The Hunter

Job Well Done

"I can't believe your evil father is making us work on your damn birthday!" Ivy, my best friend huffed out.  

"Oh please," I laughed as we walked along the darkened sidewalk, "You know you can believe it, what would be unbelievable is if he actually acknowledged it and gave us a day off." 

It was true, my father was strict and nothing took away from work, and by work I mean hunting. My whole family was hunters, my friends were hunters, and we took down werewolves.  

My father was the leader of our sector of hunters, which was all of West Virginia, although we had just recently moved back to there from England, and he was very proud of that. He was, according to other hunters, everything you wanted in a leader. He was strong, willing to do whatever it takes, and goal driven. I didn't see him that way, and neither did my best friend Ivy. 

To us, my father was mean and cruel. Why he ever had children was beyond me. He hardly ever spoke to me and when he did he was giving orders. He constantly complained about me running too slow and not being athletic enough, even though I had the same strength as some of the boys and was the fastest runner in my age group. I was pretty sure he just hated me because I was born a girl and he probably wanted a boy. Whatever though, the second I turned eighteen I was going to run. I loved my life but hated it just a little bit more, giving me the drive I needed to leave when the time comes.  

"So true," Ivy groaned out, "at least the old jerk sent us to a party." 

Ivy and I weren't old enough to be sent on missions as killers. We usually went and scouted out the wolves that my dad thought could be a threat. Our job was to find them, mingle with them, and then inject them with a silver concentration that would weaken them. Then the killers would swoop in and finish the job a few days later when the wolf was at his weakest, taking all the glory when we put in all the work. The only time we were allowed to kill was when we were attacked. Thankfully we had never been put in that position. I was born to hate wolves and I did, I just didn't know how my first kill would affect me.  

"Are you saying that we are gonna play more than work?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.  

"Well you just turned sixteen today, and we didn't get dressed up for nothing," Ivy smiled. 

I smiled, she did have a point. We actually went out of our way to pretty up since it was my birthday. Ivy wore her long blonde hair in waves that reached the top of her bottom. She had a jean mini-skirt paired with a black halter-top that accented her athletic figure perfectly. Add her three inch black strappy heels that pushed her height up to 5'10, and she looked like she just walked off of the runway.  

I put in just as much effort. I loosely curled my brown hair, which touched the middle of my bare back. I had on tight jean capris and a loose white halter-top that flowed openly in the back with only a thin strap of material connecting it at the small of my back. I was already 5'9, so I decided to go with a pair of shiny black, flat gladiator sandals.  

We both marinated ourselves in perfume since we didn't carry a scent. That was always the one thing that tipped off the wolves that we were hunters, our lack of scent. After that got us caught once, we started bathing in perfume. Yeah we smelt like French hookers, but it made them think that we were plain humans. 

"Let the fun begin," I smiled as we stepped up to the door. My father had sent us an hour away from home to a high school party that was being put on by the future Alpha of the territory pack. Our job was to go in, find the host, and inject him with silver.  

We had done this sort of job so many times in England that we could have completed it with our eyes closed. It was boring for the most part, unless we got sent to house parties. Let's just say that we usually had to fight off hangovers the next day.