The moment at the end of the opening ceremony stuck with Larsa. She replayed the moment over and over in her head. The Imp’s lifeless body cut in two, face down in a puddle of its blood.

  She’d been told afterwards that it was a simple tradition, to have the most successful Inquisitor of the last year kill a weak monster they had detained. It was like firing off a pistol to signal the start of a marathon…only far more brutal.

  Larsa stared out to the Mississippi River, a picturesque scene under the light of the moon, calm…too calm.

  She’d gotten here thanks to the Procul spell, another entry level technique which could transport members of the order to any significant landmark in the world.

  She giggled to herself, reminded of how incredulous her father had been when ranting about how Stonehenge was the most unnecessarily obvious of these.

  As a rookie, she along with the other first timers would spend the initial seven days of the hunt in groups, rotating around to assist each of the Inquisitors on a night.

  Two “chaperones” would also be following along to judge that they were ready to go solo by week two. If not they’d be sent back to base at the Vatican to do menial jobs until training and preparation picked up again in January.

  Larsa had hoped she’d be paired with Rutger as her first inquisitor, a close family friend and experienced warrior who she knew could point her in the right direction. Two solid judges of character would also make for wonderful chaperones who could be counted on to be responsible.

  Alas life was rarely ever fair.

  “She makes how much money and dresses like that?! OW!”

  Milo clutched his forehead, a fresh cigarette flicked straight into it.

  “I heard that numbnuts!” Inquisitor Rebecca Gravely huffed out from 20 feet away, clearly unamused.

  “Deserved that one, hahaha!” Miranda guffawed.

  Larsa must’ve broken several mirrors and passed under a dozen ladders in a previous life. Truly, this resulting combination for her first night on the job was a foreboding omen. The most ill reputed Inquisitor and the slapstick duo at the same time, joy.

  The bowl cut and one eyed wonders had been going on about money, like usual, and Milo was given the startling revelation that the inquisitors were bringing home 7 figures a year.

  “Wait a second…if they make that much just in a year and the Van Helsing’s have been at it for centuries…!”

  Milo continued once clear of pain, his thought process arriving to a logical conclusion.

  “Yep, Inquisitor Edward’s likely swimming in generational wealth. Still ain’t seen him ever smile though, guess money doesn’t buy happiness in his case.”

  Miranda mused this as she began to pick at her teeth with her toothpick.

  “Maybe you should learn a thing or two from his example Milo, no interest in cash would mean no longer putting all the money you do make on dumb get rich quick schemes.”

  “Your input is always appreciated Miranda.” He replied sardonically, rolling his eyes.

  “You think he’d give me a loan?” He followed up, a bit more hopeful.

  “I wouldn’t.”

  “You already did, you dumb cyclops!”

  “I can’t tell if those two are best friends, worst enemies, an old married couple or some combination of all the above.”

  Larsa thought this to herself, confident they’d give her a migraine at some point in the week they’d be spending together.

  She wasn’t confident they could chaperone a four year old, let alone a group of rookies whose lives could be ended with a wrong move against a monster.

  “Hey you, the blonde, come here for a second, I wanna talk to you in private.”

  Larsa looked to see Inquisitor Gravely staring directly at her.

  “Yes you, come on we don’t have all night.”

  Larsa tepidly strolled over, whispers following her from her fellow rookies that were silenced by a death glare from the scarlet haired inquisitor. She pulled Larsa away from the group far enough to be out of earshot and concealed behind some thickets.

  “Wanna smoke?” Rebecca offered, peeling a fresh cigarette from a pack she kept in her pants pocket.

  “I don’t, but thanks for the offer.” She replied taking some care to be courteous.

  “Suit yourself.” Inquisitor Gravely responded, casually lighting the cigarette with her fire magic and taking a deep hit.

  She exhaled the puff from her mouth as a dragon would a moment later, before getting to the catch.

  “You’re Archibald’s kid aren’t you? You’ve got the hair, eyes, build, weapon,” she glanced towards the broadsword sheathed in a strap attached to Larsa’s back.

  If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  “Oh yeah and Rutger told me as much.” Rebecca finished, undermining any analytical skill Larsa was beginning to think she might have.

  “I…uh…just wanted to say sorry for your loss is all.” The inquisitor said, awkwardly rubbing the right side of her face to indicate she wasn’t quite good with these things.

  “Thank you. You…knew my father well?” Larsa conferred, pleasantly surprised at the direction the conversation may be heading.

  “I wouldn’t say that, but well…”

  It was obvious to Larsa this was something the inquisitor had been wanting to get off her chest, but was hesitating to do so.

  “Please go on, I always love hearing about my dad and the things he’s done.”

  Inquisitor Gravely’s eyes widened slightly before focusing back in, a bit more confidence in them then before.

  “Your dad was one of the only members of the order that seemed to treat me as an actual Inquisitor worth a shit. I don’t command respect like Rutger, Yoko or Juan do, nor am I feared for being intimidating compared to Ed and Claudia, hell Buster probably is more appreciated than I am at this point.”

