This is your official invitation to join the fun

“What else am I supposed to do?”

“Sit and wait.”

“That’s boring. Since you won’t let me wake her up, I should at least get to look around.”

“You should respect her privacy.”

“If her stuff is so easy to get into, it’s not really private.”

“Good to know.”

“Hey, if anyone can get into my things, they deserve to have a peek inside.”

Sonya lay on her side, tensely relaxed as she listened to the exchange: one soft spoken man and a woman whose voice cracked like fire. Sonya latched her hand around the journal she’d taken out of her bag earlier that morning. Paranoia, suspicion, curiosity; she wasn’t sure which one kept her quiet, kept her watching as a woman opened her drawers, inspected her bathroom, and pulled out her duffle bag.

“You’ll only find dirty clothes in there,” Sonya said at last.

The bed shifted as she sat down next to her. Sonya propped herself up to get a better look at the woman. Bordering between her twenties and thirties, she had short, bright red hair and was as lean and sharp-featured as the knife strapped to her thigh. When Sonya finally got upright, she saw twin snake tattoos traveling up the woman’s arms and disappearing beneath her plain black shirt.

“Evelyn?” Sonya guessed. She turned to her other side where an Asian man stood off to the side. He matched the door in height, had dark brown hair, and soulful eyes that reached into her chest and made her feel sick with sympathetic grief. “Mark?”

He inclined his head but said nothing. She noticed a bullet tied around his neck.

“How did you get in?” she asked Evelyn.

The woman grinned and held up two slim metal tools that looked like something from a dentist’s office.

“She’s not patient,” Mark explained.

Lock-picking—a useful skill. “Will you teach me?”

Evelyn tossed the tools at her and Sonya barely managed to catch them before they hit her in the face. “That can be lesson two,” the older woman said. “But you’ve got a lot of studying to do first.” She reached into a satchel Sonya hadn’t noticed before and pulled out the most beat up book Sonya had ever seen. She used her good arm to take it, barely managing to maintain her grip when she opened it. An index with an impressive list of monsters—most of which she had never heard of—sprawled across several pages. She paused on the term ‘Wendigo’, remembering Keme’s story. Flipping to the right section, she glanced through the information: a demonic creature born from cannibalism. Fourteen points alive, twelve points dead. Different sets of handwriting gave advice on what it took to bait and capture them. The newest entry was messy and pressed so hard she could feel the indent on the next page: Makes a nice scream when burned.

Even without a physical description of the thing, Sonya felt the appetite for breakfast fade as she set the book aside and looked at her mentors. They seemed so expectant, like she was about to hop up on the bed and do a song and dance number ending in fireworks.

Mark moved first, abandoning his corner to come to Evelyn’s side. He tugged her off the bed, pulling her towards the door. “Get dressed,” he ordered Sonya on his way out. “West will check your injuries. We’ll begin after that. Bring the book.”

With that, Sonya was alone again. She moved gingerly, wishing she hadn’t been such an idiot about not getting pain killers. Tugging on some clean clothes, she washed her face of drool and tied her long hair back. Keeping the marked up book in the crook of her waist, she shuffled out into the hall where the two escorted her downstairs to the main hall. She tucked herself behind Mark, using his height to shield herself as half a dozen Hunters passed by, each sizing her up like she was a meal and they were debating over taking a bite.

Evelyn greeted each of them with handshakes that made Sonya’s fingers hurt to watch. Lawrence was tall and broad with sandy hair and a squashed nose that had been broken several times. He gave Sonya a tentative smile and a thumbs up when the others weren’t looking. Juan had a rich tan with curious brown eyes set in a movie star kind of face Sonya could only describe as debonair. He seemed more interested in being seen by Sonya than actually meeting her. Twins Olivia and Viola were even shorter than Evelyn with long, black hair on olive-toned skin. Other than the bandage covering Viola’s upper right arm, Sonya couldn’t find a single variation. They brushed Sonya off, walking straight to Mark with questions about sedatives. Scott was so thin, rubbing his legs together would start a fire. Biting blue eyes behind horn-rimmed glasses cast his already pale, pinched face in a sinister light. He said nothing to her, holding back to observe the scene.

