The Last Hunter Witch Novels & Stories

It didn't take to genius to know who made it rare and the reason behind that. As the lady stormed away, still making her call, I stood in inaction wonderimg why she was baptised with one of the rarest plants in the world. I didn't have to think much. She was covered with the one thing that made werewolves weak, and was in a town that had more werewolves than any other being. She had to be one thing: a hunter. And last time I checked, the only agency that hunted werewolves was ANTI—and they weren't to be taken lightly.

I couldn’t tell who it was and I didn’t have time to find out. I heard a deep growl that sounded like Hunter. Turning towards the sound, I saw he was still going at it with a bunch of wolves. I ran towards him to try to help but was thrown back by another blast of magic. Crap, I needed to get rid of these witches. Rolling onto my feet I came face to face with the witch I had met in Maine. “You are going to pay for what you did bitch. I will kill you, I don’t care what that wolf says!” She screamed as she came running at me.

I shake my head. Hunter takes a seat next to me, “She is a strong person, she will come back to us. Why don't you go take a shower and freshen up, I'll stay here, if anything changes I'll let you know.” Hunter says as he gestures for me to go home. I nod before I exit the room and walk towards the packhouse. Chase had taken over duties, The Laican had died the instant the witch had slit his throat, without her finishing the ritual there was no way for his soul to return to his body.

Their loyalties to our family and our kind never faulting in the harshest moments. But even that wasn't enough to stop the inevitable from happening. Not when our own goddess abandoned us and gave the witches all the information they needed to wipe us from the face of the earth. All so she could fuel her addiction to power and blood lust and rule the Underworld with the worst kind of monster. "Ren, get up. We got a debriefing before we send out the next line of scouts." Hunter's deep voice vibrated through my bedroom door as he made his rounds.

Even when I had totally masked my own. A trigger had been needed to awoke her and bring her to the surface. Sensing her mate's proximity to death at the hands of Addanc, she had reacted and finally pushed forward. I had so many questions about her. I was born a witch, my mother and father didn't have any werewolf genes whatsoever, so how had I phased? I had been raking my saturated mind for any feasible answer but nothing came up. News had travelled first across the packs, it was inconceivable for a witch having a wolf. As her whines filled my mind and her being called for her mate, my eyes brimmed with tears.

Except it would take more than one unborn child to make a pit big enough to raise seven Morduch witches, and the extra three families in their coven. I moved without thinking, grabbing the hunter by the shoulder and pulling her out of the cabin. Sabine was the last of her coven breathing, even at that she was barely alive. She was not in a good condition to cast such a huge spell. I tossed the hunter to the floor a few miles away from the cabin, but Sabine had held her legs so firmly that I had also carried her along. “I'll kill you…” She snarled as she lunged for the hunter.

She uttered a hiss and pulled her hand back. “It is interesting,” she mused. “Look at that…. Runes. Yes, yes. A curse but not… no, a binding. She bound your spirit to hers. Who is this witch?” Witch? “She’s no witch. She is… was the wolf hunter’s daughter. The one the prophecy foretold would end the reign of the Lycan.” The witch cupped my face in her hands, dark eyes searching my own. “Well, I don’t think she knows what she is then. Or someone put a curse on her.”

It doesn’t take a genius to guess that she’s lived through an ordeal. “Fine. Leave as soon as you can. We all know what happened the last time they found a Venusian Witch in the company of a Werewolf.” Bile rises up my throat at the memory, and bitterness has crept into my voice. Her eyes widen in fear again. I sigh, forcing myself to assume an impassive expression. I’m sick of the other beings looking at me, at my kind, with fear and mistrust.

He was survived by his only son, Lucian who went on and carried his father’s legacy until the great hunt reached its end. In 1716, the last witch burned at the stakes was Cassandra Spellflower. She was captured while trying to rescue a group of young witches and vampires who were trapped by the hunters. Her death marked the end of the three-hundred year hunt for the creatures of the sun and moon, but other than that, April Rose couldn’t find the continuation of the page; it was ripped. Someone ripped it.

"Are you out of your mind?" Lukas asks her, "you want us to use Sarah as bait? You've got to be joking." "So what do you want us to use as bait? The bait has to be something the hunted wants. If we want to catch an animal, we have to give it what it wants. She wants Sarah, we give her Sarah. We'll have witches and," she says with emphasis when Lukas wants to interrupt, "werewolves to protect her. I'd go a million times if I could, but my going would be useless," Katrina returns.