It was almost comical. And pathetic.
All the hours of sweat, intense labor, and degrading humiliation were for nothing. A wave of frustration tore through me. It was just the adrenaline I needed. Pushing against the hound’s neck, I reached with my free hand as far as I could down the side of my leg. At one point, I thought my arm was going to pop out of the socket.
Wouldn’t that just be my luck?
I almost sighed in relief when the tip of my fingers touched the top handle of the knife hidden inside my boot. Just another inch or two and I would be able to grasp it.
Please, God.
A bubble of gleam rose up in me when I was finally able to nudge the weapon into my hand. Clenching what had become my lifeline, a switch flipped inside me. Moments ago, I wasn’t sure I had it in me to kill, even something as evil and dangerous as a hellhound. But now with the power of the knife in my hand and the hound’s foul breath on my face, I knew I had it in me.
This hound was dead meat.
“Suck on this,” I sneered, right before I slammed the ruby blade into the hellhound’s throat. Blood the color of ink splattered on my face and hands. The hound gave one long tortuous yowl before he exited this plane to be returned to the fiery pits of Hell.
“I hope you burn, you S.O.B,” I added for my own satisfaction.
With the little strength I had left, I tossed the beast off me, and just in time, too. Still lying flat on my back, the hound’s bloody and lifeless body beside me erupted into ash. Particles of the dark grey soot rained down on me, sticking to my slick-with-sweat skin.
I must have looked a fright.
My first hunt hadn’t exactly been clean or without a few hiccups, but I had done it. I had killed my first hellish creature. I was told it was easy as pie after the first kill. The knot in my stomach wasn’t too sure. I had a feeling that I was the kind of hunter that might not ever be comfortable with killing. Demon or not, the act of stealing a life was some deep shit, and I guess I still had a shard of compassion left inside me.
But there was one thing I knew, whether I liked hunting or not, it was necessary for my survival that I enjoy the kill.
All hunters do.
I couldn’t be the exception.
Chapter 3
When I was told my training was over and I would be getting my first assignment, all I could think was…freedom. I did a mental happy dance. Inside the facility there was absolutely no dancing, let alone anything happy. Then my eyes scanned the vanilla printed sheet. Right across from my name, written in bold, capital letters was the name of the Divisa I was supposed to eliminate: Chase Winters.
God hates me.
There couldn’t be any other possible rationalization at this point. Out of all of the hundreds, maybe thousands, of half-demons in the world, it could have been any old Tom, Dick, or Harry. Oh no. Not me. I get assigned the notorious Chase Winters. Not only did he have a reputation among the hunting and demon community as being the freaking badass of badasses…but he was also Travis’s blood, his cousin and his best friend. Though Chase and I could hardly be called friends, and I was as confused as ever about Travis, I still didn’t want to have to kill Chase. Even after all my training, Chase scared the ever-living crap out of me. But what choice did I have?
Damn.
This totally killed my freedom buzz.
It had been a year since I’d stepped foot into civilization. Into Spring Valley. As much as I dreaded the task set in front of me with every fiber of my being, I was so glad to finally be going home. When I was told I was going to be given an assignment, I figured they would send me to some godforsaken wasteland, not to the one place I’d dreamed of every night since my recruit.
The excitement at seeing my mom, seeing Abi was bubbling inside me like a little girl. I pushed aside my feelings about Chase and focused on seeing the family I’d missed for over a year. Seeing the house I loved, but was hardly able to call a home. There would be time later to dwell on what I’d been sent to do.
Right now I just wanted to go home.
My first breath of Spring Valley was filled with the fresh, earthy scent of manure.
Go figure.
Fall harvest was in full swing, which meant the air smelled putrid most days…and I loved it. Of course there were many days were you would get that sweet sniff of apples, pumpkin pie, burning leaves, and the cool starry nights. I guess there were some things you never forgot, no matter how many kinds of hell you endured.