Hunter's Journal (Drake Chronicles)

From Hunter's Journal

Takes place after Out for Blood/ Bleeding Hearts

Drake Chronicles Spoilers ahead!

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From Hunter's journal:

Ms. Kali has decided that all students should keep a journal. She says it's like debriefing in the military, shedding the weight of what we have seen and done so it doesn't drag us down deep enough to drown us.

I know where those dangerous lakes are now, and how easy it would be to slide under the cold, numbing water. It would be cowardly to let myself sink. I'm not a stone to be flung from the slingshot of Helios-Ra and vampire politics. The Wild family have been standing tall for centuries, and I am still a Wild, despite what my grandfather has to say on the matter.

I suppose I should be grateful that my boyfriend's family is even more dysfunctional than mine. It's a side effect from growing up in Violet Hill. Grandpa is worried about vampires and hippies, and I'm just worried about everyone.

There have been too many casualties.

I hate that word.

Casualty.

There's nothing casual about people being killed.

I miss Spencer. Don't get me wrong, I'm so grateful that he survived the bite—I'd much rather have him as a vampire than as nothing at all. But school is just not the same without him. We need him. Because all of the shit going down here is definitely occult. I've bugged every part of the school that I can get into but I'm not sure it's going to be enough; not this time.

There are agents coming in from all over the world. Even Huntsmen are being welcomed on campus. They're actually bunking in the converted barns. Helios-Ra hunters and Huntsmen have never worked together, not in any official capacity. We mostly just try to stay out of each other's way. Helios-Ra has a code. We have oaths and treaties, and okay, yes, we're not exactly perfect but at least we're trying. We sit council with vampires. Huntsmen are out of the Middle Ages—they kill vampires on sight, no questions asked.

To them there's no difference between a Hel-Blar and a Drake.

To me, there's a very big difference. Obviously.

I know they would stake Quinn without a moment's hesitation. And I'm scared for him. I'm scared for all of them.

I'm not naïve enough to think that his crazy aunt Ruby might not need some intervention but the rest of his family are trying. Even when it would be easier to just give up.

I can see how upset Quinn is over Solange's state, even when he tries to hide it. And when Nicholas disappeared, I thought all of the brothers would break. I've never seen them like that. I've seen them covered in blood, I've seen them fighting, I've seen them falling back and falling over, but never like that. It was like looking at one of the those Pre-Raphaeliete paintings of knights, pale and stark and faded by sunlight and the loss of some doomed maiden or another.

It physically hurt to look at Quinn. He didn't say anything, not a word. We just met in the forest and lay against a mossy tree and I held him and stroked his long hair. He buried his face in the side of my neck and I didn't even stake him. Grandpa would have been furious. But Quinn just stayed very still, as if he was trying not to cry. In the end, he just kissed me, long and slow, as if our lips touching could make the rest of the world go rightside up again. It can't, of course.

I wish there were easy answers. For Quinn, for Kieran and Spencer and for Grandpa.

I wish the League didn't have such dark rivers under the surface.

I wish the Huntsmen would leave Violet Hill.

I wish my grandfather would talk to me.

I wish for a lot of things.

But it's like that old saying. We're on the tiger's back now, and if we get off, he'll eat us.

Wishes won't change anything.

Action will.

And I'm ready.

Copyright Alyxandra Harvey 2012