Hullo Night World fans.
This story - the Hunter's tale - is Morgead's view on huntress. I know, I know - it's been done before. Still, a lot of what I've read has not done my favourite Night World couple justice, and so I though I might give it a try. I can't say it's perfect, not by any means, but then, nothing ever really is.
Read and enjoy, please.
Night World – Jez and Morgead
Raven's voice was amused, without the slightest hint of worry. The gang was gathered by the edge of Muir Woods, eyes shining with excitement for the upcoming hunt. They were all here, tall Raven Mandril with her short black hair and midnight-blue eyes; child-like Thistle Galena with the body of a ten-year old and feather-blonde hair; Pierce Holt with his dark-blonde hair and cool persona; big, loud Valerian Stillman and, of course, Morgead Blackthorn himself, with shaggy black hair consistently falling into emerald green eyes. Everybody was there – except Jez. Jezebel Redfern, with wild, red hair and silver-blue eyes did, despite of her unpredictable nature, rarely ditch the gang. Sometimes she would run errands for her uncle, Bracken Redfern, but she would always let the gang know beforehand.
Still, they weren't worried, and Morgead shrugged nonchalantly at Raven's question.
"Is she out of town?" Thistle looked at Morgead questioningly, and he shook his head, raising an eyebrow at her.
"She wasn't in school today either" Pierce was leaning against a tree, cool eyes directed at Morgead, who just shrugged, a faint smile playing on his lips.
"She's hiding from us, isn't she?" Val spoke loudly – he always did, and then roared with laughter, "what did you do to her Morgead?"
He eyed Morgead with humour in his grey-speckled eyes, and Morgead's eyes instinctively sought out Jez's, an exasperated expression on his face – until he remembered that Jez wasn't there. He sighed, and surveyed the people – vampires – in front of him.
"So…?" Thistle looked at him with a bright gleaming in her eyes, waiting for him, Morgead, the second-in-command, to come to a decision.
A wry smile spread across Morgead's face.
And search they did.
"Jez! Jez? Jezebel?"
Morgead landed lightly on his feet, looking around the abandoned shed. He hadn't been here in years, not since he and Jez were little kids, but he thought he knew why she might've gone here. It was a place full of good memories, from back when it was only the two of them, back before everything got so… complicated.
Morgead's eyes swept over the place, his senses ultra-alert as he listened for the slightest sound, his mind searching for the familiar consciousness that was Jez Redfern. He frowned slightly when he didn't find anything living in the shed, save a couple of rats, which quickly scattered as their animalistic instinct told them that Morgead was a danger. Smoothing out his frown, Morgead put on booted foot on the ladder, resolving to search the shed, in case Jez was blocking her mind, and hiding somewhere in there.
"Come on Jez. It isn't funny anymore"
And it wasn't. It had been, at first. The gang had enjoyed the game, making a competition out of who could find Jez the fastest, they had laughed as they searched the woods and the city, trying to guess where she might've hidden.
After two days the game had stopped being funny, and quickly become annoying. What was Jez doing?
She wasn't in the shed. He'd realized this as soon as he'd sat foot there, but after a thorough search of it he was absolutely certain. A small twinge of worry knotted in his stomach, but he quickly pushed it down. This is Jez, he told himself, Jez Redfern. The Huntress. Nothing can take her down.
But the knot of worry wouldn't go away.
"Anyone found a lead?"
Morgead looked expectantly from one gang-member to another, his stomach sinking as each of them shook their head. None of them had found any sign of Jez. The small twinge of worry grew in his stomach, and his frown reappeared as he tried to reason it out.
The problem was that it didn't make sense. As unpredictable as she was, this was extremely unlike Jez. She was fiercely loyal, and out of all the gang-members she would probably be the least likely to ditch the rest.
"What now?" Raven's one visible midnight-blue eye looked at him, and he saw a reflection of his own worry in her eyes.
"I think" Morgead stared into the distance, the knot in his stomach twisting painfully, "I think that it's time we ask Bracken Redfern".
"What do you mean, 'isn't she with you'?"
Morgead was staring at Jez's uncle Bracken, silently willing him to take back his words, to laugh even, anything – anything that didn't mean that Jez was really gone.
"I don't know where she is. She just- disappeared".
And had it been anyone else, Morgead probably would've grabbed them and shaken them until they had given him answers. But this was Bracken Redfern, Jez's uncle, and his expression was so lost, so sad… He really didn't know where Jez was.
Morgead's stomach dropped. The knot of worry exploded into gut-wrenching fear, and he could feel the colour leave his face. Because if Bracken didn't know where Jez was… If he didn't know and the gang didn't know…
Jez was really gone. And she was either dead – Morgead winched internally at this – or she had walked out on them. Left. Like everyone else. Like his mother.
And Morgead didn't know which was worse.
The only thing he did know was that Jez was gone, and with her, Morgead's only real security, his only real light and warmth.
She was gone, and, he realized, she had taken apart of him with her. And that scared him as much as it angered him.