The Huntsman Book Novels & Stories

They come together in mid-air with an almighty thud and the huntsman lets out a wail and the wolf yelps loudly and both collapse in a heap near the edge of the ravine. From the wreckage, the huntsman appears and gets to his feet. Turning towards me he starts making his way over, then out of nowhere and as quick as lightning the wolf is on his back but the huntsman turns quickly and with one final thrust of his sword plunges it into the chest of the wolf who looks at me with fear and anguish in those piercing eyes. The huntsman then tosses the wolf over the edge of the ravine and I shield my eyes, unable to look. The huntsman takes a moment to gather himself and rests against his sword. I sti

"Enough," he growls. The Archivist snarls. "You're out of bounds, Hunter." He ignores her, turning to me. "Get up. Unless you want to be a footnote." The static recognizes him. Not his face-his *essence*. He smells of blood and static, like me. "Who are you?" I demand. He sheathes his blade. "Someone who's read your story. And *hates* the ending." --- **The Hunt**

The runes ignited, one by one, in violet fire. The air thickened. Wind howled. The soil trembled beneath their feet. And then—the altar cracked open. A blinding surge of light shot upward, tearing through the mist. The ground split, and a small obsidian chest rose from within, glowing faintly red. Inside lay a single black-bound book wrapped in silver chains—the Book of the Damned. Kael stepped forward slowly. “After all this time…” He reached toward it— —and the forest screamed. A flare of silver light cut through the trees as figures emerged from the mist—The Order. Dozens of cloaked hunters, blades drawn, crossbows gleaming with runes.

But it wasn’t the monster that had my heart stopping in my chest. It was his eyes. “Ronan,” I breathed, barely recognizing the sound of my own voice. The wolf didn’t hesitate. He lunged, his claws slicing through the air as he slammed one of the hunters into the door with a sickening crack. The man crumpled, his body limp, his gun clattering to the floor. “What the fuck is that?” another hunter yelled, his voice cracking with fear as he aimed his weapon at Ronan. Before he could fire, Ronan was on him, pinning him to the wall. The man slumped, lifeless, as Ronan turned to me, his blue eyes blazing.

He moved with me, keeping his arm around my waist and trailing the fingers of his other hand around my kneecap. “I’ve been around a long time,” he hummed. “And you aren’t the first hunter I’ve met. Besides,” he added, with a wry smile, “my very existence goes against the laws of nature. It would be… ill-advised of me to doubt the existence of other supernatural beings.” I made a non-committal sound in the back of my throat. He smiled. “Maybe that could be our first hunt together. The ghost of Wiley Manor.” I snorted at that. “Sounds like a terrible name for an equally terrible book.”

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.

“Someone is trying to stop us.” “What do we do now?” I asked, my eyes fixed on the tragedy unfolding before us. Hunter, with a piercing gaze at the burning house, responded seriously, “The people who did this are still around.” My next question was instinctive. “Where?” Hunter turned to face me, his golden eyes shining with restrained fury. Before he could answer, a transformation began before my eyes. Hunter's body twisted, gray fur covering his human form. He emerged as an imposing wolf, his golden eyes intensified by the fury pulsating in his veins.

Who goes to a panther's lair to hunt him? I do. And for Jasper Grant, a hot, tasty girl blundering into his lair? That suits him perfectly. It is a shame that such a fine specimen of a man will go to waste. But he must pay with his life. All the Grants will pay for their sins. I, Michela Cruz, will be their reckoning.

Curious, I reach for it and brush it off. "Ooh," I gasp. It's not a book about werewolves. It's a hunter’s manual. Frowning, I flip through the pages and notice it’s is filled with gruesome details of how to hunt werewolves, how to kill them, and how to torture them. I glance up at Lucian, arching my brow. "Why would your parents have a book about werewolf hunters?" I ask, thumbing through more of the horrifying pages. Lucian lifts his head briefly to look at me, then lowers it back down to the stack of papers he’s sifting through.

Will heard the commotion before he was close enough to see and by the pungent scent of iron in the air, he knew he was running head-on into a bloodbath. The first sight that met his eyes was a hunter on the back of a brown wolf and a silver rope wrapped around its neck, by the looks of it, she was quickly losing consciousness. Will didn’t blink when he sprang from the ground and knocked the hunter off, the sound of bones shattering when his weight came down on the man only made him thirsty for blood.