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The Song of Wings - Pitch of Darkness (Urban Fantasy Demon Huntress)
43: 'I've listened to preachers. I've listened to fools. The media sells it, and you live the role'

43: 'I've listened to preachers. I've listened to fools. The media sells it, and you live the role'

On the bridge, cars jammed in lines in the dreadful traffic. Loud, angry honking filled the evening air, but no one could move from the accident on the other side of the crossing. Tessa hadn’t driven an inch ten minutes ago. Tapping the steering wheel anxiously, she was already fifteen minutes late, dropping off her son at his friend’s party.

She glanced at her review mirror, glad to see her son looked calm, and had his earbuds on. As Tessa directed her gaze back at the road, she saw her daughter slumped in the passenger seat and her legs propped up on the dashboard, scrolling on her phone with boredom.

“I’m sorry we are late,” Tessa sighed, unsure her son could hear her with him blasting his metallic music.

“It’s not your fault, Mom." The boy shrugged and looked at the railroad underneath the bridge.

With a heavy sigh, the mother wondered what happened up ahead but hoped everyone was safe. The cars in front of her started to move, and she took her foot off the brakes gently, letting her vehicle move slowly forward.

At the beginning of the bridge, or the end of it, depending on one’s perspective, Tessa’s mind was solely getting across to the other side, where the house was five miles ahead. Traffic lightened up, and she picked up speed, anticipating dropping her kid off so she could go home and pay her bills while her daughter played video games.

A train rumbled underneath the crossing. For a split second, the woman thought she heard a crunch, but it had to be her imagination, right? Something caught in the corner of her eye, but she focused back on her intense driving, thinking what caught her attention was a reckless bird. Until then, something—no, someone—got closer to them.

Before she could hit her brakes—

THUMP!

On her car’s hood, a girl tumbled on it. The window and hood squeaked as she slid off of them, falling to the road with a smack and a confused groan.

“Oh my god, Mom!” screamed her daughter, dropping her phone in utter shock. “You hit someone!”

Tessa sat there, her body screaming to move and help whoever she hit. Knuckles whitened on the steering wheel, and she froze in her seat, shocked. Was the person dead? Only going forty-five miles per hour, that was a horrible collision.

Grabbing the hood to support herself up, the girl lifted her head, and her black hair waved in front of her from the breeze. With a baffled expression from the impact, blood trickled from her mouth, and there was a nasty cut on her forehead.

Finally, sense crept inside her; she put her car in park and unbuckled herself. Flinging herself out of her mini-van, Tessa asked in a half-gasp and worried shriek, “Are you okay?!” Her daughter and son came to the young adult. People stopped their vehicles and rushed to help.

The hit stranger clutched her stomach and bent down in pain. So much blood ran down her face, looking like someone had axed her head. Throwing her head up, she laughed in hysteria. Her laughter filled the puzzle-filled atmosphere. Once the girl wheezed in breath, she straightened her back, and a cracking sound followed as bones went back in place. Everyone winched at the noise.

“I’m calling the ambulance,” declared a man, phone in hand and dialing in speed like the superhero he was.

With a glance at the train leaving her behind, the teenager blurted, “You humans aren’t that bad considering you just hit a child.”

Tessa swore she recognized this person but couldn’t figure out who she was if her life depended on it.

Sirens screeched about a mile away, the girl knitting her brows together in wonderment as if she didn’t understand the concept of ambulances and blue, red, and white colors blaring in the distance. Daring away from the humans, she jumped on cars, denting the hoods from the strike of her boots, her weight, and the forced impact.

People yelled at her to get down. Tessa ran to catch up with her and see where she was heading, but the teenager was so fast that the woman could barely follow her movements. The mother’s eyes widened as she knew where the girl was going, and she screamed, reaching her hand to grab her, “Don’t!”

Before anyone could stop the insane teenager, she jumped off the high bridge. Her cloak flew behind her, and she landed smoothly at the last train compartment like it was second nature to her. She dashed onto the roof of the train, leaping onto each compartment.

Everyone watched her with jaws dropped at how someone could survive that jump and how someone could be running in an injured condition after just being hit by a car.

Dumbfounded, Tessa stood there, and her heart stopped dead in her chest at the impossibility. Not hearing her children calling for her, people around her pondered, “What the hell just happened?” Others questioned, “Did you see what I saw? Who is she?”

With a shake of her head, she mumbled on the way back to her van, “No, that is not possible.” Yet what she saw with many witnesses—Tessa guaranteed the girl jumping off the bridge—had a death wish on her bucket list.

***

Purchasing tickets online was more thrilling than it should’ve been. Kate hadn’t ordered anything on the internet because she lived in a dimension that mankind could never know about. The account she used was the Archangel’s credit card, where his money was in the Heaven and Hell bank.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

However, The Express company could trace a bank in the Bay Area of San Francisco, an undercover place where a crossing with humans’ and Galas’ money was used for buying magical things or mundane expenses.

There were humans out there who knew about the supernatural race. She sadly wondered how many humans on the train were here to buy magical potions and drugs. Feeling no frisson whiffing around her, Kate texted the group chat to see how her friends were doing, hearing from the boys but not Sara.

Sighing, she knew Sara had the skill to cause trouble alone. The first time the assassin was alone—well, Kate didn’t want to remember; it had been their second mission and lasted for a few years. When she left her the second time, Sara was after Thomas Pitch and had a glass stuck in her shoulder blade with no care.