Keme came last. Sonya recognized him even before Evelyn started the introduction. If she hadn’t known his age, she might’ve guessed he was only halfway through High School. With cropped brown hair and copper skin, he was a couple inches shorter than her and had an average build but his face bordered on childish. Except his eyes—they brimmed with apathy.

Sonya gave them each a hesitant smile and a nod. Keme and the twins sneered at her like she was a deformed toy: a doll with a lopsided face and three eyes. Juan gave her a subtle wink and Lawrence took her hand in a hardy shake. Scott remained perfectly poker faced behind his glasses.

None of them asked any questions and she didn’t dare talk out of turn. Not yet. When the other Hunters finally departed, Sonya asked, “Why were they staring at me like that?”

“It’s unusual for someone to decide to stay here,” Evelyn explained. “Unless they’ve already worked as a Hunter, they usually either refuse right away, or take one look at what’s in the basement and run. With you and Keme both signing on as newbies, it’s causing quite a stir.” She grinned, obviously approving Sonya’s choice to stay.

“There are other Hunters? Outside of this place, I mean.”

Evelyn nodded. “Pockets of them all over the world. There might be a few bigger than ours but most work in small groups, selling what they catch to collectors or breaking them up for ingredients.”

Sonya remembered what Damian said about useful benefits. “Do we…?”

“No,” Mark answered. “Captures are kept here. Whatever Jaeger does, it’s not contributing to the market.”

She kept prodding them for information as they walked through a set of hallways, each less decorated than the last.

“Stick to the United States,” Evelyn told her. “Mexico’s got their own system and whenever something crosses over into Canada, it never comes back.” She stared at Sonya to let her know she wasn’t kidding. “Things get freaky up north.”

Sonya jerked her head in a nod, wondering if she should take notes when Evelyn continued, “Bigger cities tend to have resident Hunters so even if we get a tip about something, it’s usually gone by the time we get there. Oh! And stay out of New Orleans. You’d only get in their way.”

Mark snickered under his breath and exchanged a look with Evelyn but neither of them elaborated.

Sonya puffed out her cheeks. She wanted scandalous stories too. “If there are so many Hunters,” Sonya started, “then why are monsters so common?”

“We have police,” Mark said. “FBI, CIA, US Marshals, among many others: all to prevent and fight crime.” He stopped and stared at her. “But crime doesn’t end.”

Evelyn picked up the answer. “Some things we take down have been around for years, centuries, lurking and hiding. Others like vampires and werewolves are always growing in population because they’re born out of humanity. If there weren’t people like us, monster stories wouldn’t be just for entertainment.”

Evelyn and Mark led Sonya to a polished steel door with INFIRMARY written across the center in bolded black. She reached for the handle when it swung open on its own. A woman with short, light brown hair and gray eyes beamed up from a wheelchair. Her toothpick legs and well-muscled arms meant she’d probably been paralyzed for most, if not all, of her life.

“You must be the new girl.”

Sonya, caught off guard by the woman’s friendly embrace, ended up dropping the handbook. She swore dust poofed out when it landed. Scrambling to pick it up again—wincing when she did so—she flushed, nearly feeling the smirks Evelyn and Mark wore.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

The new woman laughed as Mark said, “This is Corinne Paxton.” Under the woman’s withering glare, he amended, “But she prefers Core. She leads our information network.”

“Oh.” This woman was the one who’d rewritten her record and released her from prison. Her “Thank you” didn’t seem adequate.

“It was mostly Carson’s work,” Core said with a wave of her hand. “I just made sure the internet backed up his story. If you ever need any help, just come find me. I’m always in the South Wing.” She winked and wheeled away, humming as she went.

Sonya blinked; the cheery attitude didn’t fit in with everything else she’d seen of this place. Then again, West seemed to have survived intact. When she entered, the doctor stood looking over a clipboard, dressed in jeans and a loose white shirt.

