Hunter

by Mercedes Lackey

  “Oh, bull hockey,” I said. “I bet you swore the air blue and broke things.”

  That got a laugh out of her, and I prompted her to tell me what life had been like for her at Apex before her powers popped.

  We chitchatted a little more, and then I went straight on to the lounge.

  Nobody said anything about me facing down Ace, but they didn’t have to say anything. The approval was there, in the way they jibed at me for herding a bunch of little stuff together and calling it a Hunt. Even though I was by far the youngest Hunter there, I got treated like an equal, someone they’d be more than willing to have at their backs.

  When the vid-critique was over, Trev had a different idea than the usual card games and so forth.

  “We haven’t done face time in two weeks,” he announced. “Who’s with me for Flannigan’s?” Then he turned and pointed at me. “You need to see how to do this, Joy.”

  “Do what?” I asked, but Karly, who had come in about halfway through the vid-viewing, just chuckled.

  “Face time,” she said. “Let’s head for your room and we’ll get you fixed up.”

  We went back to my room, and she picked out one of the showier outfits for me, like the sort of thing Ace and his crew wore at those clubs, which was when I got the vague idea we were going to one. The outfit was one of the suedelike charcoal tunics and a gorgeous soft pair of black trousers, but the wide belt and all of the appliqué work on the tunic was in a metallic silver fabric instead of gray leather. She helped me pick out some cosmetics and showed me how to put my hair into a tail under my right ear and string beads on strands of hair to hang in front of my left ear. “There, you look ready to meet your fans. Meet the others at the front entrance,” she said. “I’m too tired for face time, but you go and show them what a Hunter is made of.” She grinned and left, and I changed, did my face simply and quickly, and went to meet the others. There were six in our group, including me, and we all piled into a big pod that Trev called.

  We ended up at a place that smelled of beer and food—not in a bad way, mind. But what nearly made me turn and run for the door was that the whole room was covered in Hunter things. Pictures, posters, what looked like someone’s tunic with a claw slash across it in a frame. Like…the place was a shrine to Hunters. And when we got in the door, the Cits in the place were like the Cits on the train had been after I’d helped chase off that Mage. I stuck close to Trev, but the Cits were really excited to see that I was with the group.

  There were vid-screens in the four corners of the room, and all of them were playing live feeds on Hunter channels. It was time for the night shift to go out, and I got a look at what they did. You might think that night Hunting is inherently more dangerous, but it isn’t. A lot of the things that are bad and small are strictly daylight prowlers. Gazers aren’t out at night, for instance, and if you think about it, that’s logical, since they require their prey to be able to see them. The stuff that is nocturnal has no advantage over us, since our Hounds can see in the dark and we have night-vision goggles. In some cases we have an actual advantage, since light hurts or even kills them, and you can take them out with a focused-beam flashlight. Vampires, for instance, are just pathetic, except when they’ve got an ambush set up. Light in the eyes, bam, they’re blinded and it’s all over. Being stronger than five men and supernaturally fast doesn’t do you a lot of good when you can’t see.

  The others explained things to me as the place emptied and refilled, emptied and refilled. This was a “bar,” which I remembered from old vids and books. Specifically, this was a bar where people who were fanatical about watching particular Hunters went. Trev’s loose group of friends was popular here, it seemed. There were…a lot of these bars, and every week or two weeks, Hunters were expected to turn up and make the Cits happy by being able to get close to them. These were “fans” and this was “face time” or “fan service.” It was overwhelming on one hand, and kind of touching on the other. I overheard a couple of Cits arguing about how much of the Goblin market Hunt Knight and I had done had been “special effects” and how much of it had been real. It seemed the Cits understood that the feed was being tampered with, but they thought the vid editors were making the Hunts look more dangerous than they really were, not less.

  But how could you not feel friendly toward someone who so obviously wishes you to do well? Because most of these Cits did, even if they thought it was more sport and acting and less danger than it actually was. “But you’re so young,” was what I kept hearing.

  As Trev had led us in, he led us out again, and the big pod was waiting for us as we wormed our way past the crowd. When we all piled in, he turned to me. “So. Mostly we do this in groups. Two hours, at most; if you stay past two hours, too many people see where you are on your vid-feed, and it can turn into a mob, and a mob can get impossible to handle.”

  I nodded.

  But then he added something else I had not expected. “Too many random, uncontrolled people in one place makes a tempting target, too,” he stated with a warning sort of tone in his voice. “Two hours or so, it’s safe; after that you want to leave so the gathering breaks up.”

  Tempting target? For what? Was this a hint that the Folk actually were getting inside the Prime Barrier, or did he mean something else?

  But before I could ask, he had already changed the subject. “You did good, kid,” he continued with approval. “Always remember, even if they get drunk and obnoxious, they’re on your side. And—well, drunk and obnoxious is why we do this in groups.”

  We all piled out and went to our rooms. That was when I got a text on my Perscom from Josh. Seemed like he must have been watching my channel, then timed his text for when he figured I was back again.

  Would have been fun to surprise you at that bar.

  I’d have been surprised, all right….Why didn’t you? I replied.

