CHAPTER 1
Hunter
Tuesday eve ning
Shakespeare said, “What’s in a name?”
Well, my name’s Hunter Wild, so I say: a lot.
For instance, you can tell by my name that our family takes
our status as vampire hunters very seriously. Good thing I’m an
only child— if I’d had brothers or sisters, they might have been
named Slayer or Killer. We’d sound like a heavy metal band.
Hard to believe, in reality, we’re one of the oldest and most
esteemed families in the Helios- Ra. When you’re born into the
Wild family, no one asks you what you want to be when you grow
up. Th e answer is obvious: a vampire hunter.
Period.
No ifs, ands, or buts. No deviations of any kind.
One size fi ts all.
“I hate these stupid cargo pants,” my roommate Chloe muttered,
as she did at the start of every single school year. Classes
didn’t start for another week, but most of us moved into the
dorm early so we could spend that extra time working out and
getting ready. Chloe and I have been friends since our fi rst day at
the academy, when we were both terrifi ed. Now we’re eigh teen,
about to start our last year, and, frankly, just as terrifi ed. But at
least we fi nally get to be roommates. You only get to make rooming
requests in twelfth grade, otherwise they throw you in with
people as badly matched as they can fi nd, just to see how you
deal with the stress.
Have I mentioned I’m really glad this is our last year?
Even if the room will probably smell like nail polish and vanilla
perfume all year. Chloe already had her bare feet propped up on
her desk, applying a second coat of silver glitter over the purple
polish on her toenails. She was, most emphatically, not wearing
her regulation cargos.
I was, but only because my grandfather dropped me off this
morning, and he’s nothing if not old- school. He’s still muttering
about our friend Spencer, who has long blond dreads and wears
hemp necklaces with turquoise beads. Grandpa can’t fathom how
Spencer’s allowed to get away with it, why there’s a newfangled
(his word) paranormal division, or why a boy wouldn’t want a buzz
cut. Truth is, Spencer is such a genius when it comes to occult history,
the teachers are perfectly willing to turn a blind eye. Besides,
cargos are technically regulation wear only for drills and training
and actual fi eldwork. And Grandpa still doesn’t understand why I
won’t cut off my hair like any warrior worth her salt.
I totally earned this long hair.
I had to pass several combat scenarios without anyone being
able to grab it as a handhold to use against me. Nothing else would
extract a promise from Grandpa not to shave my head in my sleep.
I think he forgets that I’m not G.I. Joe.
Or that I like looking like a normal girl sometimes, with long
blond hair and lip gloss, and not just a hunter who kills vampires
every night. Under my steel- toe combat boots my nails are pink.
But I’d never tell him that. It would give him a heart attack.
He’d still be out there on patrols if the Helios- Ra doctors
hadn’t banned him from active duty last year because of the arthritis
in his neck and shoulder. He might be built like a bull but he
just doesn’t have the same fl exibility and strength that he used to.
He is, however, perfectly capable of being a guest expert at some
of the academy fi ght- training classes. He just loves beating down
sixteen- year- old boys who think they’re faster and better than he
is. Nothing makes him happier, not even my very- nearly straight
As last year. Th e fi rst time Spencer met him, he told me Grandpa
was Wild- West- gunslinger scary. It’s a pretty good description
actually— he even has the squint lines from shooting long- range
UV guns and crossbows. And the recent treaty negotiations with
certain ancient vampire families are giving him palpitations. In his
day, blah blah blah. He still doesn’t know Kieran took me into the
royal caves last week to meet with the new ruling vampire family,
the Drakes. And I’m so totally not telling him until I have to.
Grandpa might be old- school, but I’m not.
I like archery and martial arts, don’t get me wrong, and I defi -
nitely feel good about fi ghting the Hel- Blar. Th ey are the worst
of the worst kind of vampire: mindless, feral, and always looking
for blood. Th e more violently procured the better. Th ey’re faintly
blue, which is creepier than it sounds, and they smell like rotting
mushrooms.
Needless to say, mushrooms don’t get served a lot in the caf.
