Ryleth is the first one to meet me when the night of the hunt comes.

He stands across the way from my stepfather’s house and when I descend the tree in our yard and walk towards him, he raises his hand in greeting. I cannot see his face beneath the black harlequin mask that glitters wickedly in the light of the moon, but I recognize his long coat and the expensive-looking bow and quiver of arrows he keeps slung over his shoulder.

We walk together down the gentle slope that leads to the house where the Alpendanes once lived. Ryleth stands watch as I slip between houses and retrieve my axe and other necessities from the cellar door where they’re always kept. The space seems so much larger without any of Thomasin’s things, but I don’t let myself linger on the thought for very long. I equip my tools, find a comfortable hold in which to carry my weapon and adjust my mask by its beak for good measure.

The first to meet up with us are Burdock and Evvie. Now that I know their identities, they are unmistakable as they approach. It is hard to make out their faces beneath the cover of their balaclavas, but Evvie’s round cheeks raise and her eyes go narrow with the signs of a smile. Burdock, being a man of few words, just nods at us.

“Will there be anyone else?” Evvie asks, her voice muffled by the cloth.

Ryleth shakes his head, though the smiling face of his mask remains eerily the same.

“We’re expecting one more, he says. “Let’s head for the slums to meet her.”

It is never a good idea to hunt in the slums. Even with Thomasin, I never had the courage to venture too far into the narrow alleys and dilapidated buildings. It was far too easy for an ambush there and the only possible way to navigate safely was in a group.

But even as we wind our way down Naver’s wider streets, things are surprisingly secure. Ryleth and myself take the lead, walking beside one another and behind us, Burdock takes the rear with Evvie perched on his shoulder backwards, keeping watch. This formation proves to be helpful soon enough, as we come across our first targets of the night.

I am the first to notice them. Three in total, pacing along the front of a locked up stable that connects to a house. They can hear the unmistakable sound of horses inside, stamping their hooves and snorting anxiously. One bumps against the wooden exterior to test its strength and in turn, gets nipped by the largest of them in a sign of dominance.

None of them have blonde curls or blue eyes. All three are skeletal-thin and the only hair that remains anywhere is sparse, white and wispy. They seem to be much older, existing long before Thomasin turned. I feel relieved, then look to my companions to see what our plan should be.

Evvie has turned to face forward, letting her legs hang on either side of Burdock’s neck. She rubs her chin thoughtfully, then flicks her hand toward Ryleth and I in a gesture that can only be read as ‘go ahead’.

I shift my axe into both hands and find the most comfortable grip possible, while Ryleth slides his bow off his shoulder and begins to notch an arrow he drew from his quiver. The pointed end catches a patch of moonlight and glints silver; he must have done his own fletching to create such a dangerous (not to mention expensive) tool from such a specific material.

He is the first to attack. It only takes one sturdy pull of the bowstring, a sharp intake of breath and the release. The projectile whistles as it soars forward and it lodges itself into the chest cavity of one of the smaller monstrosities. Such precise aim, matched with the effectiveness of silver, proves to be fatal. The vampire hasn’t even had time to react when it implodes into a congealed mess of gore that splatters the pavement and its bedfellows.

The other two look stunned, obviously caught off-guard by the instant disappearance of their third member. But their attention turns to us and they snarl, stalking forward like predators.

My turn.

With the largest in the front, I decide to take it down first. The rush of adrenaline that I feel makes my feet push faster, my arm swinging harder. In turn, the beast makes a mad lunge at me and opens its maw to reveal infected purple gums and fangs like a mortician’s needle.

The first swing brings a blow that caves in the left side of its face. There is a sickening crack of bones and teeth that makes me grimace in disgust. While the injury manages to momentarily incapacitate the vampire, however, it is still snapping a broken jaw at me, hissing and thrashing against the blade of my axe.

From my peripheral vision, the movement of the second creature alerts me to act quickly. Still holding the axe handle and in turn, the thing whose face it is lodged into, I free one hand to reach into my pocket and produce a long strand of black vesicular beads. The sight of the rosary makes the other vampire freeze in its tracks, its eyes widening in horror upon the tiny dragon pendant hewn in red stone that twirls on the end. It stumbles back a bit, spitting angrily and glaring, allowing me to deal with the corpse that continues to fight against my axe in its face.

It takes one quick yank to free the blade from flesh and bone. Thick blood has slowly formed around the wound, but it is sticky and does not freely flow like that of a living being. I bring the axe down again, this time cleaving the vampire’s arm completely off its shoulder. One handed, the chop is not strong enough to make my prey fall, but its knees do buckle and it staggers, swiping out desperately for me.

I move in such a way that its claws just barely miss my free hand and the small collision knocks the Goddess’s rosary straight from my hands. I hear it hit the ground and slide a few feet and unfortunately, so does the unharmed vampire. Its wild eyes move from the fallen religious symbol, to me and it screeches loudly. I’m still holding off my one-armed foe, keeping it at bay by using the silver end of my axe and a few hard shoves. But there is nothing I can do to stop the oncoming thing that is rushing me from the side.

