Page 24 (1/2)

Chapter One

There are few things in the worldthe truth

So a lie

As a child I found safety in the fact that the stories my aunt told me about my parents couldn’t actually be true Her stories paintedmonsters; real life adventurers who only chose to settle down once they’d had a tiny baby girl, me I knew they weren’t really pulled in for one final kill, one last hunt … never to return again

And then, one day, I wasn’t so sure anymore

As I look up at the sprawling, white brick building beyond the wrought-iron gate at the top of the hill, I think a part of me always knew, deep down, that I would find my way here To them To the Saint Marcellus Academy for Monster Hunters

I brush raph I keep in raphs of le lie I think part of her always hoped that in telling the truth I would never suspect it But then I found a photo, tucked behind one of me on my first birthday from the family album

In the photograph, my mother stands proudly besidebetween theht then and there that it wasn’t some prank I looked into the eyes of that hly from her body, and I knew that even in death she could kill lance

And I knew, in that moment, that all the so-called-stories my aunt had told me were true One perfectly posed question and ave me all the confirmation I needed

My parents were killed by a monster; not a monster dressed as a man, a literal, real-life teeth and claws creature I don’t knohat one, but I’m determined to find out

And when I find it, I’ to kill it

After all, it’s my destiny I was born to this Like my parents before me, I was bred to be a monster hunter

“Money American Money!”

I’lish wordsmy backpack up onto the hood of his car and fish in the front pocket for the last ofbut the rough polyester fabric I swore I pulled out enough cash in Bucharest to pay for a taxi once I got to village closest to the school

The taxi driver s at me in Romanian, or whatever local dialect it is they speak this far out While ers move to the next pocket up, I wonder, and not for the first time, why I couldn’t have just picked the North American school to attend It would have been a hell of a whole lot easier Then I feel the soft fold of cruhtly-smaller-than-I-remembered wad of cash

I know it isn’t enough, and so does he

He swears in English and swipes the bills fro off in a cloud of dark dust I wait until he glances up into the rear-view ers at hi from where it flew off into a nearby ditch

“Fuck you too!” I shout at the back of his retreating car I kick at the dirt edge of the road and send another cloud of dust up onto my already dirty self

The gate stands i as ever in front of me when I turn around I know that the invitation did say that the entrance exams to Saint M were closed … but I’ate and the acadeotten here earlier than I thought

I sh as I’ of end-of-suuess I reach for my phone for a second and fiddle with the power button even though I know it isn’t going to turn on I knew better than to play a certain candy-theht over

My only consolation is that, even without the na acadeates, this is unht place

As if to confirreet me

That’s as good as any invitation