The Gray Hunter

Belle has (mostly) recovered from her encounter with The Gray Hunter and, at the request of her Mother Superior, now finds herself at a gala where she meets other practitioners. The meal has progressed and a latecomer has arrived.

The man, elegantly dressed, sat down and looked up, his eyes locking with hers.

"You!" they both said at the same time.

"You two know each other?" Ruby asked immediately.

"I spent the other night tied to his bed," Belle spat out. She had pushed back from the table.

"Reeeally?!" both Ruby and Zelena had exclaimed.

"The lady is quite correct," Stiltskin confirmed. The group turned their attention to him. "I had caught her . . . trespassing and she was . . . uncooperative. I had to . . . question her."

"I was not trespassing! I was on public property! You had no right to drag me into your Church and interrogate me!" Belle was struggling not to raise her voice and knew she likely sounded as if she was hissing. She was debating on getting up and leaving stomping out. But, she knew Rheul was counting on her to attend this dinner and she didn't want to create a scene – well, a bigger scene than the one she was creating right now.

"Tell me," Zelena was nearly purring as she leaned into the Count (she had already put a hand on his arm), "Do you often find it necessary to tie women to your bed? I would think that most would be there quite willingly."

"I find my job does not often allow me the luxury of keeping female company," he replied, letting the waiter know that he was the one who required the special meal rather than the fish or the steak.

"Too bad," Zelena told him, her hand now resting on his thigh.

"What is your job?" Ruby asked, going right to point.

"I work for the Church," the man replied.

Zelena pulled back. "You're not a priest?" The man didn't look like a priest. He certainly didn't dress like a priest.

"No," Stiltskin answered shortly. He was still watching Belle from across the was glaring at him but hadn't bolted. Brave girl.

Of course, she would bolt if she ever discovered that she was the only reason he'd agreed to attend this stupid affair. He had, in fact, persuaded Father Archie to visit with Cora, calling in several favors to get her to pressure Mother Rheul to send the girl. Rumple wanted to . . . had to . . . see her again. She kept playing out in his dreams and somehow, he had begun to think she was the Important Someone that he'd been told about.

His eyes had flickered over her. She looked nice in the little gold dress. Really nice. He was trying to figure out where she had managed to hide some weapons so that they didn't show in the form-fitting dress. He was sure she had weapons on her.

"What do you do for the Church?" Locksley asked him. If the man wasn't a priest, what was he?

Pulled away from his reverie, Stiltskin answered shortly, "At the moment, I'm a Special Envoy of the Holy Office of The Question."

Belle's wine glass shattered in her hand.

Everyone at the table turned to look at her. She had turned ashen. She had wine and blood spilling down her hand, the shards of the glass lying near her place at the table.

"You're with The Inquisition?" she demanded to know. She had already known that the Gray Hunters were employed by the Church and backed by all the resources of the Church to hunt all creatures of magic. But she had not grasped just how important to the Church they were. They were on the Front Line, Holy Mother Goddess, they were the Front Line against the Darkness.

Stiltskin broke eye contact with Belle. "Well, we don't call it that anymore," he said dryly.

"But it's the same thing!" she retorted. Everyone else at the table had pulled back from the Count except Zelena.

"My, my, The Inquisition. So, do you do, like, torture and stuff trying to identify witches?" Zelena asked him, leaning into him.

He glanced at her, his eyes taking in her voluptuous form. "I do," he told her, "if it is necessary. In your case . . . I wouldn't need to do that to make the determination." he finished, giving her a slight sneer before turning his attention back to Belle. "Do you need help with that?" he gestured to the blood still seeping from her hand but before she could answer, he had waved his hand and the bleeding had stopped. More astonishing, the cuts had healed so that her hand was now unblemished.

Belle was momentarily stunned and stymied. She was surprised and knew she should be grateful for his healing her (although it was his fault she had been injured to begin with). She, however, was still furious with the man and sat staring daggers at him, obviously debating if she was going to remain in the same room. She was so furious that she was visibly trembling.

"So you hunt down Creatures of Darkness and . . . dispatch them?" Augustus asked Stiltskin.

Without taking his eyes off of Belle, Stiltskin nodded. "It's my job to do so."

