Page 3 of Court of Evil

Ah, this must be an intelligence officer, not a ground hunter. Makes sense. Both are important. Hunters wouldn’t get anywhere without our information, and their job is to keep all hunter colonies in contact, gather reports, and map them.

Pulling my pistols from each hip, I carefully unload them and pop the bullets from the chambers, then I put them all in the open box. Whistling to myself, I reach down and tug my minigun from my boot and add that before slowly pulling each blade from my leg sheaths—eight on each—then the two up my sleeves.

“Is that everything?” the hunter behind the box asks, wide-eyed.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Reaching back, I pull the sword from the sheath down my spine and hold it out. “Where do you want this? I don’t think it will fit in your little box.”

He blinks, reaches out, and takes it. “Um, I’ll put it in another one.”

“Thanks. Take good care of it. It was my dad’s,” I warn him, and he gulps, nodding seriously.

“The ones in your bag?” Glasses comments, passing my coat back. I slide it on.

“Those too? Seriously?” I mutter before walking over, my boots squeaking on the shiny floor. Ripping open my zip, I pull out my sawed-off shotguns and put them in, adding my blades, my homemade UV grenades, and my holy water. “What about poisons and herbs?” I query. The man just blinks again and nods. Pulling out my vials, I add them along with my electric arc I won from a pixie and my blessed blade from the fae. “Okay, that’s all.”

They scan my bag again and hand it over.

I watch the man struggle to shut the box, and I point at him. “If you lose any of those, you’re the one I’m coming for. Consider that a friendly warning.” I turn away and face Glasses, who sighs.

“Come with me. I will explain the base as I lead you to the meeting.”

I have to shorten my strides as I walk with him towards a bank of elevators. I scan everything. The armouries are locked with only a hatch to look inside, and to the right are the emergency stairs and exit, as well as a security room.

“Here at Stalkers’ Rest, we have state-of-the-art equipment. All of the glass is bulletproof, with shutters that will come downover the building in an emergency. Newbies sleep on the lowest floor.” That’s typical. In case of an attack, they are fodder. “The higher rank you are, the higher you go,” he explains, eyeing me curiously. “The shooting range is outside to the left, and the gym and training grounds are to the right. The armoury is on the ground floor—well, you passed it. You must have an ID and security checks to receive any equipment.”

“And if you lose or break it, it comes from your pay.” I arch a brow. “I know the drill. I heard the commander here is a real hard ass.”

He snorts as he scans his card at the elevators. Another scanner comes down, taking his fingerprint and a retinal scan before an elevator opens to the left. I follow him inside, watching him through the reflection of the shiny doors as it shuts and we rise.

“Commander Vilaran is the youngest commander ever. He moved through the ranks from a newbie in under five years and was given control due to his exceptional skills and intelligence. He is the best.”

“He’s not a legacy?” I ask. Not much is known about him, especially if you aren’t under his control, but I’ve heard enough rumours. He’s young, brutal, and can be a real prick. You would have to be to reach his position, especially if he joined and wasn’t born into this like most.

“No, he joined with his friends before serving in the military, then he came back,” Glasses snaps, and my eyebrows rise.

“Defensive much?” I scoff. “Are his friends here with him? Are they still a unit?” Commanders don’t hunt. They hold down the base, but once a hunter, always a hunter.

“They are all dead,” he answers darkly as the doors open. He stomps out, throwing me a dirty look. “If you want to live, don’t mention it.”

Well, damn, I guess not everyone is feeling friendly. Keeping my comments to myself, I follow him down the carpeted hallway to a double door at the end. He knocks and waits.

“Come in,” someone calls, and I follow Glasses inside before freezing when I see the two men waiting for me.

I’m so fucked.

CHAPTER 2

Iwatch her in the courtyard, hiding my smirk behind my mug as I sip my coffee.

She’s exactly what we need, and she’ll need to keep that spirit to survive what I have planned.

“I handpick my team. I have always done that,” the annoying voice whines from behind me. Okay, more like argues, but to me it sounds like whining.

Sighing, I turn my attention back to him. This is a delicate game, keeping him outside while also earning his trust enough to discover the truth. “And you have. I picked this one because she will be a good fit.”

“A female will not fit my unit?—”

“This is final,” I state, my voice deadly, and he swallows. I know he hates having to answer to a man half his age, but he has no choice. He respects the chain of command, and he respects this organisation and what we stand for. I arch my eyebrow. “Are we clear?”

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