Witch Hunter Olivia
© Copyright 2014 by Adam Kunz (C.A. Kunz).
All rights reserved.
Published by C.A. Kunz LLC at Smashwords
License Notes
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, re cording, or otherwise, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Cover design and photography by Regina Wamba of Mae I Design
C.A. Kunz, LLC
Orlando, Florida
First and foremost I need like to thank my family for always being there when I needed to vent about anything book related, and for never failing to encourage me to keep pursuing my dream no matter what. You’re a huge reason why this book even exists.
Ginormous thanks go to Regina Wamba at Mae I Design for designing the incredible cover for Witch Hunter Olivia. You’re superwoman personified, and it was such a pleasure to get to work with you. I absolutely adore you and everything you do, my friend! You’ve seriously outdone yourself in my eyes with this breathtaking cover that I have the honor of putting on display, and I can’t thank you enough for all your hard work!
Huge thanks should go to two very special ladies who are both awesome authors and editors: Raine Thomas, Hollie Westring. I absolutely adore you guys and all you did to help clean up my writing! You have definitely made this book much more polished and refined, and I can’t thank you enough.
As always a tremendous thank you should go to the Book Cartel. You’re superstar supporters, amazing friends, and dedicated readers. I’m truly grateful for all that you do. Much love and big hugs!
An EXTRA SPECIAL thanks goes to Jennifer L. Arementrout, Abbi Glines, Cora Carmack, and Nichole Chase for taking the time to read my book and blurb it. You ladies are too wonderful for words, and I seriously can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for me. I love you all like sisters, and am honored to have been able to get to know you over the years and share some wonderful times. Much love!
Big thanks should go to Megan Bagley, Shana Benedict, Mindy Janicke, and Jamie Sager Hall for being a part of my all-star group of beta readers. You ladies are just too amazing for words, seriously! You gave such great feedback and I’m eternally grateful.
I also want to thank EVERY SINGLE author, reader, blogger, and friend who have been so incredibly supportive of me and my love of writing (you all know who you are). You all mean the world to me, and I can’t even express in words how much I appreciate all of you!
Finally, thanks to
you
, the readers, for taking a chance on this book. By performing this simple act you are helping me make a lifelong dream come true, and you have no idea how much that means to me.
Peer pressure is such a bitch, and tonight my best friend, Tara, has made it into an art form.
She has me doing two things simultaneously that I swore I’d never do: wear a skirt and attend a sorority rush party. At first I refused when she asked me to throw on a horrid layered pink skirt she found in the back of our dorm room closet, but then I grudgingly agreed to wear the little black number I currently have on.
Oh, and for the record, I’m not anti-girly things. I just grew accustomed to dressing a certain way for my previous … uh, I guess it could be called a profession. Some said it was my responsibility, my destiny, and even my curse, but in any case, I usually did it wearing skinny jeans, boots, and a blouse.
Great. Here come the cramps again.
I twinge as a dull ache flows through my abdomen when a group of sorority sisters stroll by, all clad in different shades of pink, making their social rounds for the fifth time tonight. These little cramps are life’s wonderful way of telling me I’m in the presence of a witch—light or dark—and this party is unfortunately chock-full of them. I can’t seem to move two feet without getting a light surge through the midsection.
Guess what happens when a male Witch Hunter gets close to one. Give up? They get a sulfur taste in their mouths and sweaty palms. That’s it. Yet again, Mother Nature’s kicked us females in the lady bits, even when it comes to dealing with the paranormal world.
Speaking of the paranormal world, witches run it like a boss. Every other race has attempted to knock them from their pedestal, but because they’re able to blend in with mortals the easiest—and the fact that they have the whole magic thing going for them—they’ve reigned supreme.
Take this party for instance. Humans and witches are socializing here together with no issues. No one’s screaming for the hills because their date sprouted fangs, or passing out because the person they’re dancing with suddenly traded their beautiful mug in for the hairy, snarling, werewolf variety. Trust me, I’ve seen a werewolf transform, and it isn’t pretty.
There was a time when witches posed a greater threat though, hence the reason the Elders formed the Guild of Witch Hunters. A Guild I once wholeheartedly swore my allegiance to.
My abdomen relaxes once the small herd leaves the area and enters the throng of people dancing and drinking in the living room. The thought to join them never even crosses my mind as I continue to stand against the wall next to what looks like a shrine comprised of framed pictures of the sorority sisters from years past. I begin to feel like I’m actually fusing with the wall because I haven’t moved from this spot since we arrived.
