The Witch Hunter Novel Novels & Stories

I watch him and he is telling me the truth. “What is the name of the witch?” there is only a handful of dark witches and they usually serve Fenrir. If one is helping Calvin, then Fen needs to know that there is a traitor in our ranks. “Her name is Xena. He often sees her. Calvin said she helps the hunter’s in finding rogues.” My eyes widen. The hunter’s are employing dark witches. What the fuck? “That’s not possible. Dark witches don’t associate with the hunter’s they hate them more than I do and that’s saying something.” I growl out and he screws his eyes shut again. His lip quivers.

Hence only a single coven responded to the call of the three-faced mother. Outside howls erupted from every direction, sending the coven into a frenzied panic. Hunters called to each other as fires were lit and rifles passed out. When someone opened the hut door to get more snow for the waterpot, a clay pot sat on the stoop. The witch brought it in and set it next to the crone. “What is it?” someone asked. The crone reached forward and examined it. A wolf paw was printed on one side. The crone exclaimed, “The wolf of Brigid! She lifted the lid and withdrew a black feather and an antler. “By the gods, the trigod’s blessing!”

There was no title that she could see, and the first few pages appeared blank save for a rather long handwritten dedication. Hunter passed the book to Ulric, and Clarence watched over his shoulder as he flipped through the pages. “This is a witch's grimoire,” Ulric remarked. “Not a witch,” said Hunter. “William Winters fancied himself more of an alchemist. I guess that's how he justified sending all those other people to their deaths.” “But I thought the hunters hated anything supernatural,” Bella said, confused. “Why would one of their forefathers have an entire book about magic?”

I am Catherine Brooks, mate to Arthur Brooks, the lone surviving witch-wolf. For centuries, I have loved a werewolf of unparalleled strength and unwavering determination to protect our pack, regardless of the cost. The loss of our first daughter, Aliyah, in the great war devastated me. She was brave, beautiful, and fiercely strong, yet she never returned from her final battle against our enemies—the vampires and the black witches who betrayed us.

he stated firmly, his expression shifting from skepticism to a steely determination. I looked up at him, a mix of hope and apprehension stirring within me. "Help? What kind of help?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. He met my gaze with a knowing look. "We're going to need a witch hunter," he said, his words carrying a weight of finality. A chill ran down my spine at the mention of a witch hunter. They were a rare breed, skilled in tracking down and dealing with rogue witches who posed a threat to the supernatural world. The fact that Daniel was suggesting such a drastic step indicated the seriousness of the situation.

“It is kind of shameful that the hunters are now relying on witches. Even much disappointing that witches now do their bidding.” “Nani?” Tora had never that tiny bit of detail from the words of the night. Hunters hated every supernatural in their testament. Witches were no exception. So the fact that this dead one was inflicted with runes had her wondering. Hating herself for letting curiosity get the better of her, Tora begrudgingly walked over to the body whilst covering her little one’s sight with her free hand. Chase was right. The dead hunter was riddled with runes. They were about ten. It made her wonder if this one was even a hunter, to begin with. But the golden wreath insignia of th

Aunt Arya was shocked for a moment, seeing her dead nephew alive but she knew she had to do something to protect the two innocent girls in front of her so she closed their eyes as they cried out, seeing this much blood being shed. I wanted to run away too but the witch hunter got me by my dress and I stumbled to the ground, hitting my head and the pain radiated in me. He was a witch hunter. If he indeed was convinced that I was one, he was going to kill me before anyone saved me. Suddenly, I felt pain in my back that radiated through out my body and I let out a yell.

'' Marline replied with anger building up in her voice. ''Just wait and see what your end is going to look like. The dogs will feed on your flesh Marline. No one is capable of living forever, regardless of how powerful they are.'' The witch hunter replied. Hundzai, the witch hunter, seemed not to be intimidated by Marline's look and words, despite the fact that she seemed more powerful than he was. He mustered all the strength he had in him, and staggered up. He made some mystical moves and chanted some words.

I don’t see him arrive. One second, the Witch hunters in front of me are stepping closer, their weapons humming with that sick, demonic energy, and the next there's a rustle in the woods that I only heard from six weeks ago. My magic is still flaring as i watch the witch hunter to my left drop. He hits the ground with a thud. There's no warning, no sound beyond the wet, bloody choke that leaves his throat as his body collapses to the forest floor.

On it was the proof I'd been hunting for months. With a growl, I changed my arm to wolf form and lunged from cover. My claws cut across the nearest hunter's throat before he could fire again. The second hunter's gun clicked empty. I didn't give him time to reload, knocking him to the forest floor. "Where is she?" I hissed, pinning him down. "I don't know what you're talking about," he choked out. I pressed my claws into his neck. "Amara Kings. The witch-wolf. Where?"