“Thank you for coming, Sonya.”

“It wasn’t a problem.” She smiled, running her fingers through her hair when his back turned for a moment.

“Now I know it’s a little forward considering I haven’t even bought you dinner, but I need you to lift your shirt up for me.”

She turned to look for Mark but the shut door cut her off from both her mentors. Cheeks warm, she obeyed and tugged the bottom of her shirt up to the top of her bandages. He lightly examined her ribs, asking questions about pain and discomfort, ditching awkward small talk altogether. She took the time to look about the room. There were four hospital beds with curtain divides between each of them—the furthest had a shadowed figure behind it.

She recognized the defibrillator on the counter but most of the labeled bottles behind the glass shelving were foreign to her. Her first nursing courses at college would be starting in a few days. A laugh escaped her at the thought.

“Are you ticklish?”

“No, I was just—my mind was wondering.”

West nodded and put her shirt back into place. He moved to her shoulder next, exchanging the bandage. Sonya peeked at the wound; at least it had the decency to look as bad as it felt.

“I thought you were only stabbed once.”

“Huh?” Sonya glimpsed down, confused about what he was talking about. A couple inches down from the bandage, a thick and gnarled scar cut down her arm. She flushed and jerked on her sleeve. “That’s old.” She cleared her throat and adjusted her shirt to make sure the rest of her scars were covered. The last thing she wanted was having the others see her as a victim.

He pulled over a notepad and scribbled a few lines before finishing his examination with her nose. “Can I ask how you got it? The scar?”

“Had a disagreement with a rock.” She managed to keep her voice even though her hands tightened into loose fists.

He didn’t press any further. “I want you to come down here every Saturday so I can keep track of how everything is healing.” He pulled out a bottle of pain killers, and a fresh stack of bandages, instructing her on the proper procedures. “And remember,” he warned. “I know where you sleep so if don’t make your appointments, I’m going to make a very forceful house call.”

Sonya gave a mock salute and heaped the white fabric on top of the handbook. On cue, Evelyn opened the door with an impatient roll of the eyes, a light sheen of sweat on her head betrayed she’d been somewhere else, running from the looks of it. “What’s the verdict?” she asked West.

“Keep everything light and easy for now. It’ll probably be a while until she’s in top condition again. Make sure Thatcher knows what’s off limits.”

Sonya scoffed. Top condition. She could barely run down a city block without getting winded.

She started to thank him, it felt like that was all she’d done since arriving, when Evelyn yanked her out into the hall. “Lesson one, read the entire book. I’ll teach you lock picking tomorrow. I’ve got you covered for bladed weapons, poisons, and escapes. Mark’ll demonstrate guns, baiting tactics, and transport procedure.” She talked and walked at an accelerated pace and Sonya struggled to keep up with everything in her arms. Mark was nowhere in sight.

“Once you’re healed, Thatcher will give you physical training. Core can show you how picking out a job works and Zoe is usually down below if you have any questions about the monsters themselves.” She came to a sudden stop and Sonya almost smashed into her. The older woman crossed her arms lazily in front of her chest as she examined Sonya. “Isaac’s still out on a mission with Christopher and Lucas, but once they get back, you’re going to meet everyone face to face. If you decide this isn’t what you want to do, I suggest leaving before that happens. Understand?”

“Yes.”

Sonya sighed, glaring down at the “handbook”. Just when she thought she’d escaped college, there was another reading assignment.

Pushing the door in, she tossed the book and fresh bandages on an empty counter. She browsed the shelves and fridge. Other than the vegetables and a few foods past their expiration date, everything had a name written on it, and a few of the nicer items had warning labels about what would happen if their food went missing. Not wanting to find out what it felt like to be “fed to a pack of Reavers”, she took a handful of old cookies and unlabeled stew into the dining hall, munching absently as she read through the book.

What had Thatcher injected her with? A-something. She scanned the index, stopping on Adhene. Turning to the right page, she started her studying.

