“Where to?” Alexander cut down a quiet side street.

“Not Easter,” was Michael’s reply as he dug through the glove box in search of a first aid kit. Giselle had to have one. How could she not? She was a hunter. It would be ridiculous if she didn’t. But as he searched, he only found the car manual and registration along with a small-caliber pistol taped to the top of the compartment. “Damn it, Giselle,” he cursed.

“Packland is the closet option. They can’t follow in,” Alexander glanced at the bullet wound that grew worse on his husband’s thigh, “and there is a doctor on staff.”

“Ha,” Michael laughed, his face still in the glove box. “Well, it’s a perfect time to meet the in-la—”

The Jeep lurched forward, almost slamming his face into the console as a car rammed them from behind. A tide of curses barely covered the agony that reverberated through his torso.

Alexander controlled the Jeep as it slid on the slick asphalt and wobbled into the oncoming lane.

“How many?” Michael got out through gritted teeth as he leaned back.

“One,” Alexander ignored a red light and cut down an adjacent street. But their chaser stayed tight on his ass.

Michael glanced into the side view mirror and saw a massive figure appear from the car's window. Harsh streetlights illuminated the grotesque form of a hulking amalgamous abomination. It was as if two different halves of a skull were shoved together into an imitation of a dog's head. But the structure wasn't right and when placed upon a disgustingly muscular pulsating body... Michael reached for the gun.

Even at a lower caliber, bullets were bullets as he took potshots at the monster. They dinged off the hood of the car as the distance and his slight tremble made it hard to land a good shot. Just as he hit the shoulder of the monster, a loud clicking told him that the magazine was empty. Reaching around, he looked for another gun only come up empty-handed. He had, however, found a silver-iron knife under his seat.

At the same time, Alexander jumped across lanes as the car hurtled toward them again and clipped their fender. The Jeep held steady, but the abomination boarded.

Its sharp claws tore through the fabric trunk cover, shredding it to ribbons.

“Damn it,” Alexander hissed as he attempted to shake off the enemy. However, it was useless in the tight one-way street.

The monster slashed at the back of their seats, cutting through the cloth as if it were tissue. This threat could not be ignored. With the knife in hand, Michael out a deep breath and turned to his partner, “Keep it steady.”

Doc had run a full report on these beasts. While she hadn’t been able to figure out what spawned them, she did find out what hurt them. They had a very strong aversion to salt and silver. Perfect for Michael as he pounced.

The trunk wasn’t big, there was barely room for him with the abomination in it. But he kept low, aiming for its exposed stomach while dodging its claws. Unfortunately, this technique was imperfect.

As he swung up his shoulder was caught in the mouth of the beast. Razor teeth held him in place, sinking deep into the flesh. He fought against the monster's pull as it tried to rip a chunk out of him. But as soon it released him and reared back, a desperate strangled yowl emanating from it. Michael pushed away, using the minor break to swipe at its throat. With little space between them, he could see that the soft fleshy mouth had turned swiveled and dark as if the life had been drained from it.

Before he could get a better look, Alexander swerved to avoid another car that darted in from an adjacent street. Knocked off balance, Michael braced himself against the side to keep from falling out. Sharp claws dug into his forearms and puncture his chest as the beast was tossed on top of him.

“Alexander, please!” He yelled at his partner while stabbing at the creature. Alexander grimaced as he was forced into another tight turn. Desperate, Michael held on to the Jeep with one hand while using the momentum to toss the creature out.

“I’m sorry!” Alexander replied. There was nothing he could do. One car had grown into three dogged pursuers. Since he was unfamiliar with the town, he relied on a general knowledge of Archive town layouts to navigate and lose them. On top of that, it was hard to focus with Michael fighting in the trunk. “Baby, get back up front.”

“I need to find a first aid kit.” The cuts were deep, exposing several raw layers of blood soaked flesh as trails of red dripped from the bite wound. He was fortunate enough that it missed any major arteries, but that was a shallow victory when you were bleeding from several places.

His hands, slick with blood, rummaged around the miscellaneous items in the back. But each turned out useless. How could she not have a kit? Even as he asked this, he knew the answer as he gave up.

Rather than waste time on a medkit that wouldn't be there, he turned his attention to looking for something that was definitely there. A gun. And behind a false side panel, he founded it. A shotgun hidden in the back and already loaded.

“It’s safer upfront.” Alexander continually glanced back to check on him. They made brief eye contact before Michael’s eyes grew wide.

“The road! Pay attention to the road!”

A sharp thud mixed with thick rubbery bangs as a car pushed the Jeep through a collection of traffic cones. They wanted to ram the husbands into a building, but the hit wasn’t strong enough. It still forced Alexander to over-correct to avoid a fire hydrant, sending him through the high bushes of an office park.

