The Witch Hunter Chronicles: Hunted
Chapter 23 - Guns and Ammo, Isle 12

After a few days of hot tubing, meals primarily consisting of beans and rice, and long naps, I started feeling stir-crazy and demanded to see what we had in the way of supplies and equipment. The room Marc led us into was way more than I expected.

“Woah, that’s a lot of guns.” Jordan said, doing his best Keanu impression.

We were in a room that was hidden behind a full-length mirror in the master bedroom. It was filled with racks of automatic assault rifles, shotguns, semiautomatic pistols, and a lone, massive sniper rifle with rounds as big as my hand. Besides weapons, there were a wide assortment of pants, shirts, and sweatshirts, as well as black tactical outfits. Tennis shoes and combat boots of various styles and sizes were piled in their original boxes along one wall, next to an assortment of backpacks and a few sturdy suitcases. Black canvas duffel bags were rolled up and stuffed in a wicker basket in the corner.

“What is all this?” I asked.

“Christmas morning,” Marc said as he hefted a nasty looking cross between a pistol and a machine gun. “Mi hermoso amor,” he said to the gun.

“You two need some privacy?” Lucia asked.

As Lucia and Marc argued in Spanish, Jordan and beeline for the shoes. As we sorted through sneakers, Jordan whispers, “He’s like a stereotypical 90’s action hero.”

“He’d fit in just fine in a beer commercial or a frat house movie,” I replied.

“It’s kind of hot though, right?”

I sighed. “Yeah, it’s totally hot.”

We look up as the arguing grows louder. After a lot of gesturing and likely Spanish swear words from both sides, Marc turns to me and asks, “You sure you want to do this Kenz? It really is ok to lay low for a while.”

Lucia must have told him my plans. I froze.

Maybe we should sit tight awhile. What if I’m putting us in danger?

I felt Jordan’s hand take mine. I looked up at him and ignored the vertebral pop.

“I’m with you, whatever you decide.”

I looked back at Marc and said, “They killed my mom. They killed my dad. They’ve either captured or killed your father and much of your extended family.”

Not even a knot in my throat. I guess I’m done crying.

I continued, “I have a bullet scar on my stomach that still itches and I’m living in the woods in Spain because of them.” I felt my face getting hot. “I’m gonna get that old sword and if I see that jackass Galahad, seriously, I’m going to kill him.” I took a breath and looked from face to face.

“Now that’s the Kenzie punched that bully Trevor in the second grade. I haven’t seen her in a few years,” Jordan said, smiling.

Trevor had pushed Jordan to the ground and had taken his lollipop. Trevor lost a baby tooth a little early that day.

Lucìa dropped to one knee and said, “My liege... I pledge my sword-”

“Oh, stop it,” I said. I took her hand and pulled her back up. “Enough of this liege nonsense. We’re friends and equals, and whatever happens in the future, that’s how our relationship is going to stay.” She stared down at me and blinked a few times, processing.

Marc sat down at the small circular wood table and began to field strip the Uzi. “How do you feel about waiting here just a few weeks?”

“I hate the idea,” I said. “I want to leave tomorrow.”

He nodded. “I don’t know about you, but I’m sore as hell and have blisters on my feet from that forced hike, and judging by the way everyone’s been walking the last few days, you all do to. Your sword will still be there whenever we decide to leave.”

This place is starting to smell like a fart factory. If we have to survive on beans and rice for another few days, my nose may never recover.

“I’m really not that sore,” I lied. “Lucía and I were talking about leaving tomorrow morning.” So, we wouldn’t have to eat beans for lunch.

“I feel like you’re not looking at this logically,” Marc mansplained to me. “People are trying to kill you and we are currently in about the safest place we could possible find.”

Not logical!?!

“Um, did your parents buy this place under the table, or is there a paper record of ownership?” I asked. I saw Jordan smiling out of the corner of my eye because this was his argument. “I get that they’re all about magic, but they may also have an accountant or whatever on payroll.”

He shrugged. “Leaving is still a risk,” he replied.

“So, staying at a property which your family is on the deed of, that is roughly within helicopter distance of the last place they saw us is safer than traveling to some random destination?”

“Why are you so against this, hermano?” Lucía asked.

Marc remained silent, fiddling with gun parts.

“Anyone mind if I open a window?” Jordan asked. No one voiced their disapproval, though Lucìa did have a guilty look on her face.

“Listen, we’re leaving tomorrow to get my sword,” I said. “You can come with me and man-up, or you can stay here and hide under the bed.”

Marc’s lips compressed into a tight line, and his cheeks turned pink.

Ok, I think I just found his pushable limit.

“Mujer, eres insufrible,” Marc said. He pounded the table hard as he said it, and before the coffee mugs stopped shaking, Lucìa was between me and her brother, a handful of his sweater in one hand and her good hand balled up in a fist and ready to throw.

Making friends and influencing people, the Mackenzie Flynn way.

“Uh, does he not want the window open?” Jordan asked. Was it a serious question? It can be hard to tell with Jordan.

“You will speak to Mackenzie with respect, hermano,” Lucìa said in a shaky voice. Marc glared up into his sister’s face, and I knew I had to act fast.

I placed a hand on Lucía’s cocked arm. “It’s okay Lucìa,” I said quickly. “I was goading him.” I took a deep breath before continuing. Lucìa blinked and slowly released her brother’s sweater. Marc frowned at the balled-up material and attempted to smooth is out with his hand.

“Marc,” I said softly. He wouldn’t meet my gaze. “I’m going to the tomb tomorrow with or without you,” I said. “But I’m hoping you’ll come with us.”

He looked up at me and our eyes met.

Why do I want to kiss him so badly right now? Hormones are stupid.

Marc stood up and slowly took my hands in his. My heart thundered. Then he knelt in front of me.

Wait, what?

“Mackenzie Flynn, I swear to God Almighty, my ancestors and all the Angels in Heaven to live and die for you and your cause.”

I drew my dagger without thinking. It never left my person except in the shower and the hot tub the night before, and even then, it was within reach.

The Shakespeare festival words aren’t coming to me. I may just have to wing it.

For a split second he smiled, but just as quickly it was gone. “I don’t deserve the honor of being knighted,” Marc said. He stood and began to back away slowly. “My soul’s far from pure. I just wanted you to know that I’ll follow you… wherever that may lead.”

I just stood there with a stupid knife in my hand and my jaw hanging open.

“Dude, if purity was a prerequisite, I certainly wouldn’t have been invited to tag along with this little group,” Jordan said.

Marc smiled a horribly sad smile before turning and leaving the room. “Hermano, what’s wrong with you?” Lucìa called to him. “What are you even talking about?”

But he didn’t look back.

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