Page 2 of A Hunter Cursed
“Historically speaking, Huntersarevampires, or at least their team leaders are,” he agreed. “But times are changing, and Morgan Rhys has never been one to stand on tradition.”
Keegan had heard something about that. Morgan Rhys was apparently somewhat of a legend in certain circles. The first, and for a long time, theonlyfemale to ever defy the traditions of her species to become a Hunter.
“She’s opening up the program to any supernaturals who are interested,” Destin continued. “I’d like you to be an instructor. You’d be teaching magical combat and such for those of our kind who wish to join.” He gazed at her thoughtfully for a moment before adding, “You were one of our best pupils and your talents have been largely wasted of late.”
As Destin watched, Keegan’s gaze turned speculative. She was considering it. Good. Teaching might give her purpose, something she’d been lacking since the untimely deaths – or murders, rather – of her host family.
He’d first met Keegan Bishop when she was just a tiny little thing with wispy pigtails, rosy cheeks, and so much potential she’d taken his breath away. Her parents had been members of a coven in Connecticut. Her father, Patrick, and her mother, Leslie, individually, had been relatively low-level witches, but through some mysterious quirk of genetics, had produced one powerhouse of a magical offspring. Both parents had possessed the minor gift of transformation, explaining why it had combined so stunningly in Keegan and yet somehow, the combination of bloodlines had also created an infant with not just one, but two, high-level natural-born gifts, an almost unheard-of phenomenon.
Born under the portent of an eclipse while Mercury was in retrograde, Keegan Bishop had displayed potential while still in the cradle. The Bishops had decided to pack up their lives and move to New Orleans in the hopes that proximity to Destin and his incredibly strong coven, would assist with raising and training Keegan – a fete they had felt was beyond their, and their small coven’s, capabilities.
They had made the right choice in Destin’s estimation. Keegan’s ease of transforming objects was breathtaking. Upon their first meeting, he’d watched her change a toy she’d been given to one more to her liking with barely a flicker of her eyelashes. But it was a gift that lent itself too easily to temptation, and a child of transmogrify must be taken in hand early on, instilled with a high level of ethics as well as lessons in choice and consequence. Destin had stepped in with the family’s blessing, and when Patrick and Leslie had lost their lives in a tragic accident when Keegan had been nine years old, Agnes and Henry, two high-level members of Destin’s coven, had volunteered to take young Keegan into their home.
She’d been a rising star, near blinding in her brilliance. Destin had even thought she might one day lead in his place when he chose to retire, but even before the murders of her foster family, she’d been becoming increasingly withdrawn, spending most of her time alone. She needed a change, a goal, something to pull her back into the fold. Morgan Rhys’s phone call about possibly adding a magical combat instructor to the program had seemed serendipitous, with Keegan immediately coming to mind as the best witch to fill the position.
“The first training session doesn’t start for a little while yet,” Destin told her, breaking the prolonged silence. “So you have some time to think about it.” His eyes narrowed as he took in the dark circles under her eyes that stood out like bruises on such pale, delicate skin. “Maybe you should sleep on it.”
Keegan let out a little self-deprecating laugh. “Yeah, because my sleep is always so restful.”
“Nightmares?” A prickle of apprehension had him leaning forward in his seat. Keegan’s other high-level gift was prophetic dreams and best not to be ignored. “Or something we should be preparing for?”
She shrugged and shook her head, a wry smile quirking her lips. “Sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference between prophecy and an overactive imagination combined with too much ice cream before bed.”
“You still keep a dream journal?”
Keegan nodded. “If it becomes recurring, I’ll fill you in.”
Chapter Two
“The Hunter training program is going to be starting soon and I have some wolves who want to enroll.” Archer Langley, the pack alpha stood at the head of the table as he addressed his second and the males and females that comprised his team of his most trusted lieutenants. “I want one of you there to be my eyes and ears inside, watching out for them.”
“You don’t trust Morgan?” one of his lieutenants asked, her brow crinkled in a frown.
“I trust her,” Archer answered gravely. “But while she may run the program here, she still answers to the Hunters’ Society. We need someone there to make sure our people are treated fairly, a representative to speak for them if needed.”
A low murmur of approval met that statement as several heads began bobbing in agreement.
Jeremiah Durand rocked back in his chair, balancing it on two legs, and raised his hand. “I’ll do it.”
Archer’s eyes snapped to him with surprise. “You?”
Jeremiah shrugged. “Why not me?”
His best friend sputtered, “But I need you here.”
Letting the chair come back down on all four legs, Jeremiah reminded him, “You need me to be your eyes and ears when you can’t be around. That’s the job of the second. This scenario fits.”
Archer let out a low growl and looked away as if he was struggling with the decision before mumbling, “I’d rather someone else do it.”
Jeremiah’s eyes narrowed and he let out an answering growl of his own. “I know you’re not doubting my ability.”
That statement was met with some throat-clearing from the others and some squirming in their seats as the tension in the room became almost unbearable. Openly calling Jeremiah’s capabilities into question would undermine his authority in the pack and could be seen as a challenge to prove himself.
Archer snorted. “I doubtmyability to function with you gone.”
That statement elicited quite a few chuckles, though the sound was edged more with relief that the situation hadn’t escalated into a brawl rather than true humor.
Archer shook his head and sighed with resignation. “Fine. You know you’re probably going to be bored out of your mind,” he told Jeremiah before addressing the rest of the group. “You all get back to your duties, we’re done here.”
