M.A.G.I Hunters 1: A Bounty Hunter Fantasy Series (M.A.G.I. Hunters) Read online

  M.A.G.I. Hunters

  D. Levesque

  Contents

  Info

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  About the Author

  Where to find me

  Elemental Summoner 1

  Chapter 1- Elemental Summoner

  M.A.G.I. Hunters 1

  By D. Levesque

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  Copyright © 2020 by D. Levesque

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

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  Chapter One

  Yawning, I look at my watch and chuckle. “All right, gents. It’s time for me to take off. I have to work in the morning,” I tell my buddies, Mike and Jim.

  “Dude, you can’t just take tomorrow off?” Mike says with a drunken belch. Easy for him to say. Mike is a rich man who doesn’t need to work.

  I’ve known Mike since I was a kid, and despite being from different backgrounds, with him being rich and me being poor, we’ve been best friends since we met. Jim was the in-between kid. Not rich, but not poor. The three of us had gotten into so much trouble together, and the bonds we formed had carried over into adulthood. However, I’m currently the only one of us who has a lot less free time than the others. Mike’s father is a millionaire, almost reaching billionaire status last I heard, and he doesn’t want him working. Instead, he wants him to learn about the family empire. Jim works for Mike’s dad, but it’s easy work. He’s learning to be Mike’s assistant, so he can help with that Empire. I am sure I could join them and also make good money, but I want to make it independently. So that means working early in the morning.

  “Come on, Kevin, just one more hour,” Jim begs me.

  I shake my head at him and laugh. “Sorry, Jim. Six in the morning comes pretty fast, and it’s already midnight. I promise another time, all right?”

  Sighing, Jim nods. “Let me call you a cab, then. I don’t want you driving home,” he says.

  “Nah,” I tell him, waving his offer away. “I am good. I am going to leave my car here and walk home. I’m only about ten minutes from here. Besides, I need the fresh air to clear my head. I will text you both when I get home. Deal?”

  “Deal,” Mike says, looking at me closely. “You good?”

  “Yeah,” I tell him with a smile.

  I’m sure he’s wondering why I had called them both out to drink tonight. Usually, they were the ones to call me, but tonight I had reached out. Truthfully, I had my reasons, but in the end I didn’t have the guts to tell them. So instead, I just sat here tonight, drinking, enjoying my time with them, and talking about old stories.

  “Listen,” Mike says suddenly. “If you need anything, you know you can just ask. We owe you a lot.”

  “I know,” I tell him, putting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing.

  I wave the bartender over and pay my tab, even though Mike and Jim try to pay for me. I am nothing if not stubborn. They have oodles of cash, and they know I live almost paycheck to paycheck. Almost. I am not that bad. So they offer once, and when I say no, they drop it. They know I am touchy about that.

  I work for an excellent company as a paper pusher. I am learning the ropes on how to spend other people’s money. I’m an investment specialist, and while I am sure that Mike or Jim could do better than me, I am learning it on my own. Working a nine-to-five job sucks, but it has some benefits. Though I’m still trying to figure out what they are.

  Once outside the bar, I pull my jacket’s zipper up as high as it will go blocking the cold air from going down my neck. Damn, the October air is getting cold at night. I might need to take my thicker Fall jacket out soon. I put my hands in my jacket pockets and make sure my car is still parked in the bar’s parking lot. At least the owner isn’t an asshole about that. He’d rather someone keep their car in his lot overnight, than drink and drive. As long as we let the bartender know of course, which I had done when paying my tab.

  I head towards my place, which is a good, brisk ten-minute walk from the bar. The good thing is, I’m not out of shape. I go to the gym at lunch every day. I’m definitely not a bodybuilder, but I’m not skinny either. My six-foot-four frame still has some fat on it. I like my beer and snacks too much for that. But the gym keeps the fat to a minimum. Shit, that reminds me that I left my gym bag in my car, with my gym clothes that need to be cleaned. Oh well, I will grab it tomorrow, and in the meantime I’ll just grab another set of clothes and put them in a plastic bag with my lunch.

  Thinking of the gym reminds me of the new girl I met today, which makes me grin. She kept looking over at me with a big smile on her face. Unlike Mike and Jim, who probably need to flash their money to get dates, I don’t have that problem. Mike had once complained that for being poor, I had the body and the looks of a movie star, which made me laugh. I know I have the blond hair, blue eyes, and good facial structure that many people want, and I’ve been asked many times if I was a model. The good thing is, I never let it get to my head. My parents raised me as best they could, and they taught me to not to be vain.

