps or weres either. No, this place was a bar run by witches.

   At least, that was my theory.

   Henri hadn't said a word to me on the ride over through the earliest of night. Little to no traffic faced us, but that didn't seem to matter to me. I was in the dark, and I was only relying on basic theories. Still, I had a feeling I was close to the truth.

   Hawthorn was considered poisonous for witches in the same way that wolfsbane was to werewolves. It was ironic, to say the least. None of the other supernaturals could be connected to such a hazardous plant.

   "Henri," I piped up, but was hit with a wave of the silent treatment that made my lip curl. Well, then...

   From the light that came through the cracked limo window, I saw streetlamp after streetlamp, and as they flickered, I received a sense of danger.

   We weren't supposed to be here.

   Henri took my hand in his, and I flinched at the sudden contact. "Relax," the vampire murmured.

   I swallowed. "Where are we?" My spine was tingling oddly, and suddenly the cloying scent of incense washed over me like a tidal wave of overwhelming perfume. I coughed roughly. "What the-"

   "We're here," Henri replied just as the limo came to a complete stop.

   At least I was right about my witch-run-bar theory. If you could even call it that. I slid quietly out of the vehicle, my senses still heightened and overbearing. It would take awhile to get accustomed to, I gathered. Through my eagle-like sight, I found myself looking at what appeared to be an abandoned brick building. The street itself was deserted and dimly lit.

   We were on the outskirts of town, closest to the harbor. It was obvious that no one would be around at this time - at least where humans were concerned - but the place seemed so... secluded.

   We shouldn't be here.

     The only color on the abandoned warehouse was the sign, beaming with its neon reds and yellows. My eyes traveled to the entrance next, and I saw two figures blocking the door.

   The source of the incense smell, I deduced mentally. In other words: warlocks.

   Now, even though magic-users were more plentiful than werewolves, I hadn't met very many. Most of the ones I had met were slaves to the vampires.

   I glanced Henri's way, and without a single word, he led me to the warlock-blocked entrance.

   Now with a better look at the two magic-users, my degree of unease shot up a few notches. Why did Henri take me to a bar? Was there even a reason? I couldn't decide if the warlocks were bouncers or bodyguards, but The Hawthorn Pearl was a bar, right? Not a nightclub...

   "Uh, Henri, why are we at a witch bar? We're not witches." Henri didn't look at me or answer; he just kept walking, seemingly aware of the danger we were walking into.

   Witches and vampires didn't exactly like each other. Okay, so maybe 'like' is too underwhelming of a word to describe their relationship. Although some witches and warlocks have earned the trust of the undead for personal favors and such, most magic-users despise the creatures of the night. I laughed mentally at that. Magic-users were the damn cause of vampirism and werewolves, for shit's sake!