imagination.
Oh well, it wasn't like she wasn't used to being gossiped about.
'You keep saying I'm safe,' Evie said, turning back to Victor, 'but how do I know you're not just telling me that so I don't freak out?'
Victor turned around with a china cup poised in his hand and offered it to her. She noticed the pot of fresh steaming coffee on the counter by the till and looked back at Victor.
'Freshly ground Costa Rican decaff,' he said.
She took the cup with a raised eyebrow. What was the point of decaff?
Victor was wearing fresh clothes - dark suit trousers and a checked cotton shirt - no tie or frothy cravat thing. What time had he got here this morning? she wondered. Where was he even sleeping? She turned her head and glanced towards the back of the store. There was a door which she assumed led through to a storeroom, and a fitting room to the side with a black velvet drape and a gold-framed floor-length mirror in which she saw herself staring back, eyes like saucers ringed with black shadows, hair damp from the shower and scraped up into a messy ponytail while still wet.
She turned back to Victor. He was handing her a small china jug of milk now, his fingers too large to fit through the handle.
'You need to learn to trust me, Evie,' he said. 'That's your first lesson.' He paused. 'The second lesson is that you need to learn you can't trust anybody else.'
She thought about that. She didn't trust anybody any more, anyway. So that wasn't exactly going to be a problem. And Lobo was a dog so she assumed he didn't count in Victor's reckoning.
'So, are you ready?'
Evie looked up. 'For what?' she asked.
'To become a Hunter,' Victor answered with a small smile.
Evie set the coffee cup on the low table. 'Do I have a choice?' she asked.
'We always have choices, Evie.'
She shook her head at him. 'No we don't.' Her voice was angry. It took her by surprise how angry she was. 'That's a lie. This is not a choice. I either choose not to become a Hunter and get killed in some hideous manner or I choose to become a Hunter and get killed in some hideous manner.' She saw Victor trying to suppress a smile. 'What is the life expectancy of a Hunter anyway?' she demanded. 'How old are you?'
Victor held up a hand. 'Listen,' he said, 'it wasn't my choice either, Evie, but you are a Hunter and you can fight it all you like but you'll find in the end you can't deny who you are.'
She tipped her chin up so she could glare at him. 'Who am I?' she demanded.
Now he really did smile, a slow smile that warmed his face and made her soften towards him and which deflected her anger, even though he'd avoided the question as to her life expectancy. 'You're Evie Hunter,' he said, her name coming out sounding all French and mysterious. 'You come from a long line of Hunters. We're all descendants of the original Hunter family but you're a direct descendant. The blood runs strong in you, that's why you're on the most wanted list.'
She could feel herself frowning as she brought her legs up onto the seat and started hugging them.
'The rest of us are alley cats,' Victor continued, 'bastards, distant cousins - the genes turn up all over the place, sometimes,' he winced a little, 'in the most unlikely places - but the important thing to remember, and I wish someone had told me this when I was first discovered . . .'
Discovered? What was he? The New World?
He held her gaze intently. 'You are still the same person you were yesterday.'
Evie considered this for a few seconds then stood quickly. 'The same person I was yesterday?' she demanded, her voice more shrill than she'd been aiming for. 'Except I'm not, am I? I'm not some seventeen-year-old girl living in a small town dreaming of getting the hell out of it. I'm some kind of demon hunter.'
'You're not a demon hunter, Evie. You're a Hunter of Unhumans - or you will be when you're trained. At the moment you only have half the power you will eventually have, if that.'
'Oh great.' Evie threw her hands
Oh well, it wasn't like she wasn't used to being gossiped about.
'You keep saying I'm safe,' Evie said, turning back to Victor, 'but how do I know you're not just telling me that so I don't freak out?'
Victor turned around with a china cup poised in his hand and offered it to her. She noticed the pot of fresh steaming coffee on the counter by the till and looked back at Victor.
'Freshly ground Costa Rican decaff,' he said.
She took the cup with a raised eyebrow. What was the point of decaff?
Victor was wearing fresh clothes - dark suit trousers and a checked cotton shirt - no tie or frothy cravat thing. What time had he got here this morning? she wondered. Where was he even sleeping? She turned her head and glanced towards the back of the store. There was a door which she assumed led through to a storeroom, and a fitting room to the side with a black velvet drape and a gold-framed floor-length mirror in which she saw herself staring back, eyes like saucers ringed with black shadows, hair damp from the shower and scraped up into a messy ponytail while still wet.
She turned back to Victor. He was handing her a small china jug of milk now, his fingers too large to fit through the handle.
'You need to learn to trust me, Evie,' he said. 'That's your first lesson.' He paused. 'The second lesson is that you need to learn you can't trust anybody else.'
She thought about that. She didn't trust anybody any more, anyway. So that wasn't exactly going to be a problem. And Lobo was a dog so she assumed he didn't count in Victor's reckoning.
'So, are you ready?'
Evie looked up. 'For what?' she asked.
'To become a Hunter,' Victor answered with a small smile.
Evie set the coffee cup on the low table. 'Do I have a choice?' she asked.
'We always have choices, Evie.'
She shook her head at him. 'No we don't.' Her voice was angry. It took her by surprise how angry she was. 'That's a lie. This is not a choice. I either choose not to become a Hunter and get killed in some hideous manner or I choose to become a Hunter and get killed in some hideous manner.' She saw Victor trying to suppress a smile. 'What is the life expectancy of a Hunter anyway?' she demanded. 'How old are you?'
Victor held up a hand. 'Listen,' he said, 'it wasn't my choice either, Evie, but you are a Hunter and you can fight it all you like but you'll find in the end you can't deny who you are.'
She tipped her chin up so she could glare at him. 'Who am I?' she demanded.
Now he really did smile, a slow smile that warmed his face and made her soften towards him and which deflected her anger, even though he'd avoided the question as to her life expectancy. 'You're Evie Hunter,' he said, her name coming out sounding all French and mysterious. 'You come from a long line of Hunters. We're all descendants of the original Hunter family but you're a direct descendant. The blood runs strong in you, that's why you're on the most wanted list.'
She could feel herself frowning as she brought her legs up onto the seat and started hugging them.
'The rest of us are alley cats,' Victor continued, 'bastards, distant cousins - the genes turn up all over the place, sometimes,' he winced a little, 'in the most unlikely places - but the important thing to remember, and I wish someone had told me this when I was first discovered . . .'
Discovered? What was he? The New World?
He held her gaze intently. 'You are still the same person you were yesterday.'
Evie considered this for a few seconds then stood quickly. 'The same person I was yesterday?' she demanded, her voice more shrill than she'd been aiming for. 'Except I'm not, am I? I'm not some seventeen-year-old girl living in a small town dreaming of getting the hell out of it. I'm some kind of demon hunter.'
'You're not a demon hunter, Evie. You're a Hunter of Unhumans - or you will be when you're trained. At the moment you only have half the power you will eventually have, if that.'
'Oh great.' Evie threw her hands
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