Much as it injures my

pride to have to confess

such a lapse, I have
stumbled off the path
and fallen into Light. It
sears and scorches the
will out of me, so that
I no longer even regret
what I have lost. The
memory of that regret
— or its phantom — re-
mains, however. I have
spoken before, or will
speak in times to come,
of the way that time is
twisted and coiled. The
past and future crowd
me now at all times, as
vivid and painful as the
present. Memories and
visions, they have tooth
and claw as vicious as
any skin-changer.
At the bottom of
the United Kingdom, my
protégé — just a little
damaged by his mis-
adventures — led me
to a place of signifi-
cant power. Chanctonbury
Ring is in the county
of Sussex. It is a lone-
ly hilltop, crowned by a
circle of trees, that the
locals say is beloved
of the Enemy, Satan
Himself. To get to it,
you have to walk a long
way up a winding forest
path and then across a
ridge, far beyond the
easy touch of the mod-
ern world. The legends
say that those who stay
the night will attract the
Enemy’s curiosity. He will
come to them, and their
fate will depend entire-
ly on His mood, for the
Ring is a place that the
divine does not touch.
We went there, spent the
night among the trees,
and in the small hours of
the morning, the Darkness
came for me.
I resisted His tempta-
tions.
It was not easy. My
quest has been long and
wearying and has tak-
en me to many strange
places. The Darkness did
not speak to me, nor did
He identify Himself. He
approached me through my
powers. I was offered clar-
ity of sight to look back
to the very beginning, to
finally discover the truth
of what we are and where
we began. The vision was
there in the back of my
mind, waiting for me to
turn my attention to it for
an instant. I knew it as
surely as I knew my own
mind. A lesser man might
have snatched at the
power, but if there is one
thing that I have learned
from my native home, it
is that there is always a
price, and that the high-
est prices are the ones you
cannot see. My soul is not
for purchase.
When the Darkness
lost interest in me and
went elsewhere, William
subsided into compulsive
vomiting. I realized only
then that he had been
shrieking in pain the whole
time of my visitation. He
recovered by the time
dawn broke, and although
weak, he was able to walk.
Later, the Shining
Ones showed me how I
might attain the same
reaches of power — a
route of considerable
exertions. My vision had
never led me falsely,
and it did not occur
to me that I might be
required to sacrifice my
Self.
 Whose side are you on? It may be the most important question
there is.
There is a vast, empty plain, gray with the mixed dust of ashes
and powdered bones. It sits behind my eyes, behind my mind. It is
immense and ancient. No human will ever walk it, yet we are all there,
all of the chosen. This is where gods come to die. It is time once
again for the fight. We are called to battle, my brothers and sisters.
The forces of Light and Darkness are fierce and implacable, dead-
ly in their hatred of each other. They have fought a thousand times
before, and will fight a thousand times again. We are pieces in their
deadly game.
Whose side are you on? Light or Darkness?
Dare you reject both and side with humanity?
The third option is not one that our lords and masters like to draw
attention to, but you do not have to betray your own. You can refuse
to accept orders and decrees, missions and quests, temptations and
devotions. There is a route to the highest orders of power within all
of us. It is part of the process that makes us what we are, perhaps.
I feel certain that if the Shining Ones could close it to us, then they
would. They are like an over-protective father, unwilling to let his
child develop independence.
This third way requires sacrifices. Of course it does. But one has to
let go of distractions to become truly focused. By striving within, you may
find the path to realize your potential and play your full role in the dra-
ma to come. Then you will be able to do as your conscience and true will
dictate, for you will still have conscience, which the Darkness would not
leave you, and you will still have true will, which is not permitted when
one serves the Light. I know, for I can see it in my memories and visions.
The Shining Ones showed me the way and I followed — and have become
a follower as a result.
The phantom of what I once was is powerful, though, as once my
will was. It feeds itself to me, giving me strength, allowing these
words I write. Each of them eats a little of it, however, and soon I
will put down this pen as my masters require and write no more, for
there will be no more of me left. The embers of an old fire smolder
in my soul, and they kindle enough rebellion for this last act of dis-
obedience.
Pay heed. The last shards of my independence burn away so that
you may hear this last and greatest warning. There is always a price. It
is unavoidable. But you may choose who to pay: the Darkness, the Shining
Ones or yourself.
HUNTER: FALL FROM GRACE

6
 PROLOGUE: LAST CRUSADE

Prologue:
Last Crusade
The world is charged with the grandeur of God. “Oh for God’s sake….”
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil. “Tactically, we go back to the hotel so that you can
There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. It was a bright, gather your things. Strategically, we continue against
almost painful blue. The flowers in full spring glory the unholy filth that claimed our comrade.”
seemed to radiate their own light, and the sun beat “Wendell, they’re all dead. Do you even remember
down with cheerful warmth. freaking out? Screaming, ‘God hates you’? You blew
It was a beautiful day for a funeral, but the few guests them all to pieces with that stuff, that C4.”
at the service weren’t outside in the fresh air. They were “That was just one nest. There are more.”
in the crematorium. “You’re not even going to take a break and mourn Karla?”
The lone woman was wearing a black dress that was “The best way I can mourn her is by avenging her.”
a little small on her. It fell awkwardly to her mid-shin “Yeah, I’m sure that’s what she’d want.”
and was tight across the shoulders. It had belonged to
Wendell had been about to start the van, but he
the girl going into the flames.
turned to the woman instead of turning the key.
The man wore a black suit with the too-sharp
“What’s that mean?” he said.
creases of pure polyester. He stood at rigid attention,
brow furrowed, with a rosary wound between his fingers. “Just that monster hunting was your crusade, not hers.”
The only other people present were the priest, who “Clearly, it became hers as well.”
didn’t know either of the mourners, and the attendant “Oh sure. When you throw someone in the mud,
who operated the furnace. they get muddy,” Justine said.
The priest seemed to hurry through the service. “Do you think she wanted them to survive once
Usually people didn’t watch the coffin go into the she knew the truth?”
flames, but the man, Wendell, had insisted. The room “Of course not. But I’m guessing she wanted to
was small, concrete, utilitarian. There wasn’t even a survive.”
podium, so the priest had to hold his Bible. Wendell slammed the dashboard and Justine jumped.
Afterward, the woman, whose name was Justine, She’d seen his temper before and she almost backed off,
asked Wendell if he wanted the ashes. but not this time. The bright sunlight made the whole
situation seem surreal. The uncomfortable dress made her
“I thought we should scatter them, just to be safe,”
cranky. And she missed Karla, who had become her friend.
he said. She sighed.
“It’s better to die knowing the salvation of Christ—”
When they got back to his van, he pulled off his jacket
and put on a shapeless, oversized windbreaker. It hid his “That’s your answer for everything. She was better
shoulder holster much better than the suit coat did. off dying a Christian at 19 than living to—?”
“Yes! It’s better to die a Christian — at any age! You
“So what now?” Justine asked.
think I don’t regret it? You think I’m not in torment,
“Tactically or strategically?” wondering how I could have saved her?”
7
HUNTER: FALL FROM GRACE

“I’ll tell you how you could have saved her. You could Though he’d never told anyone, Neal liked the way
have let her go instead of recruiting her into your ‘army’!” women’s feet looked in tight little hiking boots. It wasn’t
“What do you mean, ‘let her go’? You make it sound a fetish or anything. He just liked it. This woman’s feet
like she was a captive.” looked particularly good to him and he wondered how
“Wasn’t she? No money, hundreds of miles from long she was going to be in town. He casually took a
home, no job. What was she supposed to do? Especially few steps forward, trying to get near enough to look for
with you scaring the crap out of her all the time, telling a wedding band.
her about bloodsucker this and rot that.” There was something on the back of her backpack
“I told her the truth!” like a flag — two circles and an arrow. When he was a
“What a big favor. In case you hadn’t noticed, the yard away, he tipped his hat. “Mornin’,” he said.
truth sucks. Lots of people are perfectly happy without “B… good day, officer,” she replied.
knowing it.” Neal smiled. An accent. Every American man was
“Like you wanted to be?” Wendell said. a sucker for an accent, right? Sounded French maybe,
“Yeah! I know I can’t go back, but that doesn’t or Italian or something. The park got a few guests from
mean I don’t want to. She could have. She could have Europe, though they were usually Germans.
dropped out and lived a real life!” She had a wide, open smile and no ring. But there
“She would have been hooking again within a month.” was something about her eyes. Something two degrees
from normal. Something that made him think less like
Justine slapped him. For a moment, she saw his nostrils
a consenting adult who looked good in a uniform and
flare and his pupils dilate, and realized that she’d gone
more like a man sworn to serve and protect.
too far. He lunged across the seat. She was fast enough to
get her arms and legs between them, but he was strong, “Doin’ a little camping?”
hysterically strong. In an instant, he had her legs pinned “Yes. I am waiting for some friends. We are going up
against her chest and her wrists caught in a crushing grip. the Snake River.” She said ‘yes’ and ‘waiting’ and ‘river’ with
She tried to kick him in the crotch, but she couldn’t move. that odd accent… like there was a silent ‘u’ in front of them.
He shifted to do… something. To grip both her “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”
wrists in one hand, so he could hit or strangle her with She shrugged.
the other? Desperate, Justine tried words. “What do they look like? Maybe I’ve seen them.”
“Karla told me you hit her once, too.” “Oh, I do not need your help, thank you.” Then she
It worked. cocked her head, like she was listening. “I… appreciate
Like the plug pulled from a bathtub, all the anger drained your offer, though. You are too kind. Perhaps when I
out of him. He eased back behind the steering wheel. have returned from my trip, we may meet again?”
“Wendell,” she said carefully, “I’m going now.” She was pretty enough. High cheekbones, long hair,
He nodded. She opened her mouth, closed it, then cute accent, the boots…. But something in her tone
said, “Look… I know you saved her. She told me that. made Neal more nervous than aroused. Her eyes were
And you saved me, too… lots of ways. But once you save just a little… vacant.
someone, you have to let them go.” “That would be great, great,” he said. Then he looked
“Then go,” he said dully. at his watch. “Whoa! I have a patrol to start. When are
Justine bit her lip. “Wendell—” you going to be back?”
“Go now.” “Eh, I do not know, so sorry. I shall look for you
when I return?”
As she was walking away, he pulled the van up and
held out her purse. She immediately felt the weight of “Sure.” He touched his hat brim again. “I’m Neal
it and saw a pistol inside. It wasn’t until later that she Broderburg.”
found the $500 he’d also put in there. She smiled. He waited.
† † † “And you are…?” he finally prompted.
Comforter, where, where is your comforting? “Oh, so silly! I am Beatrice. Er, Beatrice Duchamps.”
The little woman didn’t stand out. She wasn’t a “Nice to meet you.” Neal turned — not too fast —
local, but lots of strangers passed through Pollock on the and went back to his squad car. Then he drove away
way to the national park. She had on good hiking boots — not too fast — parked around a corner, went into
and a nice backpack, but they weren’t glossy and new. a supermarket and discreetly watched her through the
An experienced eye — like Neal Broderburg’s — would front window.
judge her as someone who could spend a week in the A pickup arrived eventually. It had a cardboard
woods without an RV and call it fun. She looked okay. sign in the back window with four linked rings. Beatrice
Nothing was going on, so Neal decided to get closer. smiled that big smile to the people inside and got in.

8
 PROLOGUE: LAST CRUSADE

Neal almost wrote it off. But instead, he called a “You know, there’s me,” Lou said. “I mean, I can’t
buddy in the park service and asked him to keep an eye get around so good anymore, but I’m not useless.”
out for the truck, to find out where they were going. “I was hoping to at least get a trio, but it may just
“You think they’re suspicious?” his friend asked. be the two of us. I don’t like it, but perhaps we can pick
“N… naaah. The one chick was kind of flirting. up a third while we track our target.”
Wanna make sure she ain’t being passed around like a “One target? Sounds big league. Some kind of shifter?
doobie. You know.” Real old fang?”
His pal laughed. “Oh, I’ll make sure to get an eyeful Wendell shook his head. “Beatrice Tremblay.”
if it’s that kinda party.” Lou paled. “You mean… Oracle?”
† † † “I should have done it long ago.”
Our evening is over us; our night “But she’s one of us!”
whelms, whelms, and will end us. “Not anymore. The last time I saw her, I hesitated…
“You’re certain this server is secure?” Wendell asked. but I sensed something foul. I was weak. I followed human
“Good to see you again, too,” the man standing feelings instead of divine will.” As he spoke, Wendell’s
with a cane said. His name was Lou. “Yeah, it’s secure.” voice became colder. “I won’t make that mistake again.”
Wendell logged in. “Sorry, man. Count me out.”
“So, long time no see.” Wendell responded with a Wendell turned a calm and contemptuous eye on
grunt. “What happened to the two teenage ladies with Lou. “I’m not surprised. Just don’t get in my way.”
you last time?” “What?”
“One died.” Wendell didn’t even look up from the “Lou, you know better.”
screen. Lou gulped. “Last I heard, the other was going The other man hung his head and fiddled with his
to rendezvous with Henry Eames.” cane.
“Ah, Driver. Poor bastard.” “She ain’t on the list anymore,” Lou muttered.
“At least his daughter is still alive.” “Any idea how to find her?”
“The girl who died… she wasn’t…?” Lou shook his head. Wendell nodded and stood to
“No. Just someone I saved.” Wendell sighed. “Where go. At the door, he turned.
is everyone?” “These are hellish choices, Lou. Don’t feel bad
“Who you looking for?” about your weakness. There is still plenty of good you
“Solomon.” can do… plenty of obvious good.”
“Quit the list, remember?” † † †
“I remember Rigger getting ejected. What I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day.
about Ripsaw?” “There’s something here,” the pudgy man said in a
“Oh man,” Lou said. “He hasn’t been posting, but I hollow voice. “Can you feel it?”
got some news about him from Europe. Went after some “There is a presence with us always, mon ami,”
big fang with a bunch of other guys. Big guns, explosions, Beatrice replied.
all kinds of crazy police shi… er, stuff.” The pudgy man wouldn’t have passed Neal’s inspec-
“Typical Ripsaw. Fifty-percent fatalities?” tion. His camping gear was all the same, all brand-new
“You mean on his side? Yeah. One-hundred percent and cheap. He’d huffed and puffed, hauling it into the
on the other side from what I hear, though.” woods. His name was Rick and he was a laid-off electrical
“And he survived.” engineer. He’d once persuaded a ghost to give up on
“Uh huh.” revenge and reconcile itself to the afterlife.
“Truly, the Lord looks out for fools.” The other two people from the truck were Nancy,
“Yeah, well, after 9/11, Ripsaw really lost it. Said who did inventory for a baking-supply company, and
he was going to Iraq.” Patrick, a CPA. Patrick’s wife had come back from the
“The Lord looks out for madmen, too. Is anyone grave and he and Nancy had dealt with her together.
worthwhile still on the list?” “This is something… something bad,” Rick said.
“Memphis, but I know you two don’t get along. “Maybe just something we don’t understand,” Patrick
Soldier’s on once in a while.” said, but he didn’t seem very sure.
“He’s a fool, too,” Wendell said dismissively. “What Night had fallen and they had set up camp on the
about Traveler?” Idaho side of the Snake River. Their fire was terribly
“No word for months.” small, but to the eyes watching from the woods, it was
“And he’s our link to Pedro.” clearly visible.

9
 HUNTER: FALL FROM GRACE

The unseen watcher was Neal’s forest-ranger friend, looked at his Knights of Columbus tiepin, then asked,
Scott. A happily married man, he didn’t think much of “Is there some kind of problem?”
either woman. Privately, he thought Neal was getting “No problem,” the man replied.
a little hard-up. “He’s looking for someone,” Norris said.
Scott went back to his truck and called Neal on the radio. “Maybe I can help.”
“So far the only suspicious thing about your campers Before the stranger could stop him, the clerk gave
is that they haven’t made smores. They’re at site 17, the Neal a piece of paper.
one by the bend in the river.” It was from a color printer and it had a picture of
“Seventeen? That’s where those two girls….” Beatrice Duchamps on it. Only, it said her name was
“Yeah. But you don’t think there’s anything…?” Beatrice Tremblay and that she was a dangerous criminal
“Nah. No connection, I’m sure. If they aren’t, you wanted in Canada.
know, doing anything.” “You know this woman?” Neal asked.
“Looks like they’re going to take canoes out in the “The question is, do you?”
morning.” Scott was outside the pickup, leaning against “Why don’t you come with me? We can both get
its side with the microphone cord stretched through the some answers.”
open window. “I’d say everything’s fine.”
The man hesitated. He looked at Norris, then at Neal.
“Great. Over and out,” Neal replied.
Suddenly the room filled with thick black smoke.
Scott shuddered unaccountably, as if the conversa-
“What the…?” Neal reached for his pistol and was
tion had bothered him somehow. The ranger glanced up
startled to find a hand already there. He put both hands
at the sky, trying to judge tomorrow’s weather. Probably
on his holster, only to feel another gun barrel pressed
crystal clear. He glanced reflexively to the left and
against his temple.
flinched at something that seemed inches from his face.
Then he realized it was a bat, not close at all but yards “I’m loath to kill an officer of the law, but I will if
away, which would mean its wingspan was— you don’t tell me where she is.”
He didn’t even have time to scream. “I… I can’t….”
† † † “Campsite 17!” For a moment, Neal didn’t recognize
Cheer whom though? The hero whose heaven-handling Norris’ voice. It was so squeaky and scared. “Her and her
flung me, friends bought a map. Asked for directions!”
foot trod |Me? “I would like to purchase the same map, with the
Back at his office, Neal felt unsettled somehow. But same directions.”
there was nothing to be disturbed about, he convinced “Norris, don’t!”
himself, and started home for the evening. His car was “Officer, please lie down on the floor.” The request
parked near Woodsmoke Outfitters, and as he walked was punctuated by the hard click of a hammer being
up, he saw a man inside the store. drawn back on a revolver.
Neal almost went right by, but there was something † † †
about the man that made the officer pause. There was That I may rise and stand, o’erthrow me, and bend
something about his posture, his gestures, that attracted Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
Neal’s attention. The man was speaking to Norris, the Wendell truly felt bad about having to handcuff the
owner, and was trouble. Neal had been a cop for a while. sheriff and the store clerk. He didn’t think it would take
He instinctively ran through a list of likely possibilities: them more than 10 minutes to be freed. Then the cop
wife-beater, angry drunk, armed robber, pissed-off driver. would head for campsite 17. With some luck, he’d find only
Neal couldn’t have said exactly what, but he was the traitor’s body. But if not, he’d find the horrors of Hell.
willing to bet money that under the right circumstances, As he parked near the campsite, Wendell heard a
this guy would be violent. scream. The cop would not be lucky.
He went in and heard, “Look, I know you saw her. “At least he’s a Christian,” Wendell muttered as
Your eyes tell me you’re lying. Lying is a sin. You should he adjusted his night-vision goggles and checked the
stop it right now.” silencer on his sniper rifle.
“Evenin’,” Neal said pleasantly. He muttered a quick Act of Contrition and was
The man turned, straightened slowly and dropped his sickened but not surprised to see evil upon the land. It
shoulders. He was visibly trying to appear to be relaxed. was dormant for the moment, but clouding the air like
“Officer,” he said. smoke, laced through every tree like sap, beating in the
As Neal got closer, he thought he saw the man’s blood of every animal watching through the undergrowth.
eyes flick down to his shirtfront, then back to his face. Wendell set out through the woods at a fast pace,
Neal glanced down himself, wondering why the man had trying to find the riverbank. Perhaps he could flank the
10
 PROLOGUE: LAST CRUSADE

group, take them by surprise. He stumbled a couple times.

Perhaps the land was awakening to his presence, trying
to seize him. He didn’t fall, though, and he finally broke
through the bushes to the rocky shore.
He saw movement and glanced up in time to see
the soaring shapes of enormous bats as one peeled off
and another swooped down at him.
The rifle he carried was big, powerful and awkward.
In addition, tonight it was equipped with a starlight scope,
which he couldn’t use without taking off his night-vision
goggles. Wendell raised the gun and fired by dead reckoning.
The monstrous animal fell into the water in two pieces, but
three of its fellows swooped down on the attack.
Wendell dropped his rifle as he leapt back into the
undergrowth, pulling a pistol from his shoulder holster.
He lay down on his back, trying to present an oblique
target as he took one shot, then two. Each bat fell, one
dead, the other crippled. He ignored the wounded crea-
ture’s splashing as the third fastened itself to his chest,
chewing through his mesh vest. Snarling, Wendell seized
the thrashing thing with his left hand, jammed the gun
into its furry body with his other, and pulled the trigger.
The creature’s blood splashed on him. The close muzzle
flash ignited his clothes briefly, but he was left unharmed.
Before Wendell could catch his breath, he heard
a distant gunshot and screams. Some part of his mind
registered that the dead bat shrank to a normal size. But
he had already lurched to his feet, seized his rifle and
started running down the beach.
“Our Father, who art in heaven,” he whispered, re-
newing the holy sight as he rounded a bend. He spied the
glare of the fire through his night-vision goggles. Diving
onto his stomach, he crawled toward the foot of a tree.
With part of his attention, he flipped down the rifle’s
bipod, tore off his goggles, and made the best of the tree’s
cover. With another part, he gazed at the evil before him. A
woman was already dead, face down in the sand. Two others
held flaming branches. They screamed as they swung upward
at swooping bats, and struck downward at clutching roots
and huge, skittering insects. Wendell saw the sheriff — who
must have known a faster route — standing at the edge of
a path, face twisted in disbelief, firing a shotgun. But most
of Wendell’s attention focused on two remaining figures.
One was Beatrice Tremblay. She stood with her
back to him, a flashlight in each hand, turned off and
pointing down at the ground.
The other was a bear, but not really a bear. Look-
ing with the angel’s sight, Wendell could see that the
evil all around the place was focused within the beast.
It was something deep and foul and older than the
stars. It was hate without limit and force without form,
flowing through and around the creature in the way a
plague-bearing wind might flow over a windowsill.
The same vileness moved through Tremblay.

11
 HUNTER: FALL FROM GRACE

“Your choice is clear!” Beatrice shouted. “Come to The fear in his sergeant’s eyes as Wendell knelt on the
the light or be burned and destroyed!” man’s chest, raining blows onto his face.
The bear’s reply was hideous. The icy calm as Wendell made tiny adjustments to his
“I BEND KNEE TO NO MAN, NO GOD — AND aim while his target walked across the parking lot, eating a
NO DEMON!” donut, ready for a day’s murders.
The joy in his heart as he fired bullet after bullet into a
Beatrice raised and beamed both flashlights at its
vampire’s back as it crawled away, leaking its stolen blood,
chest, but the abomination belched forth a cloud of
mewling and begging.
blood and darkness, blocking and absorbing the light.
The way Karla’s pimp trembled as the man peered
The sheriff screamed as a huge spider bit clean unseeing into the angel fog, unaware as Wendell pointed a
through his boot. gun at his face.
“Thy will be done…” Wendell whispered as he The blood slave, crying as Wendell swung the baseball
squeezed the trigger, pumping round after round at the bat against the man’s outstretched arms.
bats and beasts. Some hit. Some missed. But inside, he The vindication he knew when he slapped Karla and
knew it was hopeless. They kept coming: Swirling from screamed, “Whore! Harlot! Temptress!”
the dark above and scuttling through the undergrowth. And Justine in the front seat, eyes bright with fear as
Even as he prayed, he felt the rage rise within him. And he lunged at her.
even as he prayed, he counted bullets.
Wendell’s eyes were wet with tears as he said, “Yes.
What could he do? Keep shooting until his ammuni- Take it. Take it all.”
tion was gone? That would be pointless, and would just
† † †
delay the inevitable. Target the bear? Even if a bullet
Not, I’ll not, carrion comfort, Despair, not feast on thee
could kill it, he would lose his chance to kill Tremblay,
the Judas, the betrayer. Or he could shoot her, taking — Gerard Manley Hopkins
the beast out of check and letting it ravage the others. Neal’s first wild shot had been fired in panic, but the
With one shot left, the rage was overwhelming. He second hit and that steadied him. Time seemed to slow
couldn’t save them. He couldn’t save anyone. He was down as the sheer horror of what he witnessed seemed
useless and weak. He was pointless and miserable and to overload his capacity for fear. His third and fourth
small and there was nothing left but the taste of spite. shots were made in a sort of fugue state, unthinking,
“As we forgive those who trespass against us…” he whis- unfeeling, just acting. But he knew his gun held only
pered as he centered the crosshairs on Beatrice Tremblay’s five shots and after that, he was going to die.
back. She hadn’t moved. Whatever unholy force she carried As he ejected the spent cartridge of his fourth round,
like a sickness, it was locked in stalemate with the other. Neal saw someone stand up near the riverbank and stride
Matched in power and wickedness, neither could overcome. resolutely forward. He had a moment to think, “It’s the
And then he felt the presence. guy from the store. He’s going to die, too,” before the
bats converged.
He had read that some of the Chosen heard from
the angels again, after their initial blessing. He had long The man had a pistol in his hand, and when he fired
envied that contact, but now that they spoke to him it at a bat, there was a blinding glare — like a brief slice of
again, he remembered the raw terror that they brought. daylight spliced into the night. The two men by the fire were
so tired and harried that they knelt on the ground, waving
“ONLY YOU CAN SAVE THEM,” he heard.
their torches feebly while the circling shadows closed for
“How?” he whispered. “Please. Please tell me how.” the kill. But as the newcomer came within the radius of
Already the presence within him seemed so power- their firelight, he screamed “Away!” and the monsters fled.
ful, so vast, that he felt as if his skin was going to split. A small, strange hope entered Neal’s heart and he
Then it increased even more, bringing with it a flood began to run, stumbling toward this mystery, this savior.
of images. He intuitively understood that words were
not their way, that their true language was reality itself. The man continued to fire into the air, long past
when his revolver should have been empty. He pointed
He saw an altar. A fire. He saw the Eucharist raised on the pistol at the strange, monstrous, hellish being — and
high. A great crucifix. A goat with its horns caught in a bush.
suddenly it was simply a brown bear again. It shied away
“A sacrifice,” he whispered. “I give it. Anything at all.” from the fire and made off into the darkness.
More images. He couldn’t look away, because they The woman, Beatrice Duchamps, Beatrice Tremblay,
were not only in his mind, they were his mind. They turned to face the stranger. The beams of her lights seemed dim
were his memories and he was reliving them. now, weak electric flickers that played upon the man’s face.
The horrified look of the playground lady. “What did
“Return,” he told her. His face was a clean mask of
you do to him Wendell? What did you do?”
seraphic tranquillity.
The burning shame as the judge said, “You seem like
an upright young man, but you must control your temper!” Wordlessly, she fled into the night.

12
By Rick Chillot, Tim Dedopulos, Patrick O’Duffy,
Greg Stolze and Chuck Wendig
13
 Credits White Wolf Hockey Special Thanks
Authors: Rick Chillot, Tim Dedopulos, Patrick O’Duffy, Chad “Sideways Goalie” Brown (#14, Wing), for tough-
Greg Stolze and Chuck Wendig. World of Darkness ing it out with busted players in dome hockey.
created by Mark Rein•Hagen. Brian “Hockey?” Glass (#84, Goal). Oh, Brian.
Storyteller Game System Design: Mark Rein•Hagen Matt “Most Offensive Church Mouse” Milberger (#7,
Developer: Ken Cliffe Wing), for being able to crash the net but not raise his
Editor: Allison M. Sturms voice above a peep.
Hunter Roster Manager: John Meehan Mike “Posthumous” Tinney (#11, Goal), for entering
Art Director: Pauline Benney the Hall of Fame.
Layout and Typesetting: Pauline Benney Fred “Wheels” Yelk (#56, Defense), for playing roller
Interior Art: Jason Alexander, Stephen Eidson, Alex hockey on three points: two skates and an ass.
Lamas, Steve Prescott, Drew Tucker, Kieran Yanner
Front Cover Art: Mike Danza
Front and Back Cover Design: Pauline Benney

© 2002 White Wolf Publishing, Inc. All rights reserved.

Reproduction without the written permission of the publisher is
expressly forbidden, except for the purposes of reviews, and for
blank character sheets, which may be reproduced for personal use
only. White Wolf, Hunter the Reckoning and World of Darkness
are registered trademarks of White Wolf Publishing, Inc. All rights
reserved. Hunter Storytellers Companion, Hunter Survival Guide,
Hunter Apocrypha, Hunter Players Guide, Hunter Storytellers
Handbook, Hunter Book Hermit, Year of the Damned, Demon
the Fallen and Hunter Fall from Grace are trademarks of White Wolf Publishing, Inc. All rights reserved. All
characters, names, places and text herein are copyrighted by White Wolf Publishing, Inc.
The mention of or reference to any company or product in these pages is not a challenge to the trademark
or copyright concerned.
This book uses the supernatural for settings, characters and themes. All mystical and supernatural ele-
ments are fiction and intended for entertainment purposes only. This book contains mature content. Reader
discretion is advised.
For a free White Wolf catalog call 1-800-454-WOLF.
Check out White Wolf online at
http://www.white-wolf.com; alt.games.whitewolf and rec.games.frp.storyteller
PRINTED IN THE USA.

