Chapter 1


Dianna

The forest was burning and it totally wasn't my fault.

I mean, yeah, I have done some questionable things in my short 22 years of life, but deliberately starting a forest fire wasn't one of them. And is a police officer going to believe me, a black leather-jacketed brunette that looks like hell? Or a respectable farmer whose family had been there for generations?

...Yeah, the odds weren't in my favor, even though the farmer had been delirious and possessed by a ghost an hour ago. Not that he remembered any of that. Long story short, I found the ghost's body so I started to burn it, and then Poof! Ghost-slash-farmer was trying to kill me, and the small and controlled fire I had started got out of hand. So I put out as much as I could and hightailed out of there while the farmer called the cops.

My life shouldn't have gone this way, no one should have to be a hunter. Even if I had wanted to be a hunter, the amount I had killed was outrageous, even for a better and more devoted hunter than me. The road I had been on was quiet, not surprising for the middle of nowhere.

It was an hour before I pulled into a town, so tiny it wasn't even on the map. I probably should've gone to a hotel first, but I was most definitely not staying here. I had an aversion to those things since the last one anyway, it had smelled like sweat and death, also the entire staff had ended up being vampires. But today's awfulness calls for a beer, or two…

I knew I would regret that last beer- Not that I can't hold it, but the barflies start hitting on you after a while. You tell them to get lost, then they get mad, they try to pummel you. In turn you hand their asses to them, and they complain to, in this case, two rather large buddies. They half kill you and leave you in a… back ally, or so it would appear.

"Damn... "I groaned getting up. "You manage to get through monster hunting with only a gash in the leg, and a few half-drunk pigs get you? You need to work on that…" I mumble to myself while limping to my cycle. I checked myself for more injuries, which turned out to be a black eye, a busted lip, and to top it all off, I had a dislocated shoulder.

I groaned as I got on my bike, a black Yamaha XS 650. This was gonna be one long trip, not only starting at 11-ish, but riding bruised and busted was hellish. I didn't want to, but I had to have a break, I was out of everything: ammo, money and stamina. So I had to head back, back somewhere I had left over two years ago. I put in my earphones in one handed and rode away listening to classic rock. Comforting myself with the thought that, at the very least, the music would be good.

About halfway in-between nowhere and nothing, it started to rain. And not a light drizzle, either, this was what is referred to as a freezing April downpour. I stopped under a tree and put on my trench coat over my leather jacket and gasped as I put it over my bad arm. I had just finished buttoning it up when I saw the eyes, shining, shifting, and getting closer. The eyes didn't bother me, but the teeth were long and unusually sharp. The engine was running still, but the eyes were too close for me to be able to just drive off. I casually pulled my colt pistol out of my leg holster, though it was close to useless, as it only held my last bullet, but, sometimes one bullet is all you need. If all else fails, though, I have my machete tucked inside my jacket. As quietly as I could, I cocked the trigger. The creature froze, it had heard me, but it was too late for it, and I blasted it in the face. I didn't look back to see if it was dead, if it wasn't, I didn't have half a chance at killing it, and I was NOT gonna die like that. Being killed by a monster is one of the more… how should I say this? It is one of the more "interesting" ways to go, and definitely better than a heart attack or something like that, but there's only one monster. And I vowed I would never go out unless it was in a blaze of glory.

It was close to 3 in the morning when I pulled in the gravel driveway, saddle-sore and soaked, to a darkened cottage. I wondered if she was there, or even if she was alive. A lot could happen in a year, especially with the life we lived. And I hadn't looked back since I left, she could even be out of hunting completely by now. I meandered up with saddlebags in hand. The door was locked, and a salt line was on the floor, neither of which bothered me. Although it's harder to pick a lock one-handed.

It was lived in, which was good. I dropped the bags on the floor, took off my trench coat and limped to the fridge. I opened it and found beer, that life giving liquid, bread in glass. I grabbed a bottle and pulled out a chair, crossing my feet on the kitchen table. The room was still dark, and I savored it. Darkness covers bruises and messy hair. I wondered what I would tell her, I mean, I have been gone for a while, and then I just show up, no announcement, I'm just here. I lifted the bottle to my lips when I heard the cocking of a trigger, and felt the cold solid bulk of a pistol to my head.


To all my followers... So, here I am, not exactly posting a new chapter (Sorry), but a Re-write. This edit (and the upcoming ones) smooth out the story, as well as fixing typos.

To all my new readers, Hi and thanks for reading. I really hope you like it, please comment and tell me what you think!

-RF