One of my arms raises instinctively and while I do have an arm guard to shield myself from a bite, I do not know how well it will do against two different sets of teeth intent on ripping me apart. The bump against my elbow is rather underwhelming, though, and when I dare to sneak a glance, I understand why.

The curved tip of a halberd has pierced through the vampire’s chest from the back, but not close enough to the heart to cause the shambling corpse to burst. With the spear’s end sticking out just around the collarbone and to the right, the vampire is easily lifted off its feet with the weapon as the person wielding it raises the staff.

Vara can’t see me grin beneath my mask even if she was looking at me, but maybe that’s for the best. She is focused upon the thing that is writhing and kicking on the end of her halberd, its hands scraping at the sharp end to desperately try to free itself. With one seamless swing, she brings the creature crashing down to the cobblestone. Her blade slices through and cuts straight through the heart.

The rain of blood that follows is the messiest yet, but I can’t stop watching as the courtesan gives her spear one hard shake to remove the gore from the curved end. Her clothes are tight, save for the scarlet cowl that is tied at her neck with the hood worn up and the thin veil that covers the bottom-half of her face. When she looks up at me, the fabric crinkles against the strain of a smile, but it is gone as soon as her eyes flicker past me.

I look back just in time to avoid another swipe from my poor mutilated foe. He is no threat at all in such a state, but I deal with him quickly. I swing vertically down and his chest is flayed open like raw meat, allowing easy access to the unbeating heart that lies inside. Another sickening squelch, another pop of blood and it’s all over.

Vara leans her halberd over one shoulder and greets me in earnest now.

“Fayne?”

I nod to confirm, looking from her surprisingly long weapon, to her attire, to even the shape of her eyes against her shrouds. It doesn’t feel like I am looking at the same whore that kissed me and walked so freely without clothes on. I can’t tell if that is the true Vara or if this is, but regardless, I am happy to have her on my side.

“This is our last one.” comes Ryleth’s voice from behind us.

Burdock grunts and Evvie cheerfully pipes up with a friendly hello. Vara regards them somewhat warily, her eyes taking careful surveillance while staying close to my side. Ryleth offers a very rushed introduction for the unfamiliar members of our party. It is purposefully kept short and sweet, because we resume our patrol straight afterwards and move throughout the kingdom’s streets.

In the following hours, we find ourselves to be quite busy. Beast after beast is exterminated at our hands and we remain organized by taking turns and carefully watching each other’s techniques or memorizing the weapons they carry with them.

I find out that Burdock favors war-hammers, the likes of which I’ve never seen. He swings them with ease, using the blunt end to smash skulls or the pointed back to pierce between eyes or into hearts.

Evvie is not only an acrobat as she bounds off walls, flips and jumps between enemies. She is also a skilled tactician, able to shout orders and directions when we are in a bind and the resulting effects are always successful.

Vara and Ryleth fight at a distance, with projectiles and long weapons to keep them from harm’s way. Both show an equal amount of skill and precision that one can only gain with years of experience and practice.

All four of my newfound companions are powerful in their own ways and when it comes to me, I do my best to stay on their level. I can’t decide whether or not I am doing well; nobody says anything about my kills. No complaints but also no praise. That is to be expected, though, I suppose. After all, the hunt is not a time for socializing.

The sky lightens to a dark periwinkle as we loop through the west end of town without any trouble and make our way north. Dawn is not far off and thus far, our kill count ranges somewhere around twelve or thirteen (Ryleth argues that it’s actually fourteen, but we shrug him off over the assumption that he is overcompensating).

Passing through the kingdom’s empty market forces us to cross paths with a trio of other hunters. The ground around them is covered in carnage, leading me to assume that they have already made the sweep here. I raise my hand in a silent acknowledgement and they nod, but their masked faces turn to watch us go. I can’t see their expressions but I can only assume the sight of such a large hunting party is not only abnormal but also suspicious. Nevertheless, they leave us to our own devices and we freely walk the perimeter back to the eastern side of the kingdom.

There is nothing this way, as we quickly find out. Burdock silently points out a human-shaped blood spatter that drips down along the front of an inn’s wall, but we decide to keep going and see if anything has wandered back or was previously missed.

We are just about ready to call it a night when the screaming of a man rips through the air and sends us bolting in the direction from which it came. Ryleth mutters something about how it’s too late for an attack, that any beast that lingers out so close to sunrise doesn’t have a drop of sense left in it. I decide not to bring up the horde that Thomasin, Silas and I had seen last time and how they stuck around far longer than most would. The less time we waste talking, the better.

Another scream leads us to round the corner at the end of the street and arrive on the scene seemingly just in time.

It takes a moment for me to realize what exactly I am looking at. What first appears to be a tall mass of thrashing shifts a bit to the side and reveals itself to actually be two figures that are struggling with one another. One holds the other aloft by its neck, causing them to kick and thrash. It’s a hauntingly familiar scene that floods me with fear and it only gets worse when I recognize the creature that is doing the strangling.