But I like all the history stuff too, and the research and working
with vampire families. I don’t think it should be a kill- themall-
and- let- God- sort- it- out situation. I love Grandpa— he took care
of me when my parents both died during a botched takedown of
a Hel- Blar nest— but sometimes he sounds like a bigot. It can be a
little embarrassing. Vampires are vampires are vampires to him. If
he found out Kieran was dating the sixteen- year- old Drake vampire
daughter, he’d freak right out. He thinks of Kieran as an
honorary grandson and would totally marry us off to each other if
we showed the slightest inclination. Hell, he tries to pair us up
anyway, and he’s about as subtle as a brick. Kieran’s like a brother
to me though, and I know he feels the same way about me. I might
be willing to sacrifi ce a lot for the Helios- Ra, but who I date is not
one of those things.
Unfortunately Grandpa’s not exactly known for giving up. Th e
thing is, neither am I. Th e infamous goat- stubborn streak runs
strong in every Wild, and I’m no exception.
“Would you please change into something decent? Just looking
at those cargos is giving me hives.” Chloe grimaced at me before
going back to blowing on her wet nail polish. She was wearing a
short sundress with lace- up sandals and earrings that swung
down practically to her shoulders. Her dark hair was a wild
mass of curls as usual, her brown eyes carefully lined with purple
to match her clothes. She’d already unpacked every stitch of
her wardrobe and hung it all neatly in our miniscule closet. It was
the only spot of neatness I’d see all year. I’d bug her about her
stuff everywhere, and she’d make fun of me for making my bed
every morning. I couldn’t wait. I’d missed her over the summer.
E-mails and texting just aren’t the same, no matter what she says.
“I don’t mind the cargos,” I told her, shrugging.
“Please, I’ve seen what few clothes you have and they’re all
pretty and lacy.”
“Not a lot of call for lace camisoles in survivalist training and
drills,” I pointed out.
“Well, since I don’t intend to set foot in that smelly old gym
until I absolutely have to, I demand you wear something pretty.”
She grinned at me. “I took you to dinner, didn’t I?”
“We went to the caf for mac and cheese,” I shot back, also grinning.
“And you’re not my type.”
“Please, you should be so lucky.”
A knock at the door interrupted us. Spencer poked his head
in. His dreads were even longer and more blond, nearly white.
He’d spent most of the summer at the beach, as usual. “I am so
stoked to fi nally be on the ground fl oor,” he said by way of a greeting.
“I’m never climbing those stairs again.”
“Tell me about it,” Chloe agreed.
Th e dorm was an old Victorian fi ve- story mansion. Ninth
graders lived in the converted attic and had to climb the narrow,
steep servant stairs several times a day. Every year we were promoted,
we descended a fl oor. Our window now overlooked the
pond behind the house and the single cranky swan that lived
there.
“Th at bird’s looking at me again,” I said. He’d nearly taken a
fi nger my very fi rst day at the academy when I tried to feed him
the bagel I’d saved from lunch.
Spencer sat on the edge of my bed, rolling his eyes. “It’s dark
out, genius.”
“I know he’s out there,” I insisted. “Just waiting for me.”
“You can take out a vampire, you can take out a pretty white
bird.”
“I guess. You don’t know how shifty those swans are.” I wrinkled
my nose and sat on the end of my bed, resting against the
pillow. “But speaking of vampires—”
“Aren’t we always?” Chloe said. “Just once I’d like to talk about
boys and fashion and Hugh Jackman’s abs.”
“Hello? Like you ever talk about anything else?” Spencer
groaned. “I need more guy friends.”
I nudged him with my boot. “Guys would never have been able
to put in a good word for you with Francesca last year,” I told him.
“Yeah, but she broke my heart.”
“Give me a break. You dumped her.”
“Because there’s only room in my heart for you two lunatics.”
I threw a pillow at his head.
“What she said,” Chloe agreed, since she couldn’t reach her
own pillow.
“And anyway, if you were hanging out burping and scratching
with other guys you wouldn’t hear about my visit to the vampire
royal caves last week.”
“We don’t burp and scratch,” he turned to eye me balefully.
“And what?”
Even Chloe put down her nail polish. “Seriously?”