  On duty, came the answer. Boring party, but I need to be here. At least someone left a vid-feed on.

  I was going to say something, but then I got the beep of another text coming through. And I am summoned. Later.

  I felt a wave of disappointment, even if I still couldn’t shake my suspicion of his motives, and yet—grinning like a right old idiot. Because he texted me. And he’d been watching me at the bar. For once, I was glad of all the cameras.

  I was tempted to watch my own channel as I got ready for bed, but I resisted.

  I did watch Knight’s, though, and I was glad to see he looked pretty good. I hoped the folks back at his home ground were happy with what they were seeing. It might make them more receptive to moving. The more I thought about it, the worse I felt about those folks living on poisoned land.

  I mean, I could understand the big cities needing more Hunters than turnip territory, just judging by the amount of nastiness I had run into since I got here. So I could understand them demanding most Hunters be sent here.

  I could even understand now why, out where we were, we didn’t get a lot of equipment. That stuff has to be paid for, and it wasn’t as if we were chipping in to what the cities need. It’s easier to collect taxes from all the Cits in a city than it is to collect ’em from folks out where we are. We can say “no,” and make it stick, so they don’t even try. Sometimes they send us stuff, most times we pay for it.

  But more or less forcing people who’re providing something you need pretty bad to make the choice between living unprotected and living poisoned, just so you can get what you want…

  That was just wrong.

  Why, at least, weren’t they getting enough from their coal that they could build bunkers to live in and machines to tend their crops?

  Maybe that was why Knight didn’t do the “fan service” stuff—not because he was a Christer and objected to it, but because of how horribly his people back home had been treated. If that was so, I couldn’t blame him, not one bit. He was the kind of guy who would do his absolute best on the job, but why should he go out of his way to do more once he was back a
t Headquarters? No, if I had been in his shoes, and I didn’t have to worry about putting on a show to help Uncle…I’d probably do the same.

  “YOUR RANT SEEMS to have worked,” Knight said by way of greeting, as I brought my breakfast tray to his table.

  “Uh, you mean Ace?” I sat down and started on my meal. Around Knight you needed to eat efficiently, or you’d have to run off with half your food still on the plate when he got up to leave, which was a criminal waste.

  “He traded territories with Karly. Good thing too, since at the moment Hunter Jade is covering her own territory and Karly’s.” Knight ate eggs methodically. So did I. “I’m pretty sure Ace is going to find plenty to Hunt today; Jade posted something on the message boards yesterday about needing more help out there.”

  “Well, good, and may he pull so far ahead of me that he’s a speck in the distance.” I said that and meant it, since I was finding the fact that I was number two pretty uncomfortable. You know that feeling when you know something is sizing you up for an attack? Like that.

  Knight gave me a look as if he suspected me of sarcasm, then shrugged. “We’ll be splitting up again today, and moving farther along the Barrier. I haven’t been to this part in over six months, so it could be quiet, or it could be trouble. Make sure you keep your headset on.”

  I nodded. This would be like working at home, really, with the Hunters working nearest each other staying in contact so that if one got into trouble, the other could probably get there in time to save him. If you had good enough control of your Hounds and could send them on ahead, that was even better.

  We went a long way in the pod this time, and it dropped us off at a section of the Barrier that, on our side, was row after row of bulky things under tied-down covers. “Military storage,” Knight said with a shrug of disinterest as he saw me staring at them.

  The Spillover side of the fence was like the day before. Ruins. Only today, it was overcast and starting to drizzle. Didn’t matter, I’ve Hunted in blizzards and pouring down rain. Only time I take cover is when there’s lightning. I’d dressed for it, discovering there was gear in my closet marked “waterproof.” It was, too, and way better than the waxed and oiled canvas, with patched-together outer shells of bits of vynyl and plastic too small to use in the fields, that we normally use at home. Buying waterproof fabrics is a pretty low priority for us. After all, you can always get dry when the work is over. Ammunition for the guns we can’t use reloaders for, though, is a different matter.

  Knight went left, after summoning his pretty Hounds. I summoned mine, and looked at Bya.

  “Would you tell Karly’s Hounds that they’re welcome to join us, if they’re around?” Around is pretty relative to Hounds, so long as they are on this side.

  Bya grinned at me, and sat down. They’re coming, he said, and so we waited.

  Hounds are fast, even when they can’t bamph, and it wasn’t long before I saw them streaking toward us, jumping from one tarp-shrouded lump to another. I went to the door in the Barrier pylon and let them through. They weren’t friendly to me, but I didn’t expect that; so far as they were concerned, they were there for two purposes, to Hunt and to eat, and the sooner we got that started, the better they would like it.

  With our allies in the pack, we moved out.

  I’ve heard people call the Mountain, especially above the snow line, desolate. It never seemed that way to me. But this…this was desolate. Hundreds and hundreds of people had once lived here, in these windowless, roofless hulks of brick and crumbling cement. It had been single-family homes here, I think, though “single family” had a different meaning back then than it does for my folks. Street after street, row after row, with holes in the rows where the house had been wood or something else that wasn’t as sturdy as cinderblock, brick, or stone, and was long gone. I could feel the ghosts. Not literal ghosts, just…memories, I guess. Memories get sucked into stone and brick over time, and you can feel them if you have magic. I feel this almost everywhere there’s ruins, but mostly since I got here I’d been Hunting with Knight, so I didn’t feel it as much. It’s when I’m alone that I can really sense it, and for me at least, the worse the weather is, the more it seems to come out.