14
 Table of Contents
Prologue: Last Crusade 6
Introduction 16
Chapter 1: The Solitary Road 20
Chapter 2: Cracked as the Desert Ground 40
Chapter 3: The Devil You Know 60
Chapter 4: Rules and Storytelling 86
15
 HUNTER: FALL FROM GRACE

16
 INTRODUCTION

Introduction
Now therefore, I pray thee, if I have found grace in thy sight,
show me now thy way, that I may know thee, that I may find grace
in thy sight: and consider that this nation is thy people.
— Exodus 33:13

The Price of Power

When a person is imbued, she’s thrown headlong
the dream that clouded her mind before — but she’s
virtually alone in her awareness and forced to come to
grips with a miserable new life.
into a nightmare world that she never knew existed. She’s Subjected to these pressures, many hunters don’t
awoken to a horrific reality in which monsters, things out make it. They fall under the teeth and claws of beasts,
of children’s fantasies, are proven to exist. Not only are become the playthings of puppet masters or take their
the creatures of the night real, they lurk in the shadows, own lives when they can’t bear the suffering any longer.
manipulate the unsuspecting and prey upon the helpless. Others, however, manage to endure. They might bear
A newly chosen hunter might be able to turn her back an intense grudge or impose a self-imposed mission
on the things for a while, but probably not for long as she against the supernatural and just can’t let go or won’t be
recognizes them at work or everywhere and eventually defeated. They might feel such immense sorrow or have
realizes that the people, places and things she cares for such bountiful forgiveness for monsters that they refuse
are in jeopardy. She has to do something. to stop reconciling creatures. Or they might have such
A hunter’s first days, nights, weeks and even months blinding insight into or lofty aspirations for the world
are spent in torment. She dares to contend with the that they endure all suffering to fulfill a greater good.
supernatural at risk to life, limb, mind and soul. She These hunters who survive delve further and further
might seek to destroy every being she comes across, to into the hunt. Their lives before can become little more
make the things see the error of their ways and exist than memories as they strive to deal with more monsters
in harmony with society, or she might try to learn the or salvage any fragments of hope. As these tenacious few
very secrets behind monsters. No matter what approach achieve successes and find more scraps of the truth, they
she takes or what calling she answers, every lesson she gain increasing power. They manifest new and strange
learns and every victory she wins comes by hard knocks. edges that allow them to continue the mission. Whether
The kind that raise bruises, break bones, drain spirits, these capabilities are acquired as a reward for their victories
distance friends, end careers and kill family. Seeing the or as tools with which to score victories is unknown. The
real world and knowing a glimmer of the truth can seem Messengers — or whomever or whatever awakens the
like a precious gift — the hunter is allowed to wake from chosen — offer no answers. But with increasing

17
 HUNTER: FALL FROM GRACE

power, surviving hunters can accomplish greater feats, face There’s only one way to find out — as long as striking
increasingly potent beings and solve ever more perplexing a deal doesn’t lead to a fall from grace.
mysteries about the supernatural.
These edges, advantages and insights come at a
Rise and Fall
price, though. Immersion in the hunt distances the Fall from Grace is a landmark book for Hunter: The
chosen from whoever they used to be, so much so that Reckoning. It’s dedicated to playing and storytelling the
they can lose touch with themselves and their sanity. most obsessed, driven, potent and insane of the imbued:
Perhaps it’s the burden of knowing horrible truths, of extremists. These are characters who’ve seen and done
witnessing horrific spectacles or of being mere humans brave, dangerous, terrifying and tragic things in the
bestowed inhuman power. The reason doesn’t matter. name of the hunt. They started as all the chosen do at
The fact is, hunters who persevere ironically go mad. the imbuing, but have managed to survive and struggle
It seems woefully unfair that the reward for fulfilling long enough that they have become experienced, perhaps
some mandated mission is insanity, but there’s no telling even seasoned in carrying out the mission. With that
what the so-called “Heralds” have in mind, or what they status, however, come mental and emotional stresses
expect of their chosen. All that does seem clear is that and eventually full-blown insanity.
remaining steadfast against the corruption and gaining In rules terms, “extremists” are those characters who
ever more diverse and amazing capabilities erodes a rise to a rating of 7 or higher in a primary Virtue, or in
hunter’s mind and identity even as he’s empowered. more than one Virtue — Mercy, Vision or Zeal. It’s at 7
Imbued who attain this stunning extremity demon- Virtue that derangements develop for these determined
strate the price they pay for it. They seem erratic, champions, and it’s also at such seeming heights of power
motivated by compulsions and goals that are incom- that their lives and identities truly begin to collapse.
prehensible to “lesser” hunters. These extremists can Previous Hunter books have discussed extremists,
even prove to be opponents for fellow imbued when who they are and how other imbued tend to understand
intentions and goals clash. A group of hunters might and deal with them. It’s not until those book that these
plan to show a vampire how it can abstain from preying “wackos,” “psychos” and “saints” are addressed with their
upon people to survive, while a “wacko” hunter targets own concepts, guidelines and rules, for use by players
the creature, the hunters and anyone affiliated with them and Storytellers. You get ideas for how to portray and
for destruction, because they’re all “clearly” contributors handle these characters in your game, whether they have
to whatever fuels the unknown. a 7 Virtue or 10, whether they have various low-level
How long an extremist hunter can carry on, wielding edges or a level-four power. You also get tips on how
frightening power, yet struggling with crippling derange- to decide on goals for such driven imbued, and help on
ment, is uncertain. She might finally go too far and lose acting out their crushing ailments.
herself to her dementia. She might make seemingly absurd Fall from Grace doesn’t stop there, though. This
decisions about the “enemy” that force other imbued or book is Hunter’s contribution to the Year of the Damned.
mortal authorities to take her out. Or she might bring It asks the dangerous question of how far the imbued
everything she has to bear against monsters and learn too are willing to go to complete their quests against mon-
late that it’s too little. At this point, the hunter has had a sters. What they’re willing to pay for the power to make
long “career” as the chosen go, but it doesn’t usually end their twisted dreams a reality. In asking these questions,
well for her or anyone around her. this book breaks bounds that were established before.
What if it didn’t have to end that way, though? The ways and means to attaining level-five edges are
What if there were even greater heights to which an explored. Finally, hunters can exceed the limitations
extremist could rise in the pursuit of her cause? What imposed upon them since the first person was chosen.
if there was even greater power available to her, if only The doors to almighty power are opened.
she could suffer, strain, prevail or compromise herself But is access to such might a good thing, especially
enough to attain it? What could she accomplish then? when dealing with “maniacs,” “lunatics” and “burnouts”?
What miraculous feats could she perform? And, as with Can extremists cope with the pressures and demands of
all things associated with the hunt, what price must be wielding power that humanity was never meant to have?
paid for even these accomplishments? How long can these hunters’ frail bodies and minds
Or perhaps more frightening still, what forces, be- hold together? What happens when they fail, and who
ings or entities could offer such rewards and raise some might be taken with them? They say a dying star burns
imbued beyond the limits to which the rest are confined? brightest at the end….
Do these exceedingly rare chosen simply have it within Perhaps the most burning question raised by this book
themselves to rise above other imbued and extremists? is, Where do these powers come from? Far be it for a game
Or are other “parties” at work, dabbling in what hunters supplement to dictate the terms, vision or direction of
are meant to be or can become? your game. Fall from Grace offers three possible origins

18
 INTRODUCTION

for extremists’ epic power, general ideas and terms that ter exemplifies a person-with-unexpected-powers who
hopefully lend themselves to and support your chronicle sacrifices left and right in battle with supernatural evil.
rather than subvert or rewrite it. You as a player or you You Come When I Call You, by Douglas Clegg — A
as a Storyteller get to decide what’s possible for the horror novel with a great Hunter-esque mood. Basic,
ultimate extremists in your game, and you get to decide blue-collar kids have grown up and gone mad in dealing
how their epic stories unfold in your interpretation of with a thing called the “Desolation Angel.” Some see
the World of Darkness. visions, some dream of demons, and others simply get
This book tells three stories about extremists who pushed too far.
rise to the pinnacle of imbued power, and demonstrates Falling Down — This movie has been discussed in
how similar fates can be met in your game. previous Hunter books, but it stands as an insightful
Chapter 1: The Solitary Road shows one route reference in this one, too. An ordinary guy becomes
to the amazing strength you know best, as attained obsessed with seeing his estranged wife and child, and
through the creeds and the “standard” Hunter systems. loses all sense of right or wrong. His words at the end
There’s nothing “standard” about the imbued who go could be uttered in disbelief by any hunter, especially
this independent route, though. an extremist — “I’m the bad guy?”
Chapter 2: Cracked as the Desert Ground il- Memento — A film about a man who loses the abil-
lustrates what can happen when the imbued strive for ity to make new memories. He’s obsessed with finding
their goals so fervently that they forego everything else, his wife’s killer; her death is the last memory he has.
even themselves. Such efforts are so impressive that He tattoos the clues of her passing on his body and is
they draw the attention of forces that might only be focused solely on revenge, not knowing how long he’s
defined as divine. been at this. The story is told in a reverse but seamless
Chapter 3: The Devil You Know plumbs the narrative, from end to beginning.
depths to which some disturbed, fanatical chosen are Frailty — While not perfect as a Fall From Grace
willing to go to meet their perverse or deranged ends. primer, it’s an ideal Hunter movie all around. The main
This corrupt path might promise immense strength, but character (played by Bill Paxton) takes to his mission
it’s a deal with the devil. of “murdering demons who look like people” with a
Chapter 4: Rules and Storytelling investigates simple single-mindedness, and without question. Plus,
ideas, possibilities and systems for playing and running he’s damn near impossible to catch. He even brings his
extremists, and for those heroic or tragic figures who children into it. A very disturbing story of what could
seize level-five edges. be a hunter gone horribly awry. (Or has he?)
Sexy Beast — A movie about an ex-con trying to
Source Material retire and live a peaceful life with his wife in Spain.
Stories about people who give everything and go Ben Kingsley plays a London fixer who’s putting a team
too far in pursuing their goals are hardly new. They’ve together for a heist, and he goes to Spain to recruit the
been told for ages and you can find inspiration for an retired con. Kingsley won’t take no for an answer, and
extremist hunter almost anywhere. Here are a few harasses the ex-con into joining the team. Kingsley is
examples. single-minded and frightening in his insistence.
Moby Dick, by Herman Melville — The classic. A V For Vendetta, by Alan Moore and David Lloyd — A
sea captain out for revenge against the creature that masked anarchist/terrorist/messiah fights a fascist English
maimed him years before. An ideal metaphor for a hunter government. “V” acts according to his own agenda, and
who stalks the monster that he first encountered at his his methods are dangerous and inexplicable; he puts
imbuing — and who goes insane in the process. That, his protégé through months of psychological torture to
and Ahab isn’t afraid to take his enemy and any of his break her spirit and re-create her in his own image. It’s
allies down with him. easy to use V’s actions and style as a template for those
Heart of Darkness — Either the book by Conrad or of a violent extremist.
the Coppola interpretation Apocalypse Now. Kurtz is Swamp Thing, by DC Comics and Brian K. Vaughn
definitely a man too dangerous to be near, a lunatic with — Not the old one, but the new one with a female
a moral mission who’s gone way, way too far. protagonist. A great comic about a girl who was once
Mystery Walk, by Robert McCammon — A book seemingly human, but who begins to realize her cruel
about two kids, Billy Creekmore and Wayne Falconer, floral destiny. She has many choices to make along the
who grow up under different religions (Choctaw and way as she grows increasingly cold, and begins taking
Evangelical Christianity). The kids hate each other extreme steps to show humans the ecological error of
and essentially want each other dead. But then they their ways. Her progression is very natural from a high-
encounter a “Shape Changer” and lose their minds and school girl to a half-plant/half-girl, who also happens to
gain powers in the process of fighting it. Each charac- consider murder on behalf of “The Green.”
19
 HUNTER: FALL FROM GRACE

20
 CHAPTER 1: THE SOLITARY ROAD

Chapter 1:
The Solitary Road
And judgment is turned away backward, and justice standeth
afar off: for truth is fallen in the street, and equity cannot enter.
— Isaiah 59:14

10-1 old cot. Nothing hanging on the walls. No curtains, but the windows were
They want me to keep a diary. A journal. Some kind of dumb-ass papered over. No books, no magazines, but piles and piles of newspapers. A
time-management technique that’s supposed to help me “organize my thoughts” tiny black-and-white TV and a clock radio. A few plates, a mug, a fork
and “track my progress.” I thought it was a stupid idea at first, but I didn’t say and a spoon. A towel. And not much else. The woman was living like a
that of course. Now I’m almost addicted to it. I write every day. So here I monk. She got a shitload of money in the divorce. What did she spend it on?
am, starting yet another notebook. And then there’s her appearance. She’s lost a good 20 or 30 pounds.
I realized today that I’ve been spying on Mary Ellen for over a Once she was a little bit overweight. Now she’s almost a rail. She seems to
year now. I never expected to be watching her for this long. I call it “keeping have gained some muscle, but not in a fit, healthy kind of way like you get at
tabs on her.” I was sure I’d lose interest after a few weeks. I don’t feel like the gym. She looks more like she’s been breaking rocks on a chain gang. Or
I’m obsessed. But I can’t stop, so maybe I am. I’ve got three drawers full maybe it’s her haircut that makes me think of prison. It used to be past her
of notebooks like this, but I can’t even bring myself to read them. It’s as if shoulders. Now it’s cut so short that she looks like a man. The old Mary
keeping these records is less important than making them. Maybe watching Ellen could spend an entire day trying on clothes at Nordstrom’s. Now she
Mary Ellen is healthy in a weird way. Maybe it helps me cope. dresses like a boot camp refugee.
It’s a few hours later now. I can’t sleep. I’ve been thinking about what I Her face. Well, I’ve written about that before. I probably will again,
wrote earlier. The truth is, I know damn well what I’m doing isn’t healthy. but I just can’t right now.
I’m not ashamed to admit that I’m just lonely. I don’t have any right to talk
to Mary Ellen or get mixed up in her life, but keeping track of her somehow
Stay Up Late
They sleep, thinking they’re safe. But what they are
makes me feel connected to her. I wish I could approach her. I wish I could offer is soft. Vulnerable. Helpless. Nothing but weak flesh
to help her somehow. She needs help, I know that much. Before the divorce, hiding behind a thin shell of walls and doors and simple
she was a beautiful, outgoing woman who lived in a $400,000 house and locks. I invade. I slip through their defenses. Penetrate
loved to throw dinner parties. Now she’s got a one-room apartment in a seedy their boundaries like a virus. Carry my toxin deep into
part of town, and she scrapes by as a temp. She never sees any of her old friends the bodies where it will do the most harm. They sleep,
anymore, and doesn’t seem to have made any new ones. She never gets any visitors. and I sift through the mundane artifacts that are scattered
I managed to break into her apartment once. I know it was wrong, but around their home like discarded thoughts. Their careless
I did it. What I found terrified me. There was no furniture except for an detritus offends me. A skin magazine sealed in plastic. A

21
 HUNTER: FALL FROM GRACE

cereal bowl encrusted with stale, dry milk. A green otto-

man stained with brown gravy. A jelly glass that smells Mr. F:
of bourbon. A moth trapped between two window panes. Destroy this after you read it,
Why does no one put these things in their proper place? like before.
Why am I always the one to make things right? Where you been? I left this same mes-
But this is not my beautiful house. This is not my sage at the other two places. As far as I
beautiful life. I no longer belong in a place like this. I’ve can tell, you and I are the only ones who
been exiled from the land of the living room. If I stop survived last week. Unless you count L.,
to look around, I get dizzy and have to bite my lip to who I visited in the hospital yesterday.
remember where I am. This is somebody else’s world. He still isn’t speaking clear and the doc-
The home of the happily ignorant who don’t realize tor doesn’t think he will any time soon.
that something dead and once buried might be sniffing I wish you guys would let me get in-
their garbage and pressing its nose against their window. volved more. I guess I understand your
reasons, but it’s hard for me to figure out
I’m not wearing shoes. I need quiet. I feel the nap what happened. Now that some time has gone
of the carpet through my socks, tickling my soles like by, security at the train yard is pretty
thousands of tiny fingers. Where are my ballet slippers, slow again. I snuck in a few days ago and
the ones I wore when I was eight? I wanted to be a looked around. I got some images of the
ballerina but my mother said I was fat. But look at me fighting. I found a maintenance shed with a
now, stepping so carefully, so precisely, dancing across broken lock. It was filled with trash, but
somebody else’s floor. I don’t want the house to hear mixed in with the junk was a strange bunch
me. It seems like it takes an eternity to cross the room, of newer stuff. Like an alarm clock, a CD
feeling my way around the cheap furniture, brushing player, a man’s tie, some knives and spoons,
past bookshelves stacked with garish porcelain animals. a TV remote. Nothing valuable. They were
all cleaner than the garbage, though, and
In the front hall, the feeble yellow glow of the porch set aside like they’d been used recently.
light filters through the curtains. These people. They Worse was a pair of child’s sneakers, a
leave their porch light on all night while their backyard coloring book (three pages colored) and
is abandoned to darkness. They have high fences all some stuffed animals. I didn’t get any
around to protect their privacy from neighbors who they images from them.
never talk to or visit. I know. I’ve been watching. They I guess it’s pretty clear our friend
probably don’t even know each other’s names. Maybe I didn’t tell us everything. I want to tell
should visit the neighbors, too. There’s a fire inside me, you why I was so sure we should work with
and as long as it’s burning I can stay up all night. Nothing her. The day before she found us, I saw
can touch me. I came in through the back door. It had something. The words to a poem I was reading
no deadbolt. No alarm. Only a chain-lock that popped were suddenly different and said “Outsid-
ers become allies.” When M.E. showed up, I
out like a toddler’s tooth.
thought the words meant her. I still think
The carpet continues up the stairs, and so do I. My there’s something big going on. I’m just
favorite song resonates in the back of my mind, “Fa fa fa not sure what to do about it.
fa / fa fa fa fa fa….” I’m a nightmare looking for a dream Whatever that monster you fought was,
to spoil. I often feel like I’m in a dream, only it’s some- it looks gone. I think we should feel
one else’s, not mine. At the top of the stairs, I become a good about that. Did you see in the pa-
statue. My eyes half closed, I listen, I hear. Faint snuffling per, the article about the Rooney kid? The
sounds — snoring — from the master bedroom. It’s hard cops arrested his uncle. The proof looks
to be sure over the white noise of the air-conditioner. pretty thin to me. Did someone frame him?
But that same noise will muffle any sound I might make. Did the police screw up? I keep thinking
about those sneakers. They were blue and
Oh God, the hall. The carpet is almost worn to red, a little boy’s. Maybe I’m imagining
threads in the middle and is dotted with faded stains. It something that isn’t there. But you guys
looks like it belongs in a motel. The walls are paneled said I’m good at that, right? M.E. said
and dreadful. I’m nauseous. I don’t want to be here. This more kids would disappear if we didn’t do
ugly pre-fab subdivision is not mine. I want so much to something. I keep reminding myself of that.
be in my own house, but that house is gone, and the If you’re out there, please write back.
people who lived there are gone, including the person You know where I am. We have to figure out
who used to think she was me. what to do next. Let’s make a plan.
Whispers across the lawn. A hand in the dark. The C.
smell of smoke. It takes these images to snap me back
to the task at hand.
22
 CHAPTER 1: THE SOLITARY ROAD

At last, I reach the child’s room. It’s at the far end of I’ve done for her. I know she won’t. Tomorrow will
the hall. I know from watching the house, from peering be a traumatic day. She’ll be terrified by the scream-
into the windows with binoculars and sketching likely ing of her parents when they see the red words I’ve
floor plans on the underside of a pizza box. When I call splattered on the walls. She won’t understand the
the map to mind, I can smell cheese. implications of the broken lock, or the muddy foot-
The door is ajar. I barely need to move it. I glide prints I left on the back porch. But her parents will
into the room like a ghost. The little girl is sleeping. get the message. After the police have left, they’ll put
Laughing ponies and smiling flowers chase each other good, strong locks on their doors. They’ll talk about
across her quilted comforter. Their eternally sunny world getting an alarm system or a big dog. They’ll make a
rises and falls as she breathes. I step up to the bed, lean point to talk to their neighbors. The entire community
in close and can smell toothpaste on her breath. Her will become cautious. They’ll become distrustful of
cheeks look so round and flush, like persimmons. Her strangers. They’ll watch each other’s backs. They’ll
ears are small seashells. I want to stroke her hair, kiss watch their children closely.
her neck. Mommy’s here, Amber. But don’t get the And the real thing that’s been stalking this neighbor-
wrong idea. I know this isn’t Amber. I really do. Toys hood will decide to leave them alone and go elsewhere.
and stuffed animals are arranged around her bed like a
circle of disciples. A doll on the dresser looks at me, its Little Creatures
dead eyes shining in the moonlight. My tools are in my The dream is falling away from me (or I’m falling
backpack, carefully stowed so they stay quiet. I take off away from it) like a stone dropped into a river. There’s
the pack and begin my blood-red work. a human child in my doorway, a scrawny, dark-haired
When it’s over, when I’ve left the house, when runt with thick glasses and a dirty face. He looks kind of
I’ve returned to my hiding place of the moment, I like Harry Potter, if Harry Potter spent his days playing
close my eyes and picture the little girl. I wonder what in junkyards and mud piles. For a second, I wonder if
her name is. I wonder who her friends are, what her he’s imaginary, if both of my shaky legs are standing in
teachers are like, what cartoons she watches. One reality. My stomach gnaws at me and my throat is as dry
thing I don’t wonder is if she’ll ever understand what as an empty well. I give the ugly pre-teen my best angry

23
 HUNTER: FALL FROM GRACE

glare. He rolls up one of his sleeves to show one of the “Only the Talking Heads. Ce que j’ai fait, ce soir la.
signs drawn on his arm. He smiles a crooked smile, not Ce qu’elle a dit, ce soir la.” He stares at me. “Finish your
knowing that something has laid eggs inside me. story,” I tell him.
“No,” I answer him, “My name’s not Mary Ellen. “So anyway, this e.e. cummings poem I’m looking
And I’m not interested.” I start to push the door closed. at, all of a sudden the words rearrange and it spells
“Wait,” he says. “I’ve been looking for you all over! I ‘HOUSE OF THE SLEEPING MOON.’ Cool, huh?
gotta talk to you!” He sticks his foot in front of the door. Four So I kinda thought about that for a day or so, and then
days of not eating has left me too weak to force him back. I remembered that there was this motel or something
“Get out,” I snarl. “You’ve got the wrong person.” called the Sleepy Moon on Highway 13. When I was
Who sent him? Anger makes my fists clench like the nine my uncle took me there to the Rocks and Minerals
coils of a boa constrictor. show. I bought a fossilized fish from the Devonian period.
That’s when fish first evolved jaws. Did you know there
“No, I don’t, ma’am,” he says. “I know who you are. are only two species of jawless fish still around today?
I’ve seen you before. You haven’t see me, but you’ve The hagfish and…. So, I sneaked around the hotel and,
heard of me. I’m C.” you know, found your room.”
† † † He sucks on his straw until all the soda is drained
The nearest place to eat is one of those fried chick- from his cup, and he keeps sucking to make an annoying
en restaurants. A smiling chicken on the door doesn’t slurping noise. “How are you getting to all these places?
seem to realize he’s on the menu. Seen that look before. You’re too young to drive.”
The child not only insists on eating everything with his “Oh, I get my Uncle Pete to drive me.” He leans
hands, but he also manages to smear greasy chicken fat forward and whispers, “He’s kinda dumb. I can pretty
all over his mouth. I make him wipe his face and eat much get him to do anything I want.”
with a knife and fork before I’ll talk to him. He looks
like he’s been wearing the same T-shirt for a month. It’s Now that I’ve eaten, I feel my strength returning.
covered in food stains and nearly worn through at the I feel the fire burning behind my ribs. My muscles are
shoulders. His posture is terrible. warm and I feel a need to act, to do things, to be away
from here. I need to separate myself from this dirty child
“Start by telling me how you found me,” I say, because with his atrocious table manners and his hundreds of
I can’t stand watching him chew with his mouth open questions. I need to get to some town called Trinity.
anymore. My words seem to circle my head like flies. That’s what the dead voice said.
The vision at the motel has left me. I can’t remember
it anymore, but I’m still light-headed. Something is different since my vision in the motel.
Somewhere inside me, eggs are hatching and their oc-
“Oh, I just kinda figured it out. Thought about it and cupants are slithering out. Tiny monsters in my veins. I
stuff. Guess I got a little lucky. After the fight at the train should just leave this kid here, but I can’t. He’s cleverly
yard in Quincy, I posted some messages on hunter-net—” stranded himself with me and I’ll have to take him home.
“On what?” I can’t abandon him here. I want to, but I can’t. Too
“Hunter-net? On the Internet? Don’t you use it?” many children never come home.
“I hate computers,” I tell him. “Don’t eat while “I’ve been thinking a lot about the fight in Quincy,”
you’re talking.” I have nothing to say, but I maintain he says. “Except for you, only one other person got out.
the conversation. This isn’t like me. This guy Mr. F., he—”
“Anyways,” he puts down a chicken leg, “I got this “Once you hear the voices, your days are numbered.
email from this, like, guy I know? He said he and some You need to understand that.” If he expects me to take
other guys met up with you and planned something. So responsibility for the deaths of his buddies — Kyle and
I went to his place and hung out for awhile. You were the rest of them — he’s going to be disappointed.
already gone. But then I got a message and—” “It was my fault,” he says. “You see, I’m — I was —
“A message from who?” sort of the leader of the group. I convinced them to go
“From the… you know… the Messengers.” His voice along with you. Now I realize it was a mistake. I did it
drops a bit. “I get them every few weeks.” because of a message I got. It told me to help you. But
Messengers. Heralds. I’ve heard other hunters use these I’ve been thinking about it and now I realize that the
terms. They’re loaded words based on unwise assumptions. I message was for me — personally. I’m supposed to help
call them the voices, whatever they are, because all I really you. That’s why I came looking for you. To help.”
know for certain is that they speak to me. I think. I can only stare at the boy, feeling hot forces slither
“I was reading my poetry book,” C says. “Contem- under my skin, wondering how long I can keep them
porary American Poets. That’s where they always talk to under control. For a fraction of a second, I imagine myself
me. You like poetry?” and this boy as a pair of ants on a driveway, obsessing

24
 CHAPTER 1: THE SOLITARY ROAD

C touch me now. I can reach him in the blink of an eye

if I want to. Snatch his weapon.
I’ve been away, very far away, but I’ll tell you about
that another time. I hope you get this message. Please But then the light turns off and leaves me empty.
get in touch with me right away. I did some checking. “Oh, oh God” he stutters, swaying but still pointing
That woman in Quincy is bad news. She’s not in her his gun at me. “Did you hear it? Was that them?” I don’t
right mind. I’ve spoken with some others who’ve worked know what he’s talking about. “I guess you’re that far
with her. They all say she’s dangerous. If she turns gone, “ he says. “They don’t speak to you anymore. But
up again, don’t approach her. I mean that, C. Don’t let I heard it.” He stands a little straighter.
your curiosity get the better of you. You’re a smart “It said, ‘THIS GIFT WILL BE YOURS WHEN
guy, so you know to listen to me, right? Contact me YOU EARN IT.’ You understand what that means?
and I’ll decide what needs to be done. You just stay The angels. They haven’t abandoned you.”
away from her. The angels? The Messengers. The Heralds. The voices.
F I have a headache. My heart is beating like a trapped bird.
For a fraction of a second, it all makes sense. I struggle to
over a breadcrumb while a Ford Explorer pulls out of hold onto a truth that’s been whispered to me. I know.
the garage and rolls toward us. I know at last who my real enemies are. Children in
jeopardy. Husband complicit. No one can be trusted.
Speaking in Tongues Monsters everywhere. But who’s behind the monsters?
I’m somewhere else now, crouched on the ground. Who knows all about them? Who revealed them to me?
Hands pressed to the chest of a dying man. It’s Michael. When I was Mary Ellen, who let me watch as my
I’m wet. It’s raining. He was tainted. One of them. He’s children were taken, but didn’t grant me the power to
been shot. Doesn’t matter. Blood warm beneath my save them?
hands. Washing away in the rain. Press on the wound. “The Messengers,” I say. Breathe. Stay controlled.
Is the bullet inside him? He’s coughing. Can’t stop the He won’t shoot yet. “They give us sticks and stones to
bleeding. Doesn’t matter. Doesn’t bother me. Should it? fight a hurricane. Either they get off on our pain or they
“Look at me,” says the one who shot him. He has don’t care.” Keep his attention a little longer.
his pistol aimed at me. There’s camouflage makeup on “You’re insane.” He assumes an exaggerated firing
his face. Do I know him? “I watched you talking to that stance, something he’s seen on TV. “I was afraid of that.
puppet,” he says. “You weren’t nearly so talkative to me I’m sorry. I really am. You’ve suffered a lot, I’m sure, but
or the others back in Quincy. Remember?” you’re not giving me a choice. We’ll all be better off if…
Then I place him. One of C’s group. ‘F.’ The survivor. you can pray first, if you like.”
“You’ve changed your face,” I tell him. “I don’t have to pray.”
“I don’t want to kill you if I don’t have to, Mary Ellen.” Behind him. A massive shadow framed by rain. An
“That’s not my name anymore,” I tell him. “Shoot enormous hand crushes the gun and then fingers. Bones
if you want. I don’t care.” crack like celery. Another hand clamps his neck. Snap.
He ignores me. He talks like a high-school teacher I back away and pick up the crowbar I had brought here.
who’s caught a kid smoking. He’s been thinking about I set myself. Too tired to run. Too tired for tricks. Don’t
this lecture for a long time, I’ll bet. “I’ve spoken with a know if I can do this.
lot of people since that night,” he says. “To other hunters The giant lets “F’s” body slump to the wet concrete.
who’ve been hurt, thanks to you.” I ready myself. The creature ignores me. Bends over
Michael has stopped breathing. I take my hand from Michael’s body. Fingers like sausages touch his chest,
his wound. It sighs like a lover. I move slowly. Shift stroke his hair. It stands. Ten feet of twisted flesh. “A view
my weight. Prepare to spring. I tilt my head so the rain to remember/The center is missing.” Torn clothes, black,
doesn’t fall in my eyes. charred skin, blood running black in the rain. Smell of
He’s nervous. His hands are shaking. He’s afraid of burnt hair. It’s injured. Maybe I have a chance. It looks
me. “We’re in a war, you know?” he says. He chews at at me. There’s rain in my eyes. There’s something wrong
his lower lip. “That’s not just a figure of speech. We’re with the shadows over its face.
in a war. Maybe it’s our last chance. I think you’ve “You should leave this place,” I say loudly, hoping
forgotten which side you’re on.” it can understand. I point at Michael’s corpse. “Your
“I don’t want—” I begin to say, but then the world master is dead.”
changes. Light, heat or energy gushes out of me. My eyes. It speaks. “You misunderstand. I am the master.” I
My mouth. My pores. I’m warm. My fatigue is gone. I hear the words but their meaning seems to flow unchecked
stand. Strange syllables echo in my ears: “NABA IA through my brain like water through a sieve, and then I’m
VEDDUN MONEM ESSET UMMUM.” No bullet will falling down a long, dark tunnel into nothingness.

