Greykin Mountain

| 32 | The Hunter's Emporium

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Dread forced Jackson to freeze when he stood across the road from the Hunter's Emporium. The armoured men he'd seen around town were more than a few here—in fact, it looked like some sort of training corps.

          Six men were taking orders from an armoured, hazel-haired woman, marching on her command. Another group were scraping the ice off the windows, and three other women were smoking to the left while they watched a distraught-looking girl clean her boots.

          Every armoured person had silver swords and either crossbows or bows, and if that along with the flag wasn't intimidating enough already, the stone statues of hunters slaying wolves, strange mythical-looking creatures, and other, fanged men were enough to send anyone running.

          But not Jackson. Despite his horror, he had to fight his fear and head inside. It was the only place he'd get answers.

          He took a deep breath...but before crossing the road, he looked over his shoulder. There was no sign of the suit-wearing man he'd seen—there wasn't anyone dressed in such a manner over here. Maybe he was just being paranoid. Or...maybe he'd eluded the guy. Either way, he had to keep going.

          So, he crossed the road.

          No one looked at him.

          Even when he reached the courtyard, not one of them stopped to stare or call. So, he continued up the stairs and onto the terrace.

          The towering oak front doors were wide open, leading into the large entrance hall, where more armoured people strolled up and down the stairs, out of the many doors lined along each wall, and some were just standing around chatting.

          As Jackson entered, he set his eyes on the navigation board up ahead. But his sights quickly shifted to the displays and décor. It was like a museum for all the creatures anyone had ever created in a freaky, scary story. Massive, horned bears, lion-bodied eagles the size of elephants, humongous lizards—some with wings, others without; snakes so big they could devour a whale. And of course, displayed between the curving grand staircase were three wolf walkers positioned to look as though they were fighting.

          All Jackson saw was murder. He didn't know whether it was the case for every other creature that had been killed, stuffed, and put on display here, but those three wolf walkers were once alive. They had names, lives, and maybe even families. And now they were nothing but décor.

          "You like 'em?" came a woman's voice.

          Jackson flinched and sharply turned to face her. She smiled proudly, staring at the wolf walker display with her deep, blue eyes. And when she looked at Jackson, she waited expectantly.

          She was dressed in a black, pinstripe suit, and behind her, crowds of suit-wearing men and women filed into the hallways.

          "Uh...yeah," he mumbled, staring back at the wolves.

          "Mikey and I got these three—that one right there was a Beta," she said, pointing to the white and brown-furred wolf. "Tricky fucker."

          He nodded, trying his best to keep an uncomfortable frown off his face.

          "That is our best catch yet, though," the woman said, pointing over to the lion-bodied eagle. "You don't see gryphons around much anymore. Feathers are worth a fortune, but we keep all our trophies authentic."