A Hunter's Daughter

My breath escapes in a white puff in the cold air. Minus twenty-two, but it

feels so much worse, even the thick gloves on my hand barely help stave off

the biting cold. The trees are blanketed with snow; not even their thick

canopy had been able to stop it from falling down onto the thin trail we

wait on.

“Dad -”

He raises a hand to signal me to be quiet, I huff in frustration, my boots

crunching softly in the fresh snow as I rock back and forth. Ahead of us in

the middle of the clearing stands a stone well.

“We’ve been here for nearly two hours. She’s not going to show up” I

hiss, he turns back to give me a reproachful look. His light brown eyes flash

with irritation, black eyebrows peppered with small flecks of gray

furrowing.

“Shush.” His gruff voice is exasperated.

I open my mouth to retort and stop short, as he whips his head around to

stare intently at the well, having heard the same sound I just did. It’s faint,

but the sound of water dripping as if it were a raining echoes faintly from

the well.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

“Brace yourself” he mutters, and I see the glint of his short bladed

silver sword. I reach a gloved hand into my pocket to grab the bottle of sage

oil - praying it hasn’t frozen – bracing myself. The dripping goes suddenly

eerily silent, and then a huge gush of water explodes over the well, as a

gnarled grey hand with rotten fingernails grips the edge of the stone. My

discomfort with the cold forgotten, I step so that I’m also acting as my

Dad’s shadow, getting in position with him to charge. The wraith lets out a

shrill scream from over top of the well, its limbs contorting inhumanly to

land in a heap on the snowy ground. It straightens to a standing position

with bone chilling cracks and pops. It’s face just barely resembles

something that once was a woman, a tattered, mossy sheath of fabric

hanging over it’s skeletal frame.

“Come here, you ugly soith!” Dad’s Irish accent becomes more

prominent when he uses Gaelic. His taunt works though, and the wraith

launches itself at us. With practiced precision and speed, I whip around

from behind him and toss the little sphere of liquid, it lands a solid blow

against its ugly face, the glass shattering on impact and the oil reacts to her

like acid, burning a whole into her face. Dad thrusts the gleaming silver

sword into its chest, taking it by surprise. Its filmy opaque eyes widen as it

stumbles back, sword hilt deep in its chest. Slowly its forms shifts in and

out, transforming back into the ghost of the woman it once was. Her brown

eyes stare directly at me with heavy despair, before her mouth opens in one

last ear-splitting death wail.

Dad and I throw ourselves to the ground just as she explodes.

Black gunk flies everywhere, steaming piles of it hitting the snow, and

small flecks of it landing on my boot. Dad gets up and grabs the sword

scraping most of the sludge off the hilt in the snow, except for a small piece

of goop, he puts in a tiny glass vial, and then tucks it back into his jacket,

turning to me with a grin.

“Well Artemis, you ready for lunch?”

* * * * * * *

Dad throws off his winter gear in a fury, cursing under his breath. The

yellow envelope with our cash payment gets tossed onto his bed.

“Should have known better than to trust Cameron George. Filthy, lying

-” he dissolves into an incomprehensible mess of muttered cursing again. I

grab the envelope and tuck it safely into my duffle bag beside my own bed,

and then start taking off my own snow gear. Dad plops on his bed and

looks at me with guilt.

“I’m sorry sweetie, seven hundred is not what he’d promised me. I

know I said our next hotel would have a pool, or a hotel bar at the least.

Not another shite hole like this one.” He glares around the room as if

seeing it for the first time. It’s ugly and outdated, with flowery wallpaper,

the slight mothball stench mixes with a nauseating fruit perfume. I sit on

my bed, my back to him so he can’t see the tears welling in my eyes.

Everything in me wants to yell at him, tell him it’s not okay. That I don’t

want to be a monster hunter – I want to go to the mall and to drive in

movie theatres, and go on dates; not clean guts and gunk off my boots and

clothes.

“It’s okay Dad.” I can hear the tears in my own voice, and I clear my

throat to make it sound stronger.

“Next time Cam has a monster problem, we’ll just let it eat him.” I

turn back to grin at him, he laughs but I can see the guilt and pain in his

eyes too.

“That would serve him, right wouldn’t it?”

He reaches to the nightstand between our beds to grab the little black book

sitting there, and flips through the weathered worn pages to a somewhat

blank page, and watch him write;

Let the next monster eat Cameron George.

