Through the thin material of his black gloves he could feel every bump, every ridge, the slots of the screws, and the even fine engravings along the barrel. Every now and then, a few scattered droplets would land heavily against the windscreen with a hard thunk. He didn’t seem to notice or care, his gunmetal-grey gaze locked onto the middle distance as his fingertips idly explored the gun in his hand.


    Three hard knocks against the driver’s side window drew him back. He sighed, rolling it down for the visitor. “Sergeant,” he greeted curtly.


    A police officer leaned down, his thin lips set into a tight line. Water dripped from his cap, his coat soaked. “Ghost,” the man replied in kind. “Your people are already here, we’re done with the scene.”


    “The witch?” Ghost asked.


    The officer straightened and shrugged, “Your department, not mine, but likely long gone.” There was a crispness to his tone that Ghost was long accustomed to. This man barely tolerated him and only to the limits of his own professionalism.


    Ghost raked his hand through his shaggy locks of coal-black hair and heaved a sigh. “We’ll redouble our efforts.”


    “Please do.” The officer gave him a brisk nod and leaving Ghost to his silence once more.


    Allowing himself another moment, Ghost finally got out of the car, rolling up the window and stowing his gun in his under-arm holster.


    Another life, lost.


    It would be another long day.


    He drew in a long breath through his nose, the air suffuse with the smell of cold rain and the decay of leaves. A few car-lengths ahead, a white box-truck was pulled over, lights and engine off. Leaves and other fallen debris from the trees overhead were already clinging to the roof and sides.


    Releasing his held breath between his lips with a condensing puff, Ghost strolled up to the other driver’s side window.


    A body lay draped over the steering wheel, limp and still.


    Ghost reached up and rapped sharply on the window. “Tech!” he barked as he knocked, the seeming corpse on the other side of the glass flailing to life in a panic.


    A scrawny man in his late twenties leaned back in the driver’s seat, clutching at his heaving chest, his glasses askew on his long face. After a moment of adjustment, he lowered the window, “Fuck, Ghost, don’t sneak up on me like that!”


    Ghost remained unfazed. “At ease, hunter,” he glowered.


    Tech paused, then sighed, releasing the small hidden pistol at his right thigh. “Chill, boss. You know I’ve got more self-control than to shoot first,” he muttered, rubbing his gaunt, sleep-addled eyes. “I only just fell asleep.”


    “If I had been the witch, you’d be dead asleep,” Ghost chided.


    Tech only shook his head at this.


    “I thought you were on nights, why are you up here?”


    “Dose voluntold me to drive,” Tech mumbled his reply as he leaned back in his seat.


    “I’ll deal with it. Where is she?”


    Tech gestured towards the space between his truck and the emergency vehicles parked far up the road where a gap in the trees and trampled tall grass indicated a path. A piece of yellow police tape fluttered in the breeze, tacked between two trees as a marker for what lay beyond. “Eagle is with her,” Tech added.


    Ghost nodded once. “Get some rest, I’ll have him drive back. Don’t sleep in view. We don’t know if our target as left the area yet.” Tech gave him a lazy mock salute and rolled up the window. Ghost headed across the street, wading into the dying grasses at the edge of the road.


    The trees here were thick, but a clear path had been trampled, lower branches broken to make way through the underbrush. He stepped aside for a passing group of fire fighters lugging spent extinguishers and equipment. Like the police, they gave him cold glances but kept their thoughts to themselves.


    When the path was clear, he pushed through the trees into a clearing of wind-blown and rain-washed tall grass overlooking a cliff. About halfway into the clearing, the grass suddenly ended, replaced by a wide area of blackened detritus. The grass was charred black down to the dark soil and spattered with white foam from the fire extinguishers.


    Ghost approached the center of the burn scar. Two people were here; a stout woman in black cargos and a thick sweater crouched next to a blue tarp, her sandy hair held back with a myriad of colourful barrettes. She handed a camera off to a tall, willowy man in a black windbreaker and charcoal skinny jeans. Like the rest of the field and the fire crew Ghost passed earlier, his colleagues too, were disheveled and windswept.


