I nodded at Xander for his admission, silently thanking him for removing those items stained with my blood. Tampering with evidence had probably taken a lot of moral sacrifice for him.
He sighed and brushed his hand across his face, wiping away tears. “I hate this, man. I hate this so much.” When I didn’t respond to him, because I had nothing left to say, Xander continued. “I just compared the chalice to other chalice’s stored in the M.I.S. database and found a match. Medea didn’t lie. It’s identical to the Holy Chalice used by Jesus and his Apostles at the Last Supper.”
That stirred me awake. I straightened my shoulders and frowned. “What the hell does that mean?” Why had Medea needed a holy relic to catch my blood? And why had she instructed me to pour it over the silver? The possible answers to those questions roiled my stomach, especially when taken with Hephaestus’ words. “Did you find a match for the coins?”
When Xander responded, his voice tremored. “I did. They match the Tetradrachm coins that Judas Iscariot accepted when he betrayed Christ.”
I swallowed. “Do you think,” I asked, pausing for a second, “my new power plays a role? That it’s actually some kind of key?”
“I don’t know,” Xander responded, drinking his coffee. “Some people possess natural power, right? That’s why sorcerers exist—those who discover their magic without a pact. Only through the advancement of technology has the evolutionary trait fallen dormant. You were experiencing incredible emotional and physical pain at the time—you were on the brink of death. Instincts may have kicked in and that’s why you used your natural power. Medea sure looked surprised when you attacked her with it, so I don’t think she expected you to possess that particular ability.”
I scratched my forehead. “It just seems too coincidental. Why my blood? It can’t possibly be that I’m,” I hesitated, biting off the words ‘part-demon and ‘part-angel’. That would be impossible. Jesus’ sacrifice over two-thousand years ago defeated the demon lords by sealing them in thirty different prisons within Sheol. How would my blood bring open the seals? And what did my daughter have to do with it? “Why Mel?”
Xander shook his head, uncertain of the answer to my question. “Joey, I have this sickening feeling that something cataclysmic happened tonight, though I have no idea what.” He hesitated, biting his lip and averting his eyes from me before saying, “I can say that… I don’t think you have time mourn the loss of Mel. Not yet. We have to figure out—”
“No!” I shouted. “I don’t have to figure shit out. I failed again—Mel is fucking dead. My daughter is dead. Killed right in front of me.” I made a fist with my free and still-injured hand, sending a current of agony up my arm. I simmered for a second, and then exhaled and slumped my shoulders. “I’m sorry.”
“What happened down there—it’s hard for me to process, too. I can’t imagine what’s going through your mind. Not only with Mel, but with the law and with Hephaestus. I’m here for you. We’ll figure this out.”
I gnawed on my lip and nodded. Scratching the back of my ear, I said, “Forget about all that shit. I want Hecate’s head mounted on my wall.”
“You don’t have a wall, remember?”
“I want it mounted on your wall, then and I want your help. Just like old times, baby. Xan the Man and Joey the Labrador.”
Xander didn’t reject my request. “Hecate is a powerful Nephil. What if you die?”
“Then good fucking riddance.”
Xander snickered. “Cops are after you. Hephaestus is after you. You don’t have your magic anymore, no charges left on your guns, and no house to live in. How the hell do you suppose we hunt and kill Hecate, too?”
I smirked at Xander’s playful curse and the smile lifted a blanketing pressure from me. I didn’t feel happiness or hope right then, and nor did I feel fear or worry. Anger guided my thoughts—anger toward myself and the Nephil. I didn’t know how I would hunt and kill Hecate, or survive as the other Nephil hunted me, but I didn’t really much care about that answer in the moment. I cared about the goal—hunting and killing Hecate and all the other fuckers that associated with her.
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Shadow Hunter
Joseph Hunter Book 2 Preview Chapter
Apparently, it’s bad literary form to begin a story in a dream. Which sucks, because now you have to suffer through my snore-rest morning routine before reaching the actual beginning of this story, which—if you haven’t already guessed—is a nightmare.
So, in my best Mario voice…
Here we go!
I lay on Xander’s couch that Friday morning wearing nothing but a split-open robe and bandages from my fight with Medea the day before. My left arm, where I had cut myself open with the ritual dagger, looked like an amateur mummy had tried to wrap me in cloth as practice, as did my lower back and abdomen, where Medea had thrown her spike straight through me. One tattooed leg curled over the sofa’s headrest and the other sprawled over the edge with my foot resting flat on the hardwood floor. In my left hand, I held a chilled lager. A massive bowl of popcorn rested on my chest—the breakfast of champions. The fingers on my right hand were thick with butter, and my lips burned a little from the salt.
I watched television courtesy of one of Xander’s many streaming options. That guy
