Demon Hunters: The Prequel

Demon Hunters Motorcycle Club: Shifter Legends Prequel

Copyright © 2014 Kaylee Song

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Grant’s long, lean frame bent over the pool table in a smoky corner of the bar. He aimed his stick at the cue ball and let his stick fly, hitting it directly and sending it hurtling towards a small group of balls. Three sank into the pockets, all solid. It was his called shot.

“Dammit, Dixon. How the hell do you do that?”

“Have an eye, I guess.” It certainly wasn’t his heightened senses, or his ability to be in tune with the earth. At least that was what he would always claim.

Grant tugged on his leather cut, the one thing that distinguished him from everyone else in the joint. It made him a member of the most elite motorcycle club in the area. It made this his territory.

"Just my luck." He shrugged and shot another ball into the pocket.

"I dunno why you like to come down here, and kick our asses at pool all the time. You could be doin' just about anything." Andy was a nice guy, chatted with him pretty regularly, and gave him a solid run at a game of pool. But he was right. Not many Demon Hunter's came down from their bar to the local ones in town.

"I think you know why. It's your good company." He grinned as he missed. Had to keep the game alive, make Andy think he would win it.

Andy sank two in. And then another one. Andy was good in his own right. For a human. When he finally missed Dean lined up another shot. It was going to go in, and it was going to be beautiful.

"You sure about that?" Andy wasn't stupid. "I got more than good company for you tonight. Got word that someone's trying to sell some crank in town."

He scratched. Dammit. What did he mean, selling crank? That shit hadn't been in town for going on ten years, about the time the Demon Hunter's moved into town. Hyde hadn't been the pinnacle of a saintly town, but dammit, they at least had to go over to Meadetown if they wanted to score. And junkies usually did have the ability to get a 50 minute ride to the closest town to some meth lab. All the fuckin' tweakers had taken off years ago, or sobered up.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Grant's voice came out harsher than he meant it to. He looked like he was seconds from beating someone with the cue stick.

"Dammit, man, I dunno. Look, don't shoot the messenger. I just heard that someone was going around, trying to make contacts, if you know what I mean. My ol' lady's sister used to score, years ago, so she told me about it. Said maybe you would... pay for that kind of information?" Andy was a good guy, but like most men around Hyde, he did it for a reason. To score some pussy, or some cash.

"Yeah man, you did real good bringing this to me." He pulled out his wallet and leafed through it, grabbing a few hundred dollar bills and shoved them into his palm.

"I gotta go, but I owe you a game."

"Does that mean you forfeit?" Andy's grin was wide.

"Hey man, if that is the only way you can win..." Grant's was wider, because he knew he had not only won the game, but the argument. He knew exactly where to hit him, in his pride.

"Hey, you know I can beat you fair, but this don't count towards your win score." Andy seemed a little hurt by his words, so he backed off.

"Sure man."

Grant threw the stick at him and turned to walk out of the bar. His patch didn't say “vice president” for nothing. He had to let the club council know what was going on. He had to let the cops know too. No way they were bringing that shit into his town. Not after all they did to fight to keep it out.

Grant swung open the door to the bar and turned down the alley, streetlights providing only dim light to everyone around him.

Everyone but him. He saw them coming before they even realized who he was. What he was. The two men thought they were going to get the drop on him, but they didn't know exactly who they were dealing with. It was one thing to mess with a man in a cut, but it was another entirely to attack one of the Demon Hunters.

Because they had a secret.

Grant stopped in the middle of the alley and turned towards them.

"Boys, I'm gonna give you one warning, and one warning only. Because you are so young, and hell, stupid. I wanna make this fair. Get the fuck out of here." His smile was the kind that leaves you feeling a little sick when you see it, the kind that lets you know that he was about to enjoy what could happen if they didn't heed his advice.

"We ain't afraid of you, bullying the whole town. My ol' man says before you came people were free. You just use us for as a front for your drug trade." Christ, he couldn't have been more than 18. "Says you are ruining this town."

He came across men like this every once in a while, usually pissed off because the Demon Hunters were deep in the lumber trade, and the coal mining industry. Usually laid off, and lookin' to blame someone.

"Your old man don't know shit, but if you wanna take a shot at me, you can find out just what kind of man I am." He wouldn't warn them to take off again.

"Look, Kenny, I dunno if this is a good idea, he looks... a lot bigger than we thought."

"I didn't come all the way down here to do anything else than kick his ass. He laid my ol' man off!"

Ah, there it was. Running the warehouse he had to fire a guy a time or two. Who was this guy’s ol' man? "Who is he?"

"Calvert."

"Asshole was sleepin' on the job."

"You don't call my dad an asshole!" Kenny rushed him, but Grant really wished he hadn't. He dodged him easily, pushing him out of the way and throwing him into a wall. He wouldn't kill the kid, but he had to send a message.

You don't fuck with a Demon Hunter.

Grant held back as he rammed him into the wall and beat him, three punches before the kid passed out and slumped to the ground. He had to hand it to the kid, it was two more than he thought it would be.

Kenny's friend must have had sense, because when he turned the kid was gone, nowhere to be found.

Grant scooped up the scrawny teen and threw him over his shoulder. He may have wanted to teach the kid a lesson, but he sure wasn't going to leave him here. It wasn't a long walk to the E.R., maybe five or six blocks, but they would make sure that he wouldn't sustain any real damage.

By the time Grant got on his bike he had enough time to think about the Hunters newest problem. He knew what they needed to do, and it wasn't going to be pretty, but it had to be permanent.

Drugs weren't going to come into his town, he had enough drunks and potheads to deal with. No way that they needed the added stress of a bunch of tweakers causing all kinds problems in town.

He gripped his handlebars a little tighter as he sped along the winding country road. The night air was crisp, but he couldn't deny that he liked the way it felt against his skin a whole lot more than when he was in a car. His bike symbolized everything he wanted, his freedom, his strength. His power. It was all so fragile.

Grant pulled into the bar and put his bike in his spot. Being V.P. was nice, better than being a grunt. It took him 10 years to work his way up before he got the number two spot, before they would move into the area and really take over their sizable territory in Northwestern PA. He opened the door of the bar and walked right into a cloud of smoke. He swore all he did some days was go from one smoky room to another, the smell of cigars and cigarettes embedded in his leather cut. He weaved through the bar, being greeted by a lot of handshakes and the kind of man hugs that allow you to retain your masculinity at the end.

That was the perk of everyone knowing your name, he guessed. You got accosted whenever you needed to get to the boss as soon as possible.

Book stepped out from the back room, a big smile on his face.

"Hey man! You just missed it. I made out like a king at the poker table tonight." His face fell as soon as he realized the look on Grant's. "What's up man?"

"Not here," He whispered as he made his way to the very back of the bar. It was the place where only the most elite of the motorcycle club could gain entry. He pushed through the doors and waited for Book to catch up. Dammit, he needed a smoke, this shit was serious. Someone was encroaching on their turf. He had no idea who it was, but it was either a bunch of dumb humans... or someone else. He was hoping it was the least difficult scenario.

"We got shit going down in our territory, Book. Bad shit."

"What kind of shit?" His face was serious, "Someone cuttin' in on our mining rights?"

"Hell no, you think I would come up here at 2 am to tell you some business man wants to undercut our business? This shit is more serious than that. Meth head serious."

"Fuck. I was wondering when it would happen. Haven't had any trouble for what, two, three years now? Probably just some jackass who thinks he can corner an 'under-served' market." Book was never upset by anything that happened, he was the pinnacle of cool and collected. That was what made him such a good president. Such a good Alpha over their entire group.