My alarm interrupts my deep sleep and I awake with a jolt, slamming my palm against the snooze button and tossing the comforter off of my body hastily. 5:30am. Too early for most people to be awake, but today isn’t a normal day. It’s the last day of practice for the Famine Festival, a widespread sporting event in which my group The Exterminators will track down and destroy all paranormal threats in our small town of Winchester, Minnesota. Yeah, it’s kind of a big deal.
We’ve been training for this all year, destroying Lycans, Faewitches, and Taranticulas with a combination of specialized weapons and superior hunting skills. The Famine Festival has a long and complicated history among the humans of our town, and it’s an honor to be considered one of the top contenders for the winning prize. I’ve worked hard and taken this job seriously — I haven’t missed a single practice and I’m currently tied for the most werewolves taken out. I simply have to win. It’s the only way I’ll be able to repay my mother’s long-standing medical debt and put her mind at ease.
I lean against my bathroom sink and gaze into the mirror at my ragged reflection. A long pink scar runs across my cheek and my medium-length brown hair looks stringy and dull. I haven’t been eating well lately; just downing whatever sustenance I can get between scrimmages. I spit my toothpaste out, wipe my mouth, and glance down at my cell phone. Four text messages and two missed calls from Angie.
Angie is my best friend. She’s my training partner, my confidant, my biggest supporter and also the person who consistently gives me the most shit. I need it though, it keeps me on my toes. She’s also perpetually early and if I’m not — then I’m late. I rummage through my laundry basket as fast as I can and slip on a black tank top and a pair of faded black leather pants. My hunting belt is draped over the computer chair and I lift it up and buckle it snugly around my waist. A girl can’t go anywhere without thirteen knives, a revolver, a smoke bomb, a bundle of rope, some gloves, and electrolytes.
After gulping down a glass of orange juice, I slam the door of my apartment and lock the door. Heading down the hallway, I wonder what sort of exercises we’ll be working on today. I’ve been struggling a bit with my cardio so I speed up to a light jog and decide against driving my beat up Camry to the training grounds. My phone buzzes in my back pocket but I ignore it. Angie can wait the ten minutes it will take me to run a mile and a half.
The Exterminator headquarters is located just outside the town, separated from the businesses and establishments by a dense pine forest that stretches about a mile across. A winding pine needle path weaves its way through the woods and it’s become one of my favorite runs. The crisp morning air feels great on my bare skin and the crunch of my combat boots against the forest floor is a rhythmic and familiar sound.
I round the final corner and the clearing lies ahead of me. A few Exterminators dressed all in black are standing around talking to each other, jogging in place and stretching. Angie looks up and jogs over to me, a look of frustration on your face.
“God, Bianca, could you seriously be any later?” Her voice drops to a whisper. “Every minute I have to spend here alone with him is another moment I want to die.” Angie is nothing if not dramatic.
“Dude, it’s 5:47am. The sun isn’t fully up, and practice doesn’t even start until six.” I’m winded but not too out-of-breath to engage in conversation. “Besides, I thought you said he was growing on you?”
“I changed my mind. Rex has gone from flattering to creepy and if I catch him staring at my boobs one more time I may actually cut his eyes out of his skull with my pocketknife.”
Angie wraps her arm around my shoulders and we walk slowly toward the rest of the group. She is utterly gorgeous and nearly always the object of some
We’ve been training for this all year, destroying Lycans, Faewitches, and Taranticulas with a combination of specialized weapons and superior hunting skills. The Famine Festival has a long and complicated history among the humans of our town, and it’s an honor to be considered one of the top contenders for the winning prize. I’ve worked hard and taken this job seriously — I haven’t missed a single practice and I’m currently tied for the most werewolves taken out. I simply have to win. It’s the only way I’ll be able to repay my mother’s long-standing medical debt and put her mind at ease.
I lean against my bathroom sink and gaze into the mirror at my ragged reflection. A long pink scar runs across my cheek and my medium-length brown hair looks stringy and dull. I haven’t been eating well lately; just downing whatever sustenance I can get between scrimmages. I spit my toothpaste out, wipe my mouth, and glance down at my cell phone. Four text messages and two missed calls from Angie.
Angie is my best friend. She’s my training partner, my confidant, my biggest supporter and also the person who consistently gives me the most shit. I need it though, it keeps me on my toes. She’s also perpetually early and if I’m not — then I’m late. I rummage through my laundry basket as fast as I can and slip on a black tank top and a pair of faded black leather pants. My hunting belt is draped over the computer chair and I lift it up and buckle it snugly around my waist. A girl can’t go anywhere without thirteen knives, a revolver, a smoke bomb, a bundle of rope, some gloves, and electrolytes.
After gulping down a glass of orange juice, I slam the door of my apartment and lock the door. Heading down the hallway, I wonder what sort of exercises we’ll be working on today. I’ve been struggling a bit with my cardio so I speed up to a light jog and decide against driving my beat up Camry to the training grounds. My phone buzzes in my back pocket but I ignore it. Angie can wait the ten minutes it will take me to run a mile and a half.
The Exterminator headquarters is located just outside the town, separated from the businesses and establishments by a dense pine forest that stretches about a mile across. A winding pine needle path weaves its way through the woods and it’s become one of my favorite runs. The crisp morning air feels great on my bare skin and the crunch of my combat boots against the forest floor is a rhythmic and familiar sound.
I round the final corner and the clearing lies ahead of me. A few Exterminators dressed all in black are standing around talking to each other, jogging in place and stretching. Angie looks up and jogs over to me, a look of frustration on your face.
“God, Bianca, could you seriously be any later?” Her voice drops to a whisper. “Every minute I have to spend here alone with him is another moment I want to die.” Angie is nothing if not dramatic.
“Dude, it’s 5:47am. The sun isn’t fully up, and practice doesn’t even start until six.” I’m winded but not too out-of-breath to engage in conversation. “Besides, I thought you said he was growing on you?”
“I changed my mind. Rex has gone from flattering to creepy and if I catch him staring at my boobs one more time I may actually cut his eyes out of his skull with my pocketknife.”
Angie wraps her arm around my shoulders and we walk slowly toward the rest of the group. She is utterly gorgeous and nearly always the object of some
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