  I was tall and gangly growing up, with pimples and acne all over my face, and I was so skinny they called me beanstalk. I also wasn’t the smartest in class. If it weren’t for Mike and Jim helping me study, I would have failed high school. Then they breezed through university and when they were done with their work, they would come over and help me with my college courses, even though it wasn’t what they were studying. I think their real incentive was getting my homework finished quickly so we could go out to the bars. I was their wingman, they said. It was more like I was their bait-man. It was during college that my body went through a transformation that shocked many people. The tall ugly duckling suddenly was not so ugly.

  About four minutes into my walk home, there is a shortcut I had learned about that actually cuts my walk from twelve minutes to ten. I know. A whole two minutes. But in winter, when I’m out drinking and I walk home, that minute makes an enormous difference!

  Glancing around to make sure no one is looking, I pull apart a section of the chain-link fence surrounding a warehouse, and pull myself through it. After placing the fence back so it looks like it’s not been moved, I walk along the warehouse’s wall and head to the back parking lot. If I was takin
g the longer path, I’d be going past three more large buildings like this, turning left, walking beside the last building, and then turning left again to end up behind the first building again. Then I would cross the street and head down the road until I got to my place.

  I have taken this path so many times, I don’t even need the flashlight from my phone anymore. The moon is out, which also helps. Suddenly, I hear the breaking of glass coming from above me. I look up, and without warning my face gets hit by glass. It hits me in the forehead and shatters, and I can feel liquid running down my face and into my throat. Shit, did someone throw a bottle through the window? And what’s that liquid?

  My first thought is, the taste is awful. That’s quickly followed by, shit, is that my blood I’m tasting? Before I can explore further, my thoughts are interrupted by more glass as a body comes flying through a window that’s about two stories up. Oh crap! I push myself against the warehouse wall, watching the body plummet. But although I expect it to go splat against the ground, it lands on both feet.

  I try to comprehend what I am staring at. The thing is human. I think. Its got fur all over its body and bullet holes all over its chest. Or at least they look like bullet holes. It’s missing an ear, and just after I realize that, I notice that it has a snout and its eyes are red, and it looks pissed. No, it looks scared. Its eyes are darting all over the place.

  “Where are you going?” says a female voice in a singsong, from above. I look up quickly and catch my breath.

  A woman is floating in the air. Or at least I think it’s a woman. She has a large tail and a gun in her hand. Suddenly, the thing on the ground with me lifts its hand, but it isn’t fast enough. There is a blast, which sounds too low to be the woman’s handgun, but the thing’s hand disappears in a splatter of gore, and it screams in pain.

  I look up at the woman as she slowly floats down towards the ground, until she lands first on one long leg, and then the other. That’s when I see she is wearing a pair of shorts and a belt with a holster on its side.

  She looks at me and smiles, but there is no sweetness in it, only murder, and says, “You move, you’re dead.” And then she turns back to the thing.

  “I will ask again, where are you going? You will tell me where you threw the vial,” she says in a sweet voice, but it gives me shivers down my back. She has her handgun aimed at the thing that fell two stories and is still alive.

  “I threw it out the window. It’s around here somewhere, on the ground,” the thing growls, and its voice pegs it as a male.

  “You’re sure?” the woman asks him.

  “Yes,” he growls at her, holding his arm that is now missing a hand, trying to slow the blood flow.

  “Thank you,” she says, and without warning she pulls the trigger and puts a bullet through his head. No, it’s not a bullet. I am sure it was a streak of light, I think, in my haze of confusion.

  What the hell is going on here? Men with fur? Woman with tails? Guns that don’t sound like guns but shoot stuff that seems to be light?

  The woman turns to me and smiles. “I am going to be looking for something. If you try something, I will shoot you dead. Understood?”

  I just nod at her numbly, not really understanding.

  “Good human,” she says, and turns to the task she said she was going to do.

  She ends up searching for a good five minutes, and I just stare at her. As I’m looking, I notice she has glasses on. She looks like a damn sexy librarian. She’s wearing a bikini top which seems to be barely holding her massive tits up, and it’s covered by this very see-through blouse. Her hair is black and long, down to her tail, which I see comes out from just above her ass, in the shorts.

  After another two minutes of looking, I can see her demeanor is changing and she is getting pissed. She is stomping around and looking in the same spots she has already looked. Finally, she turns to me and walks over, looking up at me. She isn’t very tall, maybe about five feet six.

  “Did you see a vial land somewhere?” she growls at me impatiently.

  “Hmm. Do you mean the one that hit me in the face? What was that stuff, anyhow? It didn’t taste very good. Oh shit! Was that poison?” I ask her, suddenly worried that I just ingested poison.

