A Hunter By Any Name (6 page)

The old man closed the door behind us before he let go of me. I felt a spell seal the funeral home up tight and knew I was trapped. He knew I knew and let go of me before he started down the hall that led through the funeral home trusting me to follow him. Having no other choice I followed the him still unsure how much trouble I was in..

We went through a door that led into an office and through a second door that led to a small kitchen. Two walls were lined with cabinets that had been painted white and contrasted with the bright yellow walls nicely. The color choice made the windowless kitchen feel bright and cheery which only caused my wariness to grow. The center of the remaining space was taken up by a large table with eight chairs that could have accommodated a large family. The large table and chairs were wood that had grown dark with age but still had an unblemished surface.

The man pulled out a chair and motioned for me to sit. Seeing no other options I sat.

The old man turned off a burner that had a steaming tea kettle on it before picking up two mugs and a box of tea bags in one hand and the kettle in the other. He set the kettle on a hot pad that was sitting at one end of the table. The hot pad had a brown ring that matched the bottom of the kettle and had obviously been used for this purpose many times before. He sat down the box of tea bags and mugs. The man then turned and opened the refrigerator and took out a carton of cream and closed the door. He then turned opened a cupboard door with his free hand and grabbed a package of Oreos and used his wrist to close the cupboard door. He turned and set the items on the table. Then he pulled out a chair and sat down at the table with me. He poured hot water in both of the mugs, got out two tea bags and put one in each cup. He then pushed one toward me.

It wasn’t until he spoke that the spell that seemed to have ahold of me and kept me quiet broke. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours?” He said. The absurdity of an old man that I didn’t know saying this to me after I had sat down at his table and calmly watched him get tea ready after only moments before I had been running for my life hit me. I leaned back in my chair and stared in disbelief at the old man.

I looked back at the tea and tried to process what had taken place.

The old man knew I was having trouble processing and threw me a bone. “I know. I invited you in for lemonade but you will have to make do with tea.” He said to lighten the mood.

I glanced down at the mugs on the table. Then I forced the preconceived judgements out of my mind and turned back to study the old man a second time.

I saw his pastel shirt and canvas hat this time for what they truly were, a disguise to make his appearance seem light, happy, and harmless. I studied his movements as he added cream and sugar to his tea and stirred it with controlled precise movements. I reflected on the steady movements as he had gotten the ingredients for the tea and set them on the table. They were purposeful and without any wasted movements.

My eyes ran down his body as I appraised in his physical shape with a skilled eye and then for the first time since the night my parents died I felt utterly hopeless. I desperately wished I was out on the street facing the four strange men that may or may not have been wizards. This time because I knew it was there I saw the shimmer of energy that concealed his sword. He had it hanging on his left side in a similar manner in which my own sword hung.

I was sitting at a kitchen table having tea with a lethal killer who could take me out in seconds and then calmly finish his tea.

Seeing no other option but to finish what I had started I absorbed the energy of the spell that concealed my sword and pulled it out of its sheath. I handed it to the old man and then calmly without a care in the world started fixing my tea. After all I was just as good as dead with or without the sword. I was at his mercy. I might as well enjoy a nice cup of tea before I die.

Dammed if that old man didn’t read all my movements and attitude and see them for exactly what they were. He chuckled as he studied the markings on my sword before handing it back to me. He watched as I sheathed my sword and even noticed when I did not conceal it again. This caused his left eye brow to twitch slightly. Although I wondered why, I concealed my interest and did not change my actions.

He pulled out his sword and handed it to me. Not knowing what I was supposed to do with the sword that was similar to my own I took it. The markings on the sword had a different pattern to them than my sword but other than the pattern of the markings our two swords appeared to be exactly the same. I stood up and gave the sword a practice swing. The sword wished through the air and I felt the same hum of magic as with my own sword. This confirmed that they were identical in every way except the markings.

I handed him back the sword which he sheathed and concealed before looking at me expectantly.

