The Alpha King's Hunter

This was where it all began to end. In a large hall built to host the prompt meetings to solidify the pact between the supernaturals or anything else within that range. This meeting, as it'd been quite an impromptu one, would lead to other impromptu things that would prompt other nonsensicals in turn.

There was a brief silence as thick as a blanket made of animal skin in the hall. This silence was so intense it was like a being itself. Maybe if anybody reached out, they would bump into it. But, nobody reached out. The table held them by the hairs on their skin, or whatever held their bodies and the essence of their beings together.

This is how it all began to end. Starting from one supernatural being to another. And on and on, until the one who'd truly come with an agenda struck hands-on, quite literally as you'd see.

Alpha Seth, the assigned King of this supernatural conclave, relaxed on the big iron chair that sufficed as a throne to watch the other leaders present. His head was spinning at three-sixty km per second (his mind, rather), but his exterior was calm. His temperature was rising, he could feel its steady climb at each degree. His heartbeat was decelerating and his palms were clammy under the table where he'd folded them to hide the trembling.

A thought ran through his mind: his beloved, Luna Esther. Oh, how much he missed her, right then. She'd have known where to make it all feel better; the right button to press and reset this maddening sickness eating at both his body and mind.

Then, the head vampire spoke, counting his words like it was rumoured that he counted the hours before sundown. Blasted rumours. Actually, he counted the hours before the sun was up. If they wanted to spread rumours about him, the least all they had to do was to possess or borrow the dignity of doing it right, not turn it upside down. Well, most rumours weren't true, just based on loose bits of the truth. He adjusted his winter jacket, imagining how pale his face must look against the light brown fabric.

He cleared his throat and began his unplanned speech, anything to break the silence: "My fellow supernaturals, what the Faes have said is right. The werewolves have led for more than their allotted time." He smiled, baring his fangs to ascertain that he was not to be interrupted, as he could see the elf leader beginning to slowly raise his hand. He continued, "However, since it has started this way, why don't we let our good Alpha run the course of this tenure, till the year runs out, and hand it over to the next supernatural in line?"

Someone hit something. Others followed. Everyone's attention instantly left Vampire Keat and focused on the far end of the hall—the entrance, where all the transportation gears had been lined up. The Gremlins weren't listening. No, they never listened. They were busy causing all sorts of trouble at the back. This wasn't new, it repeated like a bad record every time they had a meeting.

Vampire Keat cleared his throat. The lead gremlin left his assistant and came towards the table, not apologizing and not following the due process. They all ignored him. They all focused on Vampire Keat again.

The high priestess of the witches who'd been rumoured to have killed her predecessor, stood with too much grace, Vampire Keat sat back, almost afraid it was the sun.

She spoke with such eloquence, her voice sounded like many waters. "We cannot keep waiting for the change in leadership. We are being ruled by beasts!" She paused, as if waiting for anyone to interrupt her. When they didn't, she continued, "Last week, before I put in word for this meeting to be held in my premises, a few of my people were killed, ripped apart, should I say, by wolves!"

All forms of order broke as soon as the last word left her lips. The dwarves stood on the table and jeered; the elves shook their heads, their ears wobbling; the dragon humans sat up and began to talk; the Gremlins watched, arguing not their forte; and the Faes tried to make peace.

The high priestess' eyes shone, soaking in the chaos, just like she'd orchestrated it all. Maybe she had. But, the alpha King who the allegation had been against, sat back and looked on, like he was in another place. His skin was suddenly pale, rivalling that of Vampire Keat.

"Can we hear ourselves?" It was the dragon king that spoke this time, snorting smoke from his huge nose. The supernaturals, who'd begun to argue, paused to listen. This was one thing that was commendable about that particular meeting: they listened. Not too well, but they did. The Dragon king looked on at the beings before him, wondering if it wouldn't be an honour to burn them all to the ground, to rid himself of their bickering rubbish! "How long shall we argue? Didn't we all gather here, leaving our respective homes, to make a truce? Why can't we make a truce and get going?"