An Adhene was a type of fairy—Sonya had to shake her head at that—mischievous but relatively harmless. It was only worth two points to capture but the few written notes all insisted it wasn’t worth the trouble, citing the Adhene’s love of biting. She didn’t need to read about their venom to know what it did.

She turned to the page on Trackers next. It was everything Thatcher had said about going after female victims, hunting down powers to add to their own. There was a single word on the page: Lethal.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” she muttered. Never would’ve guessed that otherwise.

With a roll of her eyes, she returned to the Wendigo. Keme’s haunted face hung around in her brain. For him to become so devoid of life—she wanted to see what could do that.

Leaving the dishes in the sink, she took the elevator up to her room and dumped everything on her bed. There would be time to study later.

Even after a good night’s rest, the basement gave her the creeps. She stepped cautiously across the stone, not wanting to make too much noise and attract attention. Without any kind of visible sorting, she opened a latch. The creature inside looked like a lab experiment between a snake, a lizard, and a scorpion. Scaly yellow skin, slit nostrils, and a set of thick fangs. It stood on two clawed feet, a long tail curving up behind it that ended with a sharp spike. The spike lashed out and Sonya ducked down, slamming the latch shut and catching the tip of the tail in the door. It roared and she backed off. Opening the latch again would only give that thing space to move.

“What are you doing?” A woman with dark skin barreled down the hallway, her short hair curling tightly around her face to create a sort of halo effect in the light.

“I’m sorry.” Sonya said automatically.

“Not you.” She took hold of the thing’s tail before opening the grate. “You should know better. Attacking a Hunter isn’t going to do you any favors.”

“She ssssmelled wrong.” The thing hissed back, whipping back its tail before the other woman shut and locked the latch.

Sonya blinked a few times, not sure how to respond except with, “Thanks.”

“It’s my job.” She put her hands on her hips and, like everyone else, inspected Sonya. “So, did you come down here for the view?”

It took a second for Sonya to realize she was teasing. “Sort of. Are there any Wendigos down here?”

The woman, Zoe, if Sonya remembered right, raised her eyebrows in question of Sonya’s sanity. “You want to see one of those things?”

“Yes?”

“How is everyone treating you?”

“Good. Everyone’s been nice.”

Zoe chuckled. “You must not have met Isaac and the bitch twins yet.”

Sonya relaxed, smiling with her as they eased into conversation. Zoe told her about the ranking systems, what she fed the various creatures, how each capture was sorted and even what happened to all of the monsters brought in dead: “Things that could be a potential biohazard—like vampire blood—are usually run through the incinerator. Otherwise, we freeze them.”

“Like in the deep freezer in the kitchen?”

“No,” Zoe said with a snort. “Cryogenics. In case we need something on the bodies later.”

“Does that happen often?”

“Often enough. Some creatures have defenses that can help take down bigger targets.” Zoe glanced her over. “I heard Thatcher shot you up with Adhene venom. How was that?”

Sonya’s upper lip curled. “Three days later, and standing up too fast still makes my vision go blurry.”

“That good, huh?” Zoe stopped, her shoulders tensing. “Are you sure you want to look at a Wendigo?”

“I…” Sonya rubbed the back of her neck. She didn’t want to be scared, but the phrase “facing one’s fears” was a massive understatement in this place. “Yeah. I do.”

Zoe shook her head but went up to the latch and slowly slid it open. Sonya stepped closer, her palms sweating as her heart rate spiked.

Shaped somewhat like a man, bone broke through its ashy skin at the spine, shoulders, and ribs. Dark, infected blood congealed around the wounds and she could smell the decay as the beast’s body decomposed even as it breathed. The eyes were sunk deep into its human skull giving the illusion that it had no eyes at all—just empty pits. The emaciated, withering creature stirred, a great sniffing sound ringing in her ears. Patches of the face were tattered, its lower lip nearly torn off, and when it shuffled towards her, she could see bone poking out from the top of a sweaty, hairless head—remnants of antlers.

It reached for her.