25
 HUNTER: FALL FROM GRACE

10-3 nature is. They don’t realize that the only battle that
matters is the one you’re involved in at the moment.
Shit. I should have seen this coming. I drove past her apartment this
morning. The paper was down from the windows, the lights were on and I “One night,” I say, interrupting his tedious posturing,
could see people inside. It looked like the landlord was showing the place to “I was in a town called Bethlehem, in Pennsylvania. I was
possible tenants. I made like I was a friend of Mary Ellen’s who’d been bruised and tired and could barely walk. It was raining. I
out of town. The landlord said she’d moved out. Just up and left — that had to catch a bus in three hours, and I was afraid if I went
she shoved some cash under his door and was gone by the time he opened it. to sleep somewhere, I wouldn’t wake up in time. I saw a
I should have expected this. She’s had a pattern of leaving for weeks at coffee shop and decided to go in. There were about 15 people
a time, and the disappearances have been getting longer. I could never follow sitting around waiting for someone to go on stage. I ordered
her because of my own work. Now she’s gone and I have no way to find her. some soup and sat in the back. A young girl stepped up to
What am I supposed to do? the microphone. She couldn’t have been more than 20.
She carried no instrument. She didn’t introduce herself.
My Life in the Bush of Ghosts She just started singing without accompaniment.”
“Are you sure you know what you’re talking about? This My voice is horse and monotonous, unpracticed,
is the third night and nothing so far. I gotta tell you, we’re sing-songy, like I’m reciting from memory, which I am
starting to think we could be doing better things with our of course. I don’t usually speak at length to other people.
time, you know? Killing the enemy instead of killing time.” Words can be used against you, because you never know
His name is Kyle or Kevin or something with a what else might be listening. When I pause, he turns
K. That much I’m sure of. He has two ways of passing toward me and stares, waiting for more. Kevin thinks
time: chattering like a spider monkey or tapping his I’m telling the story to him. I continue. “Her voice made
fingers on the dashboard. Never both at the same time. the most exquisite music I’d ever heard. The pain faded.
His fingernails are dirty. He’s nervous but trying not My injuries felt better. It was like a lullaby. Like being
to seem that way. He has a gun and thinks I don’t safe in bed while your mother tells you a story—”
know about it. The gun is under his shirt, stuffed into My voice catches for a moment as an image of my
his pants. It always seemed so foolish to me when a youngest daughter’s favorite bedtime storybook floats
man carried a gun like that, like on TV. Deadly force across my mind. Then I clear my throat and continue.
pointing at his own crotch. I look away from him ”It was like a promise of peace. Like peace itself.” I take
and into the night that’s wrapped around the car and a deep breath. “When I turned on the sight, I saw that
ready to eat us. Once there were no nights, only days. the room was crowded with spirits — at least three for
Kevin or Kyle takes a sip of coffee. He stopped at a every person. They were all staring at the stage, listening
Starbucks before meeting me. A Starbucks. I focus on to every note. Even the ones without faces — or heads
my breathing exercises. Breath equals life. “The wind — seemed to be in bliss. Then I looked at the singer. It
in my heart/The dust in my head.” Life equals breath. He wasn’t her doing the singing. It was something tangled
starts talking again. up inside her, working her like a puppet.”
“We’re not a bunch of beginners, you know. Sure, Kyle interjects with a slow whistle. “Shee-it. I didn’t
we screwed up a couple times, but we really have our shit know they could do that. Somebody told me they could
together now. We put a lot of nasty fuckers down.” An- go along for the ride, you know? But not three or more.”
other sip of coffee. An arpeggio across the steering wheel. “I waited after the place closed. Some of the girl’s
“Somebody told me you’ve been hunting for, like, over friends walked her home, but they turned to go their
a year now. That’s a lot of nights.” Sip. “What’s it like own way about a block before her apartment. As she
after all that time? I bet you’ve seen some serious shit.” opened the lobby door, I rushed in and knocked her
I ignore his profanity. I search for the fire in my belly, down. I broke three of her ribs before the parasite left her
just below my rib cage. Things are not going well. After body. Then I held it in place and impaled it. I watched
three nights of nothing, the fire is dying down. I have it shiver apart like the proverbial pillar of salt. I left the
to feed it, stoke it, make it bigger, make it stronger. If girl crying on the floor. When I was a few blocks away,
I don’t, I’ll slip back to the bad days when just getting I stopped in an alley to vomit.”
out of bed was painful. Keith turns to look out the windshield, his mouth
Now Kyle is telling me how things are changing, opening and closing silently. His fingers aren’t tapping
how hunters are coming together and soon they’ll over- anymore. For his benefit, I add, “That’s what it’s like.”
throw the evil empire that’s been enslaving humanity. The memory has done its work. The fire burns steady
He raises a debate about whether the enemy is aliens in me again. For now, anyway.
from another planet or supernatural monsters. When I
say nothing, he argues with himself, taking one side and Road to Nowhere
then the other. He and his group think it matters where I’m driving down a black highway. I can’t drive fast
the enemy comes from, why they’re here, what their true enough. There aren’t enough hours in the day to find
26
 CHAPTER 1: THE SOLITARY ROAD

and hurt and kill everything I hate. Inside me, something “Are you all right?” C asks me. Stupid question. He
hungry counsels me to be patient. offers his hand. I ignore it and stagger to my feet. I’m
The child talking is C. “How’d you know about this still at the Trinity depot. C blinks at me.
car?” he asks. He still hasn’t put on his seatbelt, even “You’ve got another dead friend,” I tell him. “A
though I’ve told him to three times. twitchy guy called ‘F.’”
“Vincent told me about it,” I answer. The conversation He nods. “Mister Franklin…. The… the newspaper.
is wearing on me. The things inside me, the coiled snakes, It said,” he swallows, “there’s another missing kid. Two
are quiet, as if they’re waiting for something. “It belongs to or three towns over, in Jute.”
one of us who leaves it for others. You just have to bring it Something catches my eye. An inky shape twisting
back with gas and some money.” I’m tired of this endless in the breeze. I stare at it. “Not my concern,” I answer.
questioning. But the first lesson every parent learns is “But—”
patience. That lesson must be still with me, just buried. “It’s not my problem,” I say. Children disappear.
“Who’s Vincent? Your husband?” Michael is dead. “Facts are simple and facts are straight/
I almost laugh at the contrast between Michael, Facts are lazy and facts are late.” Mary Ellen would care,
who wouldn’t hurt a fly, and Vincent, who considered but I don’t. I’m close to the end. To some kind of end.
everyone but himself to be an insect. How a daydreamer A thin trail of smoke hovers in front of me. One length
like Michael ever made it through law school…. I start stretches back toward the depot. The other extends
to wonder where he might be now, but thinking of across the road and disappears. Did I lay the trail? Seems
Michael only makes me weak, so I answer the question. unlikely. Maybe it was a gift. Or a bribe.
“Vincent was a hunter I met shortly after I left home,” I C is staring at his feet. “I got another message this
say, hoping my voice will keep the boy from filling the morning. About you. It said—”
air with his. “He taught me a lot of things I needed to “I don’t care. I don’t work for the voices. The
survive. Fighting, shooting, stealing. At first I thought Messengers. Whatever you want to call them. Not
he did it because he wanted to get into my pants. Later, anymore.” He comes toward me, opening his mouth to
I realized it was worse. He wanted to get into my head. say something. My hand is around his throat before I
He wanted to fill me with his ideas and make me into can stop it. “You’re their creature,” I tell him. “Maybe
another version of him. It almost worked.” if I kill you, it would hurt them.” That would be fair.
“So what happened to him?” Satisfying. My mind is calm, but my body shakes with
“He’s dead. I killed him. Actually, something else rage. I almost don’t notice as he chokes, gasps for breath.
killed him while I stood by and let it happen.” His eyes bug out, watering. He doesn’t struggle. Doesn’t
I hope my frankness will shock the boy into silence, raise his arms. He’s as limp as a rag doll. It would be easy.
but he doesn’t miss a beat as he answers, “I guess you I feel my hand tightening, squeezing. His neck is hot.
had your reasons.” It’s not mercy that stops me. Not weakness or lack of
resolve. It’s something I can’t name. Some kernel of Mary
Psycho Killer Ellen that’s still deep inside me, not burned away, not yet.
Awake. Grass. Where am I? Lying in front of Mary “This is why your masters chose you as their mouthpiece,”
Ellen’s house? Watching it burn down again? No. I tell the boy. He falls. I check the sun. He coughs and
Daylight floods my eyes. Cool wind. C stands over me, gags and holds his throat. It’s still early morning. The
calling for me to wake up. Eyes focus. Gray sky. Fence. giant was badly injured. It couldn’t travel far. I’ll find it.
And I’ll find Mary Ellen’s babies. Not because I
need them. Not because they need me. Because the
My Day At The Park “Messengers” don’t want me to.
by Amber K. But when I find them, what then?
Class 3b “I’m going into town,” I tell C. “Don’t follow me.”
Fernville Elementary And then some part of me adds, “Please, Calvin. Stay
I was in the Park on Saturday and then I was away from me.”
playing on the swings and then I went on the slide.
And then a nice lady said, what’s your name and she Life During Wartime
loooked real funny and had on funny clothes and It’s my fourth night in Quincy, keeping watch over
then I got reel sleepy. She said look at this amber the rail yard in Kevin’s battered, smelly Nova. The
and she show ed me the pretty pony toy and said I situation is decaying. The fire in me is burning high.
could hav it. and then a dog barkked and barkked “Three-hundred-sixty-five degrees/Gonna burst into flame.”
and the ladey was gone and mom said it was time I’m surprised there isn’t smoke coming out of my ears.
to cgo home I wish I hadd that pony. The ennd. I’m itchy. I’ve got cramps. I want out of this rusted
two-door tomb. I feel like I’m trapped in a submarine
27
 HUNTER: FALL FROM GRACE

10 miles beneath the surface. I don’t want to breathe

the same air as this 25-year-old high-school drop-out.
No Compassion
I’m kneeling next to Keith as he whimpers and sobs.
His rancid breath. His garlicky body odor. If he hadn’t “I can’t see,” he says. His head is caved in like a piece of
been imbued, Kyle would probably be spending his rotten fruit. I smell blood and brain. “Oh, God, it hurts.
nights on someone’s back porch poisoning himself Momma? Help me.”
with grain alcohol and narcotics. The car windshield is He’s the last one left. “So wake up/Young lovers/The
dirty with soot and bird droppings. Everything I touch whole thing is over….” I was right to use his group to test
is sticky or greasy. the monster’s defenses. I learned valuable information. I
Tonight is the last chance. Their leader, ‘C,’ the one watched each of them go down. I watched as ‘M,’ a bold
they won’t let me see, has convinced them. They refer linebacker-type, ran up behind the creature, swinging
to each other by initials, like characters in a James Bond a fire-ax. I counted silently as the thing spun around
movie. One last chance, and if the creature I’ve told them (one second), grabbed him by the face (two seconds)
about doesn’t show, I’m on my own. Why the ultimatum? and tossed him against a wall (three seconds). M didn’t
Is something controlling this leader of theirs? Why is he move after that.
trying to undermine me? I’ll make Kyle tell me who C is. Then I watched the other hunters move into posi-
Wait till the end of the night, when he’s tired. It will feel tion with nets and a shotgun. I heard them taunting the
good. Burn off some energy. Teach him not to use profanity. monster like children in a schoolyard. A few heartbeats
I despise profanity. Make sure to take the gun away first. later and they were all rolling on the ground, clawing
Or maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe this is all for at the barbs that had shot out of the creature’s fingers
nothing. Maybe the monstrosity I’m looking for has and burrowed in their faces.
already left town. It’s smart - I know that - and mobile. It I got the best look at the thing I’ve had yet, after all
seems to favor travel by freight train, though sometimes the months I’ve been chasing it. It stands 10, maybe 12
it vanishes altogether and turns up somewhere else. feet tall, though it usually walks hunched over. Some-
I’ll find it. I won’t give up. When I think of pursuing thing’s not right with its back. It has a kind of long,
it, something rises from my chest, becomes acidic in wrinkled coat that always seems wet with sweat or oil.
the back of my mouth and fights to rip its way through Patches of matted hair, like dirty yellow worms, hang
my throat. My palms sweat. The skin tightens on my over its eyes and are clumped on its head and along its
forehead. There’s a heat-shock in my stomach. It’s the arms. Its almost skeletal hands are hooked into claws.
same feeling you get when you take something in your
hands and have to squeeze until it cracks. My face grows hot. I’ve seen those hands before.
I’ve watched that distorted silhouette shuffle across my
lawn. There’s no doubt. This is the one.
Dear Mary Ellen, This is the creature that took my children.
It’s been three months now since my last letter. Your reply made The giant moves among the dying hunters like a
it clear that you don’t want to hear from me, but I’ve decided I can’t rat scuttling between piles of garbage. It hunches over
let it end like that. I can’t just sit idly by while you shut me out of each dying boy, whispering something in his ear and
your life. I know we’ve drifted apart since you got married. We haven’t then twisting his head until his neck snaps.
even seen each other since I moved to Provence. But you’re my sister
and you always will be. I want to be there for you. I think it was a I wait for the creature to turn its back on me. As
mistake to not let us come to the funeral. I wish we’d flown in no matter it crouches over ‘K’ and grips his head in its hands, I
what you said. I wish I’d been there to help you. When Henri and picture my own children. Ethan’s face. Chloe’s voice.
I talk about the children, I can’t help but cry. I can’t imagine the Amber’s tiny hand in mine. I tighten my grip on my
pain you went through, that you’re still going through. Maybe you’d crowbar and almost feel it heat up with my anger. I plan
feel a little less pain if you had leaned on us. the attack sequence in my head, just as Vincent taught
me: in, strike, out. Three seconds.
You said you haven’t spoken with Michael since the divorce.
That’s nearly two years ago. Two years. I don’t understand. You Then, impossibly, K’s arm flies up, holding a smol-
two had such a strong relationship. I know that losing the children dering screwdriver. I smell burning meat as he shoves
changed everything for both of you, but ignoring each other makes the tool into the creature’s mouth and out the back of
no sense. You needed each other then, and I think you still do. I its neck. It howls and I cover my ears.
remember Michael as such a sweet guy. Please consider talking to The monster staggers back, away from K, hesitant,
him. Just talking. It would be so good for both of you. disoriented. I come in at the correct angle, right in its
Please, Mary Ellen, write back. Call. Come and visit. I’ll blind spot, and slam my crowbar across its spine. It’s like
never give up on you. Let’s be sisters again. hitting a sack of cement. My shoulders flare with pain,
but the monster drops to its knees. I feel the crowbar
Love, shaking, threatening to fly apart. “Ethan!” I yell. “Am-
Sarah ber! Chloe! Those are their names! Are you listening

28
 CHAPTER 1: THE SOLITARY ROAD

to me?” I feel feverish, electric, like a bolt of lightning

about to strike the earth. I will not be stopped.
I should hit it again, but I feel invincible, drunk on
the idea that this ugly thing is suffering. It spits out a
gray tooth and then speaks. Its voice is like hair growing
inside your ears. “Bad, bad, children,” it says. Then, it is
on its feet, not hurt at all. It turns around to look right
at me. Its jaw, hanging on one hinge a moment ago, is
now back in place and unfractured. “Punish,” it says,
spitting the word at me like an insult.
A wave of air, a stench of feces mixed with violets,
ripples around me. It is foul but not harmful. I raise the
crowbar to strike again, but the giant is already running.
I reach out to grab it and it backhands me across the
collarbone. I remember to protect my head and roll
with the fall. The pads protect my knees but something
on the ground gashes my thigh. It’s happening again,
I realize. It seems defeated, yet when I move in for the
kill it grows strong again.
K’s head lolls from side to side. His eyes look in
different directions. I lean in to him. “Listen to me,” I
tell him. “Do you have any back-up? Do you know any
others we can call in?”
“It said it was my mother…. Oh God, where is my
mother? Where am I? Momma? Momma, is that you?”
“It’s me,” I lie, the words crawling from my throat
like scorpions. “It’s Momma. Can you feel my hand?”
“Quincy, Trinity, Jute,” he says in a voice not his
own, and he dies.
Remain in Light
C has led me to the outskirts of Bear Creek, which
is a town that could pass for a swamp if it were a little
cleaner. He won’t tell me why we’re here. I need to aban-
don him, to just leave him here and get on with what I
have to do. But I can’t. He’s just a kid. He’s incredibly
smart, yes, but he lacks any common sense. His former
friends knew it, too. That’s why they were so protective
of him. He has no one else. He lives in a trailer with
an aunt and uncle whose combined IQ would make an
impressive golf score.
I’ve said too much to him, though. I should just push
him into a storm drain and be done with it.
But he’s just a child. Hunter or not, he’s a child.
I’ll play his game for now. I’m not alone in this body.
I have fierce aggressors growing inside me, feeding on my
hate. I can feel them. I feel like I’ll never need to sleep again.
“Any time now,” he says, pointing to an uninterest-
ing field covered with ragged grass and the odd car part.
He shivers as the wind kicks up. He should be wearing a
sweater. “Look,” he says, and the way he says it tells me
what he means. So I call on the sight and then I see it,
too. Something rising out of the ground, then another,
then another. They’re hands, human hands, some close
enough to see a ring on a finger or a watch on a wrist.
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 HUNTER: FALL FROM GRACE

Slowly, hands lead to arms, arms lead to shoulders. “Seven here. No fire in me. No vipers of flame. What if they’re
times five/They were living creatures….” Heads appear. not there when I need them?
Torsos, legs. The transparent bodies are glowing, pulsing The trail finally ends. The tunnel widens. There’s
with color like the jellyfish you see on nature shows. The a pile of trash and a huge foot jutting out from behind
softly glowing ghost-bodies float upward, rotating slowly. it. Its toenails are curved like coat hooks. Elbow like
The air is full of them. Dozens, then hundreds. an elephant’s trunk. The globe of a head. The giant is
As they rise, the bodies flare brighter and lose their curled like an enormous fetus, sleeping almost without
shape until they’re not bodies at all but wheels of fire, breathing, its hands pressed tight over its eyes. The burns
stars of pure light. They orbit each other, filling the air still haven’t healed.
with neon colors, rainbows of flame painted against the I work quickly. Open the cans. Pour them out.
night sky. Some of the shapes meet and merge, mixing Reach for the—
their glowing colors into spectacular fireworks. Others A blur of motion. I snap to attention. The creature
divide into showers of fragmented light that fire across is awake. It bolts upright, its head bulging with oozing
the night like shooting stars. The orbs of light dance abscesses. It sniffs at the air like a hyena. Even though it
with each other, circling and turning and crossing. will give me away, I train the thin light from my headlamp
One passes close to us and I can almost make out a face across its body. I realize for the first time that the giant is
within the blaze of violet. I don’t know how much time female. I see a shriveled breast through a tear in its coat.
has passed before there are noticeably fewer apparitions And then I realize the giant is blind. No eyes. Just
in the sky, and then I see that they’re winking out, one smooth, pink flesh.
by one, until there’s nothing left but darkness again.
It speaks, mouth like a gash across a melon. Teeth
“How about that?” C says, and I hate his voice for like rusted nails. Its voice is the exact opposite, though:
breaking the silence. cultured, beautiful, like an opera singer’s. Not raspy
“Why did you bring me here? What is this?” like before at all. “You have something to tell me,
“I don’t know. I found it by accident, but it happens child,” it says. She speaks with the perfect diction of
every 21 days. Like clockwork. I try not to miss it if I an English professor.
can help it. It’s important to watch.” “Maybe you smell the kerosene. You’re doused with it.
“And why is that?” This whole chamber is soaked. I’m holding a lit road flare—”
“Well, because… you know, it reminds me that peo- “I hear it burning.”
ple like us, we know the world ain’t — uh, isn’t — really “The instant I feel threatened, the flare hits the floor
the way everybody says it is. But that doesn’t mean we and we all go up. I don’t care how fast you can move,
know everything. Maybe we usually see the ugly side of you won’t get to me in time. Believe me.”
things, but maybe there’s more going on than even we “I believe you, dear child,” she says. “I know you. I
know. If we keep trying to see the big picture instead of know you’ve been following me, trying to stop my work.
getting hung up on the ugly parts, we might be better off.” You don’t make idle threats. But if your goal is to kill me,
I don’t answer him. I don’t look at him. I don’t want why haven’t you done it? You have something to say to
him to see the tear that’s falling down my cheek. I’m me. I will listen. Now, put out the flare and come here.”
hot and restless and there’s fire all tangled and twisted “Try that again,” I tell her, “and it’s all over.”
inside me, and the tear feels like ice on my skin. I’m
“Very well…. My name is Marcella.”
not crying because of his words. It’s because I’ve just
witnessed the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and “I don’t care.” I’m shaking a little. It’s okay. I wonder
all I can think about is how badly I want to destroy it. for a moment if the gas vapors alone in here can ignite
from the torch.
And She Was “I know who you are, Mary Ellen. I know why you’ve
The tunnel is narrow. Barely room to move my arms. come here.”
The floor and walls are curved, like a burrow. There’s My face is growing hot. “You don’t know anything,” I
trash sticking out through the rocks and dirt. Plastic think to myself. “I’m not Mary Ellen anymore. I hate you.
furniture, soup cans, diapers. Why a tunnel through I’ll kill you. Do it now. Throw the flare at the thing’s face.”
the side of a landfill? How was it dug? It’s always night I ask a question instead, “Where are the children?”
below ground. Once there were no nights, only days.
Sometime soon there will be no days, only nights. “There The Overload
is water at the bottom of the ocean./Under the water/Carry I’m in one of those Wal-Mart/K-Mart places. Needed
the water….” The smoke trail is difficult to see. I have a new tools. Pulled out of that last town pretty quick and had
camping flashlight on a strap around my head, but the to leave a few things behind. Hate these places. They’re
batteries are dying. It took too long to get the things I huge. Not designed on a human scale. They wanted to build
needed. I don’t feel so good. Not sure what I’m doing one in our town. We fought it. Not in our neighborhood.
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 CHAPTER 1: THE SOLITARY ROAD

No blue-collar, white-trash traffic-drawing crap-mongers was so irritated. But I came to my senses, of course. If they want me to hang
near our homes, thank you. We fought with paper and around in some crappy town for a week or whatever, I’ll do it.
lawyers and convinced them to build elsewhere. The It’s just the timing. Some weird shit has happened here. I wish I hadn’t
Mary Ellen I was then was proud of that fight. The Mary picked up the local paper. A few weeks ago, three kids went missing during
Ellen I was then thought it mattered. a school picnic. They think they wandered into some local caves and couldn’t
I’m looking for the hardware department. Really. I find their way out. Besides it being awful in itself, reading about it made me
have no reason to be looking at children’s toys. I know to think of my own kids. God, I miss them. I usually try not to think about
avoid those aisles. “Walk lightly/think of a time….” But I them because it’s too painful, but reading about this incident has brought it all
got lost and here I am, confronted by bikes and wiffle-ball back. I spent the day in my hotel room trying not to bawl out loud.
bats and RC cars. I see a shelf full of plastic dinosaurs. Nail- Tomorrow, the office is supposed to call with new instructions. I’ll get
toothed killers with jointed legs and tails. The kind Ethan to meet my “supervisor” face to face for the first time. I’m nervous about that.
couldn’t get enough of. One large T-Rex is just like the What if I just skipped town tonight and kept going, driving until the money ran
one Michael gave to Ethan on his eighth birthday. I pick out and then took some easy job as a dishwasher or something? Stupid idea.
it up. I put it down. I turn to leave and then I see Ethan. They’d find me.
Heart pounding. Dizzy. I try to call his name. My
voice won’t come. He stares at me. Blue eyes of an angel. Slippery People
Blond hair of his father. I run to him. I nearly stumble. The three of them look human now that I’ve cut
“Ethan,” I choke at last, “it’s me!” He backs away. I their throats. Out during daylight, wrong to the sight,
clamp my hands on his shoulders and say, “Ethan, it’s bleed when you cut them… my guess is that they were
Mommy. Listen, we have to hurry. We have to get away puppets. Slaves to the drinkers. Used to be hardest type
from here, sweetie. You and me, we have to….” to kill. There was always the temptation to try and save
But something happens. Suddenly it isn’t Ethan’s them. I’m over that.
face I’m staring into. It’s some other 10-year-old’s. But I was sloppy. I got carried away by emotion. They
Dark hair, fat cheeks, nothing like Ethan. It never was deserved to be punished, true, but I should have left one
Ethan, and it’s happened again. Like the time on the alive to question. Why were they skulking around the
bus when I heard someone mention Ethan and Chloe’s Trinity depot? I followed them for three hours, nine till
names. I followed them home, broke into their house noon, and watched them break into a freight car up on
and pretended I was a burglar looking for crack money. blocks. Why? Should’ve stopped to think. Instead, I lit
But they had nothing to tell me. They were nothing but up a cigarette, drew it deep into my lungs and felt the
scared, ordinary, harmless, stupid people. smoke mix with the fire deep inside me. Then it was easy
Fortunately, this boy is the kind who goes quiet to spit out the darkness and send it to surround and blind
when scared, instead of screaming. I want to tell him them. After that — slit, slit, slit. Felt good. “A world of
I’m sorry, to wipe his tears, but he’s sobbing and about light/She’s gonna open our eyes up….”
to find his voice. I turn and walk away quickly, careful Only now I’m left in a train car full of junk. Pa-
not to move so fast that I attract attention, even though perbacks with the covers ripped off. Housedresses and
I want to run and run and never stop. mismatched socks. Bent cutlery. Band-Aids. I kick
Ethan and Amber and Chloe — my babies — are through the trash. No, it’s not quite trash. Too clean.
gone. They’re out there somewhere beyond my reach. Too new. More like a collection. I bend down to sift
The monster that took them is gone, too. I messed up my more carefully. Someone brought this here. Why? Picture
first real opportunity to get her and punish her and hurt frames with the remnants of ripped-out photographs. A
her and make her tell me what she did with them. I don’t toaster still filled with crumbs. Teddy bears and stuffed
know where she’s gone or where she’ll surface next to do rabbits. A plastic wall clock. A shoebox….
her hateful work. All the running and hiding and fighting The shoebox is full of pictures. I toss them to the floor,
and killing has achieved exactly and only this: me sleeping a tumble of colors, smiles and gestures. One catches my
in my clothes on a stained mattress in a trash heap called eye, but it’s too dark in here to get a good look at it. I slip
the Sleepy Moon Motel, too broken inside to even cry. on my flashlight and run it across the pile. And then….
The fire’s out. I give up. And then…. And then my hands shake and my knees
I think I’ll stay in bed tomorrow. turn to water. I’m on the floor, on all fours, pulling one
photo into the dim light, then another. Then another.
11-21 Amber. Chloe. Chloe and Ethan. Ethan. Ethan and
So, the “office” has sent me to this little nowhere town called Trinity. Amber. My children. My children. They look back at me
So far it’s been a waste of time. When I got to the hotel, I found a message from the pictures. I press one to my cheek, to my forehead.
saying that there’d been a change of plans and I should hole up there until I It’s real. I gather the photographs together and I can’t look
got further instructions. That’s not the way the note put it, but that was the gist at them fast enough. I flip from one to another and I’ve
of it. The whole situation was annoying. I actually considered complaining, I looked at about 20 of them when I realize what’s wrong.
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 HUNTER: FALL FROM GRACE

These are my children, but they’re wearing clothes to scramble backward from the corpses but I don’t let him.
I never bought them. They’re standing in some house “Look at them! This isn’t a game! This isn’t a movie! They’re
I don’t recognize. Amber’s hair is different. It’s been dead because I killed them. I cut their throats while they
styled, waved. I never fixed it like that. Chloe sitting on couldn’t see. That’s their blood all over the floor. This
a horse, smiling at the camera. I never gave her a ride on is their blood on my hands. They would have killed me
a horse. Ethan looks… different. He — he’s, my God, if they saw me first, and they would have waited to kill
he’s changed. He’s older. Taller. Thinner. He’s not the you. Their friends are out there somewhere, and I don’t
same boy I knew. I turn one of the pictures over. The care if your buddies sheltered you before. If you don’t stop
date — just a few months ago. treating this as if it’s some kind of puzzle to solve, you’re
These are pictures of my children. They’re alive. I going to end up like this. Do you understand?”
want to be happy that I’ve seen their faces. But they’re I let go of his shoulder and he tries to push himself up,
leading lives I know nothing about. They’re growing away from the corpses. When his hands touch the floor,
and changing and living somewhere else, without me, he feels the wet stickiness and he pulls them away. He
without knowledge of me, without contact with me. brings his hands toward his face, stares wide-eyed at the
They’re living in somebody else’s house. I stand and my blood and dirt on them, and lurches to his feet without
hands crush the photos, rip them to shreds, fling them touching the floor again. He sniffs and gurgles. I can
to the ground. Someone else is raising my children. tell he’s trying not to cry as he says, “Okay… I… okay,
The fire flares inside me, burns into my chest, my I see. I see. Can we… I want to get… away from here.”
throat, my head. Something squirms and twists under
my skin. My children. Keeping them from me. I raise my
Crosseyed and Painless
arms, ready to cast out a flash of destruction. Snakes of “Your children are well,” she says, cocking her head
pure fire. My breast fills with venom. Burn, I’m thinking, as I lower the flare a little closer to the ground. “They
burn and bite and poison and kill. are well cared for and happy.”
“Are you alright?” They’re not happy. They couldn’t be happy.
I turn and C is standing in the doorway. Burn him, I tense up as this freak says my name. My old name.
a voice seems to whisper. Is it my voice? He’s holding That’s not me anymore, right? “Mary Ellen,” it repeats.
you back. He’s slowing you down. See what power you can “This will be hard for you to accept, but you must know
call on. I raise my hands toward the boy. The voices, that I regret what has happened to you, to your husband,
the so-called Messengers, wanted him to find me. To to your lives.”
spy on me? They think I won’t hurt him. Wouldn’t it be “You ugly piece of shit,” I sputter. “How dare you
best for him to die now? He’ll never have a normal life. He’ll say that.”
never go on dates or get married or get a job. He’s doomed “It’s true, child. Michael served me well. I grew fond
to a miserable few years of poking at coffins and staking out of him. He deserved better. Please understand, not all
cemeteries until something with teeth finally catches him and that has transpired is according to my will. Even such
kills him — or worse. as I have masters whom she cannot deny. Edicts she
If only he would back away, turn and run, I know I cannot break… ahhh….” Suddenly her voice loses its
would kill him. But he stands there, facing me, waiting. smoothness. It trails off into something like a wheeze.
I push the fire back down. I lower my arms. “What are Michael was her dog, I finally understand. Her
you doing here? I thought I told you to stay in town!” seeing-eye-dog.
“I was worried. You were gone so long. I thought I “Tell me,” I tighten my grip on the flare. Not yet.
should see if you were okay.” Not yet. “Tell me why you took them. Tell me now.”
Behind him, the sun has nearly set. It was barely “It is not something… easily explained. Your chil-
past noon when I entered this train car. How long have dren… they are with us now. They are needed. The end
I been here? times… the red star is rising… drastic measures… not
“I told you I didn’t want you here.” My body feels safe here, a dancer is coming….”
like it’s cooling down. I need to think. My babies— “You’re talking gibberish. Where are they? Answer me!”
“I know, but I got tired of waiting. I got curious. I I shake the flare. She looks right at me with milky
wanted to see what—” He climbs into the car. He sees eyes, her mouth pulled taut in a grimace. I step sideways.
the bodies. The red light of the setting sun makes the Her face is like an ugly wound. Arms and legs twisted
blood look almost black. “Are…,” he stammers, blinking, and pitiful. Her back hunched. Huge flaps of skin hang
“are they dead?” ragged along her sides. I see muscles, ribs. Dried blood
“Yes,” I tell him. “They’re dead.” I clamp a hand on everywhere. “All that blood/Gonna swallow you whole….”
his shoulder and pull him completely into the car. “Look How can anything be alive with such horrendous inju-
at them. Look at them!” I push him to his knees. He tries ries? Startled, I feel the flare tumble from my grasp. It

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turns end over end, falling toward the kerosene-soaked

ground. I reach out. The flare stops hissing. It hovers
in the air. The light changes. And time…
Stops.
There’s a presence behind me. I turn slowly. The
shadow man from the motel is here. I can make out his
face this time.
“Vincent,” I say.
Now
Now. Now. Now. I understand what’s happening.
Time melts, fractures, and Mary Ellen Kramer is burning.
The white flames lick away her skin. Stroke off her hair.
Kiss away her eyes. Agony/fear/confusion burn off like a
morning fog. What’s left of her is me. As I join with the
flames, I realize that time is a suggestion, an option, not
an absolute. Thoughts jump between different segments
of her life. I live in each moment like a nautilus coiled
in its shell. Who is there with me, watching? Words fly
from my mind like birds. Where will they come to rest?
I know only my need to tell the story. Flames part like
a curtain. I push myself back into disordered fragments
of Mary Ellen’s past.
Seen and Not Seen
I’ve been watching them for an hour. Don’t want
to get too close. There are two. A thin man dressed
casually, acting nervous and constantly looking around.
With him is the giant, its deformities obvious even at
this distance. It walks as if one leg were shorter than the
other, and its misshapen head tilts to one side. When
it passes under one of the feeble security lights, I can
see strange lumps along its back, pushing up under its
coat. Its hands seem overly massive, even for its size.
It’s raining. Rain will mask my scent. Muffle my sounds.
The small man directs the giant’s actions. I think
it’s his bodyguard, his muscle. He puts his hand on the
monster’s back and nudges it this way and that. He tugs
on its arm and the creature follows. They’re obviously
searching for something. Sometimes the giant feels the
ground with its hands, or places an ear to the dirt. I have
an idea what they’re looking for.
They come to the freight car and slip inside, with
the man sending the giant in first. They won’t find the
three bodies. I’ve moved them. I can’t see inside the car,

Michael,
I will come three hours after sunset.
We will go together to the Trinity depot.
We will search for three pawns of our
enemies. Study the enclosed pictures
carefully so that you recognize them.
Speak to no one. See no one. Do not leave
your room until I come. The enemy is near.
Marcella

