The Impossible Hunter

Chapter One

Oswin twirled around, showing off her red cotton, floral patterned, knee length dress to the empty hotel room. She paired it with black tights and black combat boots. Sitting on the chair next to the bed, in front of the full-body mirror, she began to do her hair. As she French braided the left side of her head to tie it into a bun in the back, she thought about where she might go to breakfast. The hotel served a free continental breakfast, and she had bought some food the night before, but Oswin was feeling in more of an diner-eggs-and-sausage-mood.

She laced up her boots and set off down the sidewalk, looking for a decent-looking diner in the small town of Butler, Pennsylvania. She had gotten in late last night and hadn't had time to scope out the small town. Turning into a posh fifties-vibe diner, she grabbed a local paper off the rack outside and gave the man a dollar.

Oswin sat down at a table and flipped to the obituaries. There it was - what brought her into town in the first place - a djinn killing. Of course the paper claimed the man's liquified intestines were the effects of some kind of African poison, but this was the sixth body like this in the past five years, in addition to regular, almost monthly kidnappings, which meant there was a djinn in town. And not just any djinn - a rare sub-species that feeds off fear. It actually managed to lay low pretty well, but not well enough to avoid a hunter as good as Oswin.

She looked over the crossword puzzle as she waited for her food. Done within five minutes, it gave her the leftover time to think about her plan. First she'd go back to the hotel to get her fake badge. Then she would pay a visit to the coroner to make sure the body was a legit djinn kill and figure out where it was found. That would take about an hour and a half, then she'd have a light lunch - another hour - and try to deduce the most probable places for a djinn den. Oswin looked at the anagram clock across the diner; 10:30. If she was as smart as she knew she was, she'd know just what door to kick in and what humanoid to stab by 4:00. Her food came and Oswin chowed down.

Feeling confident that tonight would be her last night in town, she paid for breakfast and headed back to her hotel room with a spring in her step. From under the bed she pulled out her suitcase and removed her favorite pistol and a silver knife infused with lamb's blood, sliding each into a chunky combat boot. She pulled out the ornate box that contained her cherished set of triplet throwing stars, etched with enchantments that made them lethal to demons. She took the shiniest of the priceless weapons and slipped it into her bun so that it was easily accessible but looked like a harmless hairpin. Oswin locked the box, set it delicately inside the suitcase, locked that too, and shoved the luggage back under the bed. She snatched her CDC badge off the side table then grabbed her keys and the "Do Not Disturb" sign off the checkered bedspread.

She put the sign on the door and sped down the stairs while simultaneously putting the badge in her purse. If she did everything quickly, she could finish her book before she left town. In the parking lot, Oswin detached the small trailer where she stored her luggage from her Harley. She unchained the bike, chained up the trailer, slipped on her helmet, and tore down the small street in Butler, PA.

Oswin loved her Harley. She'd had it as long as she'd been a hunter, which was as long as she could remember, although Oswin's memories were a bit askew. She didn't grow up a hunter, and she somehow knew that, but she could still only remember being one. She knew her dad wasn't a hunter, and her mom, also not a hunter, had died from cancer when Oswin was in high school. Oswin knew those facts, but she couldn't clearly remember her life before being a hunter, so as far as she was concerned, she had been one forever. Sometimes this scared Oswin, but she decided that she had gotten so many head injuries hunting, that it was only normal to forget things at this point.

As she drove to the morgue, she began to worry. There were a lot of warehouses in this town. Maybe finding the den would take longer than anticipated. She had a perfect plan and was really looking forwarding to finishing a book or maybe even seeing a movie. Shoving the worried thoughts away, she took a deep breath and turned into the morgue.