Blaze Monroe and the Tattered Heart: A Supernatural Thriller (The Hunter Who Lost His Way Book 3) Read online

  The Hunter Who Lost His Way

  Book Three

  Blaze Monroe

  and the

  Tattered Heart

  Alex Villavasso

  Copyright 2019, Alex Villavasso

  All rights reserved

  This novel is a work of fiction and is a product of the author’s imagination.

  All events, places, and characters are either fictitious or portrayed in a fictitious manner. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form except by an authorized retailer or once written permission from the author is received.

  For inquires, contact the author at AlexVillavasso.com

  Please support the author and do not encourage or participate in distributing this work through illegal means.

  Thank you.

  Cover Illustration by Jesse Gerbrandt

  Chapter 1: Shattered Thoughts

  “Game’s over, Eugenie.” The sound of my gun firing ignites my eardrums and Eugenie falls to the floor, grabbing his leg on the way down. He extends his free hand forward and a wave of invisible energy throws me against the wall. It hurts, but not nearly as much as it could have. It’s a side effect of my bullets;

  custom made for the occasion.

  They neutralize magic as long as they’re imbedded in the target’s flesh.

  The tougher witches can temporarily shrug it off, but not for long. What I got hit by was the equivalent of a final putt of gas from a motor running on fumes…I think.

  “Hunter!”

  Eugenie juts his hand forward in a fit of pained rage and I feel a sudden force against my chest. The force bends me back, but it’s barely enough to make me budge. He looks at his hand and then at me as I sit up from the ground, ignoring the dull ache from my bones smashing against one of the walls of the witch’s hideout.

  “Don’t,” I command, my gun trained on him. Eugenie was halfway to his pocket before I stopped him. Who knew what tricks he’d have in store? A gun…or more of that powder stuff. If he hit me with that, it’d be bad news. I’m not sure if I’d be able to shake it before he dug the bullet from out of his flesh, because he sure as hell would be desperate enough to do it if it meant he’d walk out of this alive. “You reach into your pocket, you die…now raise your hands up and put them behind your head.” Eugenie complies and I inch closer. “Now lie on your stomach.”

  “But, my leg,” he groans.

  “I don’t care. Make it happen,” I respond through clenched teeth. Eugenie takes his time rolling over, but his theatrics don’t distract me.

  Eugenie is an older man. White. Mid-fifties, if I had to guess, with unimposing features. He’s slightly overweight and balding. Zero muscle mass and not the least bit athletic. He almost looks like your friendly next-door neighbor who you see watering their garden on occasion. You know, something benign. Unfortunately, that’s not the case and one of the reasons he’s deadly. No one expects him to show what he truly is.

  A monster.

  A few moments of agony is just what he deserves.

  After he’s in position, I finish my assessment, circling him to approach the downed witch from behind so he can’t reach at me. “What are you doing?”

  “Shut up,” I respond as I move out of his line of sight. He tries to turn his head slightly, but he knows better. By now, I’m sure he gets that I’m in control. I do a quick pat down, running my free hand over his pants and pockets while I point the gun at the back of his head. He’s clean except for what’s in the front—the reason I’m over here in the first place.

  Like I said before, that powder is no joke.

  It’s a medium for the magic he’s been using. It’s powerful stuff that when used in tandem with his own spell allows for mind control.

  After I’m done frisking him, I pistol whip him over the back of his head, knocking him out, cold.

  From there, I tie him up and prop him onto a nearby chair within his lair.

  At long last, I finally found him.

  Chapter 2: Cornered

  I park my body in front of the desk facing Eugenie. He’s tied up and his magic is useless. While he was knocked out, I took the liberty of doing a more in-depth search and found some of that powder of his in his leather jacket along with a handgun and a few stray bills. When he wakes up, I want to be the first thing he sees. Me, a pissed off hunter with a gun in one hand and a knife in the other. I need him to understand that I’m serious just in case finding and breaking into his hideout wasn’t a clear indicator of how capable I am.

  “Rise and shine,” I say mockingly as Eugenie comes to his senses. His eyes flutter as if in a daze, and then I see the moment plastered across his face that he realizes he’s in deep shit.

  “Wha-what do you want from me?” he asks. I thought about gagging him before he woke up in case he gets too loud, but I opted to tightly tie a cloth around his bleeding leg instead. It served a two-fold purpose. One was to impede the blood flow a bit and the second was a measure to keep the bullet where it was.

  Amidst his panic, I unfold my arms and place my gun on the desk I’m leaning against.

  “What do I want from you?” I ask, repeating his question. “You know what I am, so don’t act innocent. I’m a hunter. You’re a witch. It’s the Circle of Life. Did you honestly think you could keep living the way you’ve been without one of us coming after you? You’re not exactly a street magician. Mind control, Eugenie. That’s kind of a big deal.”

  “What? What are y—”

  It was foolish of me to go down that route, so I make things short. Of course other hunters had come after him. He’d just killed them all. If I drop my guard, I’ll be next on the list.

