— Abraham Grimveil, “Facing the Darkness: A Hunter’s Manual,” page 1
It was near.
Mina crossed over the railroad tracks and into the creature’s territory. Large, thick webs buried the shadowed forest. Bulbous sacks of silk dotted the ground like mushroom clusters. She could burn them later. First, she needed to find the mother, but it was easier said than done. Silkfangs were adept at hiding, with a natural coating that blended them into the environment.
There were no signs of the creature as Mina ventured further. She emerged into a clearing where the webbed trees parted, and sunlight spilled in. The air here was warmer, and the stench of death stronger. The mother was somewhere in the tree line, invisible even to her eyes. She needed to lure it out.
Casually, Mina walked into the sunlight and waited.
Birds moved against the bright sky.
A distant train whistle sounded through the air.
Mina’s hand hovered over the hilt of the sword hanging from her hip.
A faint rustle broke the stillness.
Then, a jolt of pain exploded from Mina’s shoulder, and blood sprayed onto the grass behind her, but she didn’t flinch. Something pointed and hard and invisible had punched through her, keeping her pinned in place. Ahead, a refracting shape emerged from the treeline. It’s pearlescent sheen gave way to the rough texture of hair like steel spikes. It rose with great knobbed joints high above it’s back, and claws tipping its eight monstrous limbs, one of which bridged Mina to the creature. The Silkfang snapped its chelicerae menacingly, fangs dripping with poison. Slowly, it drew closer.
Mina grinned.
There you are.
Her sword hissed in its sheath, and the monster reeled back. Green blood oozed from the stub of it’s leg as Mina ripped the dismembered limb from her shoulder. The wound knit itself in an instant. Before the Silkfang could surge at her in fury, she drew a revolver from her other hip. The bullet punched the arachnid’s bulbous abdomen and sent it scurrying away through the brush, violently rustling the branches above.
Mina took chase. When she cornered the creature in a clearing, the Silkfang twisted around with extraordinary agility and brandished its pointed limbs and mandibles. Mina ducked under them easily and sliced the front two clean off. Green blood sprayed across her trench coat as she pivoted back out of harm’s way.
Another train whistle pierced the air. The distant chug of a steam locomotive rumbled through the forest.
Mina fired her last bullet and seared the Silkfang’s thorax. The monster staggered, legs buckling. Yet it surged forward, hissing, slashing wildly. Mina danced back, leading the beast onto the tracks.
The ground trembled as the locomotive roared closer, its headlamp cutting through the morning mist. The Silkfang, weakened but relentless, lunged at Mina. She threw out her hand, and fire erupted from her palm to hold the creature back. It’s chitin crunched with a sickening sound as the train barreled through the monster. Green ooze exploded everywhere as the creature’s abdomen burst.
The train roared past, its wind kicking up Mina’s tailcoat and swirling her snow-white hair. She stood there for a moment with a satisfied grin, having barely broken a sweat. Mina strode beside the rumbling tracks, weapons still in hand, to the mangled Silkfang. It hissed weakly, it’s chelicerae twitching as it desperately tried crawling away, but it was fruitless.
A single slash severed its throax, and a pool of green blood leaked out onto the grass. The train’s whistle faded, leaving only the forest’s eerie quiet. Mina stared down at the kill, carefully wiping the insectoid toxin from her sword before sheathing it. Even with the monster dead, her work was far from over. The webbing the arachnid had left behind would need to be carefully burned, and the egg sacs destroyed.
Surveying the area, she caught sight of a particularly large cocoon dangling from a high branch. It was too long and narrow to be any forest animal, and as she cut it down, her suspicions were proven right. It was a man in a vibrant waistcoat, his eyes wide and face frozen in terror.
Mina’s fingers tightened around the hilt of her sword. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, and knelt beside him to close his eyes. If she had gotten here sooner, perhaps he would have lived. It was no use crying over spilled milk, though. She would take him back to the town and let the people there identify him. It was the least she could do.
Mina walked into Linchester with her gelding, Gilmore.