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 HUNTER: FALL FROM GRACE

but I don’t want to risk moving right now, so I wait. Not If you want me to do your dirty work, give me some-
long after, they exit and I watch as they speak to each thing. I need a new trick. I can’t kill this thing that shoots
other. Suddenly, the giant stands to its full height and poison knives from its fingers and that won’t stay down
cocks one ear toward the sky. Freeze. I don’t breathe. when I hit it. I know this is the monster that took my
They’ve found me. But no, the giant bends toward its children, and if I make it suffer it will give them back.
master and then is gone — running in the opposite Then everything will be right again.
direction from me, moving impossibly fast. I wait five And then time passes and I want to tell the voices
minutes, watching, listening. Ten minutes. Fifteen. The I’m sorry. Sorry I was angry. Please, don’t abandon me
man leans against the car, waiting. now. I need you. I’ll be good please….
I move closer. And then I don’t know if it’s day or night, hot or
I’m behind the freight car. I press the fire from my cold, Coke or Pepsi, when I hear the squeak of a door
center. I let it stream into my muscles, deep into my opening and some ordinary footsteps clomping toward
arms and legs, filling them with strength and speed. I’ll me. The chair is empty. Only when I look from the
hit him hard and fast and see if he falls. If he gives me corner of my eye do I see a shadowy figure sitting in it,
trouble, I’ll cast out the vipers and laugh while they eat leaning with his elbows on his knees, head cocked. I
him. I feel unbeatable. No one can stand in my way. I look should be afraid, I know. Is he one of the voices made
underneath to see his feet. When I can tell he’s facing real? This hasn’t happened before.
the other direction, I come around the car and then I He sits, patiently.
see him fully. He’s wrong to the sight. That’s obvious. I “Okay,” I croak at last. “What do you want to
see it right away. In the next second, I can tell that he’s know?”
not much of a threat. He stands with his hands in his
pockets and his shoulders hunched, nervous, wishing he 11-28
was anywhere else but here. I’ll so enjoy hurting him. It’s all about Mary Ellen.
I wait to see his face before I rush him. “Why don’t/we They told me the truth last night. I mean, they told me some of the truth.
pretend/There you go/Little man….” I guess I’m not sure what I mean. They seemed nervous, if you can believe
He turns around and I’m looking into the face that. Something about a “dancer” being in the area. Fear of choreography? I
of my husband. must be losing my mind.
They’ve been reading my diary all along. I guess that means they’ll
Thank You for Sending Me an Angel read these words too, eventually. Should I burn this notebook? Stop writing
The human skeleton is a beautiful thing. It shouldn’t altogether? They told me they’ve been using me to keep tabs on Mary Ellen.
be hidden by too much flesh. My mother used to tell me That’s why they sent me to Trinity, because they think Mary Ellen might
that. Her funny way of urging me not to take that third show up here. They want me to watch for her, observe her. My “supervisor”
helping at dinner. Thank, Mom. will meet me here and work with me personally.
Maybe she’d be proud of me now. I haven’t eaten in Why are they interested in her? What could she be mixed up in that would
three days. Only water. But it’s not what you think. It’s not get their attention? How stupid am I? I’ve avoided contact with her all this
depression. I know what I’m doing. “We are born without time, thinking she could start fresh after I ruined her life. Instead, I’ve been
eyesight/We are born without sin….” When I was a kid, my giving them access to her. I’d pray to God that Mary Ellen doesn’t turn up
mother would look at me in this certain way and cluck here, except I know there is no God, or if there is there’s no reason for Him
her tongue when I walked toward the kitchen. Then I to answer the prayers of someone like me.
knew that I was getting too fat, too disgustingly fat. That
I was flooding my body with too many calories and the Stop Making Sense
only solution was to stop the flow of food into my gut. I This isn’t Michael, obviously, it can’t be. There’s no
learned then how hunger comes on like a wolf, ravenous, reason for him to be here, sneaking around the Trinity
tearing at you, but if you hold on long enough it backs depot in the rain with a giant at his heel. It makes no
away and stares at you from the rim of your awareness. sense. It’s out of context, like finding an apple in a
I tried that again a year ago. I learned to breathe toilet. It’s a trick, some kind of trick. One that works
out the darkness before it was over. even though I’m looking at him with the sight full on.
When I was a teenager, refusing food wasn’t really Except… except the first thing he does when he sees
about calories or body mass, it was about control, about me is put one hand over his heart. A stupid, involuntary
proving that nobody could make me do what I didn’t want gesture, as if his heart was literally in danger of stopping.
to. Not my parents, my sister, my doctor. Not anybody. Just like Michael, always so melodramatic, his brain filled
If they wanted me to do something, they had to give with so many images from bad movies and mediocre TV
me a reason. They had to make it worth it to me. This that their clichés have soaked into his nervous system.
time it’s not my family I want to punish. It’s the bastards The shock of seeing his face has drained the fire
who’ve shoved their awful burning fire into my gut. right out of me. My muscles are cold and heavy, but
34
 CHAPTER 1: THE SOLITARY ROAD

the sight still tingles in my eyes. And I realize, if… “They’re okay,” he says, staring off into the distance.
if… this is really Michael, he’s tainted. He’s wrong. “They’re living comfortable lives, they… they’re living
He’s got something in him, some stain of the evil better than they did with us. They have the best of
that owns this world. everything, Mary Ellen. They’re together and they… I
“Oh God,” he says. “Oh God, it’s you. Oh God.” He get pictures of them every so often. I was supposed to
takes a step forward, then a half step back, and presses his get a whole box of pictures today… I….” He begins to
hands together as if he’s praying. His body doesn’t know sob again. But I won’t cry. I won’t. I pull him toward
what to do. “Mary Ellen,” he says, finding his voice. He me. I feel his body shake as I hug him. “I’m so sorry,”
walks up to me. “Mary Ellen, you have to get out of here. It’s he gasps. “I’m so sorry.”
not safe. You don’t understand. It’s not safe for you here.” “It’s not your fault,” I say to him. “It’s really not….”
His words stun me like body blows. After everything I don’t know who’s talking, if it’s me or someone pre-
that’s happened, there’s concern for me in his voice. I tending to me. I talk without choosing my words. “It
can’t process it. It’s as if he’s speaking a foreign language. was because of me,” I tell him. “They did it because
And now that an unknown element has appeared, I of me. They did it because of what I had become, to
should be running, not thinking. I tell myself this isn’t get back at me for fighting them. Oh, Michael….” I
Michael. It’s just some stranger in the wrong place. I try to stop the words now, but it’s futile. “Oh, baby, I
want to threaten him, frighten him. But instead I say, brought danger into our house, and I so wish to God it
“What you’re doing here?” had never happened. I don’t know why it happened but
He’s crying. He backs away. “It’s all shit, Mary Ellen, there are monsters out there and I started to see them,
everything’s just gone to shit and it’s because of me. Oh, and Goddamn whatever it is that made me see them.”
there’s no point in trying… I can’t — you won’t… oh, God.” I’m not crying, am I? Somebody’s body is shaking, doing
He looks like he’s about to fall over. I take him by something in the place of crying. Is it mine?
the shoulders and we both go lower until we’re sitting Michael pulls from our embrace so he can look at
on the cold concrete. “Michael,” I say, because maybe me. “You… I don’t understand…. You knew about…
it really is him, maybe I want it to be him. “Please, just you knew about the kids?”
talk to me. Don’t think. Don’t try to make sense. Let “I came home that night, and… I saw it taking them.
the words come. Just talk. Tell me.” I had to do something. In the struggle, the fire started…”
“I’ve imagined this so many times, you know,” he He backs away and his face is a mask. “Oh, God,”
almost laughs. “Seeing you again and just telling you he says flatly. “Oh my God.”
everything. And now I’m not sure I can do it.” My numbed brain struggles to awaken. “Michael,”
I need to get him out of here before the giant comes I tell him, “Michael, wait, wait. How did you know the
back. But before I can do that, I have to calm him down. truth?” There’s a buzzing in my ears. “How did you know
I stroke his hair, hoping my hands won’t shake. “Shhh,” the children weren’t dead?”
I tell him, “you can do it. Catch your breath.” He backs away from me now, scrambling like a crab.
“Do you think it’s your fault?” he almost whispers. “They made me do it! I… I promised them…. You didn’t
“The kids. Do you blame yourself because you survived know. I didn’t tell you how badly my practice was doing.
the fire and they didn’t? Listen, Mary Ellen… they weren’t We were going under, Mary Ellen, and I’d been taking
in the fire.” He wipes his eyes and puts his hands on my money from clients. I would have gone to jail. They gave
cheeks. “They were already gone. That wasn’t them in me the money to make everything right. Years went by.
the fire. The funeral was a lie. It was all lies!” I didn’t think they’d ever call me on it — but then they
I feel as if I’m falling. I feel as if the world is flying told me I had to give up the kids. Mary Ellen, you don’t
past me, too fast for me to grab hold. I have to sort this know what they are. You don’t know what they would
out. What is he saying? What does he know? have done if I didn’t obey.”
“You think I’m crazy,” he tells me, shaking his head. I’m squatting now, ready to stand in an instant. My
“Please, honey, hold my hand. I know this sounds crazy, hand hovers near my knife. “Michael — are you saying —
but please, God, believe me. The kids weren’t in that are you saying you gave up our children to those things?”
fire. They’re still alive. I want you to know that. I’ve Angry. Get angry and do it.
wanted to tell you for so long. They’re still alive!” “It was only supposed to be temporary!” He screams
His hand feels like ice to me. I can almost see the the words, then screams again. “It was meant to be just
taint smeared under his skin, like the trails of a slug. for a week! Don’t you understand? They were going
He’s not Michael anymore, I tell myself, but the idea to test them or something. Oh, my God….” His body
won’t penetrate my brain. “Do you….” I have to take seems to sag. “When the fire happened…” he says, his
a deep breath before I can ask the question. “Do you voice lowered to a whisper. “When the house burned
know where they are?” and everyone thought our kids were dead, that’s when

35
 HUNTER: FALL FROM GRACE

they decided they had to keep them. Because… because own feet and fall down the steps to the open cellar door.
there would be too many questions if… if they turned I hear the voice again somewhere outside. “That’s right,
up alive.” my children. This way. We’re going to have a grand time.”
I stand. There is no fire in me. The basement is unfinished. One of Michael’s proj-
“I didn’t know,” I whisper. “They were taking my ects. Always “next on the list.” Never actually started.
children….” I don’t know if Michael is even listening. The floor is cold. Dusty. I have to stand. I’m so tired.
Someone is whispering to me. You’re not angry enough. When I feel something wrap itself around my ankle,
This is your moment. Don’t wait. Take your revenge. Now. there’s a feeling of inevitability. Of course, I think. There’s
Now. But everything is tangled. Michael’s actions. My another one waiting for me down here.
actions. Monsters. Voices. Fires. Lies. Were they lying Remembering these things awakens the fire in me,
to him? Would they really have brought my babies back? the burning heat that grows deep in the core of my being.
“We are vain/And we are blind.” I’m complicit. I don’t know Three times in my life, microscopic cells have divided
what to do. I don’t know how to react. We went to our and divided and divided to form a tiny person.
children’s funeral, each thinking we knew the truth but The shadow man seems darker, and now there are
hiding it from the other. I don’t want anymore truth. I deep shadows filling the corners of the room like cobwebs.
want to live under the shelter of lies again. I’ve been talking for hours now. I taste blood.
I feel myself shattering into little pieces. I think I pass out. Now I’m awake again. The shadow
Then I hear a gun go off. stands at the foot of my bed. I can look right at him and
he doesn’t vanish, though I can see the cracked motel
Wild Wild Life walls through his smoky body. Then there’s a spin of
My body is still in the motel room, tangled in the the world and I’m lying on the grass outside our house,
cords of space and time, but my mind has broken free, my lungs burning, the night air waving across my face.
spinning like a wheel, and I’m telling the shadowed Memories fight for my attention. An animal smell in the
man about the first weeks after my eyes were opened. dark. The feral thing clawing at me. A surge of impossible
My words put me there. I’m with three others who are strength. The furnace cracking open. I watch walls of
touched, and we’re stupid enough to think we’re getting flame shoot up the sides of our home. Through a window,
the hang of it. We raid a tunnel where two pathetic I see fire dance across our new sofa. “The world crashes
flesh eaters are hiding. I chase one that’s slipped past in/Into my living room….” I crawl. My left leg won’t work.
us. It’s trapped against a fence. I raise an aluminum Pain in my side. Hard to breathe. I’m dying.
softball bat and just feel charged. But then the creature The pain recedes and I’m back in the motel. In his
is gone and in its place is a little girl. I know it’s a trick, left hand, the shadow man holds fire. I look closer and
but I hesitate long enough for the monster to jump the see that the flames are actually fiery serpents, twisting
eight-foot fence and scramble away. The bat cracks as around each other, hissing and rattling and spitting. The
I stare slack-jawed and useless. blood-red light they cast does nothing to illuminate the
The shadowy man seems to nod his head. “You want shadow that holds them. The sounds they make are like
me to go on?” I say. “Okay. Later that night, I’m walking whispering: How much do you hate?
back to my house and I see…. I’m walking through our He holds the twisting knot of snakes toward me.
backyard, rolling down my sleeves so the sitter won’t see I push myself off the bed, stand shakily, and raise my
my injuries. I’m almost at the back door when I hear hand to accept his gift. Then I see that the snakes are
voices. I can’t make out the words, but the hair on my biting each other, biting him. I flinch, but before I can
neck and arms stands on end. It’s Chloe’s voice. She’s get away the vipers shoot from his hand into mine,
frightened.” I go on to tell the rest of it. sliding under my skin. Nausea shakes my body and I’m
The cellar door opens. on hands and knees next to the bed, sick. The world
A shape is silhouetted against the night sky. A twisted around me twists back into a small, moldy room with
giant. Hands like claws. Clouds pass from the moon and particle-board furniture and ugly carpeting.
I see disjointed glimpses of the creature’s body: A yellow “Quincy,” I remember. “Then Trinity, then Jute….”
fang. A pink, scarred ear. Nostrils flared like bat wings. There’s a knock. Without thinking, I stumble to
The monster takes the steps up in one stride, followed the door and open it. I lean against the doorjamb in a
by three tiny figures lost in its shadow. My children. stupor. In the hall is a young boy — 12, maybe 13. I stare,
They move like sleepwalkers. wiping blood from my nose. He tilts his head slightly to
The beast speaks. “Come, children. Don’t be fright- the side and says, “You must be Mary Ellen.”
ened. I’m here. Mother’s here.”
I move forward and scream something. Probably not Give Me Back My Name
words at all. The monster seems to shrug, a casual gesture The shadow man — Vincent, I finally realize — is
that sends me sprawling. I try to stand, but I trip over my made of smoke and shadow, but he still has the same
36
 CHAPTER 1: THE SOLITARY ROAD

Inside me, something moans softly, relaxing its grip

Sasha
as it anticipates freedom. “But… but what—”
I am no longer sure about this course
“What do we want in return? The same thing you’ve
we’ve taken. Gathering lost kin and cubs
will make the tribe stronger, I know, but always wanted. Dead monsters. But we won’t string you along
to do it like this. Perhaps the thought like a dog begging for treats. We’ll give you all the tools you
of raising one of them as my own, of need, and then some. Haven’t you already been given our
cheating my sterility, made me agree gift? All you have to do is use it.”
too readily. Do you know that I take He points. I turn to face the giant, frozen like a
meaningless trinkets from their homes? I monument. “Kill that thing,” Vincent says. “Call on the
touch them, hoard them, carry them like serpents. Have them spit their fiery venom. Let them entangle
fetishes and envision myself living the and constrict and end its pitiful existence. Let it die, suffering.
dull, circumscribed life of a human mother. Then you’ll be on the way to even greater power.”
That’s how much I’ve come to despise this
outcast’s life I’ve been born into. I stare at the monster and my eyes settle on its clawed
Tonight I’m going to confront the hands — again. An animal’s hands, really. A predator’s
“nuisance” that’s been following me. I’ll hands. So much larger than my own.
need to take extra care, because the “Do it, you who once was Mary Ellen Kramer. Claim
Dancer is near, hunting me as I hunt him. a new name and new power. It’s not like you’ve never
I must kill him soon or he will have his changed before, is it? In college, you thought you’d be a
revngee for Lisbon. More later. nonconformist for the rest of your life, listening to under-
I don’t know if I wll live. Things have gne ground rock and cranking out pretentious poetry. Yet 10
bdly. Enemy near. I pursued. Ambush. Burned years later, you were a soccer mom obsessed with window
me. Escaped, weak. M dead. No allies. Tired. treatments and pasta salads. Then you became a warrior
Rest nw, hpe to wke strng. If not, hpe you in darkness. Now’s your chance to transform again. But
will find my bones, + ths mssge. act quickly. Another enemy is approaching. One who will
Thnk you fr bng my frnd + sister, rip through you to kill this beast. Do it now and we’ll take
Sasha, despite what I am. you away from here.”
Marcella
I’m paralyzed, remembering the last time I saw those
hands. They were stroking Michael’s hair, touching his
smirk he always did. “Now let me tell you a story,” he face. I realize now the feelings they expressed. Tenderness.
half-sings. “The devil he has a name….” His mouth seems Grief. Regret. Maybe it was a show for my benefit. She
to be full of spider webs. “Well,” he says then, “It’s been must have known I was there. But even as a feint, it was
a long time.” His voice is not quite in synch with the more emotion than I was able to raise for the father of
movement of his shadowy lips. my children, for the man I shared a bed with for years.
And when I realize that, I realize I want to be Mary Ellen
“You don’t scare me,” I say to him.
again. Even the tired, lonely, frightened Mary Ellen who’s
“I know,” he answers. “I don’t want to. I’m not here to been hollowed out by a life of futile violence.
settle old scores, if that’s what you think. That’s all meaningless
“Vincent,” I say, “your masters, whoever they are,
to me now. Besides, you and I are not the people we were the
chose the wrong ambassador. I look at you and I remember
last time we saw each other.”
who I used to be. I think I’d rather be that than what
“And who are you now?” you want me to become. Than what you’ve become.”
“Think of me as your midwife, one who’s been appointed
And then he’s gone.
to see you through your second birth. You’re almost through
now. Almost ready to start a new life.” The flare tumbles toward the ground.
“Appointed? By who?”
“Tell me, right now, quickly. What is your deepest desire?
Born Under Punches
Almost the instant I catch the flare, I feel the pain in
What do you want more than anything?” my stomach. I fall to my knees, trying to keep the torch
I pause, then answer. “The children. My… Mary over my head, as something pushes its way out of me, up
Ellen’s children.” my throat, into my mouth. It feels cold and tastes metallic.
“Come, now. You’ve left Mary Ellen behind. Let go of I gag and retch and choke until I feel it slither past my
her limited ambitions. What is it you really want?” teeth and lips. I’m certain that I can’t open my mouth
I stare at the ground like a child called before an any further, that my jaw will break, when suddenly the
angry parent. “The voices. I want to hurt them. I want pressure eases. I expect to see an anaconda as thick as a
— I want to hear them scream.” sewer pipe drop from my mouth, but I can only make out
Vincent nods. “That’s right. That’s right. And we — the a nearly transparent contour, a kind of dusky smear of
powers I represent — can show you how to do it.” air that winds away from me and down the dim tunnel.

37
 HUNTER: FALL FROM GRACE

I feel better, clear-headed. There are no curling rivals

nesting within the boundaries of my skin. Only familiar
fire, burning steadily, waiting patiently even though I’ve
turned my back on the ones who put it there.
For a psychotic widow, trapped God-knows-how-
many-feet underground in a kerosene-soaked tunnel
with a 12-foot monster, I’m doing okay.
I regard the thing. I make myself say her name.
“Marcella.” She lies on her back, her head twitching. A
pool of dark blood has formed under her. I see that the
wounds are even more extensive than I thought. She
makes nonsense sounds. I kneel beside her, bite back
revulsion and fear, and lean toward a ragged ear almost
as big as my palm.
“I don’t know if you can hear me,” I say.
“Mamma, mamma, por favor não me deixa aqui. Eu
não quero permanecer com eles. Eu estou receoso….” Her
voice is small. Girlish. Neither the controlled tones nor
the rasping snarls I’ve heard before.
“Listen,” I say. “Listen, we can’t stay here. It’s
dangerous. Something’s coming, I don’t know what….”
She makes more delirious sounds that I can’t interpret.
“I don’t know what to do anymore. We have to
make some kind of deal. You and me. Get it?” My
hand hovers above her wrist. I can’t bring myself
to touch her. “It’s all I can think of. To do the one
thing neither side wants me to do.” I have to wipe
tears from my eyes. “All I want is for them to be
safe. My babies. That’s all I want. I can’t take care of
them. They won’t be safe with me. I can’t even get
to them, but you can and….” Oh God. Michael is
dead. Focus. “My sister — Sarah. She lives in France.
She could take them. You have to….” Was that a
noise? Somewhere else, somewhere nearby? I can’t
tell. “I’m so tired of being an outsider, a monster.”
I’m babbling. “I can’t think of anything else to do
but what neither side wants.” Should I try to drag
her out of the tunnel? She doesn’t seem as big as I
thought. How much does she weigh?
Then I know something has arrived. A hulking,
hyena-headed nightmare. Fanged and clawed. Maurice
Sendak on acid. A killer beast with burning eyes and
a huge dripping knife in one hand. Its nostrils flare as
it tips back its head and breathes the close air of the
chamber. “Ah,” it says with a voice like a forest full of
bears, “found you.”
No time to think. No time to plead or bluff. I
raise my arm. The gesture is the truest, most certain
movement I’ve made in my whole life. What erupts
from inside me isn’t the cold, pure light I experi-
enced while facing down F’s pistol, or the twisting
flame-snakes that the shadow-man gave me. Some
part of me tears loose. A flare of energy leaps out like
forked lightning. It scorches the air like a welder’s

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 CHAPTER 1: THE SOLITARY ROAD

torch and strikes the monster. The creature howls like

twisted metal. Oily smoke rises from its burning fur and
Dear Mary Ellen,
it staggers back, crying. I feel funny writing this, knowing you’ll never see it, but
“And when they split those atoms/It’s hotter than the
the therapist thinks it will help me.
sun….” It feels like the ground is shaking. I’m pushed Having Ethan with us is a miracle. We’ll always cherish
backward by a recoil, breathless, my teeth aching, my him. Despite the hardships he’s been through, he’s full of life.
hands and feet numb. The beast-thing staggers forward Sometimes he tears around the house like a monster. He brings
and snarls. I do it again. This time, the force knocks such joy and energy into our home.
me off my feet. I stagger upright. The monster is lying The night they brought him, I’ll never forget it. The agents
on its back, motionless. The air is thick with burnt hair from the government told us as much as they could. One of them,
and flesh. My neck is sore. My eardrums are throbbing. a tall woman, had such a strange look to her. Her eyes were
Light and shadows dance around me. Pools of kerosene so sad and kind. Just looking at them kept me calm. There are
have caught fire. Fumes burn my eyes, stinging my nose. many things I don’t understand and probably never will. It was
Marcella is gone. Where her body lay is now dry frightening to hear. How you had to enter the witness-protection
earth and clotted blood. program. The cover stories about the divorce and the fire. But I
suppose the details don’t matter.
I run. My flashlight is gone. I don’t remember what
happened to it. Have I turned around? Will I end up back
It’s so unfair. After all you went though, all that time in
in the chamber? No, I follow the upward slope. And then
hiding, for you and Michael and the girls to be taken from us by
the tunnel ends, a wall of earth blocking my way.
being in the wrong place at the wrong time. For seeing something
criminals didn’t want you to. If Ethan had been killed too, would
Panic. Have to get out. I claw at the wall. Darkness. we ever have found out the truth? I don’t like to think about it.
My mind squeezes itself shut. I become an animal. I grunt
what words I can as I scramble at the dirt, trying to hold
I think of you every day. Ethan is growing into a strong
onto my sense of self. “My name is Mary Ellen Kramer.
and beautiful boy. I miss you.
I was born on September 17, 1963, in Youngstown, Love,
Ohio.” The soil seems to soak up my voice like water. Sarah
“My mother’s name was Anne.” It’s hard to breathe now.
“I… studied… art history in… college… I… used to…
go… swimming on… Thursdays… and… Saturdays….” Each time I unleash the lightning, it’s harder to
My fingers are bleeding. “Met… Michael… at a… control. The final time, it won’t leave my body. It will
concert… Talking Heads…. My… sister… lives in… surge inside me. Flames will tear through me like claws.
France…. My children… are… gone.” All that I used to be is gone. I realize that the fire I’ve
It’s a just a layer of clumped dirt, trash and small been carrying inside me comes from the future. I see people
rocks that’s collapsed against the tunnel mouth. I push and monsters locked in endless conflict, ignorant of the
my way through, into the cool, open air. I fall onto the encroaching flames that chase at their heels. If they would
mud and cry like a newborn. just look up, they would see that the world is a plaything
for titans. The Messengers and their dark opponents peer
Now down from impossible heights, circle each other warily,
I have used the white lightning perhaps a dozen putting words in the mouths of dying men. They shift their
times, seeking out hunter groups, listening to their pawns back and forth with cold indifference.
tedious stories. I offer myself as a solution to their Time stretches to my right, space to my left, and
problems. They decide where and when. They use where they cross lies the world. Dark and light powers
me as their secret weapon. Doesn’t matter to me. In coil like serpents, ignorant of a third direction at right
each group, I chose one or two. Pay a little visit. Point angles to them both. The last of me burns away and I
out what’s really going on. Plant a few seeds. If they strain to peer down that middle path. I don’t see anything
live long enough, see and do enough, they’ll come to looking back at me. It’s an unblinking eye of solitude.
realize who their true enemies are. They’ll tell others. An infinite tangle of silence. Something undreamed of.
Don’t trust the Messengers. Don’t fight their battles. Don’t It watches the clashing armies, patient, waiting for the
be pawns. Find ways to work against them. That’s my stupid little game to finally end.
message. That’s my revenge. In my final moments, I reach for it.

39
 HUNTER: FALL FROM GRACE

40
 CHAPTER2:CRACKEDASTHEDESERTGROUND

Chapter 2: Cracked
as the Desert Ground
They are brought down and fallen: but we are risen, and
stand upright.
— Psalms 20:8

My skin is dry. So is the inside of my nose. I’ve few minutes to see if I get any visions. It was the visions
already had nosebleeds from the thin air here. I don’t that directed me home, step by step, to this place, to
remember it being like this when I was young. Of course, this rock. I have a duty. I know it’s a labor of love, but
I don’t remember a lot of things from back then. Maybe I haven’t figured out what the specifics are yet. It’ll
it was always like this. Maybe the devil at my back has come to me. Until then, here I am.
made it this way since. I’ll stare at the sun until a vision tells me what to do. I
How long has the devil been here in Collbran? get a lot of my ideas that way. I’ll see something in a light
Should that be ‘Devil’ with a capital ‘D?’ Is it the Devil? bulb, in a traffic light, something in the sun or the moon.
From the Tree of Knowledge? The angel kicked out of It bores straight to my frontal lobe. Is that the right part?
Heaven? God, I don’t know. I don’t know the difference The frontal lobe? Maybe I mean the cerebral cortex. Or
between devils, or types of devils, I guess. I only know that little seahorse-shaped part, the hippocampus. I’m not
there is one and it’s in this rock. Hiding. Sleeping, a brain surgeon. Just a 20-year-old nobody-nothing girl.
even. I don’t know if it’s trapped here or imprisoned or Just a stupid girl named Lorna who wants to help all the
if it’s just… what? Waiting, maybe? I think it’s half in nightmares of the world. I took a few anatomy classes in
this world, half in another, wherever that may be. I’m community college, but dropped out pretty quick.
afraid to find out what happens when it finally comes So, yeah, I see the truth in the light. Like Paul or
out. Right now, it’s in that strange area where your eyes Saul or whoever, on the road to Damascus. Instant
might not be open and yet you still see things, things that enlightenment. Just add a flash of light. Some alien
might be real or things that may never have been real. kidnapping victims say they get the same thing. A red
I see those kind of things a lot. laser pointed into their eyes, and suddenly they have
Those things are what brought me here, back home. the plans for an anti-gravity machine in their heads
I can see the town from here, with my back pressed and don’t know where it came from. Isn’t that weird?
against the rock as the sun rises over the mesa. I can I guess they’re messages from the Good Doctors.
picture the halo around the sun, and I stare at it for a Some people I’ve met (and I’ve met a lot of people) call

41
 HUNTER: FALL FROM GRACE

them the Ministers or the Heralds or just ‘The Voices,’ me. He whispered it in my ear when I was sleeping one
but I get a hell of a lot more than just voices. And they’re night. And there you have it. That’s the secret.
not messages. ‘Messages’ sound like something you get After the rape, I was in the hospital for a while.
in a fortune cookie. I get full-blown movies. Morality Then we moved to Century, sort of a half-shell of
plays chiseled into my mind. Full-on revelations. Colorado Springs. The city designers used the same
I’m rambling. Let me get to the point. I’ve come to street layout. (Everything is recycled these days.) So,
this rock, to the devil in this rock. Most importantly, I there I was — a real angry kid until I got blessed with
guess, to the town where I grew up until I was 13. I’ve the understanding. It came fast. I had been sick all day.
come here to heal the whole place. I have very little That happened sometimes after the rape. I would just
food. A couple books, my Walkman, extra batteries and get queasy, like maybe I had morning sickness. There
a pair of banged-up headphones. I’m ready to give it my were nightmares, too. Nothing I could remember.
all. I just don’t know where my destination is, you know? Just dreams that left me empty for the rest of the day,
What destiny has in store for me. Destination. Destiny. stumbling around feeling not quite right.
I like that. Those two words make sense together. Then, later, I became. I was chosen. I didn’t see it
So, consider this my Last Will and Testament. like that, at least not at first, but over time I knew I
Lorna Willborn is home and sleeping with the Devil, was blessed. Some of it was the visions. They weren’t
and here I’m probably going to die. slow in pointing out what I had become. I could even
hear people passing on the sidewalk or in the bank
Homecoming whispering about me, all together, talking about what I
The town’s called Collbran. I may have already was fated to become. Some of them didn’t like me and
said that. It’s nestled here in the west end of Colorado, said I was going to fail. Others said I would become like
near Grand Junction, close to the Utah border. In the white light, and they would follow me if I asked them.
distance, you can see all the mesas covered in trees, Even now, if I listen to the air, I can hear them talking
but it’s not like that here. Collbran is a sandy, dusty, about it. It sounds a little bit like crickets. Sometimes
almost red town, like we’re in the desert. Jesus was in it sounds like words.
the desert. Jesus was tempted in the desert by the Devil.
I’m not being tempted. I’m the one doing the tempting. The First Vision
I grew up here, on the other side of town in a neighbor- He came and went like a thief in the night. It was
hood called Red Rock North. My mother and father drank my son. Not that I ever had a son. I was pregnant once
a little too much but they were nice and they loved me. upon a time, from the rape. A 13-year-old, stupid girl
I’m not one of those girls whose parents beat her or denied with a bun in the oven. Born out of rape, built from
her stuff or anything. That’s for everyone else. My cross to the blood of rapists. My parents got me an abortion.
bear, the monkey on my back, was the rape. I remember If I would’ve had the kid, it would’ve been a boy, and
it like it was something that happened to someone else. It I would’ve named him Mickey. Not after the mouse.
doesn’t really bother me now. Four teenage boys. I was 13. After my grandfather, who was a doctor and a good
They were… what, 16, 18? Still in high school. Brad, Hicks, man who treated diseases. So Mickey (the son, not the
Scotty and Shaun. I don’t remember their last names. My grandfather or the mouse) came to me just five minutes
parents were out at some trade convention in Century, up ago, near noon, and explained some rules of the game.
near Boulder, where my dad was peddling hardware. I was He smiled and said, “This is what it all comes to. We
out writing lame poetry at the playground and that’s where have a town full of people, many of whom are bad. Many
they found me. They tore up my poetry and they raped me of them think bad things about you, about the world, about
until the sun came up. everything. It’s not their fault. Repeat that: It’s not their
You’d think I’d hate them, but it just doesn’t work fault. There’s a devil in the rock. It’s also not the devil’s
like that. Maybe it should, but once I decided to forgive fault. The devil is a dream. A living nightmare caught
them, things became easier. Forgiveness, that’s the between worlds. The nightmare of a sleeping giant with
skeleton key to getting through all the doors in life. a big red eye up in the black sky. Together, we’re going to
Move past it, I say. Shut it out. Unlock each door by forgive them all and wake them up from the bad dream.
saying inside to yourself and outside to them: I am sorry. Prepare yourself, Lorna. This is going to be rough.”
And then sister, you are healed! Everything heals that I smiled and said okay. He told me that if I forgave
way. You know what ‘Amen’ means? It means make it the town and helped the devil, I could heal the world.
so. Or let it be done. Something like that. An angel told I hoped he was right.