Hopefully, the third time will be the charm. Kate kept checking her messages, but Sara was radio silent. Standing up to walk the aisle of the cushioned chairs and almost tripping over someone’s foot, she decided to look for her friend. In the corner of her eye, a man wore sunglasses and seemed to be looking in her direction, but his attention turned to the window.

She didn’t sense any magical presence around, so Kate checked on her GPS tracker on her Gig. Knitting her brows in confusion, she saw Sara running, but it was like she had passed through the train’s walls, seemingly not stopping to open the doors of the compartments.

Noises banged above her, and she glanced up to the roof, hearing footsteps receding away. Her heart raced, and she headed quickly to the train’s roof, wishing all her might her friend wasn’t up there. Not watching where she was going, she smacked against a man.

Potion broke on the ground, colorful liquid running on the gray carpet. The two Galas jerked back. Through reflexes, Kate already had her gun out when she glimpsed the tiniest shimmer of potions, and she pressed her barrel against the man’s stomach. She snarled in a low voice, glaring at the wizard for not making a move. “Come with me in the restroom, and I’ll help clean you up.”

The wizard grinned and whispered back, “You forgot to turn off your safety; you’re bluffing.” Before the Prowler realized her rookie move, he threw back his arm, curling his hand into a fist and punching her right in the gut.

Kate flung back and crumpled on the floor. People yanked to their feet, yelling at what the hell he was doing. Coughing up blood, the wind was knocked out of her. It took her a mere second to bounce back to her feet, shaking off the impact and refusing to let anyone assist her. She slid her hands into her flannel jacket’s pockets. Letting go of her gun, she grabbed brass knuckles.

The Prowler expected to be punching some wizards tonight, and her guess turned out to be right. The drug dealer lifted his hands, ready to blast magic at her, but she would not have any magic happening in front of the humans, especially the ones who could remember.

They might get involved or even tape it, ready to spread the supernatural race…but the potions on the floor would’ve had them notice, so fortunately, none of them were in this compartment.

Millions of people had their memories erased by the Pulse of Deception, but if they saw magic on camera, they could watch the proof of magic over and over again, remembering every single detail.

Before the man could hit her with his powers, Kate lurched up and slammed her fist down on his head. However, he grabbed her torso and slammed her against the other side of the compartment. Kate smashed against the door and groaned. Blood trickled down her lips, and she leaped back on her feet, quickly shaking off the strike.

With a yell and red spit flying out of her mouth, she jumped up with her heart hammering from the hit and her hands squeezing together. The wizard didn’t waste a beat. He screamed at her and was about to blow at her throat.

There was nowhere to go, no matter how small the train was. Using his momentum against him, she ducked before his fist collided with her throat, kicking her foot against the door and skidding on the carpet, her jeans protecting the rag burn. She punched her brass knuckles simultaneously on his kneecaps and went under his legs; he buckled behind her with a painful shriek.

Kate whirled around, the criminal turning around and glaring at her with pure hatred. As he was about to lift his hands, she tightened her fists together. Feeling the cool metal from the brass buckles, she smashed up at his chin, her other fist on his throat where his windpipe was.

The man’s chin jerked up, and blood sprayed out of his nose. A horrible crackling sound vibrated in the train. He fell with a heavy thud to the floor. Kate healed his neck, so the humans didn’t see the bone jetting out of his throat.

Turning around with blood on her knuckles, a phone’s camera was videotaping her. She had called it that someone would do something like this, knowing how stupid and mundane it was to sit around and watch their races beat each other up, not trying instead to tear them apart.

Granted, she had the determined gaze to win, and those brass knuckles sparkled in the intent of pain and, even worse, death.

A girl shrilled, “Did you kill him?”

Obviously…

Kate breathed, looking at the dead wizard with his eyes wide open. “Nah, he’s only part-dead.” She whizzed by the shocked expression and stared around for any suspicious behavior, but no other Galas were present.

Snatching a phone from the girl who videotaped them, she crushed it with her bare hands. The pieces crumbled to the floor. Kate raised her hands, her brass buckles shining. She leaned toward the young woman. “You humans don’t even try to be useful. Maybe next time, if something like this occurs again, be useful and not tap footage just to get likes on social media.” Kate pointed to the unmoving Gala, “Because a human will be dead from your stupidity.”

A man stepped on her, but she was a mere human. He growled, “Fine, we are stepping in to stop you!”

With a roll of her eyes, Kate tossed him aside on the seats like a rag doll. She marched away and slid her brass knuckles away in her pockets, muttering, “Too late.” She wondered what the rest of the passengers might do after the fight. Would they call the cops? By putting a force field around the compartment, no one would be able to leave it until the train stopped; their voices would’ve been heard, and their phones would have no signal to call for help.

She did worry that, with her magical presence known, the other wizards and witches would be warned. Hopefully, her friends are doing something about them right now. These middle-ranking Galas couldn’t vanish from the train unless they jumped out at the train’s high speed, and they could die that way.

If there was a buyer in the compartment she was in, she hoped they learned the lesson of wasting their money on bad substances and that the bad guys always lost. No matter what, they eventually got captured or… even killed.

“Who are you?” stammered a frightened man, staring at her in a daze.

Another human was questioned with amazement; her eyes delighted that this girl had put up a fight against a man harassing her—but Kate had made the first move and won. The woman witnessed how amazing her strength was by killing him with one swift and tossed the man aside with ease.

Opening the door to the next passenger cart, Kate glanced behind her shoulder. Her hazel eyes blazed, and she smiled beautifully. “A hero, you call me? I prefer to be called a Prowler.”