Adjusting to the Fanged and Fearsome

“And again, Cassandra.” My father released another two-handed long sword through a remodelled tennis ball machine, directly at my head. I hesitated for a moment, watching the graceful arc of the blade as it closed the distance between us. My body twisted on instinct and I snatched out as the steel whizzed past my cheek, my trembling fingers clasping around the handle. The groaning thud of the tennis ball machine made my heart stammer as the ringing of another blade rattled through the air.

“Now, Cassandra.” I swivelled upon his command and raised my hands, positioning my wide blade in front of my face. The second sword slashed into the blade and twisted around my arms with the force of its trajectory. My father darted forward and snatched the falling sword inches from the ground. I tensed as he twirled gracefully around my back and angled the blade for my exposed neck.

I shifted my grip on the hilt to reverse the angle of my block and twisted, steel reverberating on steel as my blade knocked his aside. I lunged through the opening, the tip of my blade angled to tear up into my father’s heart. He stepped aside sharply to avoid my blow and I toppled out of control, the long sword heavy in my hands. My father struck the back of my head sharply with the side of his blade and stars danced in front of my eyes. I crumpled onto my hands and knees and sucked in a sharp breath. I could not cry out in front of my father.

“You need to develop your strength, Cassandra.” He snatched my abandoned sword from the floor next to my head and strode back to the weapons cache. “If you cannot handle a long sword then you will not be able to handle any of the heavier artillery that hunters use. You will not be able to draw the string back on a longbow; you will not be able to raise a reinforced stake.”

I crawled to my feet and drew my shaking palm across my forehead. It came away bloody and drenched. I snarled at my father’s turned back.

“Don’t blame me, girl; I have been training you since birth. You will learn, and learn fast, or you will die on your first mission.” My father, the infamous James Gunns – the greatest hunter in our known world – sneered down at my simpering form and strode past me towards the door. I scurried along behind him. I knew when I was meant to follow and when I was meant to stay put.

“You will shame our name if you are to die at the hands of a bloodsucker or mongrel on your first solo mission. Do not embarrass me, Cassandra.”

I grunted softly in agreement as I trailed in his shadow up the flight of stairs back into the main section of the house, where my mother had dinner set out on the dining table. She hugged me gently and frowned at the thick trail of blood winding its way down my cheek. My father brushed her away as she edged towards me with a damp cloth. “Don’t fuss over her, Louise. A hunter needs no pampering; she needs to learn to fend for herself. A little knock to the head, nothing more. Isn’t that right, Cassandra?”

“Yes father.” I took my seat at the table to the left of my father, laying a small dagger next to my cutlery on the table. “Nothing to worry about, mum. I’m okay.”

Dinner was uneventful, as usual. We prayed over our meals and waited patiently for my father to begin eating before we followed suit. My father regaled us with the tales of his afternoon of hunting – told us of the vampire nests he had single-handedly raided and the demons he had slaughtered in a short number of hours. I rolled my eyes but listened, nevertheless.

What my father didn’t know was that I trailed him most afternoons, sticking to the shadows so he wouldn’t spot me and memorising his tracking tricks and initial approach when faced with numerous enemies. Today, I happened to know that he had only managed to find one vampire to destroy, and she had been blood drunk, so high on the vein of an alcoholic that she could hardly stand, let alone defend herself. But I listened anyway - my father was not a force to be reckoned with, especially if you threatened his reputation.

After dinner, I excused myself and slipped upstairs for a hot shower. My father’s voice rose gradually as my mother neutralised his sharp temper with shots of whisky and bourbon. He would never drink too much though; he needed to be on guard in case an immortal came looking for revenge on the Great Hunter.

There was a brisk knock at the door while I was scrubbing the dried blood from my hair. I couldn’t overhear the hushed voices downstairs, but my father’s booming disapproval roared over the scorching water gliding over my body. Steam whirled around me as I stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around my tingling skin. I unstrapped the dagger from my thigh and shoved it down next to the sink.

‘A hunter is only as good as the weapons he carries. Always sleep with a blade, eat with a blade, even shower with a blade. A bloodsucker or a mongrel will kill you before you can defend yourself. A demon will do worse, especially to you.’ My father’s words were blunt, but wise. On more than one occasion, I had watched my father lunge from his seat on the train and slam his concealed blade into the heart of a demon seducing a young oblivious woman.

