The Huntress

Chapter 1

There are parents out there who lie to their children. They check under their beds and in their closets, telling their kids they're monster-free, or that monsters don't exist. My mom always checked our rooms, but she never discredited the monsters. At the time we hadn't known the monsters she was looking for weren't the big scaly kinds with mouths full of sharp teeth. Instead they were like the ones we see on TV screens. And the night she didn't come home, was the night our lives changed forever. We were no longer sheltered from the reality of monsters, that was when we started training to become hunters.

I was the last one in the armory. The others had already taken their weapons of choice for the hunt. I surveyed the wall of neatly placed guns, knives, and other lethal instruments, and picked up my silver dagger, twisting it in my hands. I looked at the neatly carved initials E.J. with the hunter's crest behind them. It was the first weapon I'd gotten. My go to weapon. One that I always had on me, even if it wasn't useful for the target. The weight of it helped me relax and remind myself that I needed to focus on the job at hand. Just because the hunt wasn't exciting anymore didn't mean I could be reckless.

I tucked the dagger in my waistband of my jeans at my back. I jabbed two wooden stakes in my combat boots. I picked up the Neco handgun, another hunter original. It could kill any target. Vampire, werewolf, it didn't matter. I checked that it was loaded with wood-tipped bullets. Satisfied, I slipped the cold metal into the pocket of my leather jacket. Surveying the hidden room in our basement for anything else that may be useful, I decided what I had would do for now.

Bouncing on the balls of my feet, I tilted my head from side to side, feeling the pop in my neck. The last of the jitters faded. I jogged up the steps and met my father, sister, and brother in the garage.

"Are you ready, Electra?" My father loaded a bag of extra weapons and ammunition into the back of the Jeep. I went around to the back seat on the passenger side, putting my hand on handle as I looked at him. Sarah was already in the front, and Josh got in behind the driver's seat.

"I'm always ready." I pulled the door open and hopped in.

Josh's leg bounced the whole ride. It was a habit he'd had since the beginning. I stared out the window. Dusk was setting in, and silhouettes of trees and houses blurred past. I tried to ignore my brother's restless leg syndrome and stay in my zone.

"This is a group, about five or six. We're outnumbered, but three of them are new. They'll be stronger but less experienced. If you're using bullets, make sure you have the wood tips. Stakes will work if you can get in close enough." Our father's calm voice carried over the sound of the bumps on the road.

"We know, Dad," Sarah grumbled. She was most likely rolling her eyes.

"You may think you know, but if I stop telling you, one of these day's you'll go out there recklessly and get you or someone else killed," he gripped the steering wheel tighter to keep the anger in his voice under control.

"You're not going to be able to hold our hands forever, Dad." Josh said. He's right. My sister was getting ready to go off to medical school in less than a month, and Josh would probably be moving out before too long as well.

"Do you really think Electra is going to stick around for school like we have so far?" Josh was exasperated. I kept perfectly still, my face turned toward the window. This was one family discussion I didn't want to partake in. It always ended in screaming on all sides.

"That's enough," our father barked. His knuckles turned white on the steering wheel.

Hunting had been the only thing that kept us together after our mother was murdered, and our father hated it whenever talk about us moving out came up.