“Kieran took me,” I said, a little smugly. It was rare that I was
the one with the story to tell. Usually I was too busy trying to get
Chloe and Spencer out of trouble to get into any of my own.
“Dude,” Spencer whistled appreciatively. “How did you get that
past your grandfather?”
“I didn’t exactly tell him,” I admitted. “I said I was going out for
extra credit.”
“Finally.” Chloe pretended to wipe away a tear of pride. “She’s
sneaking around and fl at- out lying. Our little girl.”
Spencer and I both ignored her.
“So what was it like?” he asked eagerly. “Tell me everything.
Any rituals? Secret vampire magic?”
“Sorry, nothing for your thesis,” I told him. “But a princess
from the Hounds tribe was there.”
“Get out,” Spencer stared at me. “You are the luckiest. What
was she like?”
“Quiet, intense, French.” Like the other Hounds, she’d had
two sets of fangs. “She had amulets around her neck.”
“Can you draw them for me?” he asked immediately.
“I could try.”
“You two are boring.” Chloe huff ed out a sigh. “Quit studying—
we haven’t even started classes yet. Tell me about the Drake brothers.
Are they as yummy as everyone says?”
“Totally.” I didn’t even have to think about that one. “It was
like being in a room full of Johnny Depps. One of them even kind
of dressed like a pirate.”
Chloe gave a trembling, reverent sigh. Th en she narrowed her
eyes at me. “Don’t you dare leave me behind next time.”
“I think it was a one- time thing. Hart was there and everything.”
Hart was the new leader of the Helios- Ra and Kieran’s uncle.
“It was mostly treaty talk. I still don’t know why I was invited.”
“Because you’re good at that stuff ,” Chloe declared loyally.
“Idiot,” she added, less loyally.
I hadn’t felt particularly skilled, more like the bumbling teenager
at a table full of adults. I’d had to remind myself more than
once that I’d been invited, that I wasn’t obviously useless or an
outsider.
Especially when Quinn Drake smirked at me.
All the Drake brothers were ridiculously gorgeous, but he
had that smoldering charm down to an art. Th e kind you only read
about in books. I’d always thought it would be annoying in real
life.
So not.
Although the fact that he called me “Buff y” all night was less
fun.
“You have a funny look on your face,” Chloe said.
“I do not.” I jerked my errant thoughts away from Quinn. “Th is
is just my face.”
“Please, you never turn that color. You’re blushing, Hunter
Wild.”
“Am not.” Quinn wasn’t my type anyway. Not that I knew what
my type was. Still. I was sure pretty boys who knew they were
pretty weren’t it.
I was spared further prodding and poking when the lights suddenly
went out.
Th e emergency blue fl oor light by the door and under the window
blinked on. Spencer and I jumped to our feet. Th e windows
locked themselves automatically. Iron bars lowered and clanged
shut.
“No! Not now!” Chloe exclaimed, blowing harder on her toes.
“Th ey’re going to smear.”
“Isn’t it too early for a drill?” I frowned, trying to see out to the
pond and the fi elds leading to the forest all around us. It was dark
enough that only the glimmer of water showed and the half- moon
over the main house where Headmistress Bellwood lived. “I mean,
half the students aren’t even here yet.”
“Chloe’s the one who’s supposed to know this stuff ,” Spencer
said pointedly.
“I haven’t had time! I just got here!” She swung her feet to
the fl oor and balanced on her heels, wriggling her toes. Usually
she hacked into the schedules and found out when the drills were
happening so we’d have some warning. She was disgruntled,
scowling fi ercely. “Th is sucks.”
“Maybe it’s not a drill?” Spencer asked. “Maybe this one’s
real?”
“It’s totally a drill. And I’m registering a complaint,” Chloe
grumbled, slinging her pack over her shoulder. She didn’t go anywhere
without her laptop or some kind of high- tech device. “I’m
still on summer vacation, damn it. Th is is so unfair.”
“Glad I didn’t change out of these,” I told her, pulling a fl ashlight
out of one of my cargo pants’ many pockets.
“If you spout some ‘be prepared’ school motto shit, I am so
going to kick you.”
“Like you’d risk your nail polish,” I said with a snort, pushing
the door open. “Let’s just go.”