"Creatures of Darkness? Hmmm," Ruby began. "Does that include shapeshifters?"

"It might," he answered without looking at Ruby.

"How about those that can manipulate magical artifacts?" Locksley asked him.

"Perhaps. My employer gives me my assignments. And when I'm given the job by my employer, then I put forth all my efforts and energies toward doing the job," Stiltskin answered. "But I don't go looking for trouble."

Locksley shifted nervously and glanced at Ruby who shook her head.

"Have you ever missed?" Augustus asked him.

There was a pause. "Not often, but yes. On occasion. One time. Recently. Someone got to the Creature before I did. The job was done but I didn't do it." He gave Belle a faint glimpse of a smile and raised his water glass to her. She sat back in her chair not smiling back at him, her eyes narrowing.

His entrée arrived at that moment. It was obviously different from everyone else's at the table - a bowl of brown rice and a side of sautéed greens while everyone else got the fish and a baked potato or the steak and a baked potato. He drank water while they drank wine.

"I wouldn't have picked you for a vegetarian," Zelena purred. She didn't seem to have any fear of the man and was continually fawning into his space.

"I take so many lives that this helps me reach a balance," he told her.

"You don't drink either, I see," Zelena acutely observed.

He shook his head. "When I'm hunting, I don't indulge in frivolous activities or sensual pleasures."

Zelena now had her hand on his arm. She put her lips close to his ear. "Tell me again. Does that include avoiding the sensual pleasures of the flesh?" she asked forthrightly and her hand drifted across his chest. "I would think a man of such an intense temperament would need some . . . release."

He turned slightly to look at her. "It would include avoiding the pleasures of the flesh," he confirmed.

Zelena did not appear to have been deterred. She had somehow managed to drape herself over the man who was clearly not responding to her overt solicitations.

"But that's just when you're hunting, right? And when you're not hunting? Surely during those times, you might indulge," she persisted and now her hand was running up and down his arm. "Perhaps when it's not Lent or some high holy Church holiday?"

He looked down at her hand and set one of his own hands over hers. He looked her directly in the eye. "I persistently fight against sinful activities and sinful thoughts, madame." And he lifted her hand up from his chest and returned it to her place at the table.

He then addressed himself to his meal.

For her part, Belle's appetite had disappeared and she found herself pushing food around on her plate.

Augustus made another attempt to engage the Count in conversation. "I imagine you've had some interesting adventures."

"I have," the Count responded.

"What was the most memorable creature you came up against?"

The Count considered. "Most recently it was a young practitioner of arcane magic. She was unexpectedly very strong, very clever and very lucky."

"How you take her down?" Augustus asked.

"I didn't. She ultimately managed to slip through my fingers."

"Are you still in pursuit of her?" Augustus was taking notes on a napkin.

"Definitely. We have . . . unfinished business."

Belle could feel heat in the man's gaze and his voice as he spoke in oblique terms about her.

It was time for the dessert course, but the Count addressed the group at the table. "I believe I have overstayed my welcome and I shall be departing before dessert." He stood giving the group a short bow and gave Belle his almost smile. He then left.

"Well, that was rude," Zelena remarked.

"What? It was hard for the man to eat with you nearly sitting in his lap," Ruby told her. "Surprised you didn't just sliiiide under the table and go down on him in front of God and half of Georgia."

"Well, he was hot," Zelena protested. "I'm not buying all that 'persistently fighting sin' garbage either. Tell me that man isn't doing it with someone." She looked down at Belle. "I can promise you that he'd never have to tie me to his bed."

Belle looked away. She didn't know what to think. If she were honest with herself (and she usually was) she thought the man was, well, if not attractive, at least interesting (Who was she kidding? He was definitely attractive). But he also set her on edge. She knew first hand that he was violent and unpredictable. He was a serious enemy of her people, of most – all - of the people that had sat at her table, that were in attendance at this dinner. If he was ordered to do so, he would probably slice their throats without a second thought.

She barely touched the remainder of her meal, the food tasting like ashes to her. She was past ready to go and was grateful when Cora passed out suggested assignments to the dinner guests and the event finally started to break up. She stood and was heading toward the nearest exit when she was intercepted by Cora Mills, who was carrying some beverage of choice. "I understand you had met the Count previously."