    “Commander!” the man beamed. Despite his fly-away blond hair whipping at his face, his glacier-blue eyes glowed with as much cheer as his melodic voice.


    “Eagle,” Ghost greeted with a brief nod, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his long coat.


    “Great, more people,” the woman grumbled from where she squatted next to the tarp, jotting notes down in a pocket-sized book.


    “Good morning to you too, Dose,” Ghost smirked. He crouched next to her, withdrawing a pen from his pocket which he used to lift the corner of the plastic. Ash blew out from underneath and a charred hand came into view. “This is worse than the last one,” he observed.


    “A blast of at least twelve-hundred degrees,” Dose muttered next to him.


    Eagle whistled. “Colour me impressed. If he could sustain that for any significant amount of time—.”


    “He’d be putting crematoriums out of business,” Dose finished for him.


    Eagle laughed musically, “I was going to say, that would be bad news for us.”


    “It was bad enough already,” Ghost said, poking at the charred hand. Despite the air’s moisture, it still crunched dryly at his prodding. “Some of the soil is melted too,” he added, flicking at bits of glassy material in the dirt next to the corpse.


    Dose sighed and dropped a rock on the corner of the tarp as she folded it back over the hand. “I would say it was seven or eight twelve-to-fourteen-second strikes,” she informed, gesturing at the burn marks at their feet. She and Ghost both rose, Dose pointing out the marks in the soil that showed evidence of repeated high-temperature blasts.


    Ghost frowned. “That’s longer than before. He’s getting more powerful by the day at this rate.”


    Dose clicked her tongue impatiently. “Well, Crispy Freeman here was unlucky at best,” she gestured off to the woods at the side of the clearing where a homeless camp was tucked away under the branches. “There’s only evidence of one person here, and the scorch marks lead from the camp to here. Likely wrong place, wrong time for him.”


    “So he ran,” Ghost said as more a statement than a question. He carded his hand through his hair again. “This breaks the pattern. I hate it when they break pattern.”


    Eagle’s ever-present smile creased with worry, “Perhaps it was just the bad weather last night? Maybe he needed a place to stay and our vic here wasn’t into sharing?”


    Ghost’s expression steeled, leaving him unreadable. He was thinking fast. He turned to look out over the city below them. They stood at the edge of a dense forest that dropped off into high cliffs of blue-grey bedrock forming a horseshoe around a bay. Dapples of sunlight broke through the low-hanging clouds and caught the sides of glass skyscrapers, sending light scattering across the landscape. In the distant harbour, boats milled about in the ocean, coming and going about their daily business. “But why all the way out here? There’s nothing—.”


    Various chimes and buzzes erupted from their respective pockets and the quickly withdrew their phones.


    Ghost’s expression turned dark. “Emergency report from Mother; we’re to return to town immediately. Eagle, you drive the truck. We’ll meet at Central Station.”


    “Yessir!”the two said in unison, gathering their equipment bags as Ghost sprinted off into the woods ahead of them.


    Alexander winced as sunlight washed over him, the glittering city coming into full fewas his train careened out of a cliff-side tunnel, catching one of the sunbeams.


    “Passengers en-route to North Covehunt should be advis—.”


    Alexander turned up the music in his headphones to drown out the announcement. He had been hearing it repeated every ten minutes or so since embarking almost four hours ago. He was sure it was going to haunt his dreams for at least a week.


    He was temporarily blinded again as the train dipped back into another tunnel, the cabin lights flickering on as they descended into darkness. He could once again see nothing out the window save for his own reflection—a young man of seventeen with fine, mixed European-Asian features, his long, straight, ink-black hair pulled back into a high ponytail tied with a red ribbon. His silvery-grey eyes lingered on his own gaze for a moment before focusing on something behind the glass. It was a flicker of white, but it vanished the moment he tried to lock onto it.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    Alexander took in a sharp breath and looked away from the haunting darkness. It wasn’t long before the other passengers rousted back to life, gathering their belongings as the train began to slow. He unconsciously put his hand to his side to feel his tattered grey messenger bag and backpack still where he had left them. At his feet was a large, battered luggage case with a Canadian flag sticker haphazardly stuck to the side.


