Narzack

Followed? No.  Watched.  No, not watched.  Hunted.  Yes, that’s the word.  Kellin felt. . . hunted, stalked.  He couldn’t explain it, didn’t’ know why.  Just felt it.  He didn’t often have contact with other spirits.  He’d heard word of the city spirit, whoever that may be, being attacked or threatened or something.  No matter. 

The night had started out as any other, if any other night had vampires, werewolves, fairies, and mages.  Which, given his time with Fee, many did.  He met them.  He said hello, hi, how are you, great, fine, love, happiness, peace, joy, goodbye.  But something was wrong.  A gut feeling.  A hunch.  A sourness.  Something on the perimeter of his mind, just out of sight.  He shook it off.  With so many magical beings, what’s the worst that could happen?

Then, it came.  A shadow, a nightmare.  A monster made of hate and malice.  Blessedly united, the races fought it as one.  Vampire, mage, and fairy.   Lorcan, one of the mages Kellin trusts most, held the creature, while Gypsy and the vampires rent its flesh.  Others bound it with fairy rope, chanted, or performed other arcane rituals. 

It was overmatched.

No one was hurt.

Until the beast struck out with a limb, an unnatural vehicle of destruction, at McAfee Sugarhill Tenpenny.  His mind unaware of the action, Kellin stepped in front of Fee, placing himself in the path of aggression. 

He felt Fee’s tiny clamp onto his arms in sudden fear.

He saw the black horror speeding at him.

Kellin dropped and his thought fled far away.

Hunted.