“Could you please at least act like you’re having an okay time?” I hear Tara laugh next to me over the loud music. “And if you are, you’re doing a terrible job of it, FYI.”
I turn to face her and roll my eyes. After flashing a forced smile, I return my attention to the debauchery happening around us. I understand why Tara wants to be here. I get it, she wants to start over and actually “live” her life, but at the same time, I don’t get it. We’re also trying to lay low in addition to starting over, and Tara dressing up in all pink while prancing around out in the open is the complete opposite of laying low.
“I thought sorority rush parties were supposed to be more, you know, civilized and reserved.”
Tara groans. “Yeah, me too.”
“So, remind me again why you feel the need to be a part of this.”
“We’ve been over this a hundred times already, Livie. I’m a legacy. Alpha Nu Gamma is the
only
sorority my mom would’ve wanted me to rush. You know this is my only chance to have a connection with her again,” she explains in a huff.
“I know, I know. It’s just that this isn’t your scene, and you know it.”
She releases a sigh while sweeping a few loose strands of her strawberry blonde hair from in front of her face. “Don’t you think I realize that? Look, I’m probably not even going to make the cut. It’s not like my mom’s around to vouch for the whole legacy thing. I always promised her that when I went off to school I’d rush, and now that we’re here at Arcadia, I’ve decided to keep my word.”
I drape my arm around her shoulder and pull her close. “I’m sorry I brought it up. I get that this is important to you, and I should’ve kept my mouth shut.”
She squeezes my hand with hers before sending me a quick smile. “Thank you. We’re both in redo mode, and I know it sucks royally. You, with the whole abandoning your
duties
thing, and me … well, I’m just trying to pick up the pieces and move on.”
Abandoned my duties
is putting it lightly. More like I went AWOL.
Witch hunting is all in my past now, and it’s a past I long to keep dead and buried. I dropped it like a bad habit, which didn’t really sit well with the Elders or the rest of the Guild. My mother secretly bent the rules and helped me start my life over, even though she did it behind my father’s back. Per the Guild’s code, she was supposed to shun me and completely sever ties. She understood my reasons for wanting to quit that life, and to a certain extent agreed with me.
My older brother, on the other hand, took it harder than anyone. I think it’s a safe bet to say I won’t be receiving a birthday card from him anytime soon. I’ve got to joke about this whole situation, because if I don’t, I’ll be a mess of tears and feels on the ground.
“Yeah, and whether or not either of us likes it, we’re stuck together, my friend,” I tease while showing off the tribal infinity symbol tattoo on my wrist, and she does the same with her matching one.
A shrill female’s voice calls out Tara’s name, causing both of our heads to pop up and search through the crowd in front of us. Two girls wave at us from their places next to a large ice sculpture shot luge in the shape of the sorority’s Greek letters.
“Go on … socialize, you little butterfly. That’s what you came here for, right?” I say, giving her a little nudge.
Tara nods with a subtle smile. “You gonna be okay over here all by yourself?”
“I’ve managed so far, right?” I reply with a hint of sass, making her snort.
My eyes follow Tara as she moves away toward the pair of girls who are still enthusiastically signaling her over. Out of nowhere, my abdomen receives a small jolt. My senses become bombarded by the smell of cologne, cinnamon gum, and beer. Glancing to my left, I see a tall, dark, and dreamy guy standing there invading my personal bubble. His appearance screams, “Hey look, I’m a warlock.” He’s even rocking an Eddie Munster widow’s peak and everything. His piercing green eyes would probably be making me swoon against my will right about now, but with me being of Hunter blood, I’m immune to his witchy charms.
Perfect. He’s a frat guy,
I think to myself after noticing the Greek letters on the breast of his polo.
“Can I help you?” I ask, dodging his pinning stare while refocusing my gaze straight ahead. I try to play it cool and not let on that I know what he is.
“I don’t see many girls like you around here,” he says, his speech slightly slurred.
I can’t believe he’s faking being tipsy. Alcohol has no effect on witches or warlocks.
“Oh, and what kind of girl is that?”
“Exotic,” he answers, and I can hear his smile when he speaks.
I pan my eyes over in an exaggerated motion to meet his. “Exotic? I’m half-black and half-white. How exactly does that equal exotic?”
He laughs. “Have you looked around this place? Any girl with darker skin than your average spray-on tan would be considered exotic.”