I had never been one to conform to societal pressures and saw no reason to start now in a strange kitchen with a lethal old man. I sat back down and refusing to conceal my sword. I grabbed an Oreo and nibbled on it. My eyes met his in defiance.

This time the old man let his left eye brow raise fully letting me know he was well aware I had noticed his involuntary eye brow movement earlier and did not care.

I nibbled on the cookie and took a drink of tea while I debated my next move. Then I decided if I was going to die I might as well get some answers first. “Where did you get your sword?” I asked him.

I don’t think the old man had made up his mind on me yet because when I asked the question he looked at me with a look I couldn’t interpret. Then he turned his attention to taking a cookie out of the package while he said, “I expect I got mine the same way you got yours.”

Okay, I admit it. I am not the sharpest crayon in the box. The sharp crayon would probably not have let her temper get the better of her and decide to poke the deadly snake sitting beside her. But the calm manner in which this man sat there evaluating me and deciding on if he was going to kill me or not, well that just pissed me off. He could at least show a little passion over the decision.

So of course I had no choice but to say in my most sarcastic and sadistic voice ever, “Oh you got your sword from the man who saved you from being sacrificed and murdered like your parents and then promptly died on you too. Huh? Small world.”

Then with all the courage and strength I could drag out of myself, I stood up and glared at him in distain before issuing my ultimatum. “Well I really wish you would hurry up and make up your mind if you are going to kill me or not. There is only one day before the Litha Sabbat and I have a wizard to kill. So if you aren’t going to kill me I need to go.”

When that old man looked up at me before roaring with uncontrollable laughter it took every molecule of self-control in my body not to draw my sword and try to lob off his head. The Queen of Heart’s was jumping up and down inside my head yelling in her most winning tantrum filled voice, “Off with his head!” I may have even allowed myself to visualize swinging my sword and his head flying off gracefully and falling to floor in slow mo.

After a few minutes of uncontrollable laughter the old man stood up and grabbed a few tissues from the box on the counter to wipe the tears from his face. Just when he had finally stopped laughing he started to open his mouth to speak but only laughter came out as he lost control all over again.

During all this what did I do? Stand there catching flies with my mouth of course.

Finally, the old man looked up at me with a kindness that was previously not in his eyes. “Sit and I will explain everything to you.” He said.

I crossed my arms in defiance and glared at him.

When I did not sit he stood up and glared back at me. I saw once again the deadly old man. “Sit. I don’t have time for childish games. You don’t know who and what you are dealing with.” He commanded me in a deadly tone.

I calmly sat down drained my mug of tea. Yep, I can handle deadly.

The old man refilled my mug with hot water. “My name is Duncan. I am an Arihant. Arihants are the killers of wizards. It is a family tradition that has been handed down to the oldest male in the family. I got my sword from my father.” Duncan paused and regret filled his voice when he continued, “I do not have a son to hand my sword down to.”

Duncan paused and drained the last of the tea in his cup as well. He then continued explaining while he prepared himself a new cup of tea trying to mask the shame that crept into his voice as he spoke. “In the old days our reputations were enough to keep the wizards in line. They knew if they killed humans then we would hunt and kill them. However, in an attempt to become civilized we organized and elected group of representatives to lead the Arihants. They took on the task of deciding which wizards needed to be killed. At first the representatives worked well but then the systems like all systems with power became corrupt. Now it is widely believed that the wizards control the governing group of Arihants. The Arihants that are left are just a hollow shell of what we once were.”

Duncan finished fixing his tea waiting for me to process what he had said and I was grateful for the chance to do so. In all honesty I was at a loss on how to respond to him. What he admitted to me did not surprise me any at all. I had suspect that there must be an organization that killed Wizards when the old man had saved me with his magical swords. A part of me had halfway expected to be discovered by the organization for a good number of years in the beginning.

