Phantom Hunter Novels & Stories

Like rust and smoke. I grab the curtain and yank it aside. The glass explodes inward. I throw myself back just as shards scatter across the floor. A dark shape crashes through the window, landing in a low crouch inside the room. Moonlight spills in behind him, outlining his form. He’s tall. Broad. Dressed in dark gear that hugs his body like armor. His face is half-covered, but I don’t need to see it clearly to know what he is. A Hunter. Roxie jolts awake with a gasp.

I shook my head as this wasn’t making any sense. “The kills, they weren’t all vampires. Most of them were other hunters. I think this one is on the run from his own. But the fact he’s gotten this deep into the territory has Ductus Toño on edge, sending his men looking for him.” Diana explained. A hunter being hunted by his own? Well, shit, what could he have done to cross his people? Mistake one of a supernatural creature? It’s still not adding up. And honestly, beyond adding avoid the hunter to my list, I don’t see a reason to care.

She said and then looked at Oscar. "There is another hunter out there; he seems to have the same vision as Giles and John Hunter. He is not working with them, but he is trying to make it seem like the attacks are from Giles. Our community isn't as large as it once was. If this hunter is allowed, he will wipe us out. Unlike the Hunters that had ties to the supernatural community, this one has no ties anywhere." She warned Oscar. "Do you know his name?" Oscar asked her, and she shook her head.

“Are you a vampire, too?” I snorted, though my lips curled in disgust. “No, I’m not. I’m a hunter, Ver. I hunt supernatural creatures, monsters, anything that goes bump in the night, to keep humans safe.” “Monsters like me, you mean,” she whispered, fixing her eyes on the muddy ground.

Then, out of that void, a figure stepped forward. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Clad in black leather that seemed to absorb the moonlight. His face was hidden beneath a hood, but his presence—goddess above, his presence—was suffocating. It pressed against me the way Damon and Lucas’s dominance did, only sharper, like knives instead of claws. “Finally,” the hunter said, his voice low and smooth, carrying a deadly calm. “The fated wolves, united in one den. How generous of you to gather.”

Realizing that the Soul Hunters had been lying in wait for them even in Mr. Bates’s home, Gerald couldn’t help but frown as he sneered, “You Soul Hunters just don’t know when to quit, do you?” “Quit the cr*p and hand over the Phangrottom Talisman already! Your only other option is to receive a one-way ticket to hell!” warned the grey Soul Hunter in a frigid tone. Once he retrieved the Phangrottom Talisman, then their mission would surely end in success!

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.

Her eyes scan the ground to where the baseball bat lies between the two of them. "Oh, I don't need a weapon. Rather, I enjoy getting my hands dirty." Hunter declares, flexing his arm as he cracks his knuckles, making the tattoo of the scythe or a Grimm Reaper's blade twist on his arm in a menacing manner. The woman takes one look at the tattoo before gulping. Hunter takes a challenging step towards her, forcing her to take a step backward. The woman stumbles once more, petrified, as tears begin to slip from her eyes.

With the quick flick of her wrist, I feel warm blood seep from my neck. “What are you doing?” I squirm trying to get free. For all I know I’m laid out on the table to be her sacrificial lamb. She brings a small vile to my neck, holding it against the skin she collects some of the blood. Then caps the tiny bottle and shuffles back across the room. “I have seen what has passed and what is to come. Life and death. Death and life. The destiny of the chosen one is determined by your Hunter – Son of Lycaon.”

he chuckled. One of them had short blond hair, while the other one had a long, distinctive scar down his right cheek. “That’s not creepy,” I spat. They chuckled. “It’s not wrong for friends to check up on other friends.” “How did you find me?” My voice cracked. The blonde one barked out a laugh. “I’m a Hunter. It’s in my blood to find wolves. You wouldn’t know that because you’re only half.” I swallowed in response. Crap.