I laugh. “We should have brought more of her gunky corpse to dump on the

seats of his prized 1965 Ford Maverick” I muse, Dad nods wholeheartedly.

“Next time, if we don’t let the monster eat him first.”

There’s a knock on our hotel door, startling us both. I move slowly to the

to it, looking through the small peephole. It’s a girl around my age, only

seventeen or eighteen maybe, strawberry blonde hair spilling onto her

shoulders from under a toque. Next to her stands a man with the same light

features she has, his gruff face and thick beard make him look similar to

my Dad.

“It’s a man and a girl my age - they look like a father and daughter” I

whisper, Dad moves closer, his thick bladed combat knife in his hand now.

The man huffs and knocks on the door again, Dad nods and I crack the

door open, leaving the deadbolt on. I peer at them, only half of my face

visible.

“What?” I ask, rudely.

The man is unperturbed, in fact it looks like he’s trying to hold back a

smile.

“You must be Artemis, I see you inherited your Father’s friendly

personality” he quips, I glare at him. Dad is suddenly right behind me,

peering out at him above me and barks out a surprised laugh.

“Marcus Fisher! I’ll be damned, let him in hon” Dad crows in my ear,

I unlock the deadbolt and open the door. “Is that little Kendra? Not so little

anymore is she” Dad says, gesturing for them to come in. Dad and I sit on

his bed, allowing Marcus and Kendra to sit on mine.

“You’re not an easy man to track down” Marcus says, good natured.

Dad frowns. “I would hope not, otherwise it would mean I’m not very good

at this whole hunter thing” he says, Marcus chuckles, and his expression

sombers.

“I need your help, Kane.” He looks down at Kendra, who stares

intently at the floor. I see wetness in her eyes. Dad immediately shifts into

tactics mode, listening.

“My oldest daughter, Myra. . .she went with some friends to

Glastenbury Mountain. She’s been missing for a week.” A mountain doesn’t

seem scary, but I see dad’s face pale, and know immediately something is

wrong with the place.

“I told you never to go there, I warned you” Dad spits, Marcus looks

dejected.

“She didn’t listen, even when I told her. I didn’t train her, the way

you’ve trained Artemis” he admits, ashamed.

“No, I’m sorry, but I won’t. I can’t go back there, Artemis’ mum -”

he breaks off suddenly, and I look at him. I knew my mom died in a hunt

but he’d never mentioned where before.

“You’re the only one who can bring her home, Kane” Marcus begins

to plead.

“GET OUT, NOW. I SAID NO.” My Father roars, scaring all three of

us. Marcus rummages in his pockets and pulls out a fat yellow manila

envelope.

“I know Cameron George screwed you over, boasted about it

himself. There’s $20,000 in here. All yours up front.” Marcus holds it out

to him, Dad’s eyes widen for a moment in shock before narrowing back into

a venomous glare. He rips the envelope open, and I peek inside too. So

many neat green bills stacked together - tons of them. We could find an

apartment to rent with that money, or take that three month break from

hunting he’s promised me for the past four years. I meet my Dad’s eyes and

know that he’s thinking the same things - all the things his choice of career

has deprived us from. I can also see the absolute pain in his face though, as

he weighs this impossible option: Take this job and then have the option to

walk away from this life finally - but risk both our lives, not knowing if

we’ll get to see that life. This mountain terrifies him though, and my

mother’s death clearly has something to do with it. As much as I want to

throw that cash back in this man Marcus’ face, I’m racked with curiosity to

know more about how this Glastenbury Mountain ties into my mom’s

death. And the yearning for the normality this money will bring. He looks

in my face for my answer, and sighs, resigned as he sees it form in my eyes.

Dad’s face becomes expressionless, as he turns back to Marcus.

“Well, then I guess my daughter and I are coming with you to

Vermont” he says, Marcus visibly wilts with relief, tears filling his eyes.

“Thank you, Kane. I know I’m asking too much of you. . .but it’s my

daughter” his voice breaks, and I see a hint of softness creep into my

father’s face.

“Please, bring my sister home,” Kendra speaks for the first time, her

voice timid and sad. Her bright tear filled blue eyes fix on me, not my

father, filled with the same blatant pleading.

“We’ll find her” I promise, making my voice steely with confidence.

I had no idea what I was about to lose in return.