    As the train trundled to a stop, his phone buzzed and he looked down to see a series of texts come in. The conversation had been a steady stream of back and forth until the train had entered the bedrock tunnels. However, now that he was within range of the lower station’s relays, his halted conversation came pouring into his chat.


    Alexander quickly typed up a reply and sent it before grabbing his luggage and heading out, following the other passengers milling about the station. Everyone else seemed to be in a hurry, but Alexander stopped to take in the view at the top of the escalators.


    North Covehunt’s Central Station was an old building with high vaulted ceilings and ancient Victorian brick-work intertwined with modern brushed steel and glass. One wall sported a hanging carpet of live green plants and a water feature, while all the lights were either recessed moody LEDs or retrofitted cast-brass gas lamps housing modern Edison-style bulbs.


    Alexander’s mouth opened in awe a smile tugging at his lips. “Evan’ll love this,” he said softly to himself, now snapping a few pictures.


    By the time he was on his fifth shot of the room, his phone buzzed and he pulled his headphones down to answer it, covering his other ear with his free hand.


    “Hey Evan,” he said breathlessly. “I just got in.”


    “Hiya Cookies!” a cheerful voice replied. “How was the trip?”


    Alexander smirked softly at his nickname. “Long,” he answered. “You weren’t kidding about the architecture, it’s great.”


    “I knew you would like it!” her smile carried through the phone on her voice.


    “Look, Evan, I’ve got to go. Someone from the school was supposed to meet me, and I’m already late because of the storm last night and… because of… o-other things,” he finished lamely.


    “Other things?” she mused melodically as he readjusted his free hand to further drown out another station announcement. “Don’t think I don’t know about that witch warning.”


    “Ah...Haha…” Alexander laughed sheepishly, “You don’t need to helicopter me you know.”


    “I. Am. Your. Mother!” Evan pointed out teasingly as Alexander flushed with a hint of a smile. “I know you didn’t want to worry me. Just, be careful.”


    “Fiiine…” Alexander rolled his eyes.


    “And don’t roll your eyes!”


    “I didn’t!”


    He heard her laugh. “I’ll wait for you to call, don’t worry about timezones.”


    “You know I will anyways, Evan.”


    “Oh you!”


    “I’ll talk to you later.”


    “Cya Cookies,” Alexander rolled his eyes again at the nickname, “Don’t roll your eyes!” and with that, she hung up with a laugh, leaving him shaking his head.


    “Seriously, that woman…” he mused, his expression softening as he stared longingly at his phone. He already missed her. He sucked in another breath, swallowing the lump of emotions in his throat. It was only going to be a few months, then he would see her again for the holidays.


    Alexander blinked out of his stupor and readjusted his well-used backpack hanging off his one shoulder as he slipped his phone into the front pocket of his messenger bag. By now, the station had all but emptied, with only a few passengers scurrying for the nearest exit.


    A noise behind him drew his attention, and Alexander turned, looking back down the escalator that led to the train platform. In the shadows, he thought he saw movement. With a shiver he turned to head for the doors, only to have a man bodily slam into him.


    Before Alexander could turn to apologize, his right arm was grabbed and twisted behind his back, the scruff of his hoodie twisting to tactfully strangle him.


    “What the fu—!?”


    “Shut up!” a gruff voice snarled into his ear, breath hot, humid, and gross against the back of his neck.


    “L-let go!” Alexander cried out as the man further wrenched his arm.


    “Let the kid go!” a stern voice interrupted with a harsh command. Ghost approached from the station’s entrance, his large handgun pointed at them. He moved carefully and deliberately, stopping only three or so meters from the two. “Now!” he added firmly.