"We've crossed . . . paths," Belle told her.

"He's . . . interesting, don't you think?" Cora asked her, watching the younger woman closely.

"Dangerous," Belle told her.

"Uhmmm," Cora considered. "I was surprised that he showed up. He's usually very unsociable. Well, that and he's a former lover of mine and things didn't end especially well between us." She took a drink. "You know, his family is one of the three original Sabbatarians, The Gray Hunters, selected for the job of fighting ultimate evil. They go back thousands of years. I understand that Rumple's often been called the Dark One, because of his lethality and sheer savagery. He probably has more kills that the other Hunters put together."

"Does he now?" Belle responded stifling the urge to shiver.

"Do you know much about his kind?" Cora asked.

"A little. Mother Rheul suspected that he was one of The Gray Hunters. She told me they had been selected by the Church to fight evil," she responded.

Cora might have been miffed that Rheul had guessed the man's identify. She went on, "They pre-date the Church, my dear. They are very long-lived creatures, likely not wholly human. They are known to go after not only the forces of darkness, but also the fae, white witches and kind coven members. They have strong powerful magic of their own and are considered very, very dangerous."

Privately Belle thought that Cora might well thrive on dangerous. Maybe they'd renew their relationship and she'd keep him busy and away from me, Belle thought. She smiled at Cora, "Mother Rheul thought, since his business was completed, that he might have already left the area."

Cora smirked,"I guess he still has unfinished business."

Belle might have sighed. Part of her was hoping that whatever unfinished business the Gray Hunter had, it had nothing to do with her.

But she knew better.

Borderland Undertown

It had rained again. While often in town rain would make everything smell washed and clean, here in the Borderland Undertown, things would be left with the faint scent of malicious mold. Walking along the uneven streets and walkways was always a mild challenge, but when things were wet, as they were now, they became treacherously slippery. Belle was watching her footing as she crept along. Tonight she wore black pants with thigh harnesses and a close-fitting brown leather jacket. She carried a sword openly at her side.

Even knowing that he was almost certainly still in town, Belle had not encountered him again on her forays into the streets. It had been over a week since the disastrous dinner and she was gaining confidence that he was engaged elsewhere. She had gradually decreased her hypervigilance. If he was still lingering in the area, she hoped he was patrolling some other alley. Of course, she hoped, that he had really gone, perhaps he had been called out to some other hot spot and was long gone, really gone.

She could only hope.

She was still having dreams about the man, her smothering dreams having been replaced by her traitorous body now relishing the closeness of their night spent together. She would find herself savoring the strength in his arms and the heat of his body. Instead of feeling terrified, there was a feeling of empowerment when she would become aware of the effect she had produced in the man's body. She well remembered the hard length of him pressed into her back that morning.

Belle had taken to dropping by The Mad Hatter and having a few drinks served by bartender Ruby who was clearly in awe of her ability to toke down alcohol. Belle had been able to share with the shapeshifter her convoluted, confused, mixed feelings about the Hunter. Ruby was way more experienced with men and had reassured her that her response was very natural.

"The man is hot. And the fact he'd overpowered you but didn't rape you despite having a woody on for you, you're now all conflicted. He obviously liked you, or at least he's a functioning male, but he's not a complete animal and restrained himself – for whatever reason. So underneath all the machismo, he's a nice guy. . . or, at least, a decent guy. Hey, you don't think he's put some sort of spell on you, do you?" Ruby had asked, her eyes widening.

"A spell," Belle had shaken her head. But . . . yet . . . perhaps a spell would make sense. It would explain her response to him, the constant thoughts she seemed to be having about the man, the dreams, the hot, satisfying dreams she was having.

"There's no such thing as a Love Spell," she told the weregirl.

"What Love Spell?" Ruby had asked. "I'm talking Lust Spell. There are such things as Lust Spells. Hell, we sell many potions that act as Lust Spells right here in this bar. They're called 'alcohol.'"

Ruby had then told her to enjoy her wet dreams and to quit feeling guilty about them. "They're just dreams."