The movement was slow, almost pleading like a dog begging for scraps. Even with it locked away, the filthy fingers still on the other side of the solid iron door, her body seized up in terror. It wanted to eat her.

“Wendigos,” Sonya started, her voice faltering, “are supposedly once human, right?”

Zoe shrugged and closed the barrier again. “They’re thankfully not too common but yeah, that’s one of the main theories; they start human but devolve through cannibalism.”

Sonya shuttered, feeling drained and cold. “How are you so used to being down here?”

“I’ve been working for Damian for over four years. I caught a decent number of these things myself. Once you’ve seen them enough, seen them go down enough, they’re not so frightening. And it’s not like I get locked in the room with them.”

Zoe, who came up to Sonya’s shoulder, took Sonya’s hand, leading her back towards the elevator. “It’s supposed to be your official welcome dinner tonight. You ready?”

“Of course.” I’m not. She smiled, attempting to mask how disturbed she felt. If she hadn’t already decided to jump down this insane rabbit hole, she’d be sprinting for her car. But being here might help her find out more about what the Tracker’s last words meant, about what she was. And if it didn’t, she could do more good working under Damian than she could stuck in medical school for another handful of years.

“I’ll see you later then,” Zoe said, interrupting her thoughts. “I’ve still got some work to do.” She ambled down the corridor, leaving Sonya to herself.

The trip to her room was blissfully isolated. Once inside, she shoved her dresser up against the door so Evelyn wouldn’t catch her by surprise. She went straight to her pillow where the journal and her mother’s toe tag were still stashed. Not the best hiding place, but she had her eye on an air duct.

Flopping out on the bed, she turned to the first page of her journal, her mother’s toe tag still marking the spot. She took her time, staring at each word like the letters would magically switch into English. Though she hadn’t managed to decipher any of the main passages, this first page seemed to be a title or preface—a clue to what the whole thing meant. She flipped through the section, pausing at the occasional diagram or hand-drawn picture, each lined with text. Two-thirds the way through the book, she finally stumbled upon the first words she recognized. In impossibly perfect cursive, English mirrored a list of the foreign words. Further on, a pronunciation guide completed the book.

Two manuals to study now.

She flipped to the front and traced a finger along the first word before turning back to find out what it meant.

Power.

Her muscles tensed. She felt like someone was holding out a weapon towards her. Whether it was to use on others or be used on her, she couldn’t tell. Placing her hand on the page, a current pulsed through her fingers and up her arm. Power.

“Mark?” She stuffed the book under a pile of her dirty clothes. “Just a second!” Hauling the dresser away from the door, she checked the room. She arranged the clothes into a single, large pile before finally opening the door, resting a hand on the frame to try and appear relaxed.

“Are you all right?”

“Of course.”

His eyes narrowed skeptically before he nodded. “The swelling’s down. That’s good.”

Sonya gently touched her nose which had been triple its usual size at the end of last night. It felt almost normal now.

“Did you want something, Mark?”

“The other Hunters,” he said, face as straight as ever. “Come meet them.”

She pulled out her phone to check the time. She hadn’t realized it was so late. “I’m not hungry, and my side’s starting to hurt again. Maybe tomorrow morning.”

“Meet them now,” he advised. “Or be labeled a coward.”

“I’m—I’m not…” But she was a coward. Compared to the people around her, who wouldn’t be?

Mark paused before taking a single step into the room. He didn’t smile but his face held understanding. For the first time, she noticed a wedding band on his ring finger. “You’re not alone.”

Sonya nodded and he gestured out the door. He made her walk in front but kept pace behind her the whole way down to the atrium. She could hear the same laughing chatter from the door by the stairs she’d heard the night before. Lasagna for dinner.

“They’re all in there.” It was more statement than question.

“Everyone but us,” Mark confirmed.

“Right.” She inched closer, gathering up her nerve. A large part of her would’ve preferred having a one-on-one chat with the Wendigo. She pushed through the door to a long rectangular room with a polished walnut table that could sit forty people with ease. Two chandeliers hung from the ceiling, each dripping with crystal. Windows lined one long wall and paintings covered the other. Jostling bodies filled the room as they joked and handed food back and forth.

