Page 73 of The Secret Keeper's Daughter

“Drink. I’ll tell you everything.”

I blink a few times, trying to remember what I’ve heard about the hunter. As I continue sipping the tea, it comes back to me.

Conversation in the city. Whispers of a hunter weakening.

Harek said it was just a legend.

I look directly into Vivvi’s eyes. “Tell me everything about the hunter.”

She sets her mug down on a little table. “We all rely on him to find and kill evil fae. He has the important job of keeping the balance—not letting the good be overpowered.”

“There’s just one?” I try not to think of the implications of that. But they’re staring me in the face.

If there’s only one hunter, then my father is dead. At least that means he didn’t abandon my mother and me. No, I killed him by existing.

I realize Vivvi’s talking, and I try to pull myself from my thoughts. The realization that I’m an orphan. “Wait, stop. Say that again.”

“It’s a lot to take in, especially if you’ve never heard any of this. Your mother did you a disservice by not explaining any of this.”

“Don’t badmouth her! She did the best she could. You don’t know what we had to live with.”

“I didn’t mean any disrespect.”

“Just tell me what you know about my father.”

“Finish your tea. It’ll help you relax.”

“Not that it matters.” But I sip the tea anyway. Whatever it’ll take to keep her talking so I can figure out what my next move is. With my father dead, she’s my only hope at finding out anything about my powers.

“There is usually only one hunter at a time. He?—”

“Usually? Do you mean there can be two?”

“While the son—or in this case, daughter—is growing and until coming into his or her powers.”

The earlier conversation runs through my mind. “That’s why people are talking about the hunter weakening. Are his powers coming into me?”

“I’m not sure if that’s exactly how it works, but when a hunter child grows up, the younger’s powers strengthen while the elder’s weaken.”

“That means my father is still alive. I could find him and get my answers.” Relief washes through me.

“You don’t want to do that, Eira.”

“And why not?”

“Because twomaturehunters can’t exist at the same time.”

“Are you saying I’m killing him?”

“One of you must kill the other.”

This time I do drop the mug. It lands in my lap, and is luckily empty. “One of us has tokillthe other one?”

She reaches over and pats my arm. “That’s the way it’s always been. I remember when your father killed his father.”

“He… he killed his own father?”

“It was a matter of survival. All the hunters have had to kill their father or son to survive.”

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