42
 CHAPTER2:CRACKEDASTHEDESERTGROUND

Then he showed me a passage in Kahlil Gibran’s give a damn. I loved him and the way he was next to
The Prophet. That’s one of the books I brought with me —warm and solid and definitely real. I could tell he
me. He wanted me to read about good and evil. “For loved me back. As if reading my mind, he said:
what is evil,” the book said, “but good tortured by its “Only love would let me cross time and space and
own hunger and thirst?” I agreed with my son. Then he death and life to see you, isn’t that right?” Then he
walked away and was gone like that, like something in smiled. “You’ve been on the right track lately. There
a heat-vapor. I called after him, but it was too late. He are people upstairs watching you, and you’re getting an
was nothing again. It’s not the first time I’ve seen him. ‘A’ for Effort — so far.” He patted my shoulder.
So Fine You Blow My Mind “I love you,” I said.
Mickey was my first real vision. Every other time it “You have to love everyone, that’s the thing. Don’t
was just a voice in my head, a thick, booming, dead sound just love me. Love the whole place. And what’s love?
that didn’t so much talk to me as talk at me. “DEATH Love is the capacity to forgive, not to forget. Never to
NEEDS LOVE.” “BLOOD CARRIES SUFFERING.” forget. Forgiveness is the gateway to your power, and
“THEY PASS IT ALONG.” Other things like that. Some you have so much power in you, Mom.”
I remember, some I don’t. But it was just scraps, just la-la- I found that to be wonderful. Forgiveness is power.
nothing kind of stuff that didn’t amount to much more A totally abstract idea, but I went to it like a bee to
than riddles and hints. Then I found the witch. honey. Before then, I just felt bad for them all. Every-
I hate that word - ‘witch.’ Rhymes with ‘bitch.’ one, myself, whoever. I just felt bad and I wanted them
Totally negative toward women. Why did I use it? It to feel better, so I tried to help. But forgiveness and
wasn’t even a woman. It was a man. I’d say ‘warlock,’ power…. I nodded, tears welled up in my eyes and I
but that sounds ludicrous, like he was some Oz weirdo asked Mickey where I should start.
with a purple robe and a Snidley Whiplash mustache. He gestured toward the body with his thumb. “Him,
Let’s just say I found him on a fire escape in Century, probably. There’s a core of that forgiveness inside you.
and there was no purple robe — just a flannel sweatshirt Just go over there and give him a big wet one, and
and a pair of knee-hole sweatpants with the drawstring you’ll feel it go from you to him. I’m going to leave you
missing. The Good Doctors had directed me to him, for a bit, but I’ll be back. I’ll bring friends. They’ll tell
leaving me messages all over town to get me there. you other things. If everything goes according to plan,
When I got to him my sight turned on and I could see well… let’s just say we’ll see. The eyes are watching. I
how strange he looked, like an HIV lesion or a really love you, Mom. See you someday in the Kingdom of
bad bruise. All Good Things.”
He was holding himself and shivering (even though I mouthed the word “Okay,” but he was already
it was May and a warm, rainy evening). He turned to- gone and the world resumed. I saw a fleeting glimpse
ward me with these big, pretty eyes and said, “I think of my aborted son’s face in a murky oil-slick puddle,
I got them all killed.” Then something dropped out of and then the only thing I was concerned about was
his hand (a pill bottle, I found out later), and he fell the warlock. I followed Mickey’s instructions without
from the fire escape. His head cracked on the pavement hesitation — how could my son be wrong? He wasn’t.
and his neck broke. His head was angled funny and The gift he gave me was a powerful one. I pressed my
his body shook. lips to the man’s, and the stuff flowed from me to him.
Everything stopped, or slowed down, anyway. Even It was love. It was forgiveness. White-golden. The man
the raindrops slowed. Then Mickey showed up. He jerked and woke up. He was alive, healthy. Ready to
jumped down from the fire escape and dropped to a resume whatever great destiny was his to live. His
crouch in total silence. He eased up next to me and put head was on straight. No broken neck, no nothing.
his arm through mine like he was taking me to prom. He seemed confused and couldn’t speak right away.
He just breathed out a sad sigh and said, “Hey, Mom.” It was a stupid thing to do, but I was so overwhelmed
I about died. Here was my son. And I knew he was that I unbuckled his pants and made love to him right
my son. There wasn’t any confusion or question. It was there. I straddled him and let our love mingle. He
Mickey! He looked about 13, about as old as I was when seemed shocked, but I had a lot of love to give. What
he was conceived, even though that didn’t make sense. can I say? Then I kissed him on the forehead and told
(Twenty minus 13 is seven, so why wasn’t he seven years him that whatever it was, it wasn’t his fault. Whoever
old? Later, in other visions, he would be.) Still, I didn’t had died would forgive him, and they would wait for

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him in the Kingdom of All Good Things if he would only contained in each little chip of stone, but not
be a good man and wait patiently. Then I left. really there. Not as regular people would understand it.
Determination I haven’t gotten a total picture of the devil yet.
Actually, no picture at all other than what my mind
Handcuffs. They’re the secret, I decide. I’ve been
has made up. I just hear her sleeping. Did I say her?
sitting here, wondering about my purpose, and thinking
That’s strange, until now I had no idea the devil was a
about when I did it with the warlock. Sometimes the body
she, but it makes a lot of sense. I can relate to women a
doesn’t do what the head wants, right? I just know my body
lot better than men most of the time. That’s why I was
will betray me and somewhere along the line I’ll want to
a rape-crisis counselor in Century. I helped women to
run away and get water and food and whatever else, but
forgive their monsters, sometimes face-to-face. Meet-
that’s not my reason for being here. I have to remain steady.
ing their monsters let them release their pain. I even
So I handcuff my legs together at the ankles. Then I take
encouraged them not to press charges. Punishing their
the key and throw it away. It bounces off of a few small
attackers was just another way to pass along the pain.
red rocks and is gone. For a second, I wonder why I even
Excuse me for saying, but passing the buck like that is
brought handcuffs to begin with. Where’d I get them?
bullshit. A bad idea if ever there was one.
Who cares? They’re here and I need them.
What I’m trying to say is, if this devil is truly a woman,
I’m going to do this. I’m something special. Some-
then we’ll get along just fine. I’ll help her leave this place.
thing that hasn’t been seen in a long time. Jesus might
I’ll help the nightmare end for the sleeping giant.
have been like what I am. Muhammad, too. And that
Prophet. Buddha. Zoroaster. All good people. Good The Second Vision
folks who knew that to heal was to be healed. Who I was hungry and thirsty, so I wolfed down the bag of
knew that to get into the Kingdom of All Good Things, pistachios I’d brought. The red ground beside me littered
we have to be good ourselves. with red shells reminded of blood. Blood of the lamb.
In the desert, pointing at the rock at my back, are Blood of forgiveness. Blood of the damned. It actually
two angels. Cherubs, each one like an old, cracked made a pool of real blood there all of a sudden, and then
porcelain doll, resting their chins on sword hilts. The it talked to me. That sounds weird, but not as much as
swords are on fire. The angels are whispering to each you might think. No worse than a burning bush talking.
other about the gates to the Garden of Eden. They’re There wasn’t any mouth, but I pictured one anyway
telling secrets, but I know that I’m not ready to hear because it made more sense. “God gave a gift to the
them. As the days go on, I’ll be ready. I’ll be let in on Church,” the blood said. “The gift of exorcism. But they
their secrets. don’t use it anymore. Not like they should. That’s why
Sympathy for the Devil you’re here. There are devils aplenty in the world, and
for every devil there’s one exorcist. This devil is very big
The night was hard and cold, just like everything
and very strong, but if you’re worthy and you know your
else out here. I remember that from when I was young.
own blood, you’ll persevere. You are the exorcist. Now,
I want to talk a little bit about the devil and the rock.
please turn in your Bible to Matthew, 10:1.”
The rock is very big — 10 times taller than me, maybe. A
big, red, craggy thing that looks like a finger pointing to I hurried to get out the Bible I’d brought with me.
God. The rust color reminds me of dried blood. I’ve seen It took me a minute, but I found the passage. “Having
that too many times. But in blood is forgiveness (just read summoned his 12 disciples, he gave them power over
the Bible), so I’m okay with that. Still, there’s been a lot unclean spirits, to cast them out, and to cure every kind
of blood in my life. It started when I was 13. After the of disease and infirmity.” I had no comment other than
playground, there was a lot of dried blood on my thighs. that sounded perfect. ‘Unclean spirits’? Even thinking
My lips and my dress, too. Wait, I was talking about the the words gave me an automatic image of the town, and
rock and the devil, and here I am rambling again. all its people stumbling around with poison tubes stuck
to their hearts. I thanked the talking blood for preaching
The devil is in the rock, like I’ve said. I don’t know
to me about my importance. It’s wonderful to be needed.
how it got there. It’s not so much a physical devil, I
think, as a… spiritual one? Is that the right word? Who Fire and Forgiveness
knows? The point is, if I were to crack the rock in half Sometimes I taught the monsters to forgive them-
with some holy power (a power I don’t have, not yet selves. A lot of the time it was teaching others to forgive
anyway), you wouldn’t see any devil. It would be there, the monsters, to show them that creatures don’t always

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know what they’re doing. Do you really think monsters

asked to be the way they are? They were raped. The
choice to be what they are wasn’t a choice at all. It’s
a penetrative act, becoming a monster. A violation
of your very human nature. Sometimes I had to show
even the monsters that.
There was one, a poor blood-drinker named Stew-
art. He was a sweet boy. (Funny, he was older than me
in both human age and vampire age, and I call him
‘boy.’) He said his mother Annalise went down to Rio
de Janiero to die. Actually, he said, a big monster woke
up in the jungle and called many of her children home,
and Annalise was one of them. Or, she was one of its
grandchildren. A lot of people went and never returned.
He said his mother made deals with demons. He saw
it all, but never said anything. I believed him. Why
would he lie to me? His mother was a real monster, I
hear. I guess she was hated by some, but I think she
was controlled by the big monster. Annalise’s hunger
wasn’t her own. Neither was Stewart’s. Apparently
it was passed down from monster to son, from son to
daughter, like a cruel favor.
I taught Stewart to refuse the favor. I told him
that he was raped by a rapist, and his own rapist (his
mother) was herself a rape victim. That’s how it goes.
You violate me, then I go on to violate someone else.
In revenge, but that’s the wrong idea and I realized it.
I got to be the mouthpiece for this idea that people
have trouble understanding. Left unchecked, Stewart
would have probably molested someone else just as he’d
been, and so I told him that. It took a while. Weeks of
talking, rooting him to the spot and drilling him with
the same questions, over and over. I asked him to look
for his own humanity. I knew it was in there, sleeping
like the devil in the rock. It was time to wake it up!
Shake it from its slumber and show it to the world.
It worked. He felt better. We sat up and watched
the sunrise. He was spent, empty, tired. He cried blood
and it dripped down his cheek. It reminded me of rusty
water stains on old pipes. He smiled, and then he
burned up in my arms with the first light of the sun. I
was burned, too, by his flesh. I still have the scars on
my inner arms. The burns are reminders of how well
my teaching works. I saw the sun, the sun that truly
gave him the forgiveness, and I was allowed to see my
second real vision. I don’t remember it now, it’s all a
bit cloudy, but I saw just a flicker of The End. Dark
figures rising up out of the earth and oceans. Puppet
strings. Teeth and claws. A black lion. Eyes opening
on Orion’s Belt. Pyramids blowing away into dust that
stung my eyes. A red eye blinking. A world of blood.

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Rapist own time (not to my convenience, anyway), so I laid

It was almost nighttime and my eyes were closed, it all out on the table.
but through my lids I saw red, then blue, then red, “You raped me when I was 13,” I said. He rolled
then blue. I opened them to see a cop car sitting about his eyes like I was talking nonsense. But then, a second
a hundred feet away. A cop got out and came up to later, he realized just how wrong he was, and it was a
me with a confused look on his face. It only took me fantastic, humbling moment. Panic. Fear. I could almost
a second to recognize him — one of my four rapists. hear his stomach turn.
Scotty Kessler. The joker. The running back. The “Lorna.” That’s what he said. My name. He whis-
teenage boy who worked at his Daddy’s John Deere pered it, like you might if you were saying the secret
dealership. The 16-year-old who pressed his skinny name of God. Here I am, I thought, a ghost from the
body against mine as someone’s gym sock was shoved past rattling her bloody chains against the desert ground.
past my tongue. He didn’t recognize me. I told him he was right, that it was me, Lorna. That
It wasn’t really dark yet, but he flashed his flashlight he and three other boys raped me on the playground.
at me. I half-expected to get a vision in it, but not this That they had me on the slide and on the tire-swing
time. Then he flashed it at the handcuffs around my and in the sandbox. I told him that the doctors had to
ankles. The look on his face was priceless, like they say pull sand out of burns on my back. He staggered back
in those credit-card commercials. and made a sound like a wounded animal. I felt very
“What are you doing?” he asked. bad. I didn’t want to rub his nose in it. I just wanted
“I don’t know. Waiting.” He looked at me like him to remember. So I told him — and this was the
I was some crazy girl. He still didn’t recognize me. I bomb that blew up Hiroshima — that I forgave him.
mean, I’ve put on some pounds since then. I actually “I don’t know what made you do it,” I said. Maybe
have boobs now. But his face was so close to mine that the other three made you. Maybe you played with each
night, I figure he’d know me right away. other in the locker room that day and you did what you
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” did to me so you wouldn’t feel gay. Or maybe your father
he said. I asked him why? “This is BLM land.” dressed you up like a daughter out on the John Deere
“I don’t know what that is,” I told him. He sighed. and did things to you that you don’t even remember. It’s
“Bureau of Land Management. They own this. It’s okay. We’re all just part of a great chain of violation. But
government property. You can’t—” But he didn’t finish I’m free now, so it’s okay. Forgive yourself and then…
his sentence, and for a minute, I thought he was going let your pain out.” Like an electric current, I thought.
to figure out who I really was. No such luck. He didn’t deal well, but I guess that’s to be expect-
So I asked him, “I can’t what?” ed. I mean, this idea of forgiveness isn’t just rush-hour
traffic. It’s serious business. The business of angels and
“I dunno,” he said. He looked confused. “What are
prophets. It’s the light that will strike you blind. He
you doing out here?”
started to back up and dropped his flashlight. Before
I considered lying, but I’ve only got a short time he ran back to his car, I told him that he had to leave
left here, I figured. Lies don’t go over well in the me here to finish my work. That I’d really appreciate
Kingdom of All Good Things, I expect. Don’t they say being left alone to make everything better. He slammed
that the truth will set you free? I’m all about freedom. the door, the red and blue lights went out, and his tires
Freedom is what’s on the other side of the door when spat dust and rocks as he tore back to town.
you understand forgiveness. So I told him. I explained
that I’m waiting here until I’m maxed out, until I have Unclean Spirits
the Power of Greyskull or whatever, until I can save This town has always been filled with strange
them all by freeing them. He sagged like a deflated people. It was when I was young, and I can smell on
balloon and hung his head in disappointment. He the wind that it’s the same way now. The people were
probably expected a protester or some girl pulling a bad. They didn’t mean to be, but they were. Like my
stupid sorority prank. rapists. Four boys who didn’t know what they were
“Great, a nut,” he said aloud to no one but doing. Consequences didn’t apply. They’re ignorant
himself, shaking his head. “Now I’m going to have and stupid and are just passing down the thorny crown
to take you in.” that was put on their heads by someone else.
I couldn’t let that happen. And it didn’t look like The rapists weren’t the only screw-ups. There
Scotty Kessler was going to get any revelations on his were other people, too. Problem people. I had an aunt

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in town. Dabney. What a name — Dabney. She had pid little baby steps. That was me. Wandering around
this husband, not my natural uncle. (I never met him). Century and other local towns, healing and forgiving,
This was someone she married when I was maybe nine one by one. The monsters needed my words, and I
or 10. He was a Green Beret or something in Vietnam. blessed them as best I could.
A wild-eyed guy, real happy. He told stories about the I never once thought back to the place I came from.
war, not like it was Full Metal Jacket but like it was Actually, I mostly blocked it out of my head. Why go
something out of a Schwarzenegger movie. His stories back and think of it? Why pick at the scab? But as I
were exciting memories, not child-killing nightmares. did more and more work, I came to realize that some-
My aunt loved him, I thought, but one day she decided times we have to pick the scab to let the infection air.
to attack him with a lamp while he was sleeping. Then It needs to be cleaned like that sometimes. And here,
she divorced him and tried to get him kicked out of in my past, was one giant scab, crusted and oozing. It
the army by telling them he was gay. What makes a was ripe for some serious picking. After all, hadn’t I
person do that sort of thing to somebody they love? decided that we have to confront all the pain that’s
Then there was a guy down at the hardware store. been handed to us? Collbran was the one place where
He came in every day and talked to my dad like they pain had been handed to me in spades. And maybe I
were buddies. Talked fishing lures and bullet grains, hadn’t confronted it well enough — or at all.
and then one day he went into the cafeteria of the re- So, I came back. I wandered around town for a few
tirement home and started hacking at old people with days. Stayed down at the Four Leaf Clover, which is
a knife. Just like that. His father was in there. An old this moldy old motel that had seen more bad days than
man, 83 or something like that. He was the only one good. The town wasn’t much different from when I’d
who was spared. I don’t know why. last been there seven years ago. It still looked like it was
That’s Collbran, though. A history of domestic poised on the brink of one big sigh, ready to exhale its
violence and people who just can’t take it anymore. last sick breath before dying. Everyone had the same
The town never hit boiling point, but always hovered haunted look. Stepping on the sidewalk cracks, looking
just below it, with a fever the people couldn’t break. like they’d just snapped their mothers’ backs.
A lot of it was passed down in the grand circle of crap. Then the Good Doctors showed me the way. They
People hurting people because they were hurt, blah showed me the invisible sucking tubes that connected
blah blah. But somewhere along the way, I now know, everyone. Pulling at them, draining their goodness and
a devil came along and entered the rock. I don’t know feeding on the holes in their souls. Where did the tubes
if she was there all along or if the way people treated go? I had to find out, and I followed the messages like
each other called her here. It’s a sickness. it was the trail of proverbial bread crumbs. What did
But just like them, it’s not her fault. There’s no I find? I found a rock with a devil in it.
blame. She’s the product of a deranged cosmic mind. And now here I am. Waiting to be shown the way.
Not God. Someone else. I don’t know who. Either way, There’s a town full of broken people, a town that birthed
her poison wasn’t taken, it was injected. Like I said, this me and gave me life and raped me of everything I had.
monster stuff is a penetrative act. Everybody’s innocent. But that was a gift, really. And now I’m here to return
They just need to remember that by being shown the the gift. I’m here with deliverance.
way. I’m the flashlight, like the one Scotty dropped. I
cut through the shadows and I show the way. The Third Vision
I got really hungry. There was some food left: a Looks like all the Holy Ones are talking to me now.
Snickers bar and a bag of Craisins (those cranber- Soon everybody will have given me their two cents,
ry-raisins). I ate the Craisins and I could taste a hint and I’ll be holding all the cards.
of salvation. Three crows told me the truth. They were visions,
and yet they weren’t. More to the point, the crows
Picking Scabs were real. I sensed that much. They were big, black,
It got hot at noon. My forehead felt hotter than oily birds shifting from foot to foot on a piece of the
the ground. I started to wonder, why did I ever come devil rock. Their voices were the visions.
back here? Why would I come back to a place like Let me clarify a point, here. By visions, I don’t mean
Collbran? Purpose, I told myself. that they weren’t true, or were just dumb hallucinations
See, being what we are, we see small purposes. pulled out of thin air or something. Visions are more
Teeny-weeny goals that we take care of with our stu- true than what we see most of the time. They’re secret

47
 HUNTER: FALL FROM GRACE

messages sent from somewhere, know what I mean? “No. But even closing it half-way,” the second said,
Transmissions from beings — like God — who are “that’s a feat in itself, don’t you think?”
nothing but pure truth, forgiveness and understanding. “Pain happens,” number three announced mat-
We’re talking straight from the horse’s mouth here. Or ter-of-factly. “It’s an extant force. Can’t get rid of it wholesale
in this case, the crow’s beak. without dying, but you can reduce it to its bare minimum.
The crows told me that they had a message from That’s our plan. That’s what you have to help us do.”
Crow, like with a capital ‘C’ or something. They said “Okay,” I agreed. I was the hand that turns the
that Crow was an old god pushed away by white hands, valve. The End was coming. I asked if we couldn’t just
but that he was still busy up in the clouds and old trees. stop it, though. Wouldn’t that be better? The crows all
I guess Crow had a good time with life, but now The shook their heads.
End was coming and having a good time was getting “It’s like a car crash,” they said in one voice. “You
harder and harder. can’t avoid it, but you can steer the car to stop it from
“It’s important to save the world,” one of the crows killing everyone. There will be pain. There will be
told me, and a second crow picked up the sentence: grinding metal. But handle it right, and we might make
“Because if the world goes to hell in a hand basket, no it through with all our fingers and toes.”
one will be able to laugh anymore.” Then the crows took off and left me with my stom-
The third crow spoke: “The world is going to ach rumbling. The Craisins were long gone. So was the
hell, don’t misunderstand. But right now the valve Snickers, and I don’t even remember eating it. I took a
is turned all the way and the floodgates are wide heaping gulp of water to help soothe my stomach, and
open. Hell is pouring out at a thousand gallons per I let the morning come and go.
second, and it’s drowning the world in its own pain.
But your hands are on the valve. Start turning. Markings
Rightie-tightie, leftie-loosie. Make it tighter. Start Signs. There are signs everywhere.
closing the floodgates.” I wanted some exercise today. It was late afternoon
“You’ll never close it all the way,” the first crow said. and I started crawling around on my hands and feet. I

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scuttled around the rock, my hands and knees stinging out the last page just to spite me. How mean would
as I crawled around like an animal. On the far side of that be? Then what am I left with? Uncertainty. I
the rock, pretty much opposite of where I’ve been sit- don’t want to be uncertain. I don’t know how this
ting, I saw a sign. It was carved into the rock, dug into will end. I don’t even entirely know why I’m here,
the rusty stone with some tool or something. It was a only that I have to heal everybody, myself, the devil
spiral. Crooked and uneven, but a spiral. I felt it, ran and her home.
my fingers along it. I was probably imagining it, but it
felt hot, like a child running a fever. It gave me an idea.
Boys Will Be Boys
Earlier, I thought a little about Scotty Kessler. What
I held my breath, hardened myself up for the pain
he must’ve been feeling after seeing me again after all
and bit my thumb. Hard enough to take a hunk of skin
this time. Then, like I had maybe summoned him out of
off. Blood started dripping into the dust, and I drew
nothing, I saw him driving by a ways away. His cop car
symbols next to the spiral. First a cross (or a crucifix — I
coughed up a cloud of red dust as he drove by. I could
know there’s a difference but forget what it is). Then
see him looking at me. He felt bad, I could tell. The guilt
a Star of David. Then a swastika — and not because
came off him like the dust from his car. I couldn’t help
of any Nazi thing. I hear Hitler just took the symbol
but feel awful. I hope I see him again. Maybe that’s why
from the Native Americans and used it for his own sick
he’s a policeman now, trying to make up for the breaches
reasons. It’s actually a powerful type of cross, I think,
in his own morality. That would be fair.
something primal and pagan that Hitler probably didn’t
even understand. I wonder what pain happened to him He was always such a nice boy. Sports star. Eagle
that he had to pass it along to millions of others. It had scout. Really good on the rifle team. Didn’t date much.
to be pretty bad, whatever it was. Was sort of awkward in that way. Having the wrong
friends is probably the worst people could say about
So, cross, star and swastika. Then I put one of our
him. And yet he was capable of raping someone. Me.
symbols there, a part of our ancient language. A sign
Barely a teenage girl who hadn’t even bled for the first
that seemed to mean ‘tormented,’ I think, above all the
time. I wonder what made him do that to me. What
others. That’s what this is, this rock, this devil. This
happened to him in his life before then that left him
whole world. Tormented. Tortured. Taunted. And in
so barren inside? It had to be pretty bad.
the process, just because I like ‘T’ words right now,
it’s tainted, too. Tainted by its own torment. Makes I watched him drive by, and he headed back to
perfect sense to me. town. Maybe he was driving around, checking on me,
seeing if I was okay. That made me feel good — that
When I was done, I crawled back to where I had been
he’d care for me like that. I know now that when I
sitting, where my knapsack was, and sucked my thumb.
think of the rape, it doesn’t hurt anymore. I hope he’ll
The blood tasted good. At some point, I passed out.
end up the same way before this is all over.
Look Who’s Talking Rapist, Again
People are talking about me. About it. About what’s
Scotty drove back out again to see me. I saw the
going to happen, you know? There’s a palpable sense
car coming, looking like a Hot Wheels on the horizon.
about the whole thing, a buzzing hum like the wings
of a bee. That’s what it sounds like. Or maybe like a He got out and stood there. He wasn’t looking
million ants whispering. I look across the flat, cracked at me, he was looking at my outline. His eyes moved
desert, past the rocks and scrub, and I see the town. And around me, but they never fell on me. The guilt was
in the town are people. And right now, they’re talking. practically crawling out of him like a flood of spiders,
and my heart hurt for him.
I think maybe she told them. The devil. I can’t
promise anything, but that’s way I figure it. I don’t “Do I have to leave?” I asked him.
know if she talks directly into their heads or slips He shook his head. “No. I’m just checking on you.”
them notes. Maybe she talks to them like the Good “You feel bad for me, out here alone. You think I’m
Doctors talk to my kind. BIG BOOMING WORDS. doing this to prove something to you. Or about you.
MESSAGES. INFORMATION. CRYPTIC JUNK But I’m not. You’re not even the reason I’m here. The
AND STUFF. Could be. whole town’s sick. I can see it now. The Good Doctors
The point is, they’re talking about me. They know want me to operate, so I’m going to.”
it’s coming to a head. I just have this fear that they’ve He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. Then
already skipped ahead to the end of the story and torn he fished in his pocket for something and tossed it to

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 HUNTER: FALL FROM GRACE

me. Two packets bounced against my thigh. Sunflower your own head, pointing out things about your rela-
seeds in one. Trail mix in the other. tionship with the world that maybe you missed — or
“Here,” he said. “Eat up. I have to go. Don’t get were too afraid to see. This dream was no different, just
any fool ideas in your head about anything. You’re just dumping out the mental garbage and letting me rifle
a crazy girl out here, making things up.” through the trash to see what gems were hiding there.
Then he headed back to the car, which he never When I was in Century, I hooked up with this group
even turned off, and drove back toward town. There of other people like me. We worked together for about
was hope for him yet, I thought, and I tore open the six months. They had just gotten over a pretty rough
trail mix with my teeth and began devouring it. period when a lot of bad stuff went down in the city. I
missed it all because I hadn’t had my eyes opened yet.
Static For a while, mostly when I was helping Stewart, there
I put on my Walkman headphones, turned it on, and was a parade of beast-men and blood-drinkers and
heard some of that ugly girlie-pop music that’s out right violence. They had mostly made it through. There
now. Let’s be honest, these girls tease and men don’t was a woman who wanted to fight the creatures off at
like to be teased, and this music teases them. It gives every turn. There was this big boxer guy, sweet and
them ideas about what girls want, but girls don’t really dumb and wonderful, who just wanted to end all the
want that. Maybe it’s because of men that bubblegum violence. And there was another one I never met. He
girl-pop is all over the place. Someone needs to stop it stayed behind the scenes a lot. Talked on the phone
so we can get on with the plan of healing each other. and in chat rooms, and that’s all I ever knew of him.
My parents always said I was a dreamer. They got me logged on to that Internet site. My name
Anyway, I hate that kind of music, but it’s sort of was Counselor or something. I didn’t even pick it out,
sweet in its own way, I guess. While I think the music they did. We worked together for awhile.
does more damage to a teenage girl than anyone wants But I did deal with one girl all by myself. They say
to admit, I left it on. she was a ghost, but now I don’t even know if ghosts
But then it went to static, and then a message came exist. Maybe they’re something else entirely, you know?
through. It sounded like that backward voice on one of Whatever she was, she was lost and alone and wander-
those Beatles albums, where it supposedly says, “I Buried ing the highways around Century, so empty and cold. I
Paul.” (Or was it Ringo? No, that doesn’t sound right.) wanted to help her. Badly. And I did. She and I spent
This one said I should open The Prophet again. I didn’t a lot of nights walking. We’d talk and ask each other
know precisely what I was looking for, but I knew it questions. We’d talk about all the things she missed
when I found it. Dizzy, I began reading the section on from being alive. I didn’t tell the others. I couldn’t. She
pain. This is what it said: “Your pain is the breaking was mine to save, not theirs. They didn’t get it, anyway.
of the shell that encloses your understanding.” I didn’t But one night I asked her a question: “What were
understand, so I kept reading. your parents like?” She froze, stiff as a board. Her lips
“Much of your pain is self-chosen. It is the bitter potion barely moved, and she said mouse-quiet, “Now you’ve
by which the physician within you heals your sick self,” gone and made him mad.” I said, “‘Him’ who?” And then
Gibran wrote and I read. “Therefore trust the physician, there was a swarm of stinging flies coming out of the
and drink his remedy in silence and tranquillity.” darkness. She yelled and pushed me with strength I
The words washed over me like healing waters. Like didn’t even know she had. I must’ve been thrown back
salt in a wound. I know that phrase means that you’re 15 feet and hit my head. I was pretty much done. The
rubbing salt in a wound to make it hurt more, but salt last thing I remember before passing out is that I won-
heals. Salt is good. It sucks up the poisons, leeches out dered who ‘he’ was, who was controlling her. Someone
the infection in some sort of osmosis. gave her that anger, and I told myself I’d find out who
he was, no matter what.
Once I finished reading, night came fast and I slept.
But I never got the chance.
Wet Dreams The others found out what happened. Maybe I told
I dreamt of the past again. Sometimes the past does them when I was half-conscious, or maybe a vision came
that. It just sneaks up on you when your back is turned to them like they were coming to me. They found her
and bites you on the ass to get your attention. And and used the week that I was in the hospital to find all
dreams, they aren’t like visions. They’re not something the things left in the world that she loved. And they took
handed to you from On High. They’re love letters from them and set them on fire. That poor girl went away,

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melting or fading or whatever, and that was that. I never after I started seeing Mickey), I started cutting again.
helped her. Never healed her. Never saw her again. When I did it as a girl, I kept the cuts in places people
All the while, I’d been communicating on the web couldn’t see. High on my thigh, up at the top of my
with someone who called himself Bookworm. Nice, biceps. But now? Now I like people to see. Scars are
friendly, just a good soul. I told him what happened. I marks of a journey. Sign posts. I like to give everyone
poured my heart out over email and told him about my a clue as to where I’m going. It helps prepare them. It
failure. He made me feel better by saying it was okay, helps prepare us all.
that I had to forgive myself and that this whole thing
we did was a process of baby steps, that we couldn’t
Talks with Wolves
I kept sleeping and waking, sleeping and waking.
expect miracles. I thanked him and we never wrote
Sometime before dawn my stomach woke me up and
again, but I always held a place for him in my heart. As
it felt like a black hole. I sat up and then I saw them
for the others, I left them and never saw them again.
— three wolves coming out of the shadows. One, sort
I hear they’re dead now. It’s a shame.
of a mottled-gray thing with one eye and a limp, had
Bookworm, though — he was right and he was an earring. I thought that was weird. An earring on
wrong at the same time. He was right about forgiveness. a wolf. I think it was a she, though I have nothing to
I had to forgive myself. Otherwise, I would have eaten base that on. The other two hung back, one black and
myself up until there was nothing left, you know? But one white, and sniffed at the air. Then I heard a foot
he was wrong about something. We can expect miracles. scuff on a rock, and a warning flag went up.
That’s what I expect here. Back against the rock, devil
There was someone else, standing behind them. I
hiding inside, I expect a God’s honest miracle. And
could see him when I urged myself to. He was trying to
I’m going to be the conduit, I guess you’d say. Or at
conceal himself from me but it wasn’t going to happen.
least, I’m hoping to be. I can’t fail. There’s no room for
I pointed at him and said, “I see you there.” I knew
failure. If I turn away from the light and I stop staring
these weren’t just wolves. They showed up strange and
into the sun, it’s over, finito, and I’ll lose my chance
blurry, so I figured them to be the beast-men I’ve heard
to do my final act of good. And then what? I’ll be left
about. Or man-wolves. I don’t know which is right.
alive, a burned-out husk, stupid and empty and foolish
and forgiving myself until I’m blue in the face. I’m “You’re messing with something you don’t under-
feeling doubt. Terrible doubt. I’ve gone too far. This stand,” the hiding figure said. “There’s a spirit in that
has all gone too far. rock, a venomous thing that will eat your soul if you sit
there long enough. I don’t know what your game is, but
Scars we’re the watchers here. You’re trespassing on our dirt.”
I looked up at the stars before I went to sleep and I explained that I’d be fine, thanks, no need to
imagined lines connecting all of them. One big con- worry about me.
stellation. But the lines were cuts — deep white slashes “Don’t you get it, girl? This place is corrupt. What
— and ended up being puffy and crooked, like scars. sleeps at your back is a fiend like you don’t even com-
I had scars from when that sad girl pushed me. One prehend. Others like it are already loose. They’re out
on the back of my head that turned my hair white. Just there, pulling the curtain closed on all this, and you
a patch of it about as big as a dime. Then there was the don’t give a rat’s ass. One got free not quite a year ago.
burn on my back from when I was raped. You can still It caused terrible pain. You’re in the way of this one.
feel bits of sand back there if you’re careful with your It’ll take you and use you. It’s been using the town over
fingers. Anyway, the scars are still there between my there for years. So, I suggest again that you get those
shoulder blades. Like a patch of rough ground. things off your legs and leave. Got me?”
Then there are the burns on my forearms from I let that all settle in, and then, heart racing, I
Stewart. They look different from the marks on my responded, “First, I don’t much care, and I was serious
back. They’re red and blotchy, like a rash, but they’re when I said I’d be fine. Second, the thing behind me
not rashes. They’re reminders. isn’t an it, it’s a she, and she’s just hurting on the inside
After I was raped, I became a “cutter.” I liked and needs some attention. Finally,” I said, “there’s
making scars. It wasn’t a cry for help. That’s what the nothing you can do to make me leave. The best you
doctors said, but I didn’t buy it. I just liked marking can do is head back to wherever you came from. You’re
myself. That’s all. I stopped about a year before I became all very angry. I sense that. You need to give yourself
what I am today. But then, not too long ago (not long time to put out that fire or you’re all going to burn up.”