  “Martha Thomas. Justin Fadar. Jeffery Rowe,” I interrupt. “Your latest victims…you were smart about it…spread your work throughout the country, but I found you…so cut the shit.” I reach into the fold of my jacket and unveil a black compact dispenser. It almost looks like a lipstick case, but there’s a small button on the top. Eugenie knows his tech. I’m pretty sure he designed it himself. “At every crime scene, there was residue found. A pink powder. Some had more, some had less. The cops weren’t able to figure out what it did. The substance lacked its charge without you feeding it your energy, but for a hunter, it was a compelling calling card,” I inform him. “Even though you got in their minds, they still remember what they did for you. I tracked a few of them online. Forums. You wore an outfit sometimes to throw them off, but their stories all shared similar elements. The pink powder. You really ruined lives, Eugenie. Getting rid of you is doing the world a massive service. You’ve killed and made people kill, and worse.”

  I move from against the desk and point my gun towards his head.

  Eugenie’s game was simple. He’d prime his target with a dose of magic; a pinkish powder that he’d blow into the face of his victim which would envelop them into a trance. Then, he’d have them under his spell with a simple incantation after placing his palm on their heads. He tried to keep his crimes small…a local robbery here or there…missing inventory, but it wasn’t enough to keep him hidden. He got greedy and began to step it up. He tried to select nobodies. People who he thought wouldn’t be missed or those who went through life alone. Only problem with that is everyone knows somebody…and even if they don’t, there’s the internet.

  The tension in the air grows thick as I pull back the hammer on my gun. He doesn’t plead for his life, but instead looks me dead in the eye
with no remorse.

  “Humph.” I point the gun towards his foot and pull the trigger.

  Eugenie screams and rattles in his chair.

  “Better. That’s more like it.”

  He deserves everything that’s coming to him.

  “Do you want money?” he says once his agony subsides. “I can give you that… Love? Respect? Power?” Eugenie asks between his pained breaths. “Everyone has a price,” he rasps.

  The ignorant old man act is completely gone now, fully revealing his twisted, true character…which is good. That’s the man I actually want to have a conversation with.

  It’s funny. It didn’t take Roc to tell me not to bargain with him. Only common sense. He’s as slimy as they come. When I called Roc earlier, he did warn me about the basics involving Eugenie’s magic.

  While the powder helped, it was only a catalyst; something that exacerbated the arts he already participated in. From what he told me, doing things on the level that Eugenie operated on was no small task. He most likely was in the know for alternative works in his field. I figured as much, but Roc stressed that if he were to get in my head, things wouldn’t be good. And I completely understand why. Sailor’s been dead for well over a month now, and I’d be lying if I said I was one hundred percent stable. She’s the reason I’m out here. In more ways than one.

  With his mind-hacking potential, he can very well ruin my life if I give him the chance.

  And that’s not happening. My life is shit right now, but at least I have a say in what I do next. I’m no one’s puppet.

  “You’re not making it out of here alive. That’s a promise, but there is something you can do for me now that you mention it. Knowledge. I want knowledge. There’s a book I’ve been hearing about. A grimoire.”

  “Do you have any idea of how many grimoires exist? What you told me means nothing.”

  “Well, this one’s ancient. Super ancient. The kind you only hear about in legends or from fanatics—you know—your type of people.”

  “And? Legends are often lies,” Eugenie replies in a patronizing tone.

  “Don’t be an idiot. We both know that’s not true. This book…it’s powerful and packed with a load of spells; one in particular has the power to bring someone back from the dead. That ring a bell?”

  “Necromancy?” he groans. “That’s what you’re going on about? That’s hardly worth mentioning.”

  “No.”

  “Reanimation?”

  “No. Not that either…well not entirely. There wouldn’t be as much of a buzz if that were the case. I’m talking resurrection. Full-on back from the dead. No walking corpse. Soul intact,” I muse. “Anything like that cross into your neck of the woods?” Before I took this case, there was another that paved the way. There were a bunch of killings happening in Missouri via blood magic, targeting broken hearted individuals. It was through them that I eventually found out about the book that I now have and the corresponding bracelet that goes along with it. The witches I was up against kept teasing me with the future. At first, it was Madam Woodrow, and then it was Trevor. Both times, they mentioned Sailor and what’s to come…and that there was a way to bring her back. Once I found out about the book, it confirmed what they were saying.

  “Do you have a name for this book?”

  “No,” I answer. “I don’t. All I know is that it’s the real deal and it’s dangerous. A vampire wants it, and if he gets it, I’m pretty sure it means bad news for the rest of us.”

  “So, a vampire—the undead—wants to use a book that can bring somebody back to life. Ironic, in a way, isn’t it?” Eugenie smirks at me despite his pain. For someone who’s been shot twice, he’s holding up eerily well. I made sure he didn’t have a pocket knife or anything when I frisked him, and his magic is inhibited, but he’s calmer than I expected him to be, given the situation. It’s unsettling, to say the least…but I can’t let him know that. Just like I can’t let him know that the grimoire is in my possession. “And I’m assuming this book has spells of other uses, hm? I imagine a spell to truly bring someone back from the dead requires a plethora of knowledge. As I’m sure you know, hunter, bringing back the body is one thing to consider, but the soul…well…the soul is simply not just resting among decomposing bones. Maybe the book brings back an illusion of the soul? Perhaps, a photocopy. A doppelganger. It wouldn’t matter to a vampire, unless that is, he lost a former lover or someone of the sort. A vampire’s options are endless, given their potential lifespan.” I can virtually see his mind running behind his squinted eyes. His thinking. Processing. Hopefully for my benefit.