Now on routine patrol on the wet evening, Belle had been searching around for vermin for a couple of hours, not having any luck, when an odd sense came over her. She stopped and sniffed the air. It was a touch bitter, but somehow spicy and very, very masculine and . . . alluring . . . and dangerous, all at the same time.

Darn. Of course. It was him, she knew it was him. She scanned the shadows but was unable to catch any glimpse of the man.

"I thought you'd be long gone by now," she addressed the empty air. She wasn't feeling brave but was certainly trying to appear as such. Do the brave thing and bravery will follow. She hadn't spotted him yet, but she certainly continued to sense him. She wasn't going to run away or quail in fear – it was likely foolhardy on her part but she refused to be cowed by him.

There was a moment of silence before he stepped out from the wet shadows. She took a sharp breath and, unable to stop herself, she stepped back. She had looked where he had been and just seen right through him. Did he have the power of invisibility among his other talents?

"No such luck," he told her softly. He was surprised she'd known he was there. He must be slipping.

"You planning on dragging me back to your room tonight?" she asked him, half expecting him to say 'yes.'

Did he actually smile? No, probably not. "No, dearie. Father Archie is satisfied that you are a Child of The Light, although not a daughter of the True Church. Unless I am specifically ordered to eliminate you or you're misguided enough to interfere with me, I will not impede you in your work."

"Great," she told him and warily walked around him. His eyes lingered over her, approving of her clothing, how it showed off her sweet curvy figure.

"Not having any luck tonight are you?" he asked. He stepped in alongside her as she began walking on, surprising her.

"How did . . . No, not much," she told him honestly. "I figure that it's just an off night."

"It's me," he told her. "The little ones can sense me and they cower in the corners. You will not find any of them out tonight."

She had kept walking and he had fallen a bit behind. She sighed. "So, I guess I'll just give it up and go home."

"Perhaps, but I would appreciate it if you might," he hesitated, " if you would get a drink with me," he said softly.

She stopped and turned to look back at him. "You're asking me out?" she was stunned.

Before she could answer, he reached for her and pulled her toward him.

Her initial response had been to strike out at him but then she felt him pulling, then pushing her to get her behind himself. He stepped around her and she saw he had his blade out and was slashing. She turned, and catching sight of something, she pulled out one of her own weapons, the sword, and swiped at the wicked thing that was attacking him, winding a sinuous tentacle wrapping around his leg. As he slashed again, she pulled a stiletto knife and began to stab with her other hand, working close to the ground while he hacked and sliced above her head. There seemed to be multiple arms reaching out and grabbing them both, around their legs, their arms, trying to get around their bodies. At one point, he cut off an appendage that was wrapped around one of her arms. Another time, she slashed viciously, slicing and tearing a tentacle that was twining around his thigh. As he closed in on the center point of the creature, there was a screeching sound and an eerie warning came from the creature.

"You will both die. They are coming for you," the thing whispered just as the Count made his final coup. The creature began to dissolve.

"What . . . was that?" she asked, standing up and stepping back, cleaning off the odd green globs on her blades and her body.

"An Erde-Krake. It is like, uh . . . I guess I might call is a land-octopus. They hide in cracks in the sidewalks and the walls of buildings. They slither like snakes and suffocate their victims. I haven't seen one in . . . a long time." He wiped his own blade off and smiled at her. "We make a good team, Miss French."

She was regaining her breath but had to agree with him. She didn't pull back when he reached for her hair, using his fingers to comb out entrails. "We did all right," she admitted reluctantly.

"Now, where were we? Oh yes, you had agreed to get a drink with me," he told her, picking up with their conversation as if they hadn't just been viciously attacked.

"No, you had just asked me to get a drink. I hadn't said yes. I thought you didn't drink?" She started walking again, still scanning the streets, the corners, still hunting. He followed her, also watching.

"This morning I was officially notified that I am no longer on Hunt. I don't have a new assignment yet. I am, for however brief a time, free to indulge. And bars are all that are open at this hour. Will you?" he asked, offering her his arm, assuming she would say yes.

Oh, she so wanted to tell him to go drop dead, that no, of course, she wouldn't get a drink or anything else with him . . . not tonight, not ever, not if he were the last Gray Hunter on earth which if she understood anything about the man, he just might be. But she found herself taking his arm and walking along with him.