Michael slid across the back and he painfully thudded into the sidewall. A small hiss left him, but he swallowed his complaints and stayed low. He needed Alexander to focus on getting them out of there.

Sick of being bullied by these followers, Alexander returned the hit. While the enemy had not fully committed, he had no such reservations as he slammed into them, running them off the road. A flicker of triumph rose in him before a massive fireball burned away it. Unable to avoid, it crashed into the back.

“Come on!” They shouted. Before the magical flame spread, Michael grabbed at it, absorbing the fire. But with one spell tossed, a volley soon followed. As the resident anti-magic shield, he stood up and caught each shot before they hit the car or his partner.

With a shotgun in hand, he aimed even as his hair whipped around his face and took the shot.

The windshield shattered, sending the closet car careening off into a bus stop. He couldn't even tell if the pelts hit anyone, but an enemy down was an enemy down.

If only there weren't a million to take its place. The cars had exploded in number. Now, it was practically a mob.

“We need to lose them,” Michael cocked his shotgun and readied to fire.

“Trust me, baby, I know!” Alexander responded as he turned into a residential area. The houses were dark and uniform. It was a recent growth, which meant it was unoccupied. The perfect place to gain a lead. He took the speed bumps like a madman.

Forced to crouch, Michael did his best to ignore each bolt of pain as he aimed. The next shot hit the window of a dark truck, throwing them off as they swerved into their fellows. A pile-up soon formed behind them.

“These aren’t professionals. If you get us out of town, we can lose them on the highway.” The group’s vehicle control was poor and their reaction to being shot at was jumpy. From everything he had seen in both the restaurant and this chase, they were unproven civilians. Well, ‘civilian’ was an odd word here. They were clever mages, but when confronted with someone who could dissipate their magic and fire a gun, they were at a clear disadvantage without their monsters.

As Michael fired again, Alexander shouted, “Get down!” The warning came too late as he slammed the breaks and skidded by two cars that blocked the end of the road.

Crashing into the seats, the wind rushed out of Michael as his shotgun went flying.

Alexander turned, cut over a yard, and busted through several fences before coming out onto the main street.

Caught in a coughing fit, Michael tried to return to his zone, but his body was reaching its limits.

“Michael, please come back up front.” With some breathing room, Alexander got a proper look at his husband under the streetlights. His light green shirt was a ripped mess of red and brown. The various cuts, bits, and scratched oozed blood as Michael applied one-handed pressure to his thigh. His dark face was gaunt, even as he acted unaffected.

“I’m fine—”

“Bullshit. You’re bleeding out.” At the end of his rope, Alexander cursed at him.

Michael paused before sighing. “I… it’s a little hard to move right now.” He finally said. He wasn’t sure he could climb over the seat at this point.

“Damn it.”

“Just get us onto Southern. The Packlands are north of Okeechobee, right? It’s a quick ride from here. I’ll be able to hold out till then.” As he said that, he began to bandage his wounds with strips of his shirt.

To his luck, supernatural endurance was a personal skill of his as he manipulated a fragment of his energy to temporarily suppress the bleeding. It was not good for Hunter if he overused, but a moderate application would allow them to survive the night.

“You better.” With little else he could do, Alexander blocked him out and focused on the road ahead. He hit the gas and flew forward. The faster he got to Packland, the safer his husband would be.

As he cut through another red light, he forcefully turned to avoid getting T-boned. The Jeep skidded through a patch of water and hydroplaned across the intersection.

“Shit!” Unable to control the trajectory, the Jeep jumped onto the sidewalk before crashing through a wooden bench that shattered the windshield. Finally, he wrestled back control of the vehicle to keep from any more damage. It still ran, but it was not a pretty sight.

Like a rag doll without any seatbelt, Michael was thrown about the back as his head thudded against the plastic. His vision swam as he fought to regain his bearing, only to look up and see the barrel of a gun. The car that had tried to T-Bone them quickly matched pace. In the passenger’s seat, Giselle stared him down.

“Drive! Drive! Drive!” Michael shouted, dropping as gunshots echoed above him. She emptied the entire magazine into the spot his head had been. “Is she even human?” He asked helplessly against the floor. There was a brief window before more bullets sank into the side of the car. He needed something to throw them off.

Crawling around, he found a small wrapped round package had fallen out of a container of odd junk. It was mundane when compared to all the other weird shit he had seen but Michael recognized the label on it from an entry in the Hunters’ Archive. He riffled through the purses and pulled out a packet of matches. He lit one and shoved into the top of the ball.

Counting down to five, he sat up and moved to throw it when a shot rang out.

His left arm fell limp, and he dropped down, bringing the ball with him.

Curses flew through his mind as he bit into his lip. Pain tore through him, resonating in the joint of his shoulder. It drowned out the other wounds with a deep set burning that echoed through his bones. Any attempts to move it were met with flares of a stomach-turning agony.

