Page 46 of Gone Hunting

Like the times before, I watched her cry. There was one more to hunt. I only hoped this one would give us some answers.

Chapter Thirteen

The darkness encasing me dimly shifts into light, forcing my eyes open even though my feet were walking long before I could see.

I’m shadowing Celia. The weather is as hot and humid as it was when we first started hunting and Celia is more like I remember her now. A black tank top stretches across her back, the hem long enough to brush the rear pockets of her tight jeans.

The man we’re following is drunk, the bottle of whisky he’s carrying swinging back and forth as he sings. It’s a ballad of lost love. It’s as much as I make out with the little Spanish I know.

I glance over my shoulder, feeling like we’re being followed. “Celia,” I say, catching up to her. “I think she’s here.”

She, meaning the witch. I can feel her magic and power. It’s strong, like the scent of the jungle following a storm, odd considering where we are. I frown, sensing something immature about it, as if she hasn’t quite figured out how to manipulate the gamut of power she’s carrying. A young witch perhaps? Or someone naïve and not yet skilled with magic?

Celia keeps her focus ahead, ignoring the catcalls of the boys pretending to be men, who loiter on the next corner we pass. It’s yet another moment I wish I was actually present. They wouldn’t dare disrespect her if I was here.

My head whips in the opposite direction when I feel another wave of magic stir nearby. This one is stronger, darker, with enough menace to make me growl. We keep walking, our steps faster when the man we’re following tries to climb into a car.

The door swings open and two women scramble out, screaming at him as they shove him away and slap at his face. The man laughs, having fun at their expense. He staggers away, almost losing his footing as he continues his song. Another growl rumbles my chest when I feel yet another dark form appear, and another after that.

There are three witches, plus the one I first sensed. The first feels threatened by the others. She doesn’t seem to think she can take them. She skitters away, frightened, the scent of the wild jungle disappearing with her.

That young witch is terrified for a reason. We shouldn’t be here. Not alone.

“Celia!” I yell. “Celia! We have to get out of here. There are three dark witches following you. Not just one.”

I turn, walking backwards. Less than a block away, I feel the presence of darkness, then again to my far right and once more toward the left. The witches have spotted Celia and they’re closing in, fast.

Celia is no longer the hunter. She’s become the prey.

The man turns around, sensing he’s being followed. I don’t expect him to recognize Celia, not when her eyes remain human. Somehow, he does.

“La diabla,” he screams. “La diabla.”

He calls Celia the she-devil, just as the woman who witnessed Celia’s first kill did. Of course. With his other buddies dead, he must have guessed he’d be next. And by the looks of it, so did the witches trailing us. But how?

The man throws his bottle at Celia and charges into traffic. She easily ducks out of the way, but not as easily around the cars speeding forward. An old Chevy almost mows her over. But as fast as this truck is going, Celia’s reflexes are easily two steps ahead. She rolls over the hood instead of leaping over it, hitting the ground running as she swerves around the remaining cars.

Celia curses when she reaches the walkway and sees the man race into a crowded parking deck. She starts forward without me. I only hesitate, because I know we’re not alone.

The dark witches separate like hyenas ready to take down their kill. They’re not nearly as fast, but Celia is on her own and unaware of their presence.

Celia stops at the entrance to the garage. The way she listens makes me think she picked up on the witches until she cuts through the garage and out the other side. The man lured her into the deck to confuse her, but his drunken state made him sloppy and loud. She hears him exit and thinks she has him.

We give chase, running across another busy street. While I know I technically can’t get hit, I don’t take any chances, not with the dark forces I feel behind us.

I let out a breath when I see him near an alley. This is it. The place Celia gets cornered.

Celia surges forward, snagging the man by the collar and throwing him into the alley.

“No . . .por favor,” the man begs. “Don’t kill me, little one.”

Celia ignores him, her attention shifting right and left before storming forward.

“No,” the man says again. “Please. I have children.”

Celia hoists him up by the throat. “No. You don’t. But my parents did.”

I hear the crunch of bones, but I don’t look. All at once, dark magic penetrates the end of the alley. Of the three witches who followed, the strongest has come for Celia and the others aren’t far away.

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