Chapter 35: Speak of the devil

Hunt narrowed his eyes. The wine in his glass swirled. "What for? I am sure those who went to hunt used salamanders to track her scent. Add to that the Windstorm which traveled through Myrtle village. It is unlikely that she survived. Too bad. That is really too bad."

Achilles raised an eyebrow. "Why do you care?" His cousin was not one to say ’too bad’ unless something affected him personally. So, how did Zyra Scorpion affect him?

Hunter shrugged. "Because all the powerful people want her so badly," Hunt said, his voice dripping with ambition. "When the tigers fight over a bone, I want to know what makes that bone so special. Besides, she was a Soul maiden."

Achilles let out a snort, nearly choking on his wine. "A broken soul maiden, Hunt! She had a corrupted soul apparently. She was useless. A defective tool."

"If she were truly useless, the Mayor wouldn’t be turning the world upside down to find her. There is another secret about her that only a select few people know about." Hunt countered, a dangerous glint in his eye. "The news I gathered says the Mayor wants something she possesses. Something that once belonged to Zena Scorpion. My guess, it is related to all those dungeons she unearthed. And do not forget that with a Soul maiden, a person could easily cross over... beyond the veil."

"Oh, please! Not that crazy talk about the veil again!" Achilles groaned, throwing his hands up in the air like a frustrated housewife. "Look around you, Hunt! You have amassed so much wealth here that people can’t even count it. You are richer than the Mayor and the most prestigious clans in this republic.

You are ranked somewhere in the top ten wealthiest men who live now. No one even knows it’s yours because I’m the one sitting in the boss’s seat. The public face of our operation, which is why I need all that shampoo." He touched his hair carefully, patting it in place. "You have money, you have safety. Why do you want to risk your life going beyond the veil?"

"There are treasures out there that make this room look like a trash pile," Hunter said softly. His gaze drifted to the ceiling. "Who knows when the Somnivores will re-ignite another war, sending humans back to the apocalypse age. We are still living in fear. On the surface, we are thriving, but deep down, we are still on survival mode.

I want real power. Real safety. And I want to do it without using my family’s name or settling for their control. I will create a legacy that belongs to me alone." He paused, his chest tightening slightly. He had other reasons, deeper, more painful reasons, but he would never say them aloud.

Achilles looked at his cousin’s stubborn face and felt a wave of defeat. He rubbed his temples. "Fine, fine. If you are totally hellbent on jumping into that hellhole, then just marry Isabelle Greydrake. She’s a powerful soul maiden, she’s beautiful, and she has proposed to you about a hundred times. Just say yes, use her power, and go beyond the veil."

"No," Hunter said instantly, his face turning to ice. "Marriage is not in my plans. A man of my stature will never bow his head to a woman. And we both know that is the fate of all Soul maiden husbands. They become obedient little dogs sharing one woman as if she is a cake. Have you seen them competing to be the favorite? Like whores in a brothel! It can’t be me. Never."

"You are so stubborn!" Achilles complained. "Okay, option B. If you want to go beyond the veil so badly, your mother commands a team of the most powerful hunters in the Republic. Go with them."

Go with her team? Hunt sneered internally. Never. He would rather eat dirt than ask his mother for a favor. He wanted absolutely nothing to do with her, or the rest of that bloodline.

"Drop it," Hunter commanded. "Just keep doing your job. Continue persuading Isabelle to work with me. Tell her we can go beyond the veil as business partners. Partners. Nothing more."

Achilles groaned loudly, slumping into a chair. "I’ve tried! But that woman doesn’t want a business partner, Hunt! She wants a husband! She wants you in wedding robes as her second husband!"

"Then tell her to keep dreaming," Hunt replied coldly.

Before Achilles could launch into another lecture, their conversation was violently cut short.

"Sir please! Let me in! Help me!"

A desperate, high-pitched male cry echoed from right outside the door. It sounded like a pig being dragged to the slaughterhouse.

In a flash, the lazy atmosphere in the room vanished. Like two perfectly synchronized dancers, Hunter and Achilles instantly traded places. Hunter slipped out of the boss’s chair and glided into the reception chair, while Achilles leaped into the heavy leather seat, assuming the role of the big boss.

"Come in!" Achilles barked, his voice suddenly deep and commanding.

The door burst open. Recaldo stumbled into the room, his face pale as a ghost. His legs gave out immediately, and he fell flat on the floor, groveling and shivering like a wet leaf in autumn.

Right behind him, a figure calmly stepped into the office.

It was Zyra.

The moment she crossed the threshold, Achilles was already on his feet, his hand sliding smoothly toward the hidden gun at his waist. His muscles were tense, ready to spring.

But Hunter stayed seated in the corner, his eyes narrowing into tiny slits as he studied the girl. He didn’t look at her face first; his sharp eyes scanned her body.

A tiny, furry head poking out of her jacket...a squirrel. And there, wrapped around her delicate wrist...a snake.

Two half-life beasts! A soul maiden? Hunter’s heart skipped a beat, a sudden jolt of electricity running through his veins.

He leaned forward slightly, looking at her properly now. Even though she had a thick scarf wrapped tightly around her head, and bits of dark ash purposely used to hide her features, the shape of her eyes, the posture of her shoulders, her frame and height, they perfectly matched the wanted posters circulating in the area.

He blinked a few times to confirm what he was seeing. Sure enough, it was her. Most humans would not be able to separate Soul maidens from ordinary women, without the mark of the blossom. But he could. He could smell them. A talent he was born with.

His nose was better than a Salamander’s and it was sniffing a Soul maiden. Not awakened, but still one. And somehow, she had two low level half-life beasts!

Indeed, she is special, he thought, fingers tapping against the arm of the chair. The corners of Hunt’s mouth twitched upward into a hidden, victorious smile. What were the odds, that the Soul maiden the entire country was searching for, had delivered herself to his door?