Reflecting back on it I realized my life could be divided into three segments. The Before when I was a child with loving parents. The Middle when I halfway anticipated being rescued from my life of constant hunting by a secret organization. Then The Final Years in which I had the soul crushing realization that I was all alone with the weight of the world resting on my shoulders. I did not allow myself to compare the different times. That would be inviting heart break into my life. No it was best to just accept what is and move on with life.

I knew Wizards controlled and corrupted all branches of government from the documents I found on the wizards I killed. The fact that they controlled a secret society that was supposed to keep them in line only made sense to me. The sadness and shame that Duncan felt also seemed only logical to me. If he was allowing corrupt wizards to control him then he should feel shame. Then the full implications of what he said hit me.

“If that is the case then I need to leave because they aren’t going to just wait around outside for me to come out and play. I need to leave and quickly.” I said as I got up.

Duncan stood up and grabbed my hand. “You are right but let me finish first. There is more that you need to know. The Arihants have known there was a rogue killing the wizards without their permission. They are hunting for you. I am not sure how you have eluded them so far but you have been lucky.”

I snorted in disgust at that comment and let my distain for the situation come through in what I said next as I spoke in a clear but deadly calm voice. “It wasn’t luck. It was hard work. It was pain. It was suffering. I have sacrificed everything over the years. Who I am. Who I could become. All to do a job I don’t want to do but needs to be done. I am doing the job that you and every other Arihant should be doing but aren’t.” By the end of my rant I was mad. So not only now did I have to deal with Wizards but a group of corrupt Wizard hunters that were hunting me.

I paused frustrated, scared and mad with the situation I found myself in. All of this led me to cast a spell that I had only ever cast once before. One time had been enough for me to see the spell for the truly nasty one it was. It was the True Sight Spell. It does exactly what its name says. It gives you the power of true sight.

Just think about that for a second. The ability to see everyone, everything and every situation for what they truly are. It is a scary power. The last time I cast it I hid in the wilderness away from everyone until it wore off.

However, the fear of having become pray and narrowly escaping the four men that had followed me, only to be lured into the cheerfully yellow den of a deadly killer had unnerved and frightened me. On top of that I had learn about a secret society that should be doing a job that I had been doing all alone for the last 14 years. A job I didn’t want and never asked for. The combination of those things left me pissed off.

When I become pissed off I am a stubborn asshole. I was living through this situation if for no other reason than to piss off the fates that seemed to have decided I needed to die tonight. Well those three old ladies could just kiss my ass because I wasn’t going down without a fight.

That was why I resorted to casting the True Sight spell. I was going to outsmart this deadly old man that had more training and knowledge than I had dreamed about in my wildest fantasies.

When I looked back at him after casting the spell I saw him for who he truly was. I saw the way out of this situation clearly. It is a good thing I was pissed and therefore a stubborn asshole because it was not going to be pretty. I paused gathering my will into the conviction needed to get the job done.

I spoke in a steady deadly calm voice that was not very loud but reverberated with the power of the truth behind them. “I can’t believe I was afraid of you when I first came in here. You are far more deadly than I could ever hope to be. You have more power and training than I can even dream about. But what good does it do you? You sit here and drink tea and talk about the old days and tradition. A tradition that is passed down from father to son. You mourn the loss of not having a son when in fact you should celebrate that fact. You are a waste of power and talent. You don’t have enough courage to kill a mosquito that is sucking your blood let alone stand up and kill a corrupt wizard. You should be thankful you don’t have a son that would be obligated to take up your pathetic existence. You should be thankful that the tradition will die with you. But don’t worry. I am here to do the job of all the fathers and sons throughout history that are sitting around on their asses letting all the virgin girls get sacrificed.” I stared hard at him before continuing. “I, a female, a daughter have killed more wizards than you, the man, the son, with all your tradition, training and power have ever even thought about killing.” I paused again giving the power of the truth time to sink in before continuing, “Now all I need is a few more little girls to help me.” I spat out in disgust at him before turning to head out the door knowing I had done the job I set out to do. I had broken him.