Even with this suffering, Michael's mind was elsewhere. At the moment, an active explosive was freely rolling around the back. The seconds raced by until it hit against his left leg. With a stiff kick, he sent it flying into Giselle’s car.

Not a moment too late as thick purple smoke exploded in the driver’s face. A loud concussive crackling echoed inside of the cab and could even be felt by the husbands as Michael helplessly gripped at some injured part.

The sudden burst sent the car careening right into an electrical box. This didn’t stop Giselle as she hopped out and shot at her Jeep until it disappeared onto the highway.

---

Finally free of their attackers, Michael felt no peace of mind. The bullet had hit on a poor angle. While the shoulder joint hadn’t completely broken, the bullet had tilted in its trajectory and broke through his middle back. The damage was severe. So bad that without his interference, Hunter would most likely die before they reached Packland. Michael pulled at his available pool of energy and weaved it through the damaged flesh. What he was doing was the equivalent of a field patch job. It constricted blood flow through the torn veins and held any semi-connected tissue in place. It would be enough to allow him to survive until he reached a proper doctor.

He dedicated most of his attention to maintaining the fragile flow of energy while the rest was spent on crudely dressing his remaining wounds.

“I swear, by every Overseer, by every Godly Domain, by the very heart of the Mother Tree, if Giselle does not have a good reason for this, I’m going to kill her,” Michael hissed.

“What can I do?” It would be dumb to ask if his husband was ok. He was clearly not, but Alexander felt useless as he sped down the highway.

“Drive,” Michael ordered before catching himself and giving a thin laugh. “Just another day at the office. I’ll be fine.”

Time moved excruciatingly slow. With only one hand, his patch job lacked elegance. Once finished, Michael leaned against the back of the passenger seat and stared through the torn black canvas into the quiet evening sky.

The clear night held no hints of the earlier storm as the moon sat fatly among the stars. The darkness strengthened his powers but forced him into a delicate game of balance. Too much energy and his host would be consumed by it, too little and his host would die from blood loss. He didn’t have the presence of mind to control his shadow as it flowed over the back and trailed behind them. If Alexander wasn’t there, he didn’t even know if he could maintain this balancing act.

“Should I loosen the contract?” Alexander asked. He felt the uncomfortable pull on their bond. Anytime Michael gave attention to his energy pool, it always acted up. While tied under layers of contracts, oaths, and restrictions, there was an ever-present fear that one day it would not be enough.

“No, I like it tight,” Michael weakly teased.

“Are you—”

A sudden lurch disturbed them and dragged down part of the car.

“Come on,” Alexander spat as one last abomination clung to the driver’s side. Its claws dug into the metal as it poked its head through the glass-less window. Rotten breath blew into his face as it bared its sharp teeth at him.

“Gun, under the wheel,” Michael said. His partner reached and found the match to the one in the glove box.

Sick of this shit, Alexander jammed it into the open fleshy mouth and emptied it. The monster lurched, stuttered, and then fell off.

“I hate dogs.”

“Same,” Michael laughed. “Let’s hope we never see them again.”

“We’re heading to Packland. It’s infested with the beasts.”

“Do they have skin?”

“Does fur count?” Alexander frowned before checking his rear-view. The road was empty. They had escaped.

“As long as they have skin…” Michael murmured. The conversation lulled as he concentrated on preventing any farther damage.

Carefully Alexander reached back and took Michael’s good hand. Silence settled in as the scenery flew by. Tall dark trees occasionally broke up the flat plains of agricultural land and small forgotten towns.

“I just wanted a nice dinner,” Michael sighed.

“It was nice,” Alexander said. “Not entirely my taste, I prefer your cooking, but still good.”

“How could I fall for such an obvious ambush?” With time to reflect, he saw all the glaring warning signs. Giselle’s behavior, the sudden invitation, the dogs, the restaurant. He felt so foolish.

“Baby,” Alexander glanced back, “it’s not your fault. A trap is a trap for a reason. We were the prey. They laid the trap. But they failed. They failed to understand how skilled we are.” As calm as he appeared, Alexander couldn’t deny his disgust at his lack of attention. After so many years of having all the cards and the ability to easily cheat his way out of anything, it was dreadfully humbling to be almost outplayed by some half-baked lower beings. “Because we aren’t prey,” he muttered under his breath before saying, “We got away, and that’s the most important part.”

“You’re right,” Michael tightened his grip on his partner’s hand before smiling. “You held your own pretty well. Have you been practicing without me?” He teased.

From his angle, he could see that the cuts had healed, leaving only tender pink flesh where they used to be. It wasn’t until he saw Alexander’s neck that he froze. A deep ugly burn continued to smoke as the silver cord melded with the raw red skin. Panicked, he leapt up and carefully unwound the chain from his partner’s throat. His body protested, but he ignored it.