The Silkfang’s thorax and the man’s body were both slung over the horse’s back, wrapped in cloth. A large, wet stain had formed on the underside, occasionally dripping green icor onto the road and staining Gilmore's white-as-snow coat. She walked stolidly, neither hurrying nor loafing as she led the horse by the bridle. The wide brim of her hat largely concealed her expression, casting her face in shadow, and like the horse, her hair, draped over her shoulder, was the purest shade of white. To those lucky enough to see her as she passed by the polished storefront windows, all they would have seen in the reflection was a horse guided by nothing at all.
The skies were a dull gray with a blanket of clouds that stretched over the countryside, but despite that, it didn’t seem to drag the mood down for anyone. For a brief moment, the clouds parted, and a shaft of sunlight broke through, striking Mina like a spotlight. The back of her hand stung briefly as the sun touched it, but she didn’t flinch.
Gilmore whinnied as they passed a squad of guards, men with rifles slung over their backs and blue coatee’s beneath their beige greatcoats. They stood beside the brick-layden road, smoking cigarettes and talking. They eyed Mina as she passed, but she paid them no mind. There had been a time when people had turned to monster hunters, when kings and common folk alike sought them out and pressed coin into their hands in exchange for safety. But that was before firearms became cheap and easy, before powder and iron made men think they could stand against the forces of evil on their own. Governments built militias, militias built armies, and the work of hunters like Mina became less of a necessity and more of a disposable occupation.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
But sometimes, the world didn’t need soldiers. It needed professionals.
Ahead, a brick house was fenced off by a wrought iron gate, and in the front garden, a family sat laughing and eating, surrounded by the fragrant blooms of sages, honeysuckles, and marigolds. The daughter was plump with rosy cheeks, and the father sported a fine suit. The mother was dressed in rich linen, and her hair was pulled back in a tight bun.
Mina froze, her grip on Gilmore’s bridle tightening until her knuckles whitened. The scent of honey cakes felt like someone a blade plunged into heart and twisted. Her jaw clenched, and for a moment, her shadowed gaze lingered on the daughter’s sticky fingers, the father’s gentle hand. The family’s laughter faltered as they noticed her. Unease grew along the father’s face, while the smile slipped away from the daughters.
Mina turned away and tugged Gilmore forward without a word. She came to a stop at a mortuary to turn in the man's corpse, then made for the front entrance of an office building further down the street. A sign hung over the door, but the lettering was so faded it was barely legible. Mina knocked, and a moment later, the door creaked open. An older gentleman with thinning hair stepped out, squinting at the sight of her with a welcoming smile.
“Ah, Mina.” His gaze shifted to the bulbous shape draped over her horse. “That’s the head of our troll, I presume?”
Mina undid the cloth, pulling it back to reveal not the head of a troll, but the grotesque, decapitated thorax of the Silkfang. She had clipped its legs at the coxa to make it easier to transport. Two of its eight eyes had burst, oozing a thick, milky fluid that trickled down the sides of its face where most of its hair had been singed away, leaving a charred, mottled patch. The old man recoiled, cringing at the sight.
“What the hell is that?”
“A Silkfang,” Mina said calmly. Her voice was gruffer than his.
The old man blinked a few times. “What about the troll?”
“It was harmless. There wasn’t a reason for me to kill it.”
“Harmless? It came through our town!”
“It only wandered in looking for a new home. I found it one, deep in the forest and far away. It won’t come again.”
The old man hesitated, his eyes growing wide. “How can you be so sure?” Mina turned her head slightly, and though he couldn’t see her eyes, he could feel the weight of her stare, heavy and unamused.
“Mossback trolls are assumed dangerous on looks alone. A folly. I’ve killed true monsters. That wasn’t one.”
He swallowed, glancing back at the giant spider’s thorax. “Then what is this?”
“A true monster. Its spiderlings would be sucking out your innards by next week had I not killed them all.”
“Why not just kill them both and be done with it? Solve both problems at once?”
Mina’s lips twitched. “For what reason? No one’s dead, no one’s injured. The only harm the troll did was stumble into your tavern wall and shatter a few tables after you shot at it. It’s not coming back.”