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The hiding man shifted uncomfortably from foot catch. They’re more cruel. We’re all part of the tragedy.
to foot, and the three wolves looked at him as if ex- I have to heal everybody. I have to stop the tragedy.
pecting an answer.
His answer was: “Be that way. Kill the girl.”
The Fourth Vision
I’ve been passing in and out of consciousness. It’s
I wasn’t going to let that happen. I didn’t even amazing how bad it feels not to eat and drink. I’ve been
mean to do what I did, but it made a lot of sense and worried all day that this is all an illusion and that I’m
saved my tail, so I’m glad I did it. When the wolves not real. That I’m making a mistake.
come close, I lit up like the star on a Christmas tree,
Toward the end of the day, I gained some kind of
white and fierce, the Star of David, the North Star, the
strength, though, some inner power that I hope I keep
Star of Bethlehem, the star that sailors navigated by. I
finding. Maybe it was from finishing my last few mouth-
showed the wolves and the man that I could tear off my
fuls of water. When I was done drinking, an angel came.
skin and reveal the pure holiness inside me, that all the
There was little fanfare, which surprised me. He didn’t
forgiveness had a body and a name and it was Lorna.
fly up or blow a trumpet or anything. He just walked up
I’d never done that trick before, but it was a good one
with his wings tucked behind his back and wiped my
and the three wolves went darting off, howling. The
forehead with a damp cloth. I asked him if he was finally
man just disappeared.
ready to tell me the secrets, and he answered: “Look into
I hoped later that they would get together to discuss my mouth and see what the devil once called home.”
what had happened, so they could understand that they
I looked. His mouth was a void. No tongue, no teeth.
have some serious problems to attend to. Part of me was
Only darkness, with a flickering image buried in the back
afraid and sad that I didn’t help them right then and
of his throat. What I saw was Hell. I have no doubt.
there, but another part of me knew that what I’m doing
here is bigger than those animals. Once I’m done with There was blood and fire. There were… machines.
my plan here, others will follow my example. Churning, and spitting sparks and red lightning. Men
were crushed in the machines while other men turned
Identity cranks and pulled levers. Beasts that looked like insects
I’ve been having sex dreams. Isn’t that strange? and larva and spiders and wolves prowled crooked
I don’t know how many now. I wake up, I fall back catwalks, dripping saliva and poison and black ooze.
asleep, and another dream starts. I’ve really only been In the distance, I saw violence and rape. My mind
half-asleep, though, so it feels like I’m really having sex, whirled around furious and dizzy. I entered a spiraling
not just dreaming it. Maybe I am. These days, anything roadway and passed through a bunch of gateways, each
is possible, and I’m even thinking that maybe I can one turning my stomach. I felt imprisoned, trapped,
create reality with my mind if I think hard enough. like there was something holding me there. I could
You know, by the time I was 15 I’d slept with 11 feel that the place itself was alive, the heart of some
guys. Almost 12, but he was drunk and couldn’t get it great monster, but even it was trapped by some other
up. Some people said I was trying to get back at men, unyielding power. There were a lot of forces at work.
that I just wanted to rape them back. I don’t buy that. Hell, I realized, wasn’t a place of punishment. Not
I did always like being on top, though. Don’t they call directly, anyway. It was a place that was being punished.
that the ‘power position?’ The woman in control? All A place of violation built on the foundation of its own
that nonsense? Whatever. By the time I was 19, the list rape. It made so much sense, and then suddenly I was
was pretty long. I tried to count them all earlier, and jerked out of the angel’s mouth and spit back against
couldn’t even remember their names. Amazing that I the rock, my ankles still shackled together. I had terrible
never got pregnant. Maybe the rape and the abortion cottonmouth and I couldn’t stop shaking.
ruined my womb. I think by the time all this ends, I’ll The angel said one last thing before leaving: “If ye
have given birth to something, but it won’t necessarily remain firm and act rightly, even if the enemy should
come out from down there. Those boys may have broken rush here on you in hot haste, the Creator would help you
my uterus. Nothing I can do about it now, is there? with five thousand angels, making a terrific onslaught.”
You’d think I hate men, but I don’t. I’m actually a I blinked. The angel said quietly, smiling, “That’s
little sad for them, because I think their souls get dam- from the Koran. And it’s true, to boot.”
aged quicker than ours. They’re always so violent and Then he was gone. I looked down and found the
angry. The virus of suffering that they pass along to one Koran sitting in the dust. Did I even bring it? I don’t
another is bigger and stronger than the one we women remember. I’m having problems remembering. Anyway,

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it was open to that passage. The page was smeared with felt like an eternity. A real, honest-to-God eternity.
bloody fingerprints. I guess I had reopened the cut on Universes had been born and died in that time. Me
my thumb. That’s fine. I don’t mind bleeding. sitting there, weak and shaking, and him standing in
front of me, staring holes through me. I could see he’d
The Chosen been crying. I finally broke the silence.
If I had more time around here (but I don’t think
“Hey, Scotty,” I said, and my own voice sounded
I do), I would lead all of my kind to a sort of Promised
pretty weird. Like it wasn’t my own. It was grimy and
Land. I think I could heal them all. Whoever made
gritty and vibrated funny in my chest. He looked
people put some flaws in our blueprints. I’d love to
shocked, like I’d just slapped him in the face.
show everyone our flaws, to point to them and say,
“I didn’t rape you,” he said.
“Look! Look at how poisoned we’ve become by our
own anger!” Then I could show them that I’m going “Yes, you did,” I insisted. Then I said that it was
to get my halo soon, and they would all listen to me. okay, though, because I forgive him. He sat down cross-
Everyone listens to angels. legged and looked into his lap.
“Shed your skin,” I’d say to them. “Get rid of it. “I know. I’m sorry,” he said, and then started crying
Tear it all off and find the peace underneath. There’s in front of me. I told him again that it was okay. Then
a deep well of mercy inside us, and if we have to dig I crawled over, my feet dragging lamely behind me,
deep to find it, then that’s the way it has to be. It’s the and I held onto him. He just shook and cried. His tears
only way to break us out of the cycle.” Others like me, were warm on my face. We held each other for I don’t
they just want to hurt the monsters. Or save themselves. know how long. At some point, he started blubbering.
They don’t see it’s all about enlightenment and under- “It’s all so bad. I just wanted to be respected. I
standing. I could lead the way. I could. always wanted respect. That’s why I became a cop. I
Now I’m feeling bad that I didn’t choose that road. wanted to be liked. Then you came along again. You
reminded me. It’s like you came out of nowhere to
I think I could have. At one point, I remember whis-
remind me what I really am. I was a kid! I was stupid.
pers telling me that I could be their guide. The power
You know, always with the guys for a goof, but then
I would’ve had over them all would’ve been enough
there was you, at the playground….”
to straighten them out. But I chose another way and
now I’m here, bleeding my kindness on the ground for I shushed him. Petted his hair. I let the sight turn
the town, the devil and all the people caught up in this on and I tried to keep it quiet so he didn’t hear. Every
stuff. Others like me have been chosen, but I think time I turn it on, I can hear it, a snap in my ears like
there could have been even more chosen. a tree cracking and falling. I couldn’t afford to let him
hear it. I can’t afford to let anyone hear it. But I had to
I’m going to start cutting myself. I found a chip of
see, because the sight doesn’t lie. I had to see him with
shale at the base of the rock around the other side, by
it on, and sure enough, there was a stain in his heart. I
the markings. It’s flaky, but sharp. It’ll cut. I’ll bleed
didn’t see it directly, but I pictured one of those sucking
out more truth.
tubes worming in through one of his holes and cutting
Rapist, Final straight into his chest. The poor man.
I don’t know what day it is. Don’t know that it’d I said to him that he was just afraid, and he agreed.
make much difference if I did. Things are a little hazy. “I was afraid, yeah.” And I said he was foolish. “I was
The slices I made all up my calves, on the back of my foolish,” he agreed. And I said it wasn’t his fault.
hands and down on my inner thighs (that’s where I He looked up at me. “I want to go back. I want to
especially like doing it) have all stopped bleeding. I go home. I want to make it all go away.”
can barely keep my eyes open. “But you can’t,” I told him. “It happened. Forgive
Scotty came back to me again. At first, I thought I yourself. Do whatever it takes to pick the scab and make
was dreaming up another vision, but it turns out he was your scars. The scars will tell you what to do. They’ll
real. Sometimes it’s easy to tell the difference. Other be a message from God.”
times it’s not so clear. That’s when he got up, headed back to his car,
But he was real, all right. I drew strength from and sat down in the driver’s side with the door open.
him showing up like that. He came up in his car and it As dusk settled in, Scotty Kessler shot himself in the
woke me up. The sun was high and he stood a few feet mouth. The sound echoed loud over the rocks and the
from me, silent and still. We were like that for what town, and then everything was quiet.

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Waking Dreams and when they saw it in the sky around planets, they
I came out of a daze, with evening on its way. I was used it again.”
sweating like a pig. I smelled horrible. I couldn’t move. “Like crop circles,” I said weakly. I don’t know
I was paralyzed, locked or pinned down. where that came from, but it did, and there was no
All I could do was look up, and I saw Scotty Kessler taking it back.
clinging to the rock-face like a spider. His head was “Circles are messages telling us that all things move
twisted strangely and he had no face. It was smooth, into one another. History and time, especially. There
like a Lego-man’s face, but no ink smile, no black-dot are two ways off a circle. One is through forgiveness.
eyes. Did I take his face away? When I made him kill But if there is no forgiveness, then the circle must be
himself, did that de-face him somehow? I didn’t un- destroyed. That’s the other.”
derstand. In fact, I questioned if he was real at all or “Are you real?” I asked the angel. “Are you them?
just a ghost that my eyes wanted me to see. It’s getting The Ministers? The Good Doctors?”
harder to tell the difference. “I’m what you think of as ‘them.’ You understand
Just thinking it made him scuttle away, all sideways us the way you need to, and one day soon that will let
like a crab, until he disappeared around the other side you open a channel. You’ll be able to talk directly to
of the rock. So I looked over at his car and I saw the the Creator. Won’t that be exciting?”
shadow of his dead body still resting on the steering “Do you have a name?”
wheel. He must’ve crawled back there while I wasn’t “No, but you may call me Metatron. Or Djibriel.
looking. It wasn’t real, I said to myself. The car, the Or Lorna.”
gun shot, all one big tiresome joke. Just a fantasy. My Somehow, it made sense that he had my name. So
unconscious mind trying to satisfy some subconscious I said okay and did my best to smile for him.
whatever. He raped me, so now I made him kill himself The angel went on, “I’m going to show you some
in my head. What do they call that? Wish fulfillment. scenes of The End. Scenes that may happen if you
That’s it. I’m so stupid. How could I have been fooled don’t persevere and do what needs to be done. Are
so easily? you ready?”
So, I officially decided that it was a vision, and I I wasn’t. Not at all. But I agreed anyway. What
expected he and the car to disappear in a puff of smoke, choice did I have?
like when the Roadrunner zips off from the Coyote. There was a flash of light. My eyes burned. It felt
But he didn’t. He didn’t go away at all. like my lids had gone to cinders. I couldn’t close my
Eschatology eyes, and what I saw terrified me.
I saw monsters stalking the earth, leaving behind
“You are avadim,” the angel said to me, standing
footprints of blood. Inside each monster was a host of
over me again. I don’t know where he came from. It
a hundred demons, rattling and shaking at ribcages
was night time. I’d been sleeping. Scotty Kessler’s car
like they were prison bars. The moon was red, just
was still there, and I imagined I could still smell the
a bloody slice in the sky. There were no humans
gunpowder, but I knew I really couldn’t.
alive, only bodies piled on top of each other and
The angel continued, “You are servant. I am made into walls that crisscrossed the landscape. The
minister. Soon, though, you’re going to be different.” earth bled black blood like crude oil, percolating up
I nodded, like I knew what he was saying, but out of the ground. It was all ruined. A shitty, ugly
I didn’t. “Scotty killed himself because he couldn’t place. The monsters turned on one another and
stand his own self-hate,” I said to the angel, but he began eating each other. Some had teeth, others
ignored me. had claws. There was so much blood. Inside each of
“Soon,” he said, tracing a cold, smooth finger them, the demons were laughing. It wasn’t a good
around the top of my head, “you’ll have a halo, a disk sound. Then the light began dying and I imagined
of light that signifies your power. But you have to keep moths banging against a light bulb, bursting into
holding on. This isn’t over yet. Did you know that the puffs of smoke and spiraling to the ground. Then
origin of the word ‘halo’ isn’t the same as for ‘holy’?” there wasn’t anything, because the light died for
I shook my head. “It’s actually an agricultural term. good. There was only darkness.
Farmers used to thresh fields of grain in circles that the Then I was pulled out of it. There was another flash
Greeks called halos. The circle is a powerful symbol, of light and the angel smiled at me. “You see? A vision

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of The End. But we’ve chosen you. You will help. The Mickey
End still happens. There is always an end. But maybe My son came to me again, and this time I was pretty
we can make it through to a new beginning.” sure it was going to be the last time I’d see him. I’d either
“A new beginning,” I mumbled. My words felt die or I’d change into something else when I got my halo.
mushy in my mouth, my breath stale and hot. “The bad He climbed down from the top of the rock, sat down
things are getting loose, aren’t they?” I asked. close to me and cradled my head like I was a baby. I told
“Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend,” him I was weak, that I might not be able to make it.
the angel sang, “before we too into the Dust descend!” “You’ll make it,” he said. “You’re going to see one
Then he applauded himself, and winked at me. “That’s more thing before it’s all over. You’re going to com-
from the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam.” municate with her. You’re going to see her.”
“But I don’t have that book,” I protested. And the “Her?” I asked. He nodded and patted the rock
angel was gone, poof, no more. gently. “The devil. You’re going to meet her, and oh
I fell back to sleep. what a meeting it shall be.”
Parlor Tricks “I’m afraid,” I told him. And I was. Deeply. The
fear was making my heart beat a thousand times a
It was only a few hours later that the shadowy
minute and I could hear the blood pumping in my ears
man-beast came back to talk to me again. I noticed
like a raging river. I pictured my chest exploding. For
him right away. My sight activated without me even
a second I thought it really happened, and I had died.
thinking about it, the sound of wood splintering in my
But Mickey told me I was okay, that I was just scared,
ears. The man was alone.
that everything would be fine if I just stayed on the
“See what you’ve done?” he said, gesturing toward
path. It helped. It didn’t stop my blood from turning
the police cruiser with Scotty slumped over the steering
to ice water, but it helped. I felt like I wanted to die,
wheel. “You’re already spreading the poison. Smearing
even if I hadn’t really died. Mickey nodded and said
it around like jam on bread. Nice fucking work.”
he understood, then put a kitchen knife in my hand.
“Where are your friends?” I asked.
“You’ll know what to do if it comes down to it,
“They were too afraid,” he said bluntly. “But I’m not.” if you get too scared to stay,” he said. “It’s very easy.
“What’s to be afraid of?” I asked him? My love for you will carry you through. You never got
“What are you? What the hell was that trick you rid of me, Mom. I’ve always been here, in your womb.
pulled? Don’t you see what you’re getting into here? Do you feel me in there, tickling you?” He patted my
You’re in way over your head. Me and my kind have stomach and I could feel him there.
been at this for thousands of years. Since you and your “Where’d you get this knife?” I asked him, but
whole species was still in its shit-stained swaddling he just made a tsk-tsk sound and said I had brought it
clothes! And here you come along and pretend to be with me and had it in my knapsack all along. I didn’t
Little Susie Save-the-Day, which is only going to get remember bringing it, but he was probably right. I
people hurt. You think tricks like the one you pulled may have brought the world with me and just didn’t
are going to just stop the corruption that bleeds from remember.
that rock?” Then Mickey was gone, though I could still feel
“You want to see me do it again?” I said, smiling. him resting inside me. If he wasn’t there, I think I’d
My skin tingled. My stomach lurched and I felt puke have died. But even him being there didn’t stop the
coming up the back of my throat. fear. I was going to meet her. Deal with her. The devil
“Forget it,” he said. “Do what you want. When in the rock. My reason and purpose for being here. It
you’re finally tainted, I’ll come for you. I’ll wear your overwhelmed me. I threw up. At first, I just held the
guts like tinsel.” vomit in my mouth but that didn’t last long and before
“You’re angry,” I said in a sing-songy voice. “My I knew I was throwing up everything left in my belly.
mother used to say to my father that he was burning I felt like a speck. Like the book I was living inside
the candle at both ends. I never really got that until was all lies. Like somewhere along the way I took the
now. That’s what you’re doing.” wrong path into the bad forest. It stopped me from
But then he was gone again, stepping to the right being a good daughter, a good mother. I picked up the
and just up and disappearing. I laughed out loud, but piece of shale I’d used earlier and started cutting at my
didn’t quite know why. face. I hated myself right then. I’d wasted everything.

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 HUNTER: FALL FROM GRACE

And then I figured it out. I could leave. I could just

get up and leave. I could be what I was before and I
could wake up from this dream. But how? How would
I make that happen?
Then I looked at the cop car. Scotty, dead. Suddenly
it all made sense. He had the keys to the car. I could
crawl over there. Get in. Start it. And drive far, far
away. I could drive away just like Scotty didn’t. Never
return. Never come back to this life.
Closing the door on this all was a suddenly satis-
fying idea, like I could just flip a switch and turn out
the lights. No more visions. No more anything. I would
forgive myself one last time and then go home.
I started to crawl for the car. Voices rattled in my
head, chattering my teeth. “Don’t give up. Don’t give up.
Stop crawling. Stop yourself! You’re almost done. Don’t give
up now! Don’t throw it all away. Gain your halo. Leave the
circle. Give them all the forgiveness they need.”
But I couldn’t stop crawling, and I started screaming
as the blood ran down my face. It got in my eyes and
burned. Then a voice in my belly told me what I had
to do and I did it. I took the knife and drew it across
each hamstring. One slice. Two slice. The blood was
everywhere. The pain was beyond anything I could’ve
imagined, and everything went melting away as I finally
came face to face with the devil in the rock.
The Devil
My legs were bleeding, and for a fraction of a sec-
ond I just knew that everything that had happened
before that moment wasn’t real. I had gone too far,
dropped off the cliff and was falling. And then the rock
started to darken. The sky darkened, too. When the
devil’s face emerged, it hit me like a fist that I hadn’t
imagined anything at all. Not even the visions. It was
all 100-percent real. I wasn’t a lunatic. I was someone
who had seen the circle I was on and was struggling
to get off it. I wasn’t crazy, I told myself as the devil
came to see me.
She was magnificent and terrible. Her body was
bulbous and segmented. She reminded me of a big
maggot. She bled from the rock and came out like a
ghost. Her awful body was like a shaking, broken image
projected on a screen at the back of my eyes. She half-
seemed like she was there, and yet she wasn’t. Was she
really there or was she just in my mind? Did it matter?
Her see-through form slid down like a snake, and
while she had no eyes (only a smooth, insect’s head),
I could feel her looking at me and scrutinizing me like
a butterfly on a pin-board.
She spoke. It came into my head like another violation.
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“You are a child. I don’t know what you hope to accom- into my brain like a needle. I knew then that I could
plish here. You’re a failure. I taste your weakness.” be lost. I could find myself lost inside her. In her maze
I cringed and winced and suddenly felt very small. of guts and poison. I could summon up everything that
I felt like food. had ever been done to me, I could revisit the rape and
“Is that madness inside you? It is, isn’t it? Am I even become it and wear it like a set of clothes, and then
real? Or is there just a flaw in the parts of your brain that I’d be hers.
distinguish real from imaginary?” But something inside of my womb told me that I
I heard her laugh then, which sounded… I don’t could resist, and so I did.
know… like babies crying. Then I noticed I was cry- I became light for a moment and showed her that
ing, and maybe I got the sounds confused in my head. I was loved. It was a flash. Then I was an angel and
I couldn’t concentrate. My mind was dipping in and she backed off, shrieking and twitching. It sounded
out. There was darkness at the edges of my vision and like a train wreck. It sounded like my mother being
it was trying to put me asleep, but I wouldn’t let it. murdered. It sounded like babies bleeding. She hissed
The words that came out of my mouth weren’t and said, “Incorruptible? Who’s protecting you? Where are
mine, I thought. I mean, they were, and it was my you from? Your mind may be defended but your body is not.
voice, but I realized then that everything I was as You’re just a moist bag of blood. Already weak. Already
Lorna was now someone else’s. And that was okay by dying. I’m sending them. You’re done.”
me, I decided, and answered the devil. I told her that “I’m going to help you yet,” I told her. There was
everything was going to be okay, that I knew she was power in my words, rising up out of nothing. My body
the way she was, twisted and wrong, because she was felt distant and frail, but my mind felt strong. Like a wall.
a slave. She had no control, she wasn’t herself, and “Don’t be so confident. You’re a tick on the back of a lion.”
because of that she lashed out at others. Because she “I am powerful.”
was corrupted, it became her nature to corrupt. I said “You are dead.”
I forgave her for being what she was — an abused And then she was gone, back to her prison.
angel made to be a devil. Then she laughed again.
This time it sounded like glass shattering, and pain Closing Time
flared up in my head like a migraine. I felt the light It’s coming to a head. I can feel it. It’s like that
building up behind my eyes. ozone thing you sense in the air before lightning strikes.
“Forgiveness is a lie,” she said. “The only truth is de- Your hair raises. The air hums. Then electricity. Then
struction. We’ll destroy it all. We are legion.” thunder. Then nothing.
“You can’t destroy everything,” I said, and realized I I don’t know if I’m going to make it. Priests talk
was yelling. I lowered my voice. “It’ll last. We’ll last. You about clemency sometimes, and I think maybe I’m
can stop. Save yourself. Save us all and just go home.” becoming Clemency-with-a-capital-C, but I don’t know.
“I will not stop. I cannot stop. Do not fool yourself.” I’m different, I know that much. I’m something that
“We all have to go home. Home is where the heart hasn’t been before.
is, isn’t it? Pumping and bleeding. All the angels and the But I don’t know that it’s enough. It may be too
devils do best when they’re at home.” I wasn’t sure if I was little too late, as my father used to say. This devil
making sense. I had to trust whatever owned me now. may get me yet. The whole town might be hers; her
She hissed. It sounded like the air let out of a tire. “I sucking pipes pulling at their hearts. I think they’re
have a town. One by one, they fall to me. Vessels have carried coming for me. I think they’re going to kill me. How
my intent. I shall make you one of my children as well, and can I do my work for her and forgive her and teach
then I shall be ever closer to coming through to your world her how to get home if they kill me? I don’t know
once more and waking from my nightmares.” if I have the will or power to resist them. To push
“They’re not your nightmares.” But my words them away. Can’t do it. I’m weak. Already lost a lot
weren’t loud, and I can’t be certain I even said them. of blood. Tired. Hungry. Thirsty. They’ll come and
Maybe I just thought them. (But isn’t that enough?) kill me and rape me.
Everything was becoming hard to figure out. She had Maybe someone up there will take pity on me. Or
mandibles that looked like black, wet, steel rods, and maybe I’ll be skinned and left for the dogs. I’ll either
from her mouth came a long tube, a spinning pipe with find the strength to get through this or I’m a dead
teeth. It moved toward my head and I felt it bury deep woman. I bet it’s going to be the second one.

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 HUNTER: FALL FROM GRACE

Soon secretary at the junior high. One man was a drinking

That shadowy man came to me again, first as a buddy of my dad’s. He owned a landscaping business
wolf and then he changed into a person. He trotted up down on North Street. (Or was it Green Street?) Were
through the scrub, paws on the cracked ground, and they always the playthings of this devil? Or had she
then he was a man again. Still trying to hide. taken them over in the last few years? At first, I thought
“I should’ve killed you when I had the chance,” he maybe they weren’t really hers, that maybe they were
said. “They’re massing, a bunch of them. They’re all up coming out to look for Scotty and they thought that I
in the high-school gym, sharpening their garden tools, was somehow responsible.
loading their shotguns. Their eyes are glassy. They’re But they didn’t even blink an eye at the poor dead
owned and operated by that bitch that sleeps behind policeman. When I let the sight overtake me with a
you. Didn’t you know that? Who do you think you are?” crack like thunder, I could see the poison, the tubes
“You could help me,” I said. that sucked at their innards. Somewhere along the line,
they were vulnerable. They became weak and unsure
He shook his head. “No, I probably can’t. I hope
of themselves and let her inside. They probably didn’t
you have some more parlor tricks up your sleeve or
know it when it happened, and it certainly wasn’t their
you’re dead meat. I couldn’t help you if I wanted to.
fault. But the cycle continues, and they were her pawns
They’d beat the stuffing out of me like a piñata.” A low
as clear as the night sky.
growl rumbled in his throat. “This was all quiet before
you got here. The town was corrupt, but it was quiet. I tried to talk to them. Tried to stop them, keep
They didn’t bother anyone but each other, the bunch them away and make myself small and inconsequential,
of inbreds. Then you came along. Petting a demon on but it just wasn’t in me. Some had weapons. One held
the head. You woke her up, made her mad. Now I’m a rusty corn sickle. Another had a deer rifle. Others
going to have to call in the big guns and see if we can just had bare fists.
settle her down again. It’s a lot of work. Some of my They all spoke with her voice.
friends might die in the process. I don’t appreciate that.” “You thought you could save me?” the drinking buddy
My eyesight swam and darkened. “So I just get to die.” asked. “You think forgiveness matters?”
“That’s the long and short of it. I don’t like wanton Another woman in her bathrobe laughed and said
murder — but I also don’t like children with their hands “I am not weak. I don’t need your help. I am strong.”
in my cookie jar.” They came closer. The barber hissed like a cat. He
I decided he wasn’t there. “I don’t trust you’re real dragged a baseball bat behind him, thumping it through
anymore. Probably just a hallucination from the other the dry brush. “Soon it’ll all be over. The whole thing.”
side to make me lose my way. My faith is unwavering.” They were right. It would be over. But not the way
I lied. they thought.
“I don’t much care about your opinion of me. Or That’s when they came at me, hard and fast, and I
your faith. You monkeys have got it all wrong.” He felt something sharp go into my thigh. Someone broke
cleared his throat. “You’re gonna be a bloody spot on the stock of their shotgun over my shoulder and I felt a
that rock by midnight. I’m going to leave. So long. bone snap under its weight. Behind me, the devil rattled
Sorry for everything, you know.” at the bars of her cage and I sensed her growing eager
“I forgive you,” I said, then laughed like a crazy woman. and hungry. I felt so sorry for her then. It must be terrible
He turned and left. to have those cruel hungers, I thought. To have been
warped and shaped into such a horrible thing, pulled
After from pleasant dreams and made terrible — a devil in a
I’m still alive. Barely. I can feel pain in my bones. once-good world. How awful it must feel! The beating
Did you know your bones could actually hurt? Right and stabbing became nothing to me, and I felt a warm
down to the marrow. Feels like nails are sticking in center burn deep in my chest. I imagined how bad it
me. I’m growing numb and cold. That’s a good thing, must be for all these people to be chained up to their
I guess, because then the pain will be done. own worm-eaten hearts. To be so sad. To be imperfect.
They came in the night. The dark man had it I can only relate what happened next to the act of
pegged. There had to be at least two dozen people. I throwing up. It feels horrible at the time, but once it’s
recognized some of them. The barber who cut my hair over, it’s like the sickness is gone. You’re empty and you’re
when I was a little girl. Another was an attendance healed. Light came up out of me, out of my mouth and

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 CHAPTER2:CRACKEDASTHEDESERTGROUND

eyes. My arms jerked out and I seem to remember the I’ve cracked the shell of my own understanding and
townspeople falling backward. I heard something that found the fruit within. I have my halo. If we accept our
made me think of meat cooking in a skillet. Sharp pops mission and come to understand our own righteousness,
of grease and fat. The light was the brightest thing I’d we can cleanse any self-hatred we may have. We can
ever seen. It fired up out of me and into the sky. step outside ourselves, outside of doubt, and heal the
Alcoholics talk about a thing they get when world. We’ll all have our halos. We’ll all be angels.
they’ve realized they’re sick, a “moment of clarity.” Everything ends. We’re just making the road that leads
I had one of those. It burned everything out of me. there a little nicer to walk.
Every drop of sickness. I was an angel all along, and
didn’t know it till then.
The light didn’t stop. It kept going. I couldn’t see
anything. There was nothing but sunlight, even though Subject: Collbran, Colorado
it was night. Closing my eyes didn’t help. It just tore From: bookworm55
through, white, clean and warm. I was elated. Isn’t that To: [email protected]
strange? I felt like I’d just had a bunch of cups of coffee If you haven’t turned on CNN or checked BBC
and was energized and happy and ready to conquer the online or anything lately, I recommend doing so.
world with my love and understanding. You’ll find all the pertinent details there, I guess,
Then the ground rumbled. It was like a small ear- but I’ll give you the short version here.
thquake, the ones that rattle the cups in a cupboard. It was a little town, not big enough to have
There was a muted clap, almost like thunder, and the a stoplight. It started out as a factory town, but
devil started screaming. At first I could hear it with dried up somewhere along the way and eked out
my ears. Then I realized it was them — the townspeo- a kind of existence afterward. Well, the place
ple — screaming for her, shrieking as a part of her. burned down. And not with a fire that spread
Then their screams were cut off, and turned to gurgles from house to house or store to store, but in one
and chokes and then not much more. Her screaming big, fast blaze. People were sleeping and burned
continued, though, not in my ears but in my mind - a up. Most of the town died. None of the articles
drill-bit whining in my brain. have much to say about the cause. They say it
As quickly as it had begun, it stopped, and the might have been started by a big gas leak that
light flicked off as if a fuse had blown. It took a while went up a main line, and maybe they’re right. I
for my eyes to adjust. don’t know enough about that kind of stuff to
Left behind was a charred field of bone, a graveyard have an informed opinion.
of skinless, fleshless bodies. Most were only a few feet But here’s something: CNN released a video
away, with their shotguns and garden tools resting in that’s probably bouncing around the networks
the dirt, burned by fire. Behind me, I saw that the rock by now. It was a home movie. Some park ranger
had been split and had a wide fissure, and I knew she or something out there took it about a half-mile
was gone. Maybe I sent her home. Maybe I shined my outside of town. The scene is gruesome — a big
light in the dark parts of her heart and she couldn’t bear rock, a cop car and a bunch of burned bones.
what she saw there. I like that theory. It gives me faith. What caught my attention was one of our signs
In the distance, I saw the town. It was burning. The on the far side of the rock. The guy holding the
whole thing was burning. The fire was almost white camera passes it right before the scene of whatever
and I was reminded of the glare of the sun when I stare happened there. I saw it and just knew it meant.
into it. Into the eye of the Creator. The whole picture “Torment.”
was very pretty. Soothing, really. I imagined that angels What the hell happened out there?
frolicked in the flames. Then I decided that the burning Bookworm
town was what the Kingdom of All Good Things really
looks like, and I decided I wanted to go there.

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60
 CHAPTER 3: THE DEVIL YOU KNOW

Chapter 3:
The Devil You Know
The nations have heard of thy shame, and thy cry hath filled
the land: for the mighty man hath stumbled against the mighty,
and they are fallen both together.
— Jeremiah 46:12

I’m in New York City. Boss sent me to have a look He could be bullshitting me, though. He can read
at Ground Zero. He was surprised — said that whoever my mind, kind of. Not if I really work at kicking his
did it “wasn’t important.” Seemed relieved, though I ass, but most of the time. Now, for instance.
can never be sure what he’s really feeling. Shit, I can’t Turn left up ahead.
be sure he has feelings. Can’t be sure he’s a “he.” Great. I hear and obey… jackass.
Hell with it. New York is a dirty, crowded, stinking Sticks and stones won’t break my bones, you fat
shit pile. Fumes — that’s all there is to New York. fudgy shithead.
Traffic fumes you can smell even in the center of You have any idea how annoying your voice is? It’s
Central Park. like nails on a chalkboard. When did you start with
I see the signs up — all the gay little angel stick figures. that, huh? You just like pissing me off? You didn’t used
Fight, fight fight. Protect, protect, protect. Looks like to sound so fuckin’ nasty.
there’s at least two groups and they can’t agree. Typical Once you catch the fish, John, you put away the
hunter bullshit. There’s a third set of symbols — some of lure. Go toward the train station.
that pansy peace, loving, kindness, understanding stuff.
I don’t have much interest in hooking up with the
Looks pretty old, though. Looks like no one’s been painting
local “imbued.” From what I remember, no one I’m
“Can’t we all just get along?” since last year.
interested in is in NYC. That old nigger bitch, uh…
Gang tags for the heavenly host. Cripes. what was her name?
The Boss sees ‘em. Of course the Boss sees ‘em, Memphis.
he sees everything I look at. But I mean he really sees
Thanks. How do you remember what I don’t?
‘em. He can tell which ones have juice and which
Because I’m smarter than you.
ones are just a front. I don’t think he understands ‘em.
Sometimes he asks me what they mean. Yeah, and more humble, too.

