Pure × Isaac Lahey

30.

        "El, honey?" Taylor asked, just outside the door. "I heard your heartbeat. Are you okay, Bear?"

        "I, uh," she blinked a few times to make sure she knew where she was, "I'm fine. It's fine."

        But even she didn't believe herself.

xx

July, Paris

        "I thought you said this summer was to get away from everything." Allison leaned on the breakfast counter of their Parisian apartment, her hair in a topknot and a nice dress on.

        Chris held a coffee mug in one hand and a .45 hand gun in the other. "It's one job."

        "It's always 'one job', Dad." Crossing her arms, she gave her father a look. "What is it?"

        "There's been word of a ceremony happening tonight . Wolves and witches. They're gathering for the supermoon." Argent took a sip of his coffee, putting his gun in the waistband of his jeans. "The Breqlee pack will be there, at least so I've heard."

       "Big dogs? We're talking the Breqlee pack who tore Brussels up last month?" she asked with curiosity.

       "I understand if you don't want me to go but-"

       Allison lightly smirked, "It's not that."

        Chris lifted an eyebrow, "Then what?"

        "I want in."

       And by nightfall, Allison was geared up with Chris and three hunting buddies just outside of Paris.

       The five were in a deserted farming community surrounded by woods. They all smelled of trees and held silence at the utmost importance.

        The supermoon was rising, it a super charged full moon that was closer to the planet than normal. Not only would it make the wolves of the earth stronger, but it was a celestial event that would amp up the power of the witches.

       It brought pros and cons to hunters; the fault was that the supernaturals were all twice as powerful. The pro was that they tended to gather.

        Only crazy ones were willing to try to hunt on a supermoon. Luckily, the Argents and their three friends of the family were just the right kind of crazy.

       "I don't know about this," Chris quietly said as he loaded a shotgun.

        "You're welcome to leave, frère ," Amos replied with a patronizing grin. The hunter of 25 years with quiffed brown hair strapped a knife to his thigh as he stood by their parked, fully equipped SUV.

        "Not me," Argent shot back before glancing to Allison not too far away.

       Amos looked from Allison back to Chris, "Did Gerard not teach her enough?"

       "Too much, if you ask me," muttered Argent in reply. "She's only seventeen."

        "More of a late bloomer in the hunting sense, no?" Amos motioned to his two brothers that were nearby getting ready. "Philippe and Gustave had their first kill by fifteen. Mine was by thirteen."

        Chris didn't respond as he looked up to the moon that was close to peaking.

        Philippe walked over, brutish in size and lacking English. Grunting, he motioned towards the clearing.