"You do have a point, dragon," the queen fae said, dragging her breathy voice, sitting poised on the wooden seat specially carved for her, as she was the friend of the high priestess. "I want us to get to the root of the matter and reach an agreement, but I'm suddenly consumed by an epiphany"—the dwarf still standing on the table rolled his eyes—"Why can't the Alpha King answer her allegations? Why has he been so silent since he came here?"

The silence that had welcomed the meeting stretched again, this time shorter and less relaxing. Almost everyone was standing, on alert, eyes darting round: from the Alpha King to the Fae queen to the high priestess.

Was this the truce they'd come to renew? Why were the fae and witches suddenly making eye contact?

It began as a whisper, so soft he wouldn't have noticed if he wasn't so quiet, but the Alpha King felt it clearly when the first slice of magic hit him straight, piercing like an arrow. He'd barely spoken all through the evening so he'd had ample time to get in tune with his surroundings, to feel the ground, weighing the atmosphere like the fur that came out on his body at night when the moon came out to play.

When he looked up, the fae queen was looking right at him, lips moving, left palm rolling something underneath them—her crystal magic ball. His men were too far for him to signal to them. But, it struck him then, like lightning as his last bits of restraints rose to the surface: He had to leave, he had to fight, but the sickness was enough to pull him into whatever trance she'd prepared.

The witch high priestess stood up then and built on what the fae queen had said, "Alpha King, you've barely spoken a word. Are we so common to you? Has your arse kissed that chair far more than necessary? You. Will. Be. Gone!" She raised her fist in the air. The faerie queen did the same, not removing her hold on the Alpha King. Out from the high priestess lips came a chant.

And everywhere turned to real chaos, far more than anyone else had calculated.

The dragon king had calculated well enough, though. At least to seventy-percent accuracy. This meeting had an ulterior motive from the start. And he wasn't going to do anything about it, instead, he let his wings loose from behind him and flew away with his men on guard at the entrance.

That was when Elder Matthew saw it: the full-blown chaos in the hall. He'd been laughing and trading stories with his fellow werewolves who'd accompanied the alpha King, and also listening to the tales of the elfs who'd accompanied their king when the dragon king flew by, his men following suit. He turned. And panicked. What he saw didn't look good.

How hadn't he looked in since?

Signalling the three other werewolves he'd come with, he marched towards the entrance of the hall, praying that the Alpha King's sickness wasn't severe enough for the other supernaturals to take advantage of him and depose him, or worse, kill him in the midst of the chaos. The entrance of the hall had already been barricaded with magic: witch and fae combined. It was so strong that it threw him and the other three werewolves back with so much force, their backs hit hard on the ground. One of them hit the columns so hard, he couldn't stand.

The other two went round, trying to see if there was an opening in the magic, a way to breach it and enter in. There was none.

By the time the barrier was weakened by the help of the Vampires who'd come with Vampire Keat, it was too late. The werewolves entered in to see their alpha King lying on the cold ground without breath. His hands were so cold, it was haunting. The other creatures were nursing their wounds from the battle.

He turned to the high priestess in rage. "What have you done?"

She sneered. "I've taken what your kind has deprived my kind for centuries."

Vampire Keat who'd crawled under the table wanted to pinch the overzealous werewolf by the shin. What was he trying to do challenging the high priestess? Was he trying to get killed like his alpha?

"I'm now the Queen. The Queen!" She laughed, pulled the crown from atop the dead Alpha King's head and was about to wear it when the Elder Matthew struck.

Give up, fool, Vampire Keat jeered. Only in his head. He wasn't risking coming out. He'd had one too many face offs with powerful witches in his centuries of thriving on Earth, he wasn't ready to face one who'd already killed the leader of the conclave.

There was a loud bang as the self-proclaimed Queen threw Elder Mathew out the hall like a piece of wood. He blanked out.

When he awakened, there was too much blood for Elder Matthew to comprehend. His first instinct was to run. And he ran. Through the woods, swishing past trees and stumps. He left trails of his blood. He couldn't tell if the witches were following him, all he knew was that he had to run.

And run, he did. On and on and on. One last tribute to his Alpha.