"I think I may owe you an apology, Miss French. Father Archie has been lecturing me that this is not the sixteen hundreds and I cannot just take a young woman off the street and tie her to my bed. I confess I don't completely understand but the good father has been quite adamant."

"So you're apologizing?" she asked him. She wasn't quite sure if he was.

"Yes. I'm sorry I took you off the street and tied you to my bed," he told her, making his apology clear.

"Well, all right then. Apology accepted," she told him. This was unexpected.

"Although I don't think you entirely objected to my actions," he told her.

She stopped walking and sputtered, "Wh . . . what?!"

"You were wet," he told her a faint, self-satisfied smirk shadowing his face. "I checked in the morning - between your legs. You were aroused."

She released his arm and stepped back from him about to protest, about to tell him what a complete loser he was. But he was too quick and he caught her by her arms and pushed her against the wall, trapping her between the bricks and his body.

"I felt you, dearie. You were not in distress. You enjoyed it. You enjoyed being in my bed."

"I've changed my mind about that drink," she told him, not struggling, feeling that a forceful response from her would trigger a greater show of force from him – and she already knew that he was far stronger than she was.

He didn't let her go. "There is some strange connection between us. I don't understand it, but I have not been able to let you go." She was able to see that his eyes had turned black; if she had been able to pull away from him, she would have. The man frightened her.

He leaned in, his lips next to her ear and he spoke softly and slowly, "I think it possible that you have put a spell on me. I keep thinking about you. I keep having dreams about you," he confessed.

He closed his eyes and then, opening them, he continued, "Perhaps I shouldn't have restrained myself that morning, that morning when I had you tied to my bed. Perhaps I just need to have you and get you out of my system."

She could now feel his breath on her cheek. She could feel the heat, the scalding heat coming off his body. She could feel hard things, his weapons, his body, parts of his body, pressing into her.

"You're enjoying this," he whispered, his face so close to hers, his lips so close to hers. "Me holding you . . . like this. Up against the wall, pressing into you."

"I am not!" she told him.

"Your pupils are dilated and I don't think you're afraid. I would venture that if I were to put my hand between your legs, I would find that you're ready for me. I can smell you." He didn't seem happy. He frowned. "I should have known, you're like all women," he continued. "You just want to seduce a man, take his power, devour his energies."

Belle felt as if he had doused her with cold water. She might have slapped him across his smug expression if she'd had a free hand. "You're a jerk," she told him. He regarded her coldly and abruptly stepped back, releasing her. She moved away from him as quickly as she could, stalking off, leaving the area.

He watched her stalk off, no doubt returning to the perceived safety of her little coven's convent.

What the hell was wrong with him? Why had he said what he had? Done what he did? He could have had her company, perhaps quite pleasant company, for an hour or two. She was warming up to him, he could tell. But then he had to fuck it up. He had gotten angry – old memories rising up to taunt him – and then he had lashed out and insulted her, basically accusing her of being a whore.

What the hell was wrong with him?

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he startled when he heard a voice echoing his thoughts.

He gave a glance to his side and quickly recognized the svelte dark figure lounging against the wall, standing next to him. The figure dripped dark magic, black magic, blood magic. Any other creature of this ilk would be an instant target for him, but not this one, not this particular creature.

The dark figure continued, "She would have gone off with you for that drink, hell, maybe even thrown you a pity-fuck. 'Course, maybe it's just as well. You would have had to go to confession tomorrow morning and tell that young priest that you'd fucked a fairy."

"How are you Princess?" he bowed while he addressed the vampire standing next to him.

Thanks so much to all those lovely reviewers who found the time and inclination to send me a line or two in this busy holiday season: lovepeacebubble121x, Grace5231973, Erik'sTrueAngel, deweymay (chapters 1 & 2), MyraValhallah, The Prince's Phoenix, Wondermorena and jewel415(guest). You know your comments really help me keep writing. This story is very AU but I'm hoping you see the characters and their torments, trials and tribulations coming through. I have something very interesting and unexpected planned for Emma and Milah in the coming chapters. -twyla

NEXT: Rumple has an exchange with a vampire; Belle gets a new assignment