Romans & histoires Apocalypse Hunter

Gunner “I should’ve killed that son of a bitch,” I growl out. “Please tell me you saw what I did,” says Hunter. “The mark on her shoulder?” “Yeah. That is the mark of an angel, I thought they went extinct.” “Obviously not. There is something about that girl.” “What about her, she’s an angel.” “Apollo is interested in her.” “Do you think she is your mate?” “I don’t know, but I plan to find out.”

And in that moment, the first Hunter was born. In the aftermath of the tearing, Allen Erickson didn't return to the football field. The golden boy of Asheville had been hollowed out, replaced by a vessel of cold, focused insanity. He spent his days in the charred husks of libraries and the hidden basements of occult bookstores, the ancient mage inside him guiding his hands toward manuscripts that would have driven a normal man to madness. He was studying, not for a degree, but for a genocide.

The fall was an eternity of cold air and the smell of ozone. Elara didn’t land like a superhero. She hit the heap of industrial trash bags in the alleyway with a bone-jarring thud that knocked the wind out of her lungs. For a terrifying five seconds, the world was nothing but grey plastic and the taste of copper in her mouth. Move, her brain screamed. Move or die. She rolled off the pile just as a heavy, metallic clack echoed above her. The Hunter hadn’t jumped—he was rappelling down the side of the building with a high-speed winch, his boots kicking off the glass. He looked like a spider descending on a fly.

They instinctively looked down. Then everyone froze. The pink, suggestive interface of "Goddess Hunter" disappeared. It was replaced by a cold black interface that looked like a tombstone. At the center of the screen, the photo of me that had been treated as prey vanished too. In its place was Gary's face, twisted with shock. Under his photo, blood red words slowly appeared. [New game activated, Scumbag Hunter.] [Target: Gary Zachary York.] A cold, emotionless synthetic voice came from everyone's phone at the same time.

she asked. Karen had so many questions, and I didn't know how to answer her. I wished I had the answers, especially now, but I didn't, and it kind of made me feel bad. I knew I had to explain things to her a bit. "The Hunter family are supernatural hunters. They are human beings with special abilities to locate and identify people like me. They also can match our skills and kill us. They are the most dreaded bloodline of all the supernatural hunters. It was all fair initially. The Hunters made sure everyone followed the rules, and no one cheated anyone. We saw them more like judges, juries and executioners. Whenever there were issues, the Hunters would solve them. They could tell when we wer

The police had to get involved, there were two police cars out the front of the diner. Ducking under the police tape, Damien stepped into his diner, he was feared by everyone, humans, wolves and vampires alike, he was known as the Blood Alpha and that was not just because Blood is his surname. Her sent hit him sending him into a short sense of euphoria, he had finally found her his mate after, eighteen years of searching he had finally found her.

Without thinking about the moment and love they had shared for even a second, she was terrified and ended up reporting him to the hunters in that town. He was later ambushed and murdered, he died with a broken heart. When Jake found out about this, he made sure he laid the girl and the hunters to waste. The leader of the hunters, Billy, known as the "wrath of God", he had slashed his throat and left him in the woods to bleed to death, painfully choking on his own blood.

*** Abraham Van Helsing, the Dutch vampire hunter, had once had an apprentice whom he admired and held in high regard, long before he even considered the holy order as a potential calling. Helsing betrayed his apprentice and thought he had disposed of him. However, the tales surrounding this event were shrouded in insufficient recounting and relied solely on rumors. Higgins, renowned for his extraordinary ability to communicate with the dead, was known as the Necromancer Hunter. His expertise lay in influencing the living through the use of the deceased as conduits. His discarded body had washed up on the shores of a massive island housing several packs of werewolves, one of which belonged t

I hollered as I shifted to hunt down the bastards. Carson quickly caught the first two and eliminated them. The stupid assholes had thought coming back together half a mile from the clearing was going to help them. We crept through the forest silently, searching for the last rogue. We scouted the forest for hours and had just picked up its scent when a frantic call echoed through the forest. We froze misstep, trying to pick it up again if it was uttered again. Moments later a low-pitched bird call followed by a rapid, stressful one. Fuck. We looked around anxiously. ‘Falcon, hunters are here. What do we do?’