Hunting was savage, and to be honest, Adrienne Nash wasn’t sure why she did it. It was dirty and messy, and about the furthest thing from what a lady ought to be doing with her life. Her friends — the girls that she had come up with, gone to school with — all had lives, good lives. Sure, they lived in middle-of-nowhere, Louisiana, but it was only an hour to the nearest town, to the speakeasies and the fun of what Adri’s brothers so affectionately called civilian life. If she wanted to, she could’ve found a husband.
But she chose hunting. She chose to help her brothers quietly distill illegal liquor out in the back yard, haul it into town and sell it. She read palms and did card tricks for the tourists from the north, and did some real fortune telling for the citizens of their tiny coastal town, all to earn that few extra dollars that would mean another gallon in their gas tank or another dozen silver bullets. And she hoped that someday, her family let her use them, come along on a hunt and take out a werewolf or a rugaru. But there really was no chance of that — and certainly not recently.
No, recently they had been tracking a largish nest of vampires who had taken to pirating ships off the coast. They were a particularly elusive bunch, ones the boys rarely caught despite running more raids than they’d probably run on any one thing in their lives. Once, they caught one of the young ones and hauled him back home to interrogate him. They kept him for a few days or a week, doing everything from tearing off his fingernails to offering him fresh blood in exchange for information, but the vampire kept quiet, and eventually the plans changed. The boys ran another raid, hoping this time to have some luck where previously they’d had none, and leaving their sister in charge of their guest in his makeshift jail cell, which happened to be their sitting room. The huntress didn’t bother asking questions this time, instead sitting and twirling a strand of hair idly around her fingers as she watched their captive struggle weakly in his bonds.
"What’s eatin’ you, Mac?" She finally muttered, and a ghost of a smile touched her lips. That was funny, she’d have to tell Paul when he got back.
"You…you’re not…askin’ me any questions anymore." The vampire responded, his voice slurred with hunger and pain. Licking her lips, the witch leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on her knees and watching the newborn vampire curiously, head cocked to the side.
"Hittin’ on all sixes, aren’t you? Darlin’, you’re just a bargainin’ chip now. We want the…. what do you all call him again…?" She thought for a moment before adding somewhat sarcastically, "The Old Man.”