A Hunters Prey

Chapter 10: Attack

"Come with me."

My eyes widened slightly at the sudden deep voice murmuring in my ear, and I could already feel my hand squeezing on the handle of my blade that was strapped against my side, before I realized it was Callan.

"I'm busy. Go away!" I gritted out casting him an unimpressed glare, when my gaze landed on something, or rather someone.

The first thing I saw was a wildly excited tail whipping through the air so fast that it merely looked like a white blur, the next was a set of almost black eyes that glistened at the sight of me. A whine of anticipation shrilled through the Pitbull Terrier as it sat obediently by its owner.

"He missed you." Callan stated standing next to me, handing over a paper cup from it's holder. I cast him an unamused sideglance, "That dog hates me." I argued distractedly, remembering how Ares had once tried to attack me.

Dog had better intuition than his master but I suppose even Callan soon caught on. I still wondered what it was that gave me away, "He hates everyone, except me." Callan shrugged placing an arm on my lower back and speaking into my ear, "Now we really have to go; it's important."

"This is not a good time for me." I gritted out jerking my arm out of his grip. Someone signed me up to oversee a student field practice trip for teenage trainees, I don't know who it was that put my name forward but I was betting on it being Helena, "I'm busy."

Callan looked around the museum that was brimming with students in varying forms of uniform, not seeing the Huntresses-to-be within the bubbling crowd. Did he think I came here to admire the historic value?

No. I was stitched up so that Helena didn't have to oversee the challenge, and it wasn't fair. I don't like kids, and I don't like being around them either. It felt more like a form of punishment rather than a mere task.

"Obviously." Callan muttered not looking quite as convinced, until his eyes started to skim the crowd. His brows lowered as his gaze followed a girl with boisterous pigtails and a too big smile, "Is that a little Huntress?"

I watched him watch her with fascination, seeing how his gaze started skipping between students to pin-point the trainees, "The official term we use is Fledgling." I corrected him, seeing one of the girls watch a security guard, whilst another swiped his key card, "You have to earn the Huntress title; only successful graduates achieve it."

When we pull the trigger on our first mark is when Huntresses are born into blood. Blood we spilled that marks our soul in return...I could still remember the name of the man I killed; Christopher Davis. He was a father of four and devotedly married to his childhood sweetheart, all he done wrong was be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"I see." Callan replied casually but he didn't, not really. His gaze returned to me with more fascination that I'd seen grow since that day in the food court, "I'm here to talk to you about Travis. I done a background search on him, an critical one."

Now I couldn't help but look at Callan, "And?" I questioned wondering what was so important that he would come to me to directly speak about my informant, "I know everything there is to know about him."

"I think he's working alongside the rogue association, Halen." Callan felt completely confident in stating, after knowing of Travis's existence for no longer than a couple of days. I couldn't help but blink in sheer amazement, "His tracks are covered at an expert level but I can see through the smoke; he left a tell-tale sign. A black trove."

As if Travis would be so foolish, and I say this with great disdain to myself, that man is one of the singular most precautions people I have ever encountered. Black Troves were a form of encrypted technology that allowed people to communicate in secret, I'm sure that everyone in Travis's line of work owned one.