    Alexander’s gaze flicked around the atrium to where he could see three other figures hiding behind benches and pillars, guns also at the ready. He winced, his concentration brought back to his assailant as his arm started to burn.


    At first, he thought it was just pain from being twisted, but in the few moments the man had been holding him, it had started to prickle uncomfortably and was now in searing pain. “I-it hurts!” Alexander gasped.


    “I said shut your fucking mouth!” The man hissed, letting go of Alexander’s hood to bring his hand around to the boy’s throat, a small ball of red-orange fire coalescing at his fingertips. “One more word, and I’ll burn your pretty face to a crisp.”


    The station was empty now except for Alexander, the two men, and the three others hiding in the wings. Red and blue police lights flickered through the glass of the exit doors and high windows from outside. Overhead, an automated announcement repeated an evacuation order—an order Alexander hadn’t heard over his headphones.


    “Oh shiii—,” Alexander breathed, words catching in his throat.


    “Just let him go!” Ghost ordered, his gun still trained on them. “You’re surrounded. There’s no where to go. Just let the kid go.”


    “HA!” the witch barked a derisive laugh into Alexander’s ear. “Go ahead, asshole.” He moved his hand closer to Alexander’s face. “You and your buddies better back off, or the kid’ll get a painful face-lift before his date with the barbecue!”


    At this, Alexander sucked in a breath, attempting to back away from the fire. The heat was intense and he could see his bangs starting to curl as they over-heated. “Y-you’re going to kill me anyways, aren’t you?” he rasped—though they all knew it wasn’t really a question.


    “Oh how cute, the kid gets it,” the witch mused.


    Alexander tensed and grit his teeth.


    His gaze me Ghost’s for a split second. “In that case—!” he slammed his heel into the witch’s foot as hard as he could muster.


    Alexander felt a sickening crack and the man howled in agony and surprise.


    In the same split second, Alexander’s free hand came up and slapped away the hand holding the flames.


    Now loose, the fireball flung across the room into the water feature and exploded in a cloud of steam, debris, and smoke.


    With a frustrated snarl, the witch threw him to the ground with force.


    Time crawled to a snail’s pace as Alexander reeled from the floor, rolling over to defend himself. He raised his arms, shielding his face.


    The witch raised both of his hands, more fire congregating between them.


    The air itself screeched to a fever-pitch.


    Alexander’s gaze met the madness behind the glowing yellow-orange eyes of the witch—the man grinning a little too widely for normal human features.


    “BUUUURRRN!”


    Gunfire shattered the stillness of the moment just as the witch brought the conflagration down upon Alexander.


    He curled up, squeezing his eyes shut, hoping it would be a quick death...


    Yet, the searing pain he expected to feel as his flesh vaporized did not come.


    For a moment Alexander wondered if the fire had been so hot that it burned away his nerves—or if his brain couldn’t cope and made it feel like he was freezing instead—or if that deep crackling sound was his bones spitting and splitting from the sheer intensity of the heat.


    He hesitantly opened one eye, and then the other.


    His breath came out in little white puffs of condensation.


    He was cold.


    The air around him was freezing, causing him to cough.


    An orange-yellow glow against the blue light around him drew him to look up past his shielding arms.


    He could barely make out the form of the witch on the other side of a thick, rapidly forming shell of blue ice nearly ten centimeters thick. No matter how much fire was thrown at it, it just kept growing back.


    The crematory blast intensified for just a second, and Alexander wondered if the ice would hold as it let out a deep crackling and an ear splitting snap. It sounded like a glacier breaking apart—yet, a moment later, the glow of fire faded and so did the distorted image of the witch as he retreated towards the escalators.


    With the danger gone, Alexander breathed a sigh of relief and the ice exploded into a fine snow that instantly vaporized in the heat of the hall, filling it with clouds of condensation.


    “Roll call!” Ghost barked through the fog, waving it aside uselessly with his free hand, pistol trained in front of him as he scanned the room.