I guess he does have a point. This place is kind of Caucasian bombshell central.
“And I thought you looked mulatto, but I wasn’t going to come right out and say it,” he continues, and then pauses to take a sip of his drink. “You have beautiful caramel skin, by the way.”
Ugh.
Well, at least he didn’t call me “Milano” like the damn cookie. The last time that happened, the guy ended up face-first on the ground. I may or may not have had some anger issues when I was younger, so I guess being a person who used to kick witches’ asses for a living was right up my alley.
“Are you rushing?” he asks after taking another swig from the red Solo cup in his hand.
“I’m only here for moral support.” I nod toward Tara in the distance.
“I see. Well—”
“Let me stop you right there. This,” I motion between him and me, “might work on the little coeds who frolic around campus in their Uggs and miniskirts, but it’s not going to work on me.”
“What do you mean?” He begins staring deep into my eyes. “I happen to be quite charming if given a chance.”
When his eyes begin to glow bright green, I throw my hand up in his face. “Uh-uh, you did not just try and go all warlock on me.”
“Huh?” The shimmer fades from his eyes.
“You heard me. I know you didn’t just attempt to bewitch a Hunter,” I reply, quirking up an eyebrow while crossing my arms in front of my chest.
“Shit—you’re a Hunter?” He sounds so disappointed.
“An ex-Hunter, but yeah,” I respond, relaxing a bit to slump back against the wall. “And I’d appreciate it if you’d keep your voice down. No need to incite a riot up in here.”
“Well, damn. Thanks for letting me waste my breath,” he groans.
“Anytime,” I reply as he storms off.
A year ago, I would’ve tackled him to the ground, slapped a pair of silver cuffs on his wrists to restrict his powers, and hauled his ass away for trying to use magic on a human. Lucky for him though, he just got a “stay out of jail free” card.
“Livie.” Tara’s voice rings out from the crowd before she emerges from the group gathered in front of me. “Angelica really wants to meet you.”
“Uh, great. Who’s Angelica?”
“She’s the president of the sorority, silly,” she responds, reaching out for my hand. She gives it a good tug, trying to get me to follow her, but I resist. “Come on, I promise after you meet her, we can leave, okay?”
“Fine,” I murmur and allow her to lead me through the sea of people.
Angelica is literally everything you’d expect a sorority president to look like. She’s poised, has perfect creamy skin, beautiful shoulder-length curly red hair, and legs that go on for days. Her pristine white-toothed smile looks genuine, but something seems off about her. For one thing, the gaudy bracelet around her wrist clashes tragically with the rest of her outfit. It’s actually the only thing that doesn’t fit with her ensemble.
“You must be Olivia,” Angelica announces when we approach her. “Tara’s told us so much about you.”
“She has, huh?” I send a chastising look toward Tara, to which she just mouths “what?” at me.
“All good things, I assure you,” Angelica chimes in with a reserved smile.
“It’s nice to meet you, Angelica,” I say and extend my hand out for hers. She takes hold of mine with a graceful sweeping motion and the moment our skin touches, I get this surge of discomfort. It literally feels like she punched me straight in the abdomen.
“Likewise,” she replies, releasing my hand. An inquisitive look springs to her face, coupled with a furrowed brow.
“So, what do you think about my girl Tara here being a legacy?” I ask, hoping the question will take her focus off my reaction.
“Well, it definitely helps when rushing. Dedication and loyalty are highly valued in our sorority.”
The sound of cracking glass followed by a whooshing noise pulls my attention to the large windows behind Angelica. I hone in on the bolt headed straight for me and snatch it right out of the air. When my eyes pan back over to Angelica, I notice hers are held on the projectile I now hold in my hand, its tip mere inches from my face. Actually, everyone in my direct vicinity is gawking at me with open-mouthed stares. Yeah, this wouldn’t be the first time I’ve caught a bolt out of midair that was shot at me, but I can see why it would be shocking to most people.
The glinting of the bolt’s silver tip in the light from the ceiling fan overhead catches my attention. I immediately realize who fired it when I notice the symbol etched into its face—a capital W inside a capital H. This shot wasn’t meant for me.
“Witch Hunters,” I whisper as my shocked eyes meet Tara’s.
When I hear another bolt breach the living room window, I wrap my arms around Angelica’s waist and drag her to the floor. Two more bolts fly overhead right after, but I don’t see where they hit. Screams fill the area as everyone begins fleeing the scene. While I hold onto Angelica, intense pain makes me cry out.
