He’s a Monster Hunter.
Monster Hunters are another part of the paranormal world I’ve only heard about, and you’d think his surprisingly timely arrival would be a good thing. I do have a pressing monster problem at the moment, after all.
But let’s not forget—I’m a monster, too.
He sees the vampires. He sees me. And he barks out, “Hey!”
Before the vampires can even get out another one of their terrifying snarls, he blasts one full in the chest. And shockingly, the vamp immediately crumples, which means that whatever buckshot he’s carrying, it ain’t the kind you can get at Walmart. I know at this close range, the spread of any pellets shouldn’t extend wider than a few inches, but it’s so goddamn loud, I still crouch my ass down into as tiny a ball as I can against the corner of the hallway wall. And just for good measure, I also wrap my arms around up and over my ears. It would be just my luck to die from a ricochet of anti-paranormal ammunition.
Collin, though, just stands there,smilingat the Hunter as he blasts a hole in the head of another vampire that was stupid enough to run at him. This time, some of the shot travels on through, creating an explosion of brick shrapnel just a few feet from the kid’s side. He doesn’t even flinch.
“Dude!” I hiss at Collin, eyes wide, pointing rapidly to the ground next to me.
“Ah!” he says. “Sorry, lad! Of course!”
He plops himself down next to me, but instead of cowering and covering his head like a sensible person, he throws an arm around my shoulders and hugs me close. Then he startsstroking my hair with his fingers! Gah!
“It’s going to be okay, Alvin. It’s going to be okay. Trust me, this fella’s class!”
No. It is not going to be okay, because once this dude gets through the vampires, I’ll have officially moved on from the frying pan portion of this misadventure directly into thefire.
You see, Ms. Stryker might hunt monsters, but she’s not actually a Monster Hunter (capital M, capital H). From the little that Mom told me, these dudes are members of ancient clans that have dedicated their lives to exterminating supernatural threats. They are the primary reason the population of supernatural beings in the world is so small. For a Monster Hunter, there’s no such thing as choosing “to live a normal human life.” The only good paranormal is a dead paranormal. Unlike for the fae, she didn’t have to give me any specific advice to steer clear of them, because they were the bogeymen ofalmost every single oneof her bedtime stories to me. (Yes, my mother told me horror stories to “help” me get to sleep. It took me forever to realize it was to get me to stop asking her to tuck me in at night.)
Monster Hunters aren’t paranormals, but somehow, they’ve found a way to massively boost their human capabilities. They’re strong and fast, and they heal quick, too. They’re supposedly masters of all forms of weaponry (which are almost always enhanced to be lethal to magical creatures like yours truly). And if that’s not bad enough, word on the street is that they cansmellparanormal blood.
This is an absolute nightmare.
I need to get out of here. Right now.
6
BLAM!The final vampire bites the dust. I don’t even bother to look back to see if the undead creature was able to get anywhere near the badass Monster Hunter before it was cut down. Instead, I jump to my feet and run for the stairs in a blind panic.
“Wait!” Mr. Terminator yells, voice deep and gruff, clearly expecting complete compliance.
I am not waiting. I book it down the hallway, still gripping the shard of wood.
Collin jogs alongside, having no trouble keeping up. “Alvin? What are you doing?”
I ignore him and almost get to the first stair, but the Monster Hunter is so fast, he swings himself in front of me before I can even put a single foot on that OSHA disaster and grabs my shoulders, fully stopping me. He’s well over six feet. I am child-sized compared to him.
“Slow down, buddy. You don’t need to run. I got ’em.”
He’s less than a foot away from me, his shotgun shoved into some kind of back holster peeking out fromunder his duster. Without even thinking, I shove back hard against his chest with both of my palms, dropping the stake and using all my strength to try to get out of whatever his “paranormal-creature-smelling” range might be. But at this point I’m a sweaty mess, I’ve got the weak-ass muscles of a committed couch potato, and his grip is so strong, I don’t go anywhere.
In response, he pulls me in tight, into a full-on hug. (Oh, my God! What’s with all the hugs, scary strangers?!)
“Breathe.Breathe! You’re safe. I promise.”
He squeezes me tighter. Ican’tbreathe. I am so going to die.
I stop fighting him, and let my body go limp. His hands return to my shoulders. He holds me up, arms extended a bit, so he can get a good look at me with those night-vision goggles. He then jerks his head back with surprise. “Hm,” he says.
And there it is. Game over. He now knows what I am. I drop my gaze, totally telegraphing my plan to knee him in the balls, but it doesn’t matter because our bodies are still so close, I don’t think I could pull it off. I am screwed!
Desperately, I look over at Collin—who the Monster Hunter is completely ignoring, by the way—wondering if the blond boy has any dance steps to get me out ofthisone.
But he’s just standing there, smiling at the two of us. He then gives me an encouraging nod, like “You’ve got this!”