“Michael!”

“Silver,” Michael tossed the necklace into a corner while sitting down.

“That doesn’t matter, what do you...” Alexander stopped himself with a sigh. “I barely felt it.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Michael frowned. “Did you get hit with silver anywhere else?”

“No!” Alexander snapped. “Are you kidding me? Look at yourself. How can you ask how I feel?” It was moments like these he wished he could knock some sense into his thick-skinned husband.

“I’m fine,” Michael lied. “It’s just flesh wounds. If I couldn’t survive these, then I wouldn’t be worthy of being your husband.”

“You’re not pulling this.” The excuse worked in the past when they had access to healing Exceptions, but right now they only had in-world technology. That technology did include magical healing. Which would have been helpful if Hunter weren’t immune. “You’re a human. For both of our sakes, please remember that. Bullets can kill you. Hell, a minor bump can kill you.”

“Only half,” Michael teased. “I’m only half-human, remember?”

“You are impossible.” Alexander shook his head. “Stop joking. It doesn’t give me any peace of mind. Just because you have a high pain tolerance doesn’t mean that you’re alright. Show some restrain for once.” His voice slightly cracked from exhaustion.

Michael paused before sighing. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Alexander growled. “Sorry fixes nothing. Do better. Trust me more in a fight. I should have been the one to handle Giselle.”

Michael turned to stare at Alexander. A look of complete disbelief plastered onto his worn-out face. “Alexander. I love you. You're right. I should be more careful,” he paused. “But there is no way I would ever let you fight Giselle.”

“I can fight. Neil has—”

“You can lie with a straight face,” Michael retorted before he shook his head. “If it were a battle of words, I would happily watch you spar. But in combat,” He bit his lip, “you would have died.”

“I can throw a punch.”

“The last time we spared you surrendered after a second.”

“That doesn't count. How am I supposed to win against you?” Alexander asked.

“Last time you and Sun spared, you tapped out after five seconds.” It had been embarrassing for Michael as Sun, their cupid co-worker, barely held his own against Dahlia. Yet, he easily got Alexander into a hold that the demon couldn’t break out of.

“Leona had trained him in secret.”

“She’s also trained you. Ol’ Goat has trained you. Lady Nemain has trained you. I have constantly trained you.” Michael sighed. “It’s perfectly alright. You’re not meant to be a fighter. It's what I was made to do. Let me handle these things. I’m happy to.”

“I’m not happy with it,” Alexander bit back. “I can’t stand it. When you’re in danger, when you’re hurt, I hate it. Even in your true form, I hate it.”

“It’s inevitable,” Michael said. “There is no such thing as bloodless conflict. If there is a fight, I will protect you. This isn’t up for discussion.”

“You’re thick-headedness is going to be the death of me.” This was heading nowhere. It always ended like this anytime the conversation was brought up.

“If you were that easy to kill, you would have died years ago,” Michael smirked and leaned his head against Alexander’s hand. “How about this, we just stay out of trouble? I heard most humans go through their life without getting shot.”

“I know. Last mission you made it through without ever having a gun pulled on you.”

“Almost got poisoned by one of those fangirls, though,” Michael laughed.

“Not helping.”

“Sorry, sorry.” His laughter died down as he gave a light kiss on the back of Alexander’s hand. “I promise I’ll do better.”

“Thank you,” Alexander breathed out the words.

After thirty minutes of breaking the speed limit, they slowed down as they turned onto the unpaved road that lead to the closest Packland entrance.

On this peaceful night, the Werebadger enforcer sat in the little booth and played on her phone. The sounds of crunching stones made her jump. This was an unused entrance, left open because it was the only gate big enough for large trucks and RVs. But when a battered Black Jeep rolled up from the darkness, she reached for her rifle.

Alexander flashed a dull smile as he recognized the enforcer.

“Don’t ask. Just let us in. My mate needs a doctor.” Alexander was quick in his intentions, but it took her a moment to catch up.

“Sorry for the trouble.” Michael apologized from the back. She was about to question when the wind kicked up and hit her with the sharp scent of blood. Instead, she called the infirmary on her walkie talkie and let the two in.

A/N

Just one big ol' car chase. Binged watched a lot of film ones to get an idea of pacing. Sorry for the general slow down to one part per week, life has kicked up recently and the story is reaching a point where each scene seems to constantly take additional attention to get the flow right. It probably doesn't help that in a few scenes I only have the spark-notes what's going to happen, but I'm going to try and power through some to get a back log going.

On another note, finally settled on the second arc, we're going to fantasy adventure~ Originally was going to be vampires but that plot kind of spiraled out of control and no longer fit in the section of the story. I might make a vampire or Halloween themed short story just to have something spooky for the season.