Adamayurka's Hunt

Chapter One

I hissed softly as I slid off the sheath that kept my sword nestled close to my back, then unlaced the thigh-length leather vest that both covered and confined the semi-fitted, long-sleeved thick black cotton tunic I wore beneath it.

I had bruised some muscles tonight in addition to the scrapes and cuts crisscrossing my arms. It felt like I had sprained my left wrist too. Getting that vest and shirt off would not be fun.

Even so, that would be the easy part of getting undressed. Getting the skin-tight black leather leggings off without reopening the bone-deep gashes in my left thigh would be a nearly impossible challenge. I winced just looking at the leg.

Vampires. I shook my head. They were pale white, almost albino humanoid creatures with bright red eyes, elongated canine teeth, and sharp six-inch claws on both hands. Those claws were the reason blood still ran from the four parallel gashes in my left high.

That was the price I paid for being a Hunter for the mercenary's guild, a job that allowed me to pursue my personal vendetta in a way no other profession would.

Long ago I had reached the conclusion that the only way to keep the city safe was to kill all the vamps, and all the Shifters, too --including me. That was why I worked for the Mercenary's guild; it gave me more legal opportunities to kill preternatural creatures than would any other job. Granted, I only killed the ones that crossed the line right now, but that was only because I needed to keep a low profile until I caught the Shifter who had made me.

Then all bets would be off and every preternatural monster in the city would be fair game. When they were all dead, I'd move on to another city and repeat the process. I'd keep on doing that until every vamp and Shifter in the world was dead. Finally, I would kill myself and ensure the world would remain safe for all time.

Until then, I had to live within the confines of human law and do my best to keep the world safe until the end game was upon me. That meant I made only minimal contact with others so there was no chance I'd inadvertently infect someone else with the curse that had been thrust upon me five years ago.

All of this led to days like today, when I came home battered and bruised to an empty one-room, first-tier apartment that was as functional and utilitarian as it was lonely.

I gazed around the apartment, beginning with my pride and joy, the weapons corner. A sliding drapery hung open, revealing swords, daggers, knives, and battle axes hung on one wall. Beneath them sat an ammunition chest and another trunk that was supposed to contain medical supplies but currently contained little more than my four newest crossbows.

The intersecting wall had a gun locker pushed up against it which contained one of every type of projectile weapon that could be bought or stolen within the city limits.

Directly across the room from that was my sleeping area -- a single-sized bed, a clothes cupboard, and a smaller cupboard that I used as a nightstand.

Between the two areas was an enormous stone table, on top of which I had scattered notes detailing every time I had ever seen or scented the Shifter for whom I'd spent the last five years searching. There were also a couple of camp chairs around it. Those chairs were one of only two concessions I was willing to make to the inevitable.

There was a wood stove, a food storage and preparation area that almost never got used, and a seating area consisting of a lone sofa that only existed because I was too weak willed to not give in to the inevitable.

The inevitable being Olena. Olena was a matronly woman in her forties with two children and the misguided notion I was her third.

No matter how many times I had been rude to her, no matter how many times I had threatened her person with bodily violence, she persisted in returning.