  Her voice was cracking slightly, the mask of the larger than life Inquisitor slipping.

  “He never looked down on me, heh, always with his fancy ‘Ms. Gravely’ this or that…I-I don’t know why I’m going on about this with some stranger.”

  Larsa gazed upon her now with far more sympathetic eyes, it was easy to forget, as eccentric and out there as the Inquisitors seemed, that they too were humans with their own problems and anxieties.

  “It’s ok, I’m happy to hear you out.”

  This drew a weak smile from Rebecca.

  “Appreciate it kiddo, I never got to tell him this, so I will say it to you instead. Thanks for everything.”

  “No thanks is necessary ‘Ms. Gravely’, happy to lend an ear."

  They shared a laugh that brought a few tears to their eyes. Free from the prescience of the others, there was no judgment for an Inquisitor and subordinate, just two people sharing an enlightening moment in life.

  Suddenly Rebecca’s head popped upwards slightly as if coming to a revelation. She reached into her cargo pants and pulled out a pocket watch.

  “Crap, only five minutes until midnight, got to get back to the group before it goes to hell in a handbasket.”

  Larsa followed behind her, arriving back at the riverside where everyone was still loitering around aimlessly.

  “Alright, fresh meat! Everyone gets in line, it's time to go over the plan quickly, we got only four minutes before the game is on!” Inquisitor Rebecca barked out, back to her usual prickly exterior.

  As Larsa got in the horizontal line forming, someone whispered a question into her ear.

  “So how badly did she rip your ass a new one?”

  It was Miranda of course, her natural nosiness coming to the forefront.

  “I think I’ll be having nightmares for at least a week.” She replied jokingly, content to let the truth of the encounter remain hidden.

  “Damn, that bad, huh?”

  Another patented death glare from Rebecca shut Miranda up quickly.

  “So the way we’re gonna go about this is splitting up into pairs and trawling in all the different directions, once the sun starts coming up we’ll meet back at this spot for a debrief, it’s the shortest night, but don’t let your guard down!”

  With that they were off.

  ————————

  Larsa was paired with a stocky fellow by the name Bronson, his weapon of choice, a mace, was a humble and rather unfanciful tool that could get the job done.

  They’d been following the river southward for about 25 minutes, no sign of anything out of the ordinary quite yet. While Larsa attempted to make small talk or strategy, Bronson was content to just respond with “sure”s’ and “ok”s’ clearly not one for deep conversation.

  Larsa sighed looking upward, contemplating why she could never seem to meet any ordinary folks when a silhouette in the sky caught her attention.

  “MOVE!” She yelled, pushing Bronson backward while dodging out of the way herself.

  A creature with grey skin and wings impacted the ground in front of them where they would have been if not for Larsa’s intervention!

  She sized the monster up, it was about 6 feet tall and on closer inspection looked like it was made out of some solid material rather than what one would call traditional skin.

  “It’s a Gargoyle.” she relayed to Bronson who gave a light nod of acknowledgment in response. They drew their weapons as the monster glared animalistically at them.

  They were rather straightforward creatures, physically strong and durable. The one truly concerning aspect of them was their bite. If one were pierced by the teeth, their skin would slowly convert into the same rock-like substance the Gargoyle seemed to be made of. For a human however this state of being was completely fatal.

  Larsa didn’t intend to end her first night as a petrified garden decoration that was for sure. Her two hands clutched firmly around the hilt of her broadsword, completely still, nerves being one of the first things her father taught to keep controlled.

  The creature with its outstretched wings leaped towards them going directly for a straightforward mauling!

  Bronson took a swing with his mace only for the beast to take the blow in the chest unflinchingly! Retaliation was swift, the beast nailing him in the jaw with a forearm to send the man of few words tumbling into the river!

  Now on her own, the creature's gaze fell onto Larsa. She breathed deeply, concentrating all her energy into the blade. It began to pulse with a deep azure blue.

  This was the signature magic which the Masterson family had cultivated over the years. Enhancement magic.

  While the power could be channeled through any body part to make it far more powerful, tough and efficient, the most classical way to utilize this was to pour the energy into a weapon, most commonly a sword of some kind, to greatly increase the impact of strikes.

  As the beast took a charge at her she swung for the same area that Bronson had moments earlier, only this time the blade went clean through the monster's torso, the enhanced broadsword far more than its rough skin could handle!

  It fell to the ground oozing black blood.

  She had done it, taken the life of her very first monstrous foe. She didn’t think to celebrate, rushing to the edge of the riverbed.

  “Bronson! Are you ok?!”

  She yelled out while looking around rapidly for any trace of the man. She saw him desperately trying to surface, his face the picture of terror.

  She didn’t have long to wonder why. The head of a serpentine-like creature broke through the water, Bronson caught in its jaws. With a loud snap his corpse fell back into the water, spine broken leaving him completely folded in two like a laundry towel!

  It’s slitted eyes locked onto her, letting out a series of hisses which to her almost sounded like laughter. It must’ve been the size of a T-Rex…no...larger still.

  This was a Hydra, and Larsa’s night was about to become far more dangerous than she could imagine.