  “So, have you heard of anything like that? No pressure, but my trigger finger is starting to get a bit antsy.”

  “A book like this is something we all can use, isn’t that so, hunter?” Eugenie responds, pushing away my remark with one of his own. “With such power, I imagine it’s impossible to believe the dark flame hasn’t caught your eye as well. I’m sure you’ve lost people along the way. Good people. It’s a natural part of the life we live, isn’t it?” He smirks, his eyes now connecting with mine.

  I feel a stream of fire rise up from the pit of my stomach and the hairs on my forearm go stiff. I want to bash his face in, in a fit of rage and then some, but I don’t. “It can’t be helped,” I respond.

  I can’t let him know how close to this I really am. I’ve lost too many along the way, and there’s always the chance that I’ll lose more.

  Last hunt I took up with Roc, I had a scare. It was the same case that I acquired the grimoire. I thought he’d been killed by a vampire, Darius, one of the bigger threats on my radar along with the group that killed Sailor and the other hunters that were with her.

  “Answer the question,” I say, just calmly enough to veil my emotions.

  “No. Nothing of that sort sounds the least bit familiar.”

  “Somehow, I don’t believe you.” I step closer to him and press the flat portion of my knife against the top of his shoulder. “If I know something, surely a man of your caliber knows what I know and more,” I say in a mocking tone. “How about this? Does the name Darius seem familiar? He’s the vampire I’m talking about.”

  “No. I can’t say that it does. Vampires aren’t exactly the type of people I like to deal with. They disgust me…and they’re hard to be trusted. It’s impossible to do business with them.”

  “But some of your colleagues don’t seem to have a problem working with them,” I fire back.

  “I suppose so. There are misfits in all groups of people, wouldn’t you agree? Outliers. Exceptions to the status-quo, as you would call it.” Vamps, werewolves, witches, demons… They’re all pretty horrible if you ask me, but he has a point. “Some even crave that sort of power if it suits their needs. They get things done. Vampires are known to have the reputation of ruling the night.” That last little tidbit he provides draws my attention and I retract my blade.

  “So, who do you know that would do that sort of thing? Bringing someone back from the dead is one thing, but I know more than a few witches have tried their luck with immortality. You know, stop the problem before it starts.”

  “Ah, the joys of aging.” Eugenie snickers. “This body has seen more than its fair share of years.”

  “You seem to have taken a liking to it.”

  “Merely embraced it…although as you can tell, some adjustments have been made. It’s impossible to stop the flow of time, but there are ways to extend your life on this earth, yes.”

  “And you know them, right?” I snarl.

  “For someone with no stake in the matter, you seem quite interested.”

  “I’m just trying to do my job,” I respond coldly, refusing to let him crawl further beneath my skin. “Answer the question.”

  “A few, but nothing out of the ordinary. But I do know of a witch. Cornelius Krowe. He might be of some use. He claimed to have ways to extend life far beyond that of the average human being, and that wasn’t all he studied. I hoped at on
e point to be mentored by him, but I deemed myself unworthy and unfit for the cause.”

  “…Unworthy?”

  “That is correct. Inadequate. Such dedication to the arts and practicing them at his level required certain things to be done. Things that I was not willing to do.”

  “And that says a lot for someone using mind control on a whim. Almost too much. Sounds like quite the individual.” I rack my brain as I look at him, trying to recount for anything I know about Krowe. It doesn’t take me but a few seconds to come up blank.

  “Indeed,” Eugenie answers with a subtle nod. “Everyone has a code.”

  “So, where is he now?” I ask.

  “You see, I can tell you, or I can let you suffer. I am supposed to die, right? Why should I help you? What happens after my life ends is of little importance to me.”

  And here I was, contemplating telling him about the second piece of the puzzle; the Bracelet of Trascair. The accessory that apparently activates the book.

  In a way, I’m kind of glad I held my tongue. He’s already starting to use his leverage against me and I can’t afford to play into his hand.

  The thing with interrogation is, the more you beat into your target, the more willing they are to say what you need to know, or to put it more accurately, what they think you want to know. Krowe could be just a ruse to buy time or for one last kick before he bites the bullet. By shooting him, I let him off easy. I can do things a lot worse with what’s at my disposal. If Krowe’s a real person, he might prove to be useful. He studied ways to extend the human lifecycle with a different approach. If he’s as strong as I’m led to believe, he might have some information about the book. Hell, maybe I can even get a name on the thing—and he just might know an alternate route to bring Sailor back. Keyword; might.

  I know it’s the wrong thing to do, but it’s hard not to consider the possibility with something so strong in my possession. Plus, it’s almost like I’ve been feeling her spirit or something. It isn’t real…it can’t be real but rationalizing it doesn’t see to make it stop.