I slipped into my charcoal camisole and leggings and threw a fluffy black jacket around my shoulders. My father had disproved of the jacket, but I had argued that I would blend in better against the darkness with more of my ghostly skin concealed. I strapped my dagger back against my thigh and adjusted the blade in the holster, providing a better access angle. I would spend the night studying vampire lore as written by hunters, but it paid to be prepared.

“Cassandra, join us.” My father’s voice bellowed from the lounge below, destroying my evening with those three simple words.

I sighed heavily and lumbered down the stairs and around into the open plan lounge. My parents came into view first, my timid mother’s eyes wide and petrified. My muscles braced, wondering what was causing her tension. I sensed him before I saw him.

The government’s minister of defence perched rigidly on the edge of the ornate armchair next to my father – Desmond, I think his name was. I’d met him several times while training under my father’s instruction, but I’d never once seen him crack a smile. But he wasn’t the one fuelling my tension or causing little bubbles of fear to well up in my mother’s eyes, it was the other one.

A stranger lounged on the sofa before me, his disturbingly sharp features mismatched against the annoying fuzzy warmth of our lounge. The contrast within his face hypnotised me - dark glittery eyes and a pasty white complexion. Vampire – he had that stench. Each of them perched nervously on the edge of their seats, all except the bloodsucker; he leaned back casually against the thick mahogany headrest. “So… Cassandra. Helper of man, I do believe. How quaint.”

I narrowed my eyes fractionally and turned to Desmond, forcing a small smile onto my tight lips. “Nice to see you again, Desmond, Sir. I trust that your family are well?”

Desmond nodded fractionally, his face betraying none of the familiarity he shared with my family. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and glanced at my father. “James?”

My father cleared his throat and my attention shifted to him instantly. I kept one eye on the bloodsucker to my right. ‘Always keep one eye on your allies and the other on your enemy’ as my father would preach.

"I still don't see why he has to be here. They could have sent someone more… alive." He straightened in his chair and scowled at the bloodsucker. “I could stake you through your un-beating heart before you could get out of that chair. Do you think you’d stand a chance?” He bragged - a lot. I sighed. We all knew that he was the greatest vampire hunter that there ever was, and we'd all heard the stories about his bare-handed triumph against clans of bloodsuckers, yatta yatta yatta.

It was all a sham. He had taken out the clan member by member, slinking in the shadows until he could catch each of them alone. Then when there was only a handful left, he’d almost lost his own life taking on the three highest ranking bloodsuckers. Hardly a hero…

Despite my father’s insistence of training me every day, I didn’t approve of his decision to train me solely on his own skills, so I developed my own tactics too. Watching immortal beings fighting amongst themselves, undetected, allowed me to analyse their movements from a safe distance. I learned all of them, incorporating my own twists and additions to locate the weaknesses in the manoeuvres. I would be better than the James Gunns, the Great Hunter.

My father remained silent, glaring at the snarling bloodsucker, and my mother heaved a wailing sob.

“Cassie,” I turned to my trembling and tearful mother; “Cassie, you’re-- you know that we love you no matter what…but…” I brushed her off.

“Who is he?” I asked cautiously, motioning to the halcyon man smiling up at me through the slim hand touched lightly against his forehead. Father smiled fractionally, almost sadistically. He blew out a raspy, exasperated breath.

“Martin Winters. There’s a boarding school up north he works for and they’ve requested a novice hunter to be submitted as a pupil to test their disciplines. You’re as novice as they come.”

I raised my eyebrows and snorted. My father raised his hand to silence me before I could interject. “The immortals have offered to give the government a substantial… grant, if we send you there. And they’ll work with us to prevent the war we’ve been expecting. So you have no choice. You leave at sunset tomorrow.”

I was livid, my hands balling into pale fists as my nails pierced my sweaty palms. Martin's jaw tensed as I drew blood and his eyes glowed a dangerous crimson. Shaking my head stiffly, I murmured a quick and definite, “No”, and pivoted gracefully on the tips of my toes. I stormed from the room.

“You will attend.” I paused in the doorway and glanced over my shoulder to meet my father’s stern gaze. “And there is one more thing you should know, Cassandra. It’s a school for immortals who want to integrate with the human world: werewolves, angels, demons and—“. He struggled to spit the last word, venom coating his voice, “—Vampires.”

I struggled to maintain a straight face, my eyes widening fractionally. I took a deep breath and turned my back to them. “Just try and make me.”