It was mostly men in their late twenties and older with a handful of women mixed in—she spotted Thatcher and West in what looked like a heated debate with Lawrence and a man she hadn’t met yet. Core and Kelvin sat on either side of Damian at the head of the table.

Mark cleared his throat and pushed her forward. The clinks of glass and silverware were replaced by snickers when she stumbled. Blushing, she straightened too fast and her ribs throbbed. She refused to wince.

“You like lasagna?” Thatcher asked at last. “Nick makes the best garlic bread.”

“Sounds delicious.” She glanced around for a moment before Zoe caught her eye and waved her over. Sonya only made it halfway before one of the men stood up to block her path. He was tall and lean with short ginger hair. His face was flat, almost squashed. And he was not happy to see her.

“Leave her alone, Isaac.” West stood up, leaning over with his hands planted on the table.

“I’m not going to do anything to her,” Isaac brushed him off. He stalked closer and walked a circle around her in the tight space. “You’ve got your work cut out for you, Thatcher.” He looked Sonya right in the eyes when he said, “This one’s… softer than our usual trainees.”

Sonya wanted to knock the smug expression off his face but before she could say anything, Core chimed in with an overly sweet voice.

“Don’t forget that she brought down a Tracker by herself. What’s the highest ranking thing you’ve ever taken down alone?”

Strained laughter echoed in the room and Isaac shot her a glare. “A fluke,” he dismissed. “I’m sure that by the end of the year, she’ll be exposed.”

“By who?” Core asked. “You?”

“I’m not completely cruel. We should give her an equal challenge. Keme’ll take her on, won’t you?” Keme nodded. The expression he gave Sonya felt like he was baiting a trap made just for her.

“This isn’t fair,” West objected. “She took serious injuries.”

Isaac waved him off. “As everyone keeps telling me, she brought down a Tracker. I’m sure that if she’s as great as you think she is, she could sit back till December and still win. Keme’s only got a Wendigo under his belt, after all.”

Zoe and Mark came to her defense but Isaac flat out ignored them, backed up by the twins and Kelvin. A few others joined in the argument though most of the other Hunters seemed entertained by the growing divide. Sonya remained quiet, watching them all. The longer the debate went on, the more of them agreed with Isaac’s sentiment that the Tracker was due to luck. She couldn’t blame them. They weren’t wrong.

Damian picked up a spoon and tapped it against his wineglass. The soft clinking brought an intimidating silence. “I believe it’s Miss Fletcher’s turn to speak.”

Sonya stepped up to Isaac and asked, “What are the stakes?”

Isaac looked surprised, as though she’d been missing a tongue up to that moment. “Stakes?”

“What do I get if I beat your protégé?”

“What do you want?” His chin tilted up until he literally looked down his nose at her.

Sonya considered the question. She wanted to be strong. She wanted to be able to read that damned book and understand what she was. She wanted the others to give her a chance. But more than anything—

“With your permission, Mr. Jaeger,” She nodded to him. “If I win, I never have to work downstairs. Ever.”

Isaac laughed. “Aww, do the chained up monsters scare you?” He ruffled her hair like she was a toddler and she snatched his hand, holding it in a vice grip. At first, he scoffed but when he failed to pull away, she squeezed. His wince satisfied her and she let go. “Fine. And when you lose,” he said, “you’ll live down there with them for the year.”

Mark came up behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder; she felt the warning in his touch. “Keme’s already trained.” He might as well have screamed at her not to take the bet.

“You should pay attention to your mentor, Fletcher,” Isaac prompted. “It’s okay to admit how weak you are.”

Weak. Admit you’re weak.

Like hell.

Even if that puzzle of a book wasn’t what she hoped, she could still pull it off. She would earn her place here. Pushing past Isaac, she leaned over the table, taking Keme’s hand in a firm shake. “We have a deal.”