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 HUNTER: FALL FROM GRACE

Humility is a virtue, and you know that’s not my Don’t DO that!

business. Sorry, Boss.
Anyhow, she seemed to have her head on straight. Look, are you going to kill her or not? I’m not the
But I probably won’t try and find her. Without the fucking Red Cross here, John. You get a lot from me, so
Internet it’d be a pain in the ass anyhow. All I’d need you gotta pay a little. Or do you want to face the next fang
her for is some fang-mangling. with nothing but your native intelligence and whatever
Go up the stairs. scraps your ‘Messengers’ decide to throw your way?
I head to the stairs to the subway platform, but I look around. Warnings about the third rail. No
there’s a woman in front of me, blocking the way. Some one else in sight. Shit.
tiny ancient bag. Looks like she spent her childhood It’s not like she’s going to miss out on much. She’s
trying to invent fire. Nubby, gray grandma overcoat, 81. Her kids are both dead. If you don’t do it, she’s
worn-heeled frumpy shoes, legs so twiglike that even going to fall and break her leg in three months. She’s
her nylons can’t cling so they pool around her ankles. going to thrash on her bathroom floor, pissing herself.
She’s got one of those home grocery carts — ‘bout No one will hear, and she’ll die in absolute torment.
the size of a trash can, wire mesh, wheels — and she’s Then her little dog eats off her. Honestly John, you’re
pulling it up the stairs behind her. She’s making about doing her a favor.
an inch a minute. Cripes. She goes up one step, bends Since when are we in the ‘favor’ business?
her creaky old back, grabs the handle, and hoists the Boss doesn’t answer. For all I know, he’s not paying
cart up a step. Step, lift. Then she pauses, like she’s attention anymore. He could be looking out someone
hauling fucking bricks. else’s eyes, hearing someone else’s thoughts. I don’t
“Here,” I tell her. “Lemme help.” know how many of us there are. I’ve met a couple of
She looks up, timid. Face like a raisin with two his other errand boys and girls. He doesn’t let me see
bleary eyes. many of them. He doesn’t trust me because I can block
“‘S’all right,” I say and I pick up the cart. There’s him out sometimes.
nothing to it. I can lift it one-handed. Probably full of cat I think I’m the only ‘imbued’ on his leash. I’ve
food. That’s what these old Social Security hags eat, right? got suspicions. I think some of his other people
“Thank you.” Some kind of accent. She turns around aren’t even human.
like a snail and creeps up the stairs to the platform. I I put my gloves on.
put her groceries on the yellow stripe next to her and “‘Scuse me, miss?”
I get a yellow smile in return. She looks up, another yellow smile.
She’s the one, John. “I think you dropped something.” I point, she looks.
What? She barely weighs more than her groceries. Right
She’s the one. Kill her. on the third rail. Cripes, what a mess. Too easy. A
You’re kidding me. goddamn shame. But who’s gonna miss her? What’s
Look, you remember the deal, right? You’re smart she missing out on?
enough to recall that much? I look in her groceries, pull out the bananas from
I remember the deal, but come on. A little old the top and tip them off so they fall down by the rails.
lady? Isn’t that carrying the whole ‘diabolicalness’ Ta da. Rational explanation. Daft senile bitch drops
schtick kind of far? her fucking bananas, reaches down to get ‘em, fries.
Why do you care? I’ve kept my end of the deal, The police won’t care. They’ve got 6,000 other dead
haven’t I? Or would you rather be back with Annabelle? saps to deal with.
Come on, it’s not like she can hurt you or anything. Still, it’s a goddamn shame.
She can’t hurt anyone. Unless…. † † †
I flick on the sight. Nope, she’s normal. Just one Night falls. I’m riding the subway, not really doing
more old bird in a city full of them. much. Funds are thin. Boss doesn’t like me getting
While the sight’s up, Boss can’t hear me — or, at too much cash, I think. I’ve gotten handouts from his
least, he can’t talk to me. It’s pretty nice, having my other tools when I’m really hard up. I think he likes
mind to myself. Time for a cigarette. I smoke it all the me dependent.
way down before I get distracted. John.

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I twitch. Can’t help it. Suddenly, she’s everything I want again. Everything
Get off at the next station and go up the south exit. I need. She’s an ice-cream soda on a hot day with fried
What, you found another old woman you want dead? chicken and a nap in a hammock.
You wound me, John. I remember our deal, even if Cool your jets, Romeo, unless you want those grave
you don’t. You’ll like this next one, I promise. worms giving you head while you fuck her.
Next stop is in the middle of some upscale, snob- “Thanks,” I mutter. She thinks I’m talking to her.
ass district. People look at me like they can’t decide “My pleasure.” She licks her lips and takes my arm.
whether to be scared or repulsed. I quiver. I can’t help it. Lust? Disgust? Both at once.
“Hey you. Yeah you, Armani suit. I’m talkin’ to The club is dark and loud and full of rich city fucks
you, fuckhead!” dancing like idiots and showing off their aerobicized
He runs. I smile. The rest of them keep their eyes asses. It’s like a zoo for pansies. Maybe two of the
to themselves. Goddamn city pussies. waitresses and one of the door guys are real — people
Very impressive. You’re all man, aren’t you? who actually work for their money. Everyone else is a
phony, an out-of-work actor or an artist or a marketing
Then I see her, getting out of a limo like a movie
manager or a managing marketer. Fuckwits, one and
star. Going toward a club, going right past the line,
all. I don’t want to even look at them. Not that I can
of course. Short red dress. Frothy golden hair shin-
keep my eyes off her for long.
ing like the sun on the sea. High heels. Perfect legs.
Perfect ass. Perfect everything. I feel movement in “You want something to drink?” Her voice is like
my crotch and that’s it. honey. Like sleep.
She’s the one, huh? “Beer,” I mutter.
I told you you’d like her. “Your brand?”
‘Like’ ain’t the right word. “Whatever’s on tap.”
Like killing her, then. Go ahead, use your ‘sight’ “Not picky, then?”
on her. I don’t mind. You don’t really need to, though, “Not about beer.”
do you? Only supernatural beauty can— She gestures to a waiter who gives me a jealous
I use the sight just to shut him up. To break the look. As he flutters off, she looks back at me.
spell. To see if maybe I’m wrong, maybe he’s tricking “So, what’s your name?”
me, maybe she’s real, maybe… “Don.”
Nope. “Do you have a last name?”
Dead. Bloated calves where the fluid’s gathered. “Do you care about my last name?”
Hair, dry like straw, falling out in patches. Withered She laughs. It’s music, waves on a beach, a lullaby.
mummy hands, dry lips, maggots. “I’m Amy.”
I’m across the street at the same door. Horns “You don’t look like an Amy.”
honking at me, but I don’t care, I’m locked on, I see
“What do I look like?”
her disappearing down the dim hall.
“Hold it, buddy.” A vampire. A supermodel. An oozing, maggoty
corpse. Annabelle. “I think you know how you look,”
A bouncer. Big guy. Tight shirt. A gym tough. He
I say at last. “If you don’t, try a mirror.”
looks me over and glances over his shoulder, quick like.
A couple more muscle-bound faggots with ‘Security’ Another laugh. I’d never get away with this without
on their shirts back him. Sight’s still on. The one guy’s the angel mojo.
a blood-fuck, a slave. “I don’t know how I look to you, Don.”
“I’m with her,” I say. I say it loud enough for her to “You look good.”
hear me, and I put the juice behind it. An angel trick. She stands up — stands up in a way that puts her
You wanna look luscious to me, bitch? I got that trick tits right in front of my face for a moment. Cripes.
now, too. I’m your man. I’m your seven-course meal. “Do you want to dance?”
She hears. She turns. She sees me, and one rotted “No.”
eyebrow quirks up over a runny hole. She pouts. I almost cave in. I’ll dance. I’ll do the
“It’s okay,” she purrs. “Let him in.” goddamn Funky Chicken if she wants me to. But she
Cripes! I gotta drop the sight or I’m gonna puke. likes me playing with her, so I’m allowed to resist.

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 HUNTER: FALL FROM GRACE

She’s like a sport fisher. She likes it when I pull back “Can your driver listen in on us?”
on the hook. She puts up the retractable wall between the front
“If you don’t want to dance, why come to a seat and the back. Why not? She figures I’m some
dance club?” normal loser. Not a threat.
“I’m a shitty dancer.” “I’d ask ‘your place or mine,’ but it’s a cliché.” Her
“You know, a lot of women watch a man dance to giggle sounds like gargling broken glass.
see how he makes love.” “Ain’t got a place anyhow,” I say.
Makes love. Cripes. “When I dance, it looks like “Then how about mine?”
I’m trying to hurt somebody.” “Or I could just nail you here in the car.”
“Is that how you look in bed, too?” She raises an eyebrow. “Impatient?” She gives a
I shrug. She knows how to find out. “The only reason playful swat at my knee. I swallow back puke.
a straight guy dances is to get fucked. I’m a bad dancer, “You could say that.”
so it doesn’t help me. So why do it? Life’s too short.” “Well, you’ll just have to wait until we get to my
“It is indeed.” Her eyes gleam. “So you came here place.” I feel a little tug at my brain. She’s tired of me
to… get fucked?” playing. She’s ready to reel me in, gut me and set out
“Is there another reason?” The waiter puts down her next hook.
my beer and gets to hear this part of the conversation. I don’t want to get stuck in her lair. Sure, it’d be
“Why don’t you give me the check,” Amy says. quiet, but getting out would be a pain. What that
She’s still standing, standing so that I can look at her dickhead Soldier would call ‘extraction.’ Still, I don’t
legs, her ass. “C’mon. Let’s go.” want to put her defenses up just yet. I pretend like it’s
I take a deep sip of the beer. I don’t move. I look working. “Fine,” I say sullenly. I slide back and look
at her a little. I’m pulling the line. We both know I’m out the window. “How far is it?”
going to go. Another drink and I stand. “Yeah, okay.” “Not far. Just on the other side of the tunnel.”
I’m following that delicious ass back out to the limo, I put a hand over my mouth to hide my smile. A
thinking about what she looks like naked, remembering New Jersey vampire. What, not even immortals can
what Annabelle looked like naked. afford to live in Manhattan anymore? Or maybe she’s
Sight her, John. worried about some psycho terrorist shitfuck living
Mind your own goddamn business. next door.
You’re my business, damned or otherwise. I mean I’ll do it in the tunnel. Not long now.
it. Sight her. Otherwise you’ll bliss out when she puts “Don.” Her hand’s on my knee again. I hope she
the fangs in, and you’ll be worthless to me. Amy would thinks I’m squirming because I’m turned on. “Don’t be
drain you dry before she lets you bang her — she’s not like that. I’m too old for screwing in backseats.”
into sex anymore. Sight her, get her alone, then say my I can see her reflection in the window. Licking
name. That’ll put the sight off. her raggedy rot lips. It’s less nasty than watching
You’re telling me how to kill vampires now? face to face. I can see the opening of the tunnel
I’m telling you how to kill this one. If you light coming up, close.
a cigarette in the car, the flame will startle her. Now I turn back and pull out a pack of Camels. “Want
call the sight! one?” I look in her eyes and pull out two with my
Deep down, I know he’s right. Her chauffeur scut- mouth. I think Bogart lit a cigarette for himself and
tles out to get the door. He’s a blood slave, bowing and Lauren Bacall this way in some old flick.
scraping to Miss Maggot America. He could be trouble Zap — one raggedy rot-hand flicks out, cat-fast,
— the blowback edge doesn’t work on them reliably. and knocks the smokes from my mouth. “Disgusting
He’s probably got a piece, too. habit,” she says, sneering.
The limo has a sunroof in the back. So that’s We’re in the tunnel.
maybe something. Fuck it. It’s time.
Bitch leaves a trail of slime like a snail when she “So’s drinking blood.” I flick my lighter right in
slides over to make room for me in back. She pats the her face — a little flame, but rots hate that shit. She
seat — coy. Flakes of dead skin crackle off as she does it. rears back and her fangs pop out as I speak The Word.
But it’s just blood and guts. No problem. I take my seat. “Vassago!”

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 CHAPTER 3: THE DEVIL YOU KNOW

The sight blows out in my brain like a match in a to punch carefully. Doesn’t want to impale her pretty
hurricane. The hard, burning angel-light is swallowed hand on my barbs and spines.
up by Vassago’s darkness. It flows into me from every- I raise my head for another chin-jam, right into
where, through me, changing me. Thorns grow from that flat, tight belly. That’s when the car jerks to a
my face, curving out around the edges like a beard and stop. Both of us roll off the seat and her legs rip free
a crown. They come from my palms and elbows and from my grip. She’s out the door before I can grab her
the tips of my wings. again, but I push off with legs and wings. I get a good
She gets one bone-crunching punch in at my face hook-hand, two-palm rake on her back, a real hard
before I transform all the way. shove that tears chunks out.
“Back!” The angel edges still work, even with Vas- She stumbles forward, a high heel breaks, and she
sago working through me. Crazy. Blowback slams her teeters and falls right in front of some creaky old pickup
against the door and she’s beautiful again, everything truck. It ain’t going fast, but that doesn’t matter when
precious, every girl I was too poor and dumb and big it rolls over her head.
to ever talk to. She’s scared and I love it. She turns to dust. Sweet.
She fumbles the door open and an arm falls out John, look out!
and hits the moving pavement. Her dumbass chauffeur Something hard and sharp hits me in my left side.
hasn’t figured out anything’s wrong, but I’m not let- Cripes! Feels like I’ve been hit by a sledgehammer. I
ting her get away. Hook-horn palms grab those sweet, turn and it’s the goddamn chauffeur! The inside win-
slim ankles, shredding skin and nylon equally. I reel dow is down and he’s lining up his second shot. Fuck!
her back into the car. The arm that hit the ground is I run away from her door and I can feel the mon-
broken, but it’s healing as I watch. Don’t care. I jam ster body vanishing, the thorns turning to smoke and
my chin spikes in below her knee and I rake upward. the wings fading into shadow. I’m limping down the
She hits my head, but not so hard this time — she has tunnel toward oncoming traffic. I think I feel the Boss
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 HUNTER: FALL FROM GRACE

pushing the bullet out, jerking my muscles back into Not against you, John. That’s why I use you
place, making blood in my veins out of nothing at all. against them.
I wonder if this is what they feel like when they † † †
turn off injuries. The woman who picked me up in New York was
Eyes on the prize, John. Cut back and forth, you well dressed, driving a Lexus, but she had that sickly,
idiot. He’s aiming again! drippy-nosed look that all of the Boss’ ‘people’ seem
I can hear a million horns going off. I must look to have. It was weird: When she saw how chewed up
crazy. My shirt and coat are both burst wide open in back. I was, she insisted that I spend the night at her place.
My shoes have holes in the soles from my foot-claws, Not in any kind of funny way, just… like I was a long-
but they’re still usable. Another gunshot. I flinch but lost cousin who was down on his luck. Instead of… of
it’s already missed. By the time you hear it, it’s too late. whatever the hell we are.
Go right! In that doorway! She gave me a bunch of books for the bus trip, too.
The door’s off its hinges and I’m in some access Nothing good, of course, like Dick Francis or maybe Dave
tunnel, all dust and rat shit and old newspapers. Barry. Just this highbrow shit that the Boss wants me
to read. Discipline and Punish. A Brief History of Time.
I can hear sirens, and for once it’s a good thing.
Some horse-choker called The Origin of Consciousness
That asshole driver’s going to get his in jail tonight, or
in the Breakdown of the Bicameral Mind. For fuck’s sake.
he’s going to spend the next half-hour running scared.
Brainiac stuff. I can’t understand a word.
Either way, he’s not shooting at me anymore.
I’m not asking you to understand them, John. Only
I take stock. Boss didn’t heal me all the way —
to read them.
just enough to let me run without tearing my spleen
out or something. I’m doin’ it, I’m doin’ it. But I’m not reading the
one about faggots!
You think keeping your mangy hide together is easy?
Ecce Homo is not… oh, fuck it. Just look at the
It’s not a big deal. I got an angel trick to handle
page, you brachiating dimbulb.
the rest of it. I can already feel my jaw coming back
together. It hurts like a motherfucker, but it’s just pain. What did you call me?
The bullet hole’s gonna take longer. I’d better take it ‘Brachiating.’ It means you swing through trees
easy for a couple days. like an ape. Honestly, John, doesn’t it bother you that
Good plan. In fact, you can sleep on the bus. I have to talk down to you to insult you?
Bus? “Does it bother you to rely on a tree-swinging dimbulb?”
There’s a bus ticket waiting for you at Grand Cen- I see movement from the corner of my eye. A
tral, under the name ‘Ron Chalier.’ See that staircase woman across the aisle is looking at me funny, and I
ahead of you? Go up it and follow the passage to a realize I’m talking loud. I glare and she shrinks back. I
sewer-access hatch. hold up the book and act like I’m really into it.
Sewers? Again? Smooth move, Ex-Lax. Let’s just hope she doesn’t
tell anyone about the 6’4” 280-pound man she saw on
Just storm sewers. Don’t be such a pussy. When you
the bus talking to himself. You’ve got to be more careful!
get out, start walking southwest. One of my people will
It’s not like you’re easy to forget, you know.
be along soon. She’ll give you enough money to get some
new clothes and maybe a place to stay tonight. What? You mean being a giant freak somehow makes
me… stand out? Gee, Boss, I’d never fuckin’ noticed.
You’re all heart, Boss.
Your sarcasm is not appreciated, John. And to
I just don’t want you fucked up and coughing like
answer your question: More than you can imagine.
last time. You’ll need to be sharp, John. It won’t be some
overconfident newbie fang. Shit, you almost got killed Huh?
because you stood around gloating when you should Relying on you bothers me more than you
have been running! can imagine.
Your concern is touching. Screw him, anyhow. I can just skim this stuff.
Unlike you, I don’t underestimate threats, especially At least the chick in New York got me a good gun.
the threats posed by our mutual enemies. † † †
‘Our mutual enemies.’ Shit, I keep telling you, the I get off the bus in Canton, Ohio. Town doesn’t
‘imbued’ aren’t such bad-asses. look like much. Boss still hasn’t told me who I’m going

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to find here. One of those jaw-flapping dick drips from Homeless shelter, huh? Figures.
hunter-net — all according to the deal. Which one, I got After lunch, I have $29.62. The dingbat waiter
no idea. Don’t even know where I’m supposed to go, so I gets no tip.
figure I might as well get some food before the shit starts. † † †
My jaw feels fine. Side’s a little sore is all. Marta Samson House is not really a house. It’s a
There’s a greasy spoon by the bus station. Probably big building made of cinderblock, all square edges and
a prime location for drifters, bums, serial killers — and a flat roof, like a factory. There’s a huge smokestack
‘the imbued.’ America’s own hometown heroes, normal in the back of it, not producing any smoke. There’s
folks like you an’ me who lead exciting, super-pow- a huge parking lot around it, backed on two sides by
ered, secret lives fighting ghosts and vampires! And, scrubby bushes and trees. One side’s to the street and the
incidentally, losing all their goddamn money, losing other’s got a chain-link fence with barbed wire on top,
all their goddamn friends, and winding up in jail or fencing in another parking lot that looks pretty much
the crazyhouse. identical. Run-down houses line the street, along with
I’ve got $38.64. I belly up to the counter and look seedy-looking businesses that were marginal a decade
at the specials. The guy at the counter slouches over. ago. A pawn shop. Something called “Smithberg Ice.”
“Yeah, I’d like two Sunrise Specials an’ a large An electronics repair shop. Hell, who gets electrical
tomato juice.” stuff fixed nowadays? Just cheaper to buy a new one.
“Large tomato juice, Sunrise Special.” No idea who I’m supposed to do here or how I’m
“No, two.” going to find whoever it is. I got the address out of a
“Two?” phonebook at the diner. It was about eight miles from
the bus station. With nothing better to do, I hoofed
Looks like someone skipped their second day of
it. My feet are killing me: I’m still wearing the torn-up
kindergarten and never caught up.
shoes from New York.
“The special’s two eggs, hash browns an’ toast,
It’s getting toward sunset when I reach the place.
right?” The guy looks like I just asked him to flap his
Now what? Boss isn’t giving much in the way of guid-
arms and fly to the moon. “Well, what I want is four
ance. Great. He must be in a playful mood.
eggs, a double order of hash browns and, you know, two
toasts. Two specials. See?” I walk through the parking lot, past a lot of beater cars
and trucks, lots of ‘em packed full of people’s crap tied up
“Four eggs, double hashbrowns, double toasts.”
in plastic trash bags. Pretty sad. Guess I’m sadder, though.
“Thanks.” I don’t even have a bag of crap or a beater to put it in.
Asshole. There’s a couple guys wearing wornout coats and
Why don’t you order some bacon? stocking caps going through a steel door on the side
Is that one of your commands? of the building, so I follow them. Looks like the right
No, but I know you want it. Smells good, doesn’t it? place. These guys have ‘working poor’ written all over
You know about the packing house. Screw that them, probably like me.
bullshit. If I didn’t clean it myself, I’m not eating meat. Inside is a small cafeteria — linoleum floor, cinder-
Oh, and you think the ‘chef’ back there is washing block walls, saggy drop ceiling. It’s the sort of thing you
his hands every time he takes a dump? get in a high school, only with a TV bolted to the ceiling
Please, look… I don’t want to know, okay? I do showing a football game, and the food’s probably not as
not want to know. good. Crowded, too — tables all tight together and lots
Fine. Cling to your petty illusions. Whatever makes of people wearing lots of clothes with lots of dirt and
you happy. sweat. There’s a line for food, which is being served by
better-dressed, church-volunteer types. They’re stepping
Since when do you care if I’m happy? You want to
pretty lively, schlepping trays of grub back and forth out
tell me who I’m after this time?
of the kitchen, trying to be cheerful. Each one’s moving
I’ll let it be a surprise, but you’ll like it. at least twice as fast as the fastest of the homeless, unless
Last time you told me that I got shot in the back. you count the homeless kids. There’s not too many
You got yourself shot in the back, but I’m not going to youngsters — three or four grubby rugrats in oversized
argue with you. After lunch, make your way east. There’s T-shirts running around the tables and getting scowls or
a homeless shelter called ‘Marta Samson House.’ smiles from the grownups. For the moment, I just look.

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 HUNTER: FALL FROM GRACE

“‘Scuse me,” says a wheezy voice behind me. I turn. I turn the same glare on the guy behind me and
I must be blocking traffic. A withered old black man he pipes down quick.
with a face like the meat of a walnut squeezes past me. “Fine.” Deskjockey’s made his decision. “Look for
“Sorry,” I say. your buddy down at Camp Crazy.” Then he gestures
“You sign up yet?” for me to step out of the line.
“Uh, not yet.” On my way out the door, I grab a couple oranges
“Better, ‘fore all the beds fill up.” and a brownie for dinner. I get dirty looks, but no one
“Right… where I do that, ‘zactly?” says anything.
He points. There’s a guy at a steel desk near the † † †
front of the mess line. People shuffle up, show him From the bums smoking cigarettes outside the
little laminated cards, then get trays and get served. back door, I find out where — and what — ‘Camp
I get in line. Fuck, my feet hurt. Crazy’ is. It’s pretty much a shantytown down by an
“Evening,” the desk guy says when I reach him. old rail line, walking distance from Marta Samson.
It’s where the bums who can’t cut it at the shelter
“Hi.”
go. There’s a little path beaten through the scraggly
“You homeless?”
woods. I eat my oranges as I go, wiping my fingers
“Uh, yeah.” on my coat. I wonder who it’s gonna be. Dictatrix?
He looks me over. Hannibal? They don’t strike me as the types to wind
“You’re not registered here,” he says, like he’d up tramping. Sure, they talked a great game about
remember me. sacrifices, but I’m guessing they make their sacrifices
“No, I’m not.” from somewhere comfortable. Memphis might end up
“You local to the area?” squatting. Certainly not Witness1. That chickenshit
“Nah. I’m from Washington.” fucko’s gotta be somewhere warm and cozy, posting
He sucks his teeth as if to say “too bad for you.” about hunting monsters while he’s hunting for the
“If you’re not local, I can give you a place for the last Dorito in the bag.
night as a courtesy.” He starts writing on a little piece The woods end and I’m at Camp Crazy. The sun
of colored cardboard, like a library card. “Tomorrow is down and a trashcan fire lights the scene. A couple
though, you’ll have to go somewhere else.” bums are squatting around it, bitching and passing a
“Uh… what’s that?” I point to a symbol on a torn- 40. I can smell malt-liquor puke as I get closer. Yeah,
out corner of paper taped on the desk. He looks up with this is where the imbued belong, all right.
his eyebrows up a notch, eyelids down a notch. Most of the place is just tacked-together plastic
“Do you know what it means?” sheeting and tarps, but there’s one no-shit tent. Looks
like army surplus from the Korean war, but it’s a tent
“Yeah, it’s like… sacrifice. Giving yourself, kinda
and it’s put up proper and — painted on the side in
thing.” I lean in and draw a symbol of my own: protection.
bright yellow is the tag for “selfless.” What a joke.
His face gets hard. “In that case, I’m afraid I can’t
Coming out of it is a skinny black guy, and it takes
even offer you the courtesy night.”
me a second to recognize that asswipe Travis Miller.
Crap. The homeless heroes have been here all right.
Boss was right. This is gonna be good.
“Fine. Whatever. Can you tell me where the guy
Right now, I could do him clean. He’s facing the fire,
who drew it went?”
I’m out in the darkness. He can’t see me unless he’s using
“None of my concern.”
a power. And why would he? Why waste the angel juice?
“Look.” I put my hands on the table and let him I could draw that sweet New York gun and pop him.
see the torn up ring finger on my right hand. I lean
Why don’t you do it already?
in and give him a glare. It’s a good one, but he’s seen
“Hey, Travis.”
pissed-off losers before. “You had trouble, right? I’ll bet
you don’t even know what kind of trouble. I bet you Fuck, here we go.
don’t want to know. Well, if you don’t want anymore He jumps. I startle him. He peers into the gloom,
trouble, maybe you better get rid of me fast. You tell and then his eyes get wide.
me where he is and I’m out of your hair.” “John Coaler?” He doesn’t sound mad or scared or
“Hey, yer holdin’ up the line!” anything. Just really surprised.

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“Small world, ain’t it?”

“How’d you end up here?”
“Oh, I always stop by Camp Crazy when I’m
traveling through Ohio.” I spare a glance for the guys
at the fire. They’re oblivious, bickering over the last
backwash mouthful. I could butt-fuck Travis right in
front of his tent and they wouldn’t notice.
Travis — goddamn Traveler72 — is moving closer
to me. He looks like he hit hard and took a long slide.
He’s skinnier, more hurt looking. Wearing an army-sur-
plus jacket, breathing on his hands to keep ‘em warm,
then stuffing them in his pockets.
“So,” he says, getting a little closer. “What have
you been up to?”
“Oh, the usual. Fool killing. Yourself?”
John, why don’t you grease him and get out of
here? Look, do him now and I’ll get you a fucking
money order.
Miller gives me a long, hard look. Finally, he makes
some kind of decision. “Was over in Pennsylvania,
helping a kid and his group. It all went bad. Now I’m
heading south. You hear about Driver300? Henry Eames?”
“Nah. Maybe it was after I got booted from the list.”
The reminder doesn’t do a thing to him. Idiot.
“I’m heading down to try and hook up with him
and Pedro. We’re gonna try and get him his daughter
back. He’s got some cash….”
“Which you need.”
“You look like you could use a hand-up, too, John.
Unless your Rolls-Royce is parked somewhere I can’t see.”
I chuckle. Can’t help it. I’d forgotten how funny
the bastard can be.
“Pedro’s a good man,” I say, remembering. “Didn’t
he have some kind of heavy fang action after him?”
Travis is quiet for a moment.
“They got his family,” he says.
Shit. Pedro was one of the good ones. Had his head
on straight, at least about some things.
“That’s a goddamn shame.”
“I think we’ve all had our losses,” he says, and the way
he says it, I suddenly realize that he’s feeling sorry for me.
Now I’m pissed. Before I even know it, the gun’s in
my hand, the New York gun with the compact silencer
and the fancy laser sight stuck on the trigger guard. It’s
in my hand and the red dot’s on Miller’s chest.
Fire! Do it now!
I don’t, though, and suddenly he’s got a piece out,
too. A fast draw. Wouldn’t have expected it from a
traveling salesman.
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 HUNTER: FALL FROM GRACE

“You got no idea about my losses, you prick. You Getting to Columbus isn’t too bad. From Camp
bad-mouth me all over the list and then you assholes Crazy, I hoof it to a flophouse — so much for Miller’s
cut me off and hang me out to dry. You knew I was money. Next day, I find a haulage company, tell ‘em
a marked man, but none of you gave a shit. No one I’ll help unload a truck in Columbus in return for a
helped me. You were too busy empathizing with some ride and a hot meal. The best kind of under-the-table
death-row convict - too busy lending a sympathetic labor is the totally unpaid kind, so they’re cool with
ear to vampires and witches and fucking dead people. it. Then it’s just the usual shit — lift this, put it there,
Now you think you can just open your arms and we’re wait a long time on the drive, then pick the same stuff
pals again? That since I didn’t get munched by the up again and move it somewhere else. The trucker’s
creatures you abandoned me to… it’s all okay?” okay — not yappy. We say maybe a dozen words to
Bravo, John. Real pretty speech. If this was a movie each other, and he drops me at the train station when
you’d get a friggin’ Oscar. he’s done. I think his name is Mike.
Travis just gives me a sad look and says, “I didn’t It’s on the train that I really start thinking about
know it got so bad for you.” Miller and why it wasn’t like I wanted.
More pity. “Too little, too late, motherfucker.” Because you stopped to gloat, like you always do.
He looks me right in the eyes and he lowers his arm. If you’d just killed him when I said, you’d be happy as
He opens his hand and his gun dangles loose on his finger. a pig in shit right now.
“I’m not going to fight you, John. Make your choice.” Maybe. Maybe not. Who’s next?
What the fuck? You’ll see. Get off the train one stop before Atlanta.
Kill him! He’s fucking with your head. Kill him now! You sure we’re on one of yours? ‘Cause it’s not like
“Isn’t this the part where you say, ‘If you strike me I needed the monster body to take Miller down.
down, I only become more powerful’?” Without me, you never would have found him and
Travis shrugs. “No. If you strike me down, I die. you know it.
That’s all.” Yeah, yeah… but when am I gonna get to do
I can’t do it. Shit. I can’t shoot. My finger won’t move. the big ones?
“Hey, whatchoo doin’?” Oh, you want to kill the pop superstar?
BAM! I actually hear him laughing in my brain. It’s like
Miller falls. he’s working my eardrums with a cheese grater.
It’s one of the goddamn winos! He stumbled over John, she’s got chunks of guys like you in her crap.
to see what was going on and he…. Cripes, he startled You might be able to avoid her human bodyguards. The
me and I killed Miller. He’s running off into the woods, body doubles won’t fool your sight. But her blood slaves
but he’s drunk and old and not hard to catch. I do him, could certainly take you if they worked together. You
too. The other bum by the fire is passed out, but I might might be a match for any two of them, with some luck.
as well make a clean sweep. Past them, though, there are a good hundred vampires
No. Take the silencer and the laser sight off the gun, who would happily kill everyone you’ve ever met to get
wipe it down good, and put it in his hand. Make sure on her good side. And on the other side of them — and
to get both sets of prints on it, in case he’s a southpaw. the cops who would come running — is VH1’s own
Then check Miller’s stuff — he probably had money, version of the Queen of the Damned. Facing her, you’ve
maybe food. Take his gun. got two choices. You can have my advice and no sight,
I hear and obey. in which case she turns your brain into bubblegum and
And make sure you killed him with one shot. you’re back at square one. Or you can use the sight and
† † † have no chance of stopping her when she runs, or of
finding her when she gets away.
Damn. I should feel great about wasting Miller, but
somehow I don’t. All that ‘make your choice’ crap at You promised her to me.
the end. He spoiled it for me. Still, he’s dead and I’m And you’ll get her, John… when you’re ready. But
alive, so that’s worth something. you’re going to need a string of fall guys and other
Miller had $42 in his wallet, plus a train ticket helpers, and you’re going to need more juice from me.
from Columbus to Atlanta. Even better, it’s a sleeper, Which I get by doing your ‘dark bidding.’
so I get some privacy on the trip. How convenient.

