Page 2 of Court of Evil

STALKERS’ REST

Here, death rejoices and life is given.

Poetic, but very true. Hunters do not tend to live long, and the ones that do . . . Well, there is a reason why, and it tends to leave them a little less than sane.

I wonder what that says about me.

A whistle cuts through the air, and the unit training to my left stills as all eyes turn to me.

“Well, look at this, boys, we got a new recruit, and a girl at that,” one remarks as he steps forward. I almost sigh at the predictability of his comment. Men love to measure dicks, especially against girls. His head is shaved, showcasing new nicks and scars on his skull. His eyebrows are thick and arched as he surveys me, his cool gaze running over me from head to toe. His tongue is caught between his lips as he flips a knife back and forth in his hand, trying to show off.

Only fools show their hand like that.

I could gut him before he even knew I moved.

He’s muscular, a few inches over my six-one frame, and he obviously cannot read body language because he doesn’t stop until he stands before me. His unit follows, sensing an impending commotion.

Hunters are gossips, and they love a good fight.

“Did you come to play with the big boys and be a hunter?” one teases.

“I don’t think we have a female recruit,” another adds.

“She sure is hot though,” Baldie comments, his eyes locked on my legs encased in my combat trousers. “If you want in, newbie, then you have to fuck me first.”

Laughter breaks out, and more of them move closer, everything else forgotten as they focus on me. Like I said, there aren’t many women in our ranks, and this right here is one of the reasons. Men who like to kill monsters aren’t always good men.

Dropping my bag, I push my duster back as I smirk at them. “Yeah? I’d rather fight you than fuck you. Let’s make this quick, shall we? I have places to be.”

“I don’t fight girls,” he sneers. “At least not pretty ones.”

“Too bad because this one fights men bigger than you every day,” I retort, and before he can respond or react, I lunge at him. I knock his blade from his hand, sinking it into the bullseye of a target, then I sweep my leg out. He goes down hard, and I step back, grinning.

“Still don’t fight girls?” I ask. “Because right now, you look like a fool.”

His lips thin as he leaps to his feet, shaking his hands out as he walks towards me. “Fine. If you want to fight, let’s fight. After I break you, I’ll fuck you and then let my entire unit do the same.”

“Not if I fuck you first. Don’t worry, I brought my strap-on.” I dodge under his meaty fists. He’s fast and well trained, but I’m faster.

He doesn’t stand a chance. I leap over his next leg sweep, predictable as it was, wrap my legs around his throat, and spin us. He flips, and I kick his back so he falls to his knees, and then my boot meets the side of his head, knocking him on his side. Pressing my boot to his neck, I reach down, wrench one arm up and around, and press on it until it almost breaks as he cries out.

“Still want to fuck me?” I grin down at him, digging my boot into his neck until he taps out. Dropping him, I step back andlook at the gathered hunters. “Does anyone else have a problem and want to work that out with me?”

“Lieutenant Tate?” a voice calls, and we all turn to see a brown-haired hunter. He’s young, maybe even younger than me, with glasses pushed up his nose as he looks at me and then the crowd. “You are Lieutenant Tate?”

“That’s me.” Grabbing my bag, I wink at Baldie and his unit. “It’s been fun. Thanks for playing with me.” I step towards Glasses. “Is my new major waiting for me?”

“And the commander.”

I raise my eyebrows at that. Commanders do not meet with hunters, not unless you are high, like a major. It took me two years to reach lieutenant, so to meet the commander?

Well, colour me fucking curious.

A path forms between the recruits, and I follow after the young man as we head towards the glass doors of the building. Once there, I have to put my bag in a scanner, and their eyebrows rise at the number of weapons in it as I spread my arms and let them search me.

“All weapons must be surrendered. You only need them outside,” Glasses says. He nods at another box. “Put them there. You can collect them when you leave.”

Even though I knew it was coming, I’m not thrilled. I take off my duster and fold it, holding it out to him. “Hold this for me?” He takes it, his nose wrinkling as he holds it as far from his torso as possible.

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