    “Dose.”


    “Mother!”


    “T-Tech…”


    Three voices responded in varying tones of urgency or light pain.


    Alexander looked around the room for them, but he couldn’t see anything through the haze until Ghost materialized, pointing his weapon at him. “You, did you make the ice? Where is the witch?”


    Eyes locked on the gun, Alexander mouthed wordlessly, gesturing lamely towards the escalators when electricity shot through his arm and wrist.


    Pain like he had never felt before coursed through him and he cried out, making the mistake of gripping his arm with his other hand. When he looked down at it, Alexander could see the polyester of his hoodie melted against his skin. Where there was no fabric left, his arm was burned red and black, forming charred boils in the shape of a hand print.


    He sucked in a sharp breath of surprise and looked up at Ghost, the colour draining from both their faces.


    “H-help me,” Alexander choked pleadingly before passing out.


    Ghost watched in horror as the boy collapsed. He took one last glance around the room and holstered his gun once deciding it was safe enough.


    He crouched and propped up Alexander, gingerly lifting his arm to inspect it. “Dose! Medical emergency! Mother, you’re in charge here. Tech—”


    “Securing the scene, Sir!” Tech replied, stationing himself near the top of the escalator. He was covered head to toe in bits of rubble and dust. He kept his gun at the ready, checking down the inoperable staircase. The rails were dripping stands of melted rubber pooling on the floors, the metal twisted and bent outward as though to escape the heat of the witch fire.


    Dose scurried to Ghost’s side, slipping briefly on some loose tile, but she caught herself well. She knelt next to him, already unfurling a small medical kit from a pouch in her cargo pants. “This is one ballsy kid,” she muttered, setting to work.


    “How does it look?” Ghost asked her, his eye catching another female hunter across the room heading for the station entrance. The brunette gave him a stoic nod as she exited.


    Dose snipped away the remnants of Alexander’s sleeve as best she could. “Not good,” she muttered. “I’ll need to take him to base—this is bad,” she added, pointing to the edge of the burn. “It’s growing.” She produced a marker from her medical pack, drawing a strange set of markings directly onto Alexander’s arm. “Now, Ghost!” she urged.


    “Any sign of the target?” Ghost inquired, as he carefully lifted Alexander, Dose hovering around him and still drawing on the boy’s arm.


    “None,” Tech replied. They backed up towards the door as a group. He reached up and touched his ear-piece, “Tech to Eagle, anything from the sky? Over.”


    Their radios crackled to life all at once, “Eagle to Alpha Team,” Eagle’s voice chimed in response, “No signs on the surface, but there are a lot of places he can access from under the station. I don’t think we’re going to get another chance today. Over.”


    Ghost’s expression was grim as Dose held the door open for him, “Tech, you’re driving, you alright for it?”


    “Yes sir,” the other replied, backing out after Dose. Adrenaline had taken over any exhaustion he might have had from earlier. Finally outside, he lowered his gun as the three of them stepped out into the chilled September air. It was overcast again and the street was lined with police vehicles—the officers tactfully hiding behind the doors of their squad cars.


    “Mother!” Ghost called gruffly.


    The third hunter turned from where she was speaking with one of the officers. She briefly gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder before trotting over. “What’s the situation?” she asked, peering over the boy in his arms. “Do we need an ambulance?”


    Ghost shook his head, “Take my keys,” he said, turning so she could riffle through his pocket. “The witch seems to be gone for now—slippery bastard.” His gaze drifted to the officers, particularly the one she was speaking to just a moment before. “Have our guy contact the O.E. We’re going to need some help—if they’ll deign to give it.”


    Mother nodded once, flashing his car keys at him. “Understood."


    “Keep Eagle close to you, we’ll be returning to base ahead of you,” he added. He could almost feel Dose’s impatient gaze boring into the back of his head.


    Mother only waved him off as she walked away. “Get going."


    Ghost turned away from her, following his companions to the white truck from earlier, Alexander limp in his arms.