Lovehunter

Argonath's Monster Hunter’s Academy did not issue diplomas. No parchment tied with ribbon, no ceremonial cap, and no proud parent waited near the gates to embrace a graduate. The Academy considered celebration premature until a hunter had survived his first year in the field.

Most did not.

Instead, graduates received a leather satchel containing basic supplies, a field commission stamped by the Academy, and an itemized statement of everything they still owed.

Elias Greaves stared at his final tuition statement.

“This cannot possibly be correct.” Elias gasped.

Nora Finch leaned over his shoulder.

“Seven hundred crowns?”

“Seven hundred and forty-two.” Elias corrected,

“You were here five years.”

“I know.”

“You ate every day.”

“Usually.”

“You destroyed two crossbows.”

“One was defective.”

“You shot Instructor Malvar with it.”

“That was how we discovered the defect.”

Nora nodded.

“Fair.”

Elias folded the statement and shoved it into his coat.

Fourteen graduates stood in the courtyard beneath a gray morning sky. The Academy surrounded them on three sides: dark stone, narrow windows, and towers built during a period when architects apparently disliked sunlight.

Elias had spent five years there.

Five years learning how to identify werewolves by their tracks, vampires by their feeding habits, ghosts by temperature changes, and demons by whichever horrible thing happened after somebody ignored the warning signs.

He had learned swordsmanship...poorly.

Archery...adequately.

Alchemy...with several formal warnings.

His final evaluation described him as competent under controlled circumstances.

Elias had considered having it framed.

“Greaves.” A voice called out.

He looked up. Dorian Vale stood several places ahead of Elias. Dorian's uniform was immaculate. His black field coat carried silver clasps, polished buttons, and the red shoulder braid reserved for the Academy's highest-ranked graduate. A silver sword hung from his hip.

Elias looked at his own coat.

One button was missing.

“What?” Elias asked.

Dorian smiled.

“I was wondering if you intended to wear that in public.”

“I am currently wearing it in public.”

“That was my concern.”

Nora covered a laugh with a cough.

Dorian ignored her.

The instructors had started calling him the Vala Slayer during his fourth year, after he killed a vala that had terrorized three villages.

Dorian had made certain everyone else started calling him that too. Elias preferred Dorian, because it required fewer syllables.

Headmaster Byrum stepped onto the courtyard platform.

Conversation stopped.

Byrum was tall, thin, and old enough that no student knew exactly how long he had been headmaster. Rumors suggested forty years. Other rumors suggested eighty.

One student claimed Byrum had personally trained the first monster hunter.

That student had failed History.

Byrum placed both hands on the lectern.

“You survived.”

Silence.

Byrum looked over the graduates.

“I admit there were moments when several members of the faculty believed this outcome unlikely.”

His eyes stopped briefly on Elias.

Elias frowned.

Nora whispered, “He means you.”

“I know.”

“You should look proud.”

“I’m trying.”

“You look constipated.”

“Thank you.”

Byrum continued.

“You have endured five years of instruction. You have studied the creatures that prey upon mankind. You have learned how to track them, confront them, and, when necessary, destroy them.”

He paused.

“You have also learned why running remains an acceptable tactical decision.”

Elias nodded approvingly.

Finally, something useful.

Byrum looked toward Dorian.

“It is customary for the highest-ranked graduate to address the class.”

Elias closed his eyes.

“Oh, no.”

Dorian stepped forward.

“Fellow hunters.”

Nora whispered, “Here it comes.”

Dorian placed one hand behind his back.

“When we first entered these gates, we were children.”

“We were eighteen,” Elias whispered.

“Quiet.”

“We were frightened,” Dorian continued. “Undisciplined. Ignorant of the horrors waiting beyond these walls.”

He slowly surveyed his classmates.

“Some among us overcame those limitations.”

His gaze settled on Elias.

“Others learned to compensate.”

Dorian continued.

“I entered this Academy with one purpose. I intended to become the finest hunter of my generation.”

“Modest,” Nora whispered.

“I have slain a vala. I have faced revenants. I have hunted creatures whose names most men fear to speak.”

Elias leaned toward Nora.

“He rehearsed this.”

“Definitely.”

“Mirror?”

“Several.”

Dorian's voice rose.

“Today, we leave this place as defenders of mankind. Remember what you are. We do not negotiate with monsters. We do not pity them. We do not hesitate because something wearing a beautiful face asks for mercy.”

That caught Elias's attention.

Dorian rested his hand upon his sword.

“Monsters survive because good men hesitate.”

His expression hardened.

“I will not.”

The courtyard remained quiet.

Dorian smiled.