The old man looked at her, bewildered. “I thought you were supposed to be a monster hunter! It’s a monster, ain’t it?”
“Killing’s easy. Knowing what deserves it… that’s the hard part.” She tilted her head, and stared long and hard at the man. “Actions make the monster, not fangs or claws.”
He lingered in silence for a moment, his gaze fixed on the Silkfang’s thorax as its lifeless eyes stared back at him. “Very well,” he finally muttered, stepping back inside. “You still brought me the head of a monster, like I asked.” The sound of rustling of papers and the clinking of metal drifted through the doorway as the man rifled through a drawer in the adjacent room. “I must say, despite it all, it’s much nicer working with freelancers than those stuck up blokes the crown sends us.”
Mina didn’t respond. A moment later, the old man reappeared with a worn sack in his hand. It jingled with the weight of coins. “Thank you,” she said simply, tucking the sack into her inner coat pocket. Just as she turned to leave though, the old man stopped her.
“Oh, and about that thing you asked me yesterday—”
She glanced over her shoulder.
“Turns out there is a vampire sighting in the area. Just after you left to go hunt the beast yesterday, a man rode in from Pillio’s Watch. Was talking about how the town’s in a fright, that there was supposedly a vampire lurking around.”
Mina’s heart skipped a beat, and she glanced toward the road leading out of town. Pillio’s Watch was maybe half a day’s walk. “You’re sure?”
“The folk down there hired some people from the Hunter’s Lodge to protect them. Guess they’re also tired of waitin’ for the crown to send a new monster hunter to this area. ‘Side from that, I ain’t heard anythin’ since yesterday.”
Mina simply nodded. “Alright. Thank you.”
“I’ve known hunters of all kinds miss,” he said after a pause. “Big game. Little game. But none go looking for prey that dangerous just for sport.”
Her eyes narrowed at the man, and for a moment, she just stood there. “Let’s just say one of them took something from me,” she finally said, disgruntled.
“And you’re hopin’ that one is nearby?”
“They all lead back to him… eventually.” She pulled on her horse’s bridle and began guiding him out of the town.
She would need to make for Pillio’s Watch quickly, but the head of the Silkfang would also need to be disposed of somewhere far, somewhere deep, where the smell wouldn’t carry and the sight of it wouldn’t send the townsfolk into a frenzy. Then again, there were far worse things in the world for them to worry over than the severed head of a giant spider. Mina had seen them. Hunted them. Killed them. She knew that fear wasn’t rational, not always. Fear was something that consumed someone and makes them jump at shadows, even when the real monsters are already at their back. It made people easy to control. Easy to manipulate. It made them do stupid things, like convincing themselves that the world didn’t need hunters anymore.
Well, monster hunters.
Mina supposed she should’ve taken the hint. Found a new life. A new trade. But hunting was all she could do. It was the only thing she was good at. The factories of Peccatum didn’t need women like her. They needed obedient, empty-headed slaves, and she didn’t know if she could tolerate working the long hours in the sun in the orchards of Hardersfield. Even if she was lucky enough to be gifted the ability to walk in it, she could barely tolerate it, with how sluggish it made her feel, how tired, how weak. But it wasn’t enough to stop her. The pain from it’s light was nothing compared to other things.
Besides, even if she were to search for a new line of work, no one would hire her anyway.
Not with the way she looked, a body made of scars.
Not with what she really was.
Mina reached the edge of the town. In the distance, a group of figures shambled along the road. A few came down the hill, then many more followed. An entire city’s worth of people. Clothes torn and blackened, skin burned and marred by soot. With bodies hunched and broken, they lurched onward. The gravely injured were carried by wagon, while those who fared better walked.
Mina watched a few of them pass by, studying their tired expressions. They looked like they had been walking all throughout the night. “What happened?” she finally asked one of the men passing by.
The man stumbled as he came to a sudden stop. His eyes were wide, and the side of his face had been lightly burned. “A vampire…” he hoarsed.
Immediately, Mina’s heart rate spiked.
“...Pillio’s Watch. It’s gone… It’s all gone…”
Mina exhaled quickly, pulling the man out from the line of people. “Tell me everything.”
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