  So many of those memories were of the people who had lived here and died horribly. The memories were thinned by age, watered down by time until instead of terror and despair, the background was a disturbing melancholy, but…yeah. It was spooky enough that I actually thought I saw something, pale and tall, in one of the windows, watching me. I even thought I saw something where a head would be, a little flash, like the sparkle of a jewel or a glint off of metal. Startled, I brought up my rifle to look through the scope—but there was nothing there. Maybe an odd sort of streak of light that passed when I moved a little. It rattled me, because for a moment, I thought it was that pretty Folk Mage….

  I reminded myself not to get spooked by memories or rattled by ghosts, if there were such things. My job was to protect the living. The silent dead have no claim on me or my time. We pressed on, through the gray and the sour-tasting drizzle.

  Bya alerted about the same time that I both sensed magic and smelled something.

  The sharp, metallic scent of ozone.

  The others came streaking back to me, and we huddled next to a wall while I listened to them.

  There was a big, sprawling, single-storied building not far from here, and somehow it had kept part of its roof. In that sheltered part was a nest of Othersiders. Ketzels.

  They live in colonies, like those little green and gray parrots. From what the Hounds told me, they’d built their nest in the corner of the part of the building that still had part of a metal roof. Now, that was good, because they won’t fly in the rain if they can help it, so there was a good chance we had them boxed in. But it was bad, because they can shoot lightning out of their eyes and mouth, and they wouldn’t care if my magic net had them pinned down. The Hounds could take it, but I couldn’t.

  And for birds, they are awfully tough. It wasn’t going to be easy to take them down. But for eleven Hounds and one Hunter, not impossible either; we just had to be smart.

  I had a sudden thought: those Ketzels had been huddling in semidarkness all day, and if I popped off a bright light in the middle of them, there was a good chance most of them would be blinded, at least temporarily.

  My Hounds were following along with my thoughts, and nodded. I explained it out loud to Karly’s, who grinned at me. They liked it too.

  “Right. You four get ready to jump in when I pop the light, and I’ll put up the net. If you get into trouble I’ll drop the net to let you out, but that will give you first shot at the kills,” I said to them, then looked to my own seven. “You lot bamph across the net once the dazzle wears off, and I’ll keep shooting to give them something to think about besides you.”

  Mine nodded again. We’ve played that game before when we’ve come up against something that can shoot back. I don’t even try to aim, I just shoot high to avoid the Hounds. Seems to work most of the time.

  Now, how not to be stupid, lesson one. “Joy to Knight,” I said into my little boom mic.

  “Knight here.”

  “We’ve sprung a nest of Ketzels. Fifty yards north of my position. Do not think we need backup since I have Karly’s Hounds too.”

  “Understood. Moving in your direction in case backup is required.” Good; he wouldn’t be coming on the run, but he would be moving in the right direction in case everything went sour. Satisfied that I had done everything by the book, I nodded to the Hounds and we all moved out as a group.

  Ketzels are gorgeous, and that is their natural shape. It really makes me feel bad to have to take out things that are so beautiful. They’re bird-shaped, about eagle-size, only bright blue and green, with two really long, flexible feathers coming down out of their tails—a lot like the Chinese Phoenix birds that are carved and painted and embroidered all over the Monastery, only blue and green rather than red and yellow. And, like I
said, they can shoot lightning out of their eyes and mouth. The real, it-will-kill-you stuff, not like a spark that will just make you jump. When we got to where the nest was, I pulled out a neat little gadget from my pack and eased it up over the pile of rubble I was behind. I hoped they wouldn’t notice it. It’s this thing of tubes and mirrors that lets you see without poking your own head up out of shelter, and I was able to get a good look at the situation.

  I was happy to see the nest only held adults; I’m going to guess about fifteen, because Othersiders tend to pack in multiples of the magic numbers three, five, and seven. I’d have had a hard time killing a baby bird. The Masters would have had me save any babies if I was back home; they were always trying to figure out ways to turn Othersiders, and make them like the Hounds. But I wasn’t home, and I was pretty sure the people in charge here, from whoever was in charge of Hunter HQ to Uncle all the way up to the premier (if he bothered to keep track of such things) wouldn’t much care for that idea.

  Magic, however, can’t be cast by mirrors. Has to be line-of-sight. So I had the Hounds all eel their way into position, Karly’s Hounds closest. When I could see in the mirror that they were in place, I folded the gadget and stowed it again, then readied myself, took a deep breath, and surged to my feet. I gathered the manna, sighted on the spot I wanted, right in the middle of the birds, which had spotted me but were reacting sluggishly to my presence because of the cold. Mentally I painted a target Glyph right on the spot, sketched a couple more Glyphs in the air, and flung the power on its way.