“I am Dorian Vale. Vala Slayer. Wherever darkness gathers, I will meet it.”

Elias raised his hand.

Dorian stared at him.

“What?”

“Are you finished?”

Nora made a choking sound.

Dorian stepped down.

“I look forward to reading your death notice, Greaves.”

“Assuming you can find someone willing to write something that isn't about you.”

Headmaster Byrum returned to the lectern.

“Thank you, Mr. Vale.”

His expression suggested otherwise.

“One final administrative matter.”

Several students groaned.

Byrum lifted a stack of papers.

“Tuition.”

Elias immediately became attentive.

“Some of you appear to believe graduation terminates your financial obligations to the Academy.”

Elias slowly raised his hand.

Byrum looked at him.

“No.”

“I haven't asked anything.”

“You were going to.”

“I might have had a different question.”

“You didn't.”

Elias lowered his hand.

Byrum continued.

“Your repayment schedules begin thirty days from today. Field commissions, bounties, and government contracts may be applied directly toward outstanding balances.”

Nora raised her hand.

“What happens if we die?”

Byrum looked almost pleased.

“Excellent question.”

Elias leaned forward.

Byrum folded his hands.

“Only death will cancel your student loans.”

Several graduates relaxed.

Byrum continued.

“Unfortunately, I mean mine.”

Silence.

“If I die, the Academy's Board of Trustees may review the policy.”

Elias stared at him.

“So if we die?”

“Your debt passes to your estate.”

“That seems unnecessarily cruel.”

“You attended Monster Hunter’s Academy, Mr. Greaves. Cruelty was included in the prospectus.”

Byrum closed his ledger.

“Congratulations.”

Assignments followed.

One by one, graduates approached the instructors and received their first contracts.

Nora received reports of a possible poltergeist troubling an innkeeper outside Bellweather.

“Poltergeist,” Elias said. “Nice.”

“I know.”

“Throw some salt around, yell at a chair, collect fifty crowns.”

“Try not to get eaten.”

“No promises.”

Dorian received three contracts.

Of course he did.

Finally, Instructor Malvar approached Elias.

Malvar carried a sealed envelope.

“Greaves.”

“Sir.”

Malvar handed it over.

The wax seal showed a skull pierced by a silver blade.

Elias broke it.

His smile disappeared.

CASTLE RED MERCY

Confirmed Vampire Presence

He read further.

“Lady Seraphine?”

Malvar nodded.

Elias looked at him.

“The Lady Seraphine?”

“Yes.”

“The vampire?”

“That generally follows from the phrase confirmed vampire presence.”

Elias lowered the paper.

“She’s ancient.”

“Correct.”

“She has killed hunters.”

“Several.”

“How many?”

Malvar considered it.

“Enough that we've stopped engraving individual memorial plaques.”

Elias stared at him.

“You're sending me?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Malvar smiled.

“Consider it an opportunity.”

“To do what?”

“Surprise us.”

That evening, Elias packed.

Silver dagger.

Crossbow.

Twelve bolts.

Three stakes.

Holy water.

Garlic.

He looked at the garlic.

The Academy handbook stated that garlic had no proven effect on vampires.

Elias packed it anyway.

At worst, he could cook with it.

He found Nora waiting outside the dormitory.

“You heard?” he asked.

“Everyone heard.”

“Good. I was worried my impending death lacked publicity.”

She handed him a flask.

Elias drank.

It was terrible.

“What is this?”

“Brandy.”

“This is furniture polish.”

“Cheap brandy.”

He drank again.

Nora watched him.

“You don't have to go.”

“Yes, I do.”

“No. You really don't.”

Elias fastened his satchel.

“If I refuse my first assignment, Dorian will talk about it for the next forty years.”

“You could be alive for those forty years.”

“Exactly. I'd have to listen to him.”

Nora laughed.

Then her expression softened.

“Come back, Elias.”

He nodded.

“I intend to.”

Morning found him standing outside the Academy gates.

The road north disappeared into low mist.

Beyond it waited the Vexing Woods.

Beyond those waited Castle Red Mercy.

And somewhere inside that castle waited an ancient vampire who had already killed better hunters than Elias Greaves.

He checked his crossbow.

Checked his silver.

Checked his stakes.

Then looked at his student loan statement.

Seven hundred and forty-two crowns.

Elias sighed.

“Seraphine might actually be the cheaper option.”

He then stepped through the gates. Three days later, wet, hungry, scratched, and thoroughly sick of the Vexing Woods, Elias saw Castle Red Mercy for the first time. Its black towers rose above the trees. One window burned with warm candlelight. Elias stopped.

Someone stood behind the glass. It was a woman.

She was apparently watching him, and then the light went out.