Page 119 of Court of Evil

I sigh wistfully. “She’s so fucking cool.”

“Cool? Is she sick? Should we bring her back and warm her up?” Tem asks nervously.

“Oh, my little bloodthirsty friend, I have much to teach you.” I sigh. “Come on, dummy, let’s go hunting.”

I follow my girl through the portal.

CHAPTER 50

George Brown, or Demon, as the other hunters call him, is the epitome of what I hate. He hunts anything and everything, regardless of what their crimes are. He is relentless and messy. If Shamus’s research is anything to go by, then he doesn’t care who gets hurt in the process, which doesn’t surprise me. I still remember the hardness of his gun at my temple as he marched me into the abandoned bakery to leave me as bait for the troll we were hunting. Well, my father and George were hunting, but not together—it just so happened they’d run into each other. My dad made a friendly bet, as most hunters do, and George made it unfriendly. He didn’t care if I lived or died.

It was only because of the skills my father had taught me that I survived that encounter. The troll got away, and George was so angry, he backhanded me. When my father turned up with the troll’s head, he was furious, and for the first time ever, I saw fear in George’s eyes. He managed to escape my father’s wrath, not without that scar, but I knew then what lingered inside a man like that—bloodlust, the type that is never satisfied.

He feels no sanctity for human life nor monsters, just a need to kill. He isn’t a hunter because he wants to protect humans. He’s a hunter because he’d be a serial killer otherwise. He’sgotten away with it for a long time, mainly because his superiors are too scared to say anything so they cover for him.

Not anymore.

He doesn’t scare me. He’s just a man with murderous intent—one that will learn there’s always someone bigger and stronger than him.

I’ll make him regret his ways and show the other hunters how serious I am when I return with his head in tow.

The portal spits us out in a small town in the middle of nowhere. “What is he hunting here?” I ask curiously.

“His superior reports he is chasing down a wendigo,” Shamus replies as he appears at my side.

“Then he’ll be in the woods. I know how men like him think. He’ll be watching and waiting, probably luring locals or hikers in as a trap. Let’s go.” We cross the small, empty road and head into the woods that border this tiny town. Its population cannot be more than a thousand, but the woods seem to span many miles—perfect for a wendigo to hide.

Once they have tasted flesh, there is no going back. He is hunting an actual monster for once, but it’s how he’s hunting it that worries me.

There is a ripped tent six miles into the vast forest, just off the hiking trail. Reaching down, I press my fingers to the cinders of the fire. “Still warm. They haven’t been gone long.”

“Boot tracks,” Shamus points out. “Big, has to be him. Two smaller ones are near it. He probably led them away.”

I nod as I scan the area before placing my hand on the tent to see it. I have to be sure I don’t just rely on my training anymore, but my powers as well. I’ll use every advantage I can get.

Gritting my teeth against the terror that saturates the images, I focus on the flashing, distorted visions. They are tainted by panic and adrenaline, which makes them harder to understand.

“Two women,” I say. “They were sleeping this morning when he slashed open their tent, tied them together, and frog-marched them away. He explained in detail what would happen to them. He wants their fear.” Pulling my hand away, I point in the direction they went. “Let’s go.” I pull out my shotgun and set off into the trees.

Fury fills me. Nobody should be made to feel fear like that. They are innocent. They weren’t hurting anyone, just enjoying nature and their time together, and now it will always be tainted by this memory.

My team spreads out around me, and every now and then, I touch a tree in passing and alter our course accordingly. We move silently, Shamus knowing exactly where to move and how to work at my side even without working together before. His steps are silent, and he moves like a wraith. Even in the bright sun and knowing where he is, he’s hard to spot, using the coverage perfectly.

No wonder they call him a stalker.

It’s strange seeing him in this mode. He will always be the commander to me, sitting behind his desk while pulling the strings, so it’s easy to forget he is a hunter too. Now that I see him in action, I realise there is a reason they all fear and respect him. He earned it.

Letting out a low whistle, I grab his attention and alter our course farther north. The trees are older and bigger here, the foliage growing everywhere. This is true wilderness, not a hiking trail or path. It’s clear that aside from George, his captives, and us, it’s not been explored or walked through in many, manyyears. It’s a perfect place for a wendigo to hide. Its den must be deep in the woods, below the earth, where they feel safe.

Another mile in and Addeus catches my arm, his voice low. “I smell blood. Fresh. Human.”

“He’s right,” Tem supplies, closing his eyes as he sways. “Female, young, definitely human.”

“Which way?” I ask. They both point in the same direction, and Shamus appears at my side.

“We are close,” I tell him, and he nods. “George will have set a trap, and we can’t spring it. We need to be unseen as we creep up on him. I want you all to spread out. Use every power you have, but I don’t want anyone to be seen at all. The humans are to be left alone. They are innocent. George is mine, but capture him if you must.”

“And the wendigo?” Shamus asks, trusting me to take charge like we agreed.

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