Backlash {Fourth book in the "Born to Be a Hunter" Series}

Darkness

    I knew I had a life before the darkness, but it had been so long since then that I've forgotten it all. I had a name, a family, and a life, but like I said, forgotten it all. Sometimes, I felt that I knew what they were.

    Darkness, as I've said, is all I seem to remember, just drifting in the cold and nothingness. It felt like millions of years, but I had no clue how long it was.

    I had no body, but I was cold. I was always cold. I was always hungry, but I had nothing to eat and no stomach to fill.

    Until a light started to form in front of me at some time. It kind of enveloped me and things started to form in my peripheral vision. It took me a second to realize that I was staring at the sun. I tore my eyes away and peered at my feet and my naked body.

    Someone or something pulled me out of the darkness. I was back, but I felt empty and needed to find out why I was back.

    My eyes adjusted to the amazing light that I hadn't seen in so long and I saw that I was in the middle of a field with a forest to the east. I ran to it, the only option that seemed to fit my situation. I found a tent, a fire pit, and a clothes line. I grabbed some clothes off of it and slipped them on. I was lucky that the camper was a female.

    The woods were shadowy, only a few streams of light coming in through the branches. The shadows gave me chills, like there was something in them just waiting to jump out.

    I went east more, going the opposite of the setting sun in the west. By nightfall, I had reached a city in Colorado. It was cold, but all I had was the zip-up hoodie and jeans I swiped from that campsite.

    I went down a street and bumped hard into a guy with one hand in his pocket. He mumbled a curse at me, but I didn't care. I had swiped his revolver and his wallet and put them into my jacket front pocket.

    I headed to the nearest bar and ordered a couple shots of straight whiskey, the drink cooling my nerves. I kept getting this feeling that someone was looking at me. I found who it was: a man with a square face, dark brown hair, and a striped, expensive suit. I put a ten on the table and left, the man following me, but when I turned into an alley right off the side of the bar, I lost him.

    My hoodie covered my head and I heard someone walking closer. I kept my head down but they ran into me and grabbed my arm. It was the guy from before, but he didn't say anything. I yanked away and pulled my revolver on his head. I backed away, still aiming at him, until I ran into another person. They grabbed my revolver and hit me in the head with the handle.

    When I woke, I was lying on a metal table in a solid metal room. I was in a grey jumper with a chain around my left ankle attached to the bed.

    The door was about ten feet away. It was solid steel with a green light on the lock. I stood and tried to walk, but the chain got me just short of the door. I reached for the handle but my fingers fell a couple inches from the handle.

    I turned and walked to the wall and the door opened with a low beep. The light on the handle turned green and it opened and after it closed, it turned red again.

    Locked.

    The man from the bar stood, same suit and the same shoes. And the same smug look on his face.

    "Come on, man. I was just trying to get a drink, not get into this BDSM crap." I groaned, sitting on the bed and putting my nails under the bed.

    He had a British accent, making him seem more like a snob, "It is no time to be making jokes."

    "Then let me the hell out of here, you dick." I said, standing and getting closer to him.

    "You'll show me some respect." He said and I laughed. "We are the ones who brought you back."

    I scoffed, "Back to what?"

    He stared for a second, "Life of course. You were caught between the two ends, Heaven and Hell. The darkness."

    So that's where I was. Stuck in between.

    "Besides, we need you." He said, crossing the room and leaning in a corner.

    I looked up from the floor, "Who's 'we'?"

    "Oh, I'm sorry. How rude of me." He said, extending his hand for a shake. I didn't take it. "Arthur Ketch, British Men of Letters."

    I crossed my arms, "That supposed to mean something to me?" I turned and grabbed my ankle chain. "And what the hell is this for?"

    He scoffed, "Because we know what you can do, Mrs. Winchester."

    I shook my head, "I don't know who you think you're dealing with, but you've got the wrong gal."

    "What do you mean?" he asked.

    "I mean that I have no idea who I am. The only thing I remember is the darkness." I admitted, the weight on my shoulders sinking in deeper.

    He kept staring at me, "You are the best damned hunter in the United States. And we need you for that."

    "To hunt what?" I asked, looking at my feet.

    "Monsters." He said, going to the door. "And you, Jackline Anthony Winchester, will help bring the end to every monster in existence."

    I looked up at him before he left, "When do I start?"