  The woman stares at me like I just told her to fuck off. She looks at me in shock.

  “What did you just say?” she finally utters, slowly and in a surprised tone.

  “Well, it came crashing out of the window. I looked up and something hit me in the forehead, broke, and whatever that liquid in it was, it dripped down my throat. Am I going to die now?” I say with a sigh. “Guess better now than later.”

  “You’re saying,” she suddenly grabs my shirt, and even though she is the shorter of us, lifts me about a foot off the ground, “you swallowed the liquid?”

  “Yeah. Am I going to die a horrible death?” I ask her. And somehow, I am at peace. I don’t feel bad about dying so much now. Though I hope it’s quick and peaceful. Unlike the cancer that I have, that I couldn’t tell Mike and Jim about earlier.

  The woman slowly lowers me to the ground, still staring at me intensely. “You are sure the liquid went down your throat?”

  “Yes,” I tell her with a frown. “And I honestly hope to never taste something like that again. It was a cross between shit and industrial borax. Not that I ever mixed the two, but that is what I imagine it would taste like.”

  “Bloody Fuck!” she screams suddenly. “You’re coming with me,” she utters in annoyance.

  “Why?” I ask her suspiciously.

  Abruptly, her gun’s barrel is against my throat. “Because I said so.”

  “Oh, well, in that case,” I tell her, my voice squeaking slightly. Come on! I don’t think you should blame me for that. There is a gun against my throat.

  Chapter Two

  I follow this woman, who had just put a gun against my throat after killing someone. Suddenly she throws something over her shoulder and it flies over me. I look, and whatever it is lands next to the body of the thing she shot through the head. All of a sudden there is a pinging sound, and the body suddenly disappears in a flash of darkness. Not light, but darkness. One second there is a dead body, and the next, just grass and dirt.

  “What the hell was that!” I say in surprise.

  She doesn’t turn around but says, “Just cleaning up. Keep following, or that pretty head of yours will have a hole just like he did.”

  I swallow my anger at her attitude, but turn back around and follow her. Fuck, can she be any bitchier? But she is the one with the gun. Just what in the blazing Jesus is going on? That gun looks normal enough now that it’s in her holster on her side, and I’m looking at it from behind. But it didn’t sound normal. I’m not an expert, but I have been to the shooting range. Mike’s parents have a nice size shooting range, as they should since they are a weapons manufacturing family. They love to show off their products to anyone who visits their mansion on the outskirts of town. They mainly deal in hunting rifles and handguns. According to Mike, they don’t have any military contracts. Yet. Either way, I’ve heard enough revolvers go off and no revolver that big sounds that quiet. It should have made enough sound to wake the entire neighborhood.

  Suddenly this cat woman, with her large black tail swishing behind her, pulls something out of her pocket and points it ahead of her, and there is a flash of darkness again. When she is done, there is a large round disk of nothingness in front of her. I don’t just mean there isn’t anything there. I mean, the blackness of it is sucking in the light around it, almost seeming to bend it. She pauses in front of it and points to it.

  “In,” she says in a tight, angry voice.

  “You want me to walk into that?” I ask her hesitantly.

  “Either walk in or I shoot you. Your choice,” she answers with a growl.

  “Listen!” I yell, now losing my own fucking cool. “I don’t know who, or even what, you are. But you can’t be threatening me like that and expect me to jus
t jump.” The woman quickly gets her handgun out and points it right at me, which shuts me up.

  “You were saying?” she says with a smirk.

  I glare at her, but decide that having this blackness kill me would be a less messy way to die than from a hole in my head. Maybe it will go fast. Not like I have anything to lose, right?

  Still glaring at her, I walk into the blackness, closing my eyes at the last second as I expect my destruction. Instead, I miss a step and bump into something.

  “Damn, watch where you’re going,” says a heavily accented voice.

  I open my eyes in shock, and I’m inside a room. Actually no, it’s a front entrance that to me looks exactly like a police station. I see creatures of all sorts and they are wearing uniforms that look exactly like what you would see the NYPD wearing. I stop so suddenly that something slams into me, making me fall forward and into someone. Or I should say something. The thing is tall, hairy and has the face of a bear. I stare at it in surprise.

  “Watch it, asshole, or I will kick your ass,” it growls at me.

  “Yeah, and how will you do that, McNabb? You’re in handcuffs,” says a uniformed something next to him.

  The person? The thing? Its face is the shape of a wolf, but it’s standing up on two legs. There is gray hair, or I guess fur, all over its exposed face, neck, and hands.

  “He pushed into me,” the first thing complains to the uniformed thing,