Clown Hunters Novels & Stories

says another. Three hunters. All Male. The hunters pass within twenty feet of my hiding spot. The oldest one carries silver-tipped arrows. Another has thermal goggles strapped over his eyes. The third, and youngest, is white knuckling a handgun like it’s a life raft. “Thought these things were supposed to be monsters,” the younger hunter mutters. “So far, all I've seen is a piss poor Tarzan cosplay.” “Don’t get cocky,” the older one snapped. “The small one already killed three men before they shot him with a tranq.”

The rain masks our scent, but it masks everything else too. Click. The sound slices through the downpour. Too clean. Too deliberate. Arthur shoves me behind a boulder just as the first bullet whines past. Stone shatters where my head had been. "Council hunters," Claire snarls, already moving. Her dagger finds a throat before the shadowy figure can fire again. Black blood sprays. Not human. Not quite. More shapes detach from the rocks. Too many. Arthur's growl shakes the air as he shifts, his massive black wolf form tearing into the nearest hunter.

"Chloe is not a pawn in your power games, Caleb. Leave now, or face the consequences." Caleb's eyes narrowed, and without warning, he lunged at Jonas, his transformation into a werewolf swift and brutal. The clash of fur and fang echoed through the night as the two werewolves grappled in a frenzied dance. The moonlit clearing became a battleground, shadows cast by the violent struggle. Chloe, caught in the crossfire, felt a surge of fear and adrenaline. Instinct kicked in, and she searched for a way to help Jonas. Her eyes darted to a fallen branch, and with determination, she picked it up, ready to defend herself if needed.

It wasn’t another of his werewolf subordinates, or vampires, or even mages. Instead, what stood before us were humans. Not just any humans but the Human hunters that we call “Fowlers”. I gritted my teeth at Druscilla. It’s not that humans are tough, It’s just they are persistent in sending backups, tricks, and traps laid everywhere to our advantage. They kill any creature they find, from mermaids, witches, vampires, and others of our clans. Even worse, they sell us to other humans with high bidding in an auction. They are that greedy.

“12 out of 21 deer have been killed by this hunter.” Holding my spear, I am trying to catch my breath while paying my whole attention to the keeper. Keepers are the one who has the information of how many kills a hunter has in an hour. “None other than, Raffi of the Ambrose’s!” I saw my father fixing his hunter’s robe while wearing his huge smile. The whole tribe is excited especially the women of which gender I belong to. I started to walk to the wooden stage created by the tribe for this kind of ceremony. Everybody is happy and I hope this will last forever.

He looked around the room. “The council has decided that these daily drawings are too time consuming, so we have decided to move to monthly hunting teams. As this will be the first month, we are asking for volunteers. As you are all aware, the team consists of 7 members. So, if you are willing to hunt for a month, please raise your hands. I will go on the first team since a leader should be fully willing to do what they ask their citizens to do.” I watched as all my men raised their hands one by one. I kept my arms folded across my chest, knowing that nobody liked hunting. They had made me worry, so they could wait anxiously for me to volunteer myself. Timothy scanned the room and his eyes n

I straightened my back and arranged the hem of my gown to hide the overexposure of my skin though there is really nothing to hide given its cut and style. I just did it out of nowhere. I put on the mask of the clown and waited for the hunters. Here they go with their bloated ego again. These men hunt down a prey and then take it down as if it's the game of chase between a cat and a mouse. They are deliberately there with their proud muscled chest peering us down using their blank cheques.

However, just when the game was about to end, my eyes caught a glimpse of something that made me stop. I noticed that Clark had a peculiar tattoo on his arm I believed was similar to what we found in Hunter Grey. Based on my quick observation, the tattoo was an intricate design of a demented clown, with elongated limbs and a twisted grin on its face. The colors used were vibrant yet grotesque, with shades of mustard yellow, deep red, and silky green. The clown's eyes were black and soulless as if they were staring right into your deepest fears. But the weirdness of the tattoo did not stop there. Around the clown's body were tiny, almost indiscernible symbols and lines that seemed to move and

A big boot print was pressed into the mud, with a weird, vicious pattern, a wolf’s head in a slashed circle. Ash came over, his face serious. “Is that an animal track?” “Worse,” Kael said quietly. “Hunters. The Crimson Claw. They were here not long ago.” Liora didn’t know the name, but seeing Ash go pale told her it was bad. A new kind of cold crept into her veins, different from the freezing river. Amid all the chaos with the heart, the light, and the stone statues, she had almost forgotten that real monsters still lived outside.

"Then I would say, tell me in the next sixty seconds because we got a line from here to Milwaukie, and we need a show for our seven-thirty today." "A real live wolf-man!" It was a gamble, a real risk taker considering hunters were spotted in the area, but I needed the cash. "Well, Mr. Ardoise, would that be good enough for you seven-thirty?" Clarence paused in the counting of his notes, money stacked in little neat piles as he jotted down the pay in his ledger and handed them off to the carnies on his other line. Clarence was one of the few cryptids that I'd met besides my family and the one dryad girl by the creek. He got around easier like most earth spirits did, like the way we shifters d