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You understood the deal when you signed on. You’re You don’t know how she grows up. In just 10 years….
a consenting adult. Huh uh. I think you’re bullshitting me. I don’t
What about Witness1? He’s no rock star. When think you can predict like that. I read on the Internet,
can I kill him? all those guys who can get little glimpses and they say
When the time is right. Granted, he doesn’t have an even 10 minutes starts to fall apart. Predictions get
army of flunkies, but your motherfucking ‘Messengers’ weird. Details change.
seem to like him an awful lot. You’ll need to get close Oh, now you’re listening to those morons? John, a deal
to him so fast that he doesn’t have time to get away — is a goddamn deal. You got Amy in New York. Together,
and trust me, that cowardly piece of shit is an expert at we got Travis. Now it’s my turn and I pick her!
getting away. Plus, you need to nail him the first time She’s no threat to you.
out. Otherwise, he’ll be ready for you. And you think that old bitch in the train station
Fine. Whatever. I’m not tough enough to kill some was? You know what, John? I lied about her. I lied
sissy-ass computer nerd. about her kids. She’s got two grown daughters, and
John, don’t sulk. It’s pretty sickening from a one of them was bringing a newborn grandson to see
34-year-old man. her. Did you see the cake mix in her groceries? She was
† † † going home to bake them a cake when—
The town where I get off is a flyspeck on the map. I sight him out. This is bad. This is seriously fucked up.
I’m surprised it even has its own train station. The Boss I go over to the little girl. She’s got some kind of
is pretty much quiet, and my cash supply is under $20. rabbit doll and she’s combing its ears like hair.
Screw him. It’s time to get a job. “You. Little girl.”
I find one at a local seed and feed and motor oil kind She looks up and gets scared right away. I’m
of place. Usual setup: I unload shit in the back warehouse not surprised.
for five bucks an hour under the table, paid daily. Owner “Run to your mommy. Tell her you wanna go to
doesn’t know I block the door open and sleep there the church right now, you got me? If you don’t, you’re in real
first night, or he ignores it. Two days of labor that these trouble. Church, right now! Cry until she takes you.”
Kentucky-fried pussies probably consider back-breaking She’s just staring.
and I’m a hundred to the good, less some meals.
“Go now!” I reach out with my right hand, spread it
Evening of the second day, Boss sends me out. It’s like a claw, let her get an eyeful of my mangled ring finger.
dusk and I’m just walking through this nice little town,
That does it. She’s off like a gunshot, screaming
people pretty much ignoring me, heads stuck up their
and hollering.
own asses. Boss leads me to a park. It’s an unseasonably
I head in the other direction. I’m a long distance from
warm day, and the parents are making the most of it,
the train or the bus station, and a town this small doesn’t
letting their kids off the leash for one last hurrah before
exactly have taxis roaming the streets, but screw it. I’m
a winter stuck inside, whining and watching Aladdin
getting out of town before the Boss can tune me back in.
for the umpty-zillionth time.
I make it about five blocks, really concentrating,
The blonde, John.
before he comes back.
What blonde? Way over there with the stroller?
TRAITOR! BASTARD! SHIT-EATING FAG-
No, right in front of your stupid face. The little girl.
GOTY FUCK! YOU’LL PAY FOR THIS, JOHN
“No!” I say it loud, but the kid doesn’t even look. COALER!
What do you mean ‘no’? We’ve got a deal! One Holy crap, I can feel him doing something to me,
for you, one for me, one for both together! something horrible. It feels like a million maggots
A little girl is too fucking much. are eating my guts from the inside. He’s killing my
What, you think you get to obey when you feel like head, my ears, my eyes. I put the sight on again and it
it? Look up ‘obey’ in the dictionary, asshole! While eases back, but I’m still dizzy and trashed. I stumble
you’re at it, check out ‘demon’ — it probably mentions down behind some bushes to puke and I see a church,
something about being… y’know… evil. a little one that looks like it used to be a school or
The deal is, I help ice your enemies, you help me something. I rush it and try the door. The handle
with mine, and we work together on the mutual ones. stings my hand — what the fuck? Static electricity
A grade-school girl is not an enemy. or the wrath of God? Who knows? It’s locked, but

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it’s wood and it doesn’t take more than a couple kills her with my monster body. But at least then
shoulder-hits before I’m in. it wouldn’t be me.
Cripes, I feel shitty all over. Sore. Like when your I look right down the barrel.
feet go numb. That deep pain when the circulation Screw it. Why should I kill myself? That’s for fuckin’
comes back. Only it’s not my feet, it’s everything. losers like Anonymous52 and that XXX guy. I been in
I ease off the sight. Nothing. tight spots before. Worse spots than this. I was on the
I’m safe on hallowed ground, but for how long? boat and I got off alive. That warehouse thing Miller was
God, now that I’ve stopped running, I can feel how so tight-assed about. Sure, Billy overreacted, but we’d
bad my gut hurts. It’s like food poisoning. What do I been through some nasty shit. I got out alive there, too.
do? I could go back, do the little girl, make it up to the Annabelle. I got away from her.
Boss…. Naw, screw that. No way. There’s a line, and So maybe Boss kills me. So what? No big loss. Not
I’ll do some nasty stuff, but a little girl who never did even to me. But it’ll be one piece of dirty work he has
anything to me or anyone else? Nuh uh. to do himself.
But if I don’t, what’s the Boss gonna do to me? He’s Shit, someone’s coming!
in my head. It’s not like I can kick him out permanently. “Hello, anyone there?”
And he can hurt me whenever he wants, from wherever Cripes, it’s the priest. I get my scarf up over my
he is. Remote control. How long can I resist that? nose before he flicks on the light. When he sees the
No way out. gun, his hands fly up to his mouth, like an old lady.
Well, maybe one. “Don’t move!”
I get Miller’s gun out. He said, “I die. That’s “It’s okay, my son, it’s okay, it’s okay!” He’s babbling.
all.” Maybe he’s right. Maybe not. Maybe if I ice “You got a car, Padre?”
myself, Boss eats my soul, takes over my corpse, “Uh huh!”
burns down the church, finds the little girl and Answer to my prayers.

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 CHAPTER 3: THE DEVIL YOU KNOW

“All right, put the keys on the pew there and you get think words anymore but you can still work, you can
out alive. Good. Kneel down. Like you’re praying, right.” almost work better — that weird glassy clarity. Was
“Son, you don’t have to—” Boss sleepwalking? Was it a fakeout? Or is the smart-
“Father, it’s okay. I do, really. Just be quiet now, ‘kay?” ass stuff a fakeout and he’s really that way all the time?
His back is to me and I loop the scarf around his neck. Sounds like he needs my help. Wants me to fly
He thrashes and claws at it a little, but nothing too bad. somewhere from Montgomery and go to Bayonet Point.
When he’s out, I check him. No bruises, still breathing. And do what? What can I do to something that can
Perfect. He didn’t see my face. Everything’s cool. threaten a no-shit demon from hell?
With the sight on tight, the Padre’s Chevy gets † † †
me to the train station. I leave the keys locked inside. John.
My well-earned seed and feed cash gets me on the next Boss?
train, which happens to be to Montgomery, Alabama. Sorry about the confusion earlier.
It’s kind of funny. The priest can’t know it, but What the hell happened? You still want me to go
just by being there he probably saved my life and that to Florida?
little girl’s. Wish I could tell him. Yes, I think that’s a good idea.
† † † Someone I should kill?
John Coaler. Too late. The damage is mostly done. Nonetheless,
Shit! I jerk awake. It’s the Boss. I’d like you to look around at Tina Krebb’s house. It
Florida is your destination. could be educational for me… and for you.
What the fuck? This counts as my end of the bargain, then.
Florida is your destination. Oh, don’t be ridiculous. You still owe me a kill, but
Boss sounds weird — painfully loud. It’s headache circumstances have changed. You won’t get an easy
time again — but also really flat, toneless. Kind of like target like a young girl.
the Messengers that very first time. Is this a trick? Good.
You are not misled. Florida is your destination. I’m still disappointed that you resisted me, John. It
Bayonet Point. was a distraction. One of my enemies took advantage
You’re not mad about the little girl? and got to Tina. So what happened to her is your fault.
Danger awaits. Remember that.
You’re in some kind of… trouble? † † †
Florida is your destination. Krebbs’ house is a bad scene. Not in the usual
And if I don’t wanna? way — she ain’t turned inside out or any shit like that.
She’s just crazy and sick and way too eager to please.
Cripes! It’s the maggots in my guts again, eating
me alive, eating their way out. She’s an old bag. Greets me at the door with fear
in her eyes and blood running out of her nose. She
There are two ways to serve.
doesn’t even notice how fucked up I am, unlike every
Fuck, you made your point. How the hell am I
other asshole gawker between Florida and Alabama.
supposed to get there, though?
When the boss freaked out, a bunch of blood vessels
Chad Neal. Wings are needed… burst all over my head — eyes, ears, nose. I look like
Real weird. It’s his voice, but faint or distracted. Am a bloodshot drunk with a sunburn.
I overhearing him? Is Chad Neal another one of his tools? Krebbs could care less. She asks if I’m John Coaler
…prepare the way. Montgomery airport is the path and when I say I am, she hands me a bank envelope.
G’AIIIIEE! It’s full of $50s.
Shit! Boss is screaming in my head! Gotta sight While I’m counting it, she scurries off to the bath-
him out! room and throws up. When she comes back, there’s a
That’s better. Cripes, what the hell was that? I’ve little blood on her mouth.
never heard the Boss like that before! “I didn’t mean to betray Vassago. I love him.”
Like he could barely speak, and usually he’s such I flinch. Dammit — I don’t like hearing Boss’
a smartass. I don’t know. It was almost like a dream, name out loud. She doesn’t seem to care, though.
or when you’ve worked 20 hours at a stretch and can’t She’s babbling.

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 HUNTER: FALL FROM GRACE

“I’ll never do it again. Never again. Never ever Also, back when I was with… with her, before
again. Never ever ever.” I got loose…. When did I start to hear the Boss?
Ten thousand bucks! It’s a smaller bundle than Hard to remember, but I think it was after that
you might think. But it looks like a hell of a lot when cunt with the diamond necklace. It’s pretty hazy…
I put it in my wallet. don’t want to remember… but yeah. In fact, I think
“The keys. The car keys. They’re for you. They’re that fucking necklace was touching me the first
on the kitchen table. Vassago said to give you the car time he spoke.
keys. I love Vassago. And my jewels. You’re supposed So there’s some kind of connection to jewelry.
to have them… even my wedding ring. Vassago said And Krebbs didn’t have her earring anymore. Maybe
so. I love him.” this enemy of the Boss’ stole it or broke it? Hell, I can’t
See what happens when you cross me, John? figure this shit out.
What did you do to her? Well, at least I ain’t on that damn list anymore.
Nothing complicated. I’m screaming in her head If I posted it there I’d have more bullshit conjecture
right now. Just like I have been for the past, hmmm, 48 than I’d know what to do with.
hours. Plus I’ve been deathsucking her — the ‘maggots † † †
in the belly’ feeling you had earlier. The guy who meets me in D.C. is another old
You’re killing her then. fucker. Looks like he dodged the draft in the War of
Oh no. I’ll keep her balanced on the edge of death for 1812. Boss gave me directions to his door. Pretty nice
years. I’ll let her recover a bit — maybe even let her think place, out in Georgetown.
I was a delusion and that she’s cured. Then, when her “So you’re the… specialist… that our ‘mutual
soul has grown a bit stronger, I’ll eat off another chunk. friend’ has sent?”
Same thing with the body. It’s not as satisfying as draining Screw the backward talk. “I’m John Coaler, if that’s
her dry in one delicious gulp, but in the long run the total what you’re asking. Can I come in?”
yield is much higher. “Certainly, certainly. I’m Doctor Miles Fiske. I’m
And that’s what I can expect? just glad you arrived here in time, while the…” he stops
You’re different. Your ‘Messengers’… put something suddenly and flinches. Gets a frightened look on his
in you. Or gave back something they took away, long face. “Uh, never mind.”
ago. They didn’t think creatures like me would be able “Boss talkin’ at you?”
to go through the opening they made. But they probably “No, not at all.” He looks away. “Can I get you, erm…”
didn’t think you’d invite us in, either. While his back’s turned, I give him a good hard
† † † smack on the back of the head. Open hand, nothing
Tina had a crappy old station wagon, but it’s a shitload really to it. Not even enough to bruise, but he stumbles
better than nothing. Her jewels were pretty unimpressive. forward and bounces off a wall.
Worth about $800 at the local pawnshop. So I’m sitting “Don’t lie, okay?”
pretty, cash-wise. Boss told me it’s time to head north, to He gives me this look. It’s equal parts scared and
Washington D.C. It’s a haul — 17 hours, plus or minus. I pissed off and disgusted, like his own turd jumped out
do six in the afternoon, and the rest the day after. I don’t of the toilet and bit him. I just laugh.
even mind. It’s relaxing. That night, I sleep in the back Leave him alone, John. He’s on our side.
of the station wagon. I took some pillows from Tina after Your side, you mean.
calling the nuthatch on her, and bought a real good sleeping
He’s a millionaire, John. He could fix you up, if
bag at Target. Cozy. I even broke down and bought some
you let him.
barbecue ribs in Tennessee.
“Look, Fiske, Boss says you need someone killed,
I got the sight on right now so that I can think
and I’m the man for the job, but don’t think you can
about stuff. I’m hoping the Boss won’t notice. He hasn’t
yank my chain, all right?”
talked to me much, and when he has he’s seemed kind
“I don’t… it’s not that I need an… an assassin.”
of out of it again. Not real bad, but… distracted. So
now may be my time to think. “What do you need then? And no bullshit.”
Krebbs babbled a lot about her jewelry. Said some- He gets that creeped-out, twitchy look again. Chews
thing about an earring, that she’d protected it for years. his lip and wipes his face. Must be hearing from the Boss.
Why just one? Wouldn’t she say ‘earrings’? “Very well,” he says, “please come with me.”

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 CHAPTER 3: THE DEVIL YOU KNOW

We go from one room full of books and antiques Leave the gun here. It won’t help.
into another room full of books and antiques, and he We park illegally and Miles puffs like a steam engine
pulls at the corner of a bookshelf. It rolls forward, running through the Mall to the door. I can keep up
revealing a safe with all kinds of electronic doodads. easily and don’t see any point in getting ahead of him.
I know a transistor from a capacitor, but I got no There’s a woman behind a counter. She looks kind
idea what this stuff is until he sticks a finger in a of alarmed at him as he gasps at her. “Visitor… here…
little cuff. Then he looks into an attached pair of need a… badge.” He’s turned real pale — his lips are
lenses, like binoculars. almost blue. He’s pointing at me.
Some online dinks talked about this kind of shit. “What sort of…?”
Fingerprints and retinal scanners. Shit to keep your “Geologist!” He flinches, and in my mind I hear
goodies safe. Once he’s turned them off, he dials the an echo of the Boss telling him to leave me. “Gotta
combination and pulls out the fanciest motherfucking go!” He stumbles off toward the stairs.
necklace I’ve ever seen. I look at her and shrug. “I’ll join him in a minute.”
“Is that real?” “Is he all right?”
“An interesting question,” he says, with a little bit “I think he needs to find a cra… uh, a toilet.”
of a smirk. Oh great. He’s smart. “The diamonds are real She giggles, looks embarrassed, then asks for my
diamonds, procured at great cost to our mutual patron. name. At that moment, the loudspeaker comes on and
The central blue diamond is close to 45 carats and has a cultured voice says that the museum will be closing
boron traces that flare red in ultraviolet light. In that in five minutes.
sense, it’s ‘real.’ But it wasn’t mined in Golconda, India
Stick around, John. I think he’s coming through
and it does not contain the greater part of the soul of
the front door.
Vassago the Demon Prince.”
Who? Should I put on the sight?
I just look at him for a moment. “Huh?”
You won’t need the sight.
He rolls his eyes and I’d sure like to smack him
again. He can probably tell because he says, “Never That doesn’t sound promising.
mind. This is a replica of another necklace, made I hang back by the mammoth under the open bal-
with real gems. I just need to swap out the other with cony thing, watching the front door as people file out.
this one.” I take off my coat and hang it over my arm.
“Because the other necklace has the Boss in it?” Look, Boss, if this guy doesn’t show up, does that
“Part of him.” count as—
I shrug. “What do you need my help for? I’m no He’ll show.
fuckin’ burglar.” “The museum is now closed,” says the loudspeaker
“I don’t anticipate problems with the exchange,” again. I should be relaxed. I mean, this place must have
he says, but he looks jumpy. I’m guessing that he’s security up the yin-yang, and for once I’m on the good
been creeping toward this for years and Boss sud- side of it. But instead, I’m getting more nervous.
denly pushed up the schedule after Krebbs. “You “Excuse me, sir…” I hear from a guard down by the doors.
see, I’m the curator at Annenberg Hooker Hall — That’s him.
that’s where the real diamond is displayed. You’re He’s a little guy, skinny, black as an eight ball and
simply here to—” just as bald. How much time is Fiske gonna need?
GO NOW! Just hold him off for a minute, John.
Both of us flinch at the same time. Boss sounds pissed. That counts as my next kill for you?
And scared. Sure, if you survive.
† † † The black guy pretty much ignores the two guards
John, all I need you to do is keep Miles from dying at the door, walking right past ‘em into the museum.
until a little after sundown. He’s taking you to the They don’t care much for that. One grabs his shoulder,
Smithsonian now…. Miles, hit the gas! the other reaches for something on his gear belt.
Again, the overhearing… and Miles jams his Holy shit!
Bentley through a red light. Honks. Screeches. He just I ain’t sure what baldy just did — some fuckin’ Bruce
about creams some poor bicycle courier. Lee move, and all of a sudden the two guards are down.

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He’s holding… what’s he holding? Looks like a pool stuck, he’s got them to deal with. How much
cue with a knife on the end, only it’s… it’s not really longer on Miles?
there… it just popped in from nowhere, like a shadow. He’s run into some trouble.
Watch out, John. That’s a releasing tool. Shit! He’s coming through!
A what? The black dude comes out of the coatroom and
It cuts souls from bodies. he’s changed. He looks seven feet tall and he’s covered
He’s coming right at me. I throw my coat at him in shadows and a kind of dim red fire, like the angry
and lunge hard to my left. red you get when a campfire’s almost done. He glows
John! Don’t let him get past you! along the edges and joints and at the tips of his ragged,
“Back off!” I shout, and I use the blowback on him. shadowy wings.
Works perfectly. He gets a surprised look and flies The guards open fire and I yell, “Vassago!”
back like he’s on a wire. Is the angle…? Yes! Right into The three rubber gunners are floored by the time
the goddamn cloakroom. I’ve changed.
I can feel him testing the wall. Good luck. I just You have to distract him! Stop him, or he’ll just fly
need to get somewhere he can’t shoot at me with a up to Miles and kill him!
gun — behind the mammoth, maybe. “Hey! C’mere, ya big fuck!” I can’t think of anything
“What’s going on here?” better, but I use the angel-lure edge on him and it at
Three more rent-a-cops, coming down the stairs. least gets his attention.
They look at the fallen guards by the front door. Let me talk to him.
“I dunno! Some guy did something to those guys, “Usiel! Most potent of Slayers and most despised!”
and now he’s in the, uh, the coat check!” I didn’t know the Boss could talk out my throat. It
They huddle, mutter, then break toward the stops the shadow monster. He looks pissed and points
door where the guy’s hiding. So far, so good. He’s his reaping stick at me.

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“I was never cursed with that title, Fiend. I That was the Reaper of Souls.
never mired myself in the filth of betrayal.” † † †
He’s a little closer. I’m coming up on Cincinnati. Getting out of D.C.
“And yet you were condemned nonetheless. Do you was a pain, but not too bad. When they saw the gash
think you can survive long — crushed between the rage on my chest, they took me to the hospital. I babbled
of Hell and the scorn of Heaven?” out some story about a black guy with a big knife. The
“In destroying you, I shall do Heaven’s work!” guards eventually recovered and the press put out some
I know lines like that. That’s the kind of shit you story about sleeping gas, a lone nut with a knife in the
say before the hitting starts. Sure enough, he lunges in Smithsonian, blah blah blah bullshit.
and swings his stick, propelling himself with his wings. I snuck out of the hospital much earlier than they
But I’m ready. He’s not the only one with wings. thought I could — that fuckin’ death stick cut an inch
Doesn’t matter if it’s a pool cue or a ‘releasing tool,’ deep into my chest. Any deeper and it would have gone
you’ve got to get close so it has no swing. I manage to through my heart. But having been in the Boss’ shape
get my hands on the shaft before he can cut me. Cripes, and using the angel health thing fixed me up enough,
the thing’s like ice! My hands go numb just touching it. so they weren’t expecting me to even be awake, let
His wings enclose me and I feel sick, dizzy, faint, but alone mobile.
I slide one hand down to his, where he’s gripping the Now I’m going to Cincinnati to waste a fang.
stick. I don’t use the devil hooks, I use the angel mark. You know what you should do, John?
“Burn, you fucker!” What should I do, Boss?
He screams — anger as much as pain — and shoves You should use that lure thing, let her get you back
me back, hard. I can see the mark sinking into his to her place, start fucking her and then — bang! — put
hand. It’s one I ain’t seen before, the symbol sinks right on the monster body.
through him. His fingers, flame and shadow, break off Oh, come on.
and fall to the floor. What? You know you want to.
He swings the stick one-handed and I duck, but I do not want to hump some dead thing.
I feel that icy numbness slice my wings, wings that Johnny, you can’t fool me. There’s nothing you want
aren’t really mine… more than to kill a vampire by screwing her.
… and for a moment, I’m back on the boat, the rain No!
sleeting down as wolf claws rake my legs.
Why not?
Miles has it! He’s out! Get away, John!
It’s not about… that. I just want the evil fuckers
“Back!” I shout again, and again he’s flung away, gone, that’s all.
but he gets off a final swing as he goes. It’s right across
You don’t believe that, and neither do I. If you did,
my chest, a chill that steals my breath…
you’d stay in one place and clean it out.
… and I’m with one of Annabelle’s ‘guests,’ on all fours
I tried that. It just got more attention.
and crying with shame, weeping with joy. He’s behind me
with his fangs in my neck. He’s taking so much. I can feel How come you’re never so fired up to kill the ugly
myself dying and it’s all worth it…. ones then?
When I look down, the blood is frozen on the clean You never lead me to ugly ones.
edges of the slice. You wrong me. I have no interest in which vampires
I stumble back and fall on my ass. I gotta go. One you kill, but I make an effort to give you victims you’ll
more hit from that thing and I’m dead. I grab my coat, enjoy. Can you deny that?
turn toward the entrance and go at it hard. I give one I know what you’re trying to do. You want to mix
good sweep with my wings for speed before letting them up sex and violence in my head.
fade away. I can see flashing lights out the front and John, it’s way too late for that.
I pull on my coat, hiding the ripped-out back of my I’m not putting my dick in another dead thing.
shirt. My front is covered with blood. I put my hands That’s final.
up and scream, “Don’t shoot!” as I stumble out in front † † †
of a good 20 cops. With the Boss being all pissy, I have to find an-
Shit, what was that thing? other way. He leads me through Cincinnati and I see

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her — a redhead this time. Tight vinyl pants and biker We’re drinking cheap beer and passing around some
boots. Shiny red shirt that looks spray-painted onto a really weak pot. I tell them my name is Sean Bowler.
truly amazing rack. Sounds like they had the typical conversion expe-
You can’t take her in a straight fight, John. Not rience. Saw something ugly. Freaked out. Whaled on
unless you get the drop on her. A lot of fangs don’t it. Half of ‘em died taking it down.
give a damn about sex, but she’s one of the few who’s Steve’s going into loving detail. I’m kind of tuning
nostalgic. And she won’t put on the bite until after, him out. Heard this story too many times. Read it over
until she’s reminded herself that she can’t really come and over on the Internet.
anymore. Gee, who does that sound like? “Lucky I had a shotgun in the truck,” he says.
I ignore him, because I’ve seen something else. “You hunt?”
It’s a poster for the band playing at a coffee bar. The “Yeah. Deer, pheasant, wild turkey… that kinda stuff.”
band is called “The Shakes” and right in the middle
“Man, I could really go for some venison sausage. I
of it is a pumped-full angel tag. ‘Revenge.’ Could be
used to hunt that shit up in Washington State.”
just what I need.
“I think we got some! Robbie, go see if there’s any
I go inside.
deer sausage down in the freezer.”
The Shakes really suck. They’re doing a cover
Robbie’s just looking at my hand as I take the bong
of “Master of Puppets” with a lot more volume than
from him. “How’d you lose the finger? Was it, like, a
talent. They should be ashamed. I can see why they’re
monster?”
playing in a coffee bar — the oldest looking one can’t
“Yep.” Actually it was a fishhook, but I’m not about
be more than 18. He’s trying to grow a beard and it’s
to tell Beavis and Butthead that story.
all thin and patchy.
“Robbie? The sausage? Like, today?” The kid scuttles off.
I get a cup of tea, light up a smoke, write an angel
stick-figure on a napkin and wait for the noise to stop. “So, Sean. How come you’re in Cincinnati?” Steve
When they start saying their goodnights, I flick on the asks. I’m ready for it.
sight. Dunno if that’ll hide Boss from ‘em or not, or if “I was in New York and I wasted this fang bitch
they’re even smart enough to check me out. If they’re named Amy. She had a letter in her purse from another
typical, once they see the stick-figure they won’t both- one here named Marisol Vlacek.” I got the name from
er with the sight on me. They’ll be too glad to find a the Boss.
‘kindred spirit.’ “A… ‘fang’?”
“‘Scuse me.” I tap the guitarist on the shoulder. He Cripes. “A vampire, Steve. Yes, they’re real.”
turns and gives me a look. Robbie’s back with the sausage and I start drooling
“You draw the poster?” as I cook it up. “Man, it’s been a while. Usually I don’t
“Naw, that was Steve.” He turns away. I put a hand eat meat.”
on his shoulder and turn him back. “Huh?” Robbie looks at me like I said, “Usually I
“Steve?” don’t breathe air.”
He tries to shrug out of my grip, but can’t. Jerks his “I got the wakeup in Seattle, along with some of my
thumb at the drummer. buddies. One of ‘em was working in a canning plant,
“Thanks.” gutting fish. He spotted a dead thing working on the
cold floor. A no-shit, walking dead, rotted out zombie
He mutters ‘asshole’ at me, but there’s too many
packing fish! I mean, who knows what he was oozing
people around to take him to school. Besides, he’s just
into ‘em, you know? Since that time, I’ve stayed away
some jerk-ass kid.
from processed meats.”
“Steve?”
“Gross.”
He turns. I show him the napkin. His face lights up.
“Uh huh.” I take another bong hit and cough.
Typical. Harsh, shitty weed.
† † † “We don’t get much action out here,” Steve says.
“It was us two, plus Deke and Drifter,” Steve says. He actually sounds wistful.
I’m with Steve and the bassist from the Shakes, “Have you looked?”
a guy named Robbie. Robbie looks about 15. Steve “Yeah!”
lives in a converted apartment over his parents’ garage. “How?”
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“Whenever we do a show! We always make sure “I’m not kidding! Shit, it was the start of a trip!
to scan the audience.” No way were they going to turn around and head back
I just laugh. “Yeah, ‘cause the fuckin’ evil dead just for a little cut. It’d be like throwing 20 grand
got nothing better to do than hang out in milk bars down the toilet. MedEvac isn’t going to fly out for
listening to garage bands.” something that minor. Besides, if we’d gone in, I’da
“Hey! We’re not—” had to pay a doctor to do the same thing they did on
“Look, vampires want victims. People who won’t the boat, and I’d have lost my share of the take. And
be missed. They’re not going to go somewhere warm no one would hire me on after that, if word got out
and friendly. They’re looking for drifters, hookers, how I’d pussed out.” I know I’m starting to ramble,
bums. Or the bolder ones, the stuck-up bitches who but I don’t give a shit. I pull up a pant leg to show
think they’re too good for that shit… they’re after them the seven-inch scar there. “Now, for that I got
the unattached, unmarried types. The bar crawlers, airlifted.”
make-out artists and one-night-standers. You know? “Holy shit!”
Someone they can pick up, fuck, suck and dump “Swordfish’ll carve you good. Plus, it got infected.
without worrying about a wife or mommy calling Swordfish cuts always do. I figured that would be my last
the cops right away. Someone without a lot of close trip. The money was good, but come on. To put up with
friends. Someone they can get their hooks into and that for long, you gotta really love the sea, and I don’t.
gradually take over all the way.” I stopped fishing, got work at a yard doing welding and
John, you’re burning your sausage. engines, some electrical stuff — general rigging work.
“Shit.” I pull it off the fire and wait for it to cool. But I wound up on a fishing boat again eventually.”
It’s still delicious. “So, you don’t have any scars from monsters?” The
† † † little drip sounds disappointed.
I gab at the yokels for a while, then get a hotel room “Nah. I’ve been carved up plenty bad, but now I
and crash. I spend the next day just resting, ordering heal scarless. Weird, huh?”
room service, watching cable, and putting the laser “Hmph.” Steven sounds unconvinced. Screw him.
sight and the silencer on Miller’s gun. Damn, it feels “So, you got an address for this vampire we’re
good to have some money! Now it’s Saturday afternoon. after?” he asks.
We’re in my room smoking more weed before going “I do, but do you really want to go after her in her
out to find Marisol. I don’t figure it’s going to impair house at night? That’s stacking dumb on stupid.”
me at all, not the shitty stuff they’ve got. It’ll just take “Oh yeah?”
the edge off. “Look, house kills can work — if you go in
I’m feeling pretty good, so I tell Robbie the truth during the day and know what you’re doing. You
about my finger. can get ‘em while they’re groggy and confused
“Yeah, I was shittin’ you about the monster. I and you can let the sunlight do your work. But
was out on a fishing boat, sticking chum on a line. at night? A wide-awake vampire is tough enough
Fuckin’ hook went right in my finger, right about without being on its own turf. Usually, a vampire
the first knuckle, and tore the whole thing off. But wants to protect her house, too — armed guards,
I was lucky.” tripwires. Hell, some of ‘em pump their houses full
“How you figure?” of shit like sarin gas. It doesn’t hurt them, they
“Shit, if it went through my hand or arm, the line don’t need to breathe.”
could’ve dragged me right off the boat. It’s not that “Sounds like someone’s kinda scared.”
uncommon. Guys die like that all the time. One minute This little pecker’s killing my buzz.
you’re bored out of your skull baiting hooks, the next
“You’re not?” I ask.
you’re 50 feet behind the boat and 20 feet under being
dragged by a hook in your flesh.” “Heh, like, ‘I ain’t ‘fraid of no ghosts and shit,’”
“So didja have to go in?” Robbie snickers. Steve ignores him.
I shrug. “What for? The finger was at the bottom of “Shit, no. Vampires — I’ll just put one in the heart
the sea. Guy on board sewed up the stump, we bandaged with my crossbow. Stake through the heart kills ‘em,
it up good and I kept working.” right?” He points a finger at me like a gun. “Pow.”
“No way!” “It ain’t that easy,” I say.

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“C’mon, Bowler. How many ‘fangs’ you really killed?” What’s that dumb fucker doing?
“Plenty.” Cripes, he’s in there 10 minutes and someone’s
“Sure, but they didn’t leave any scars when they giving him the hairy eyeball. Someone big.
hurt you. That’s kinda convenient.” That’s Edouard Manoglio, one of Marisol’s
I’m up and he has about enough time to drop his blood slaves.
jaw and look stupid before I get him by the collar of his Steve’s losing his shit. Aw, dammit, he’s yelling and
fake leather jacket. Skinny-ass punk is light enough that pointing and people are starting to stare. Steve, don’t
I can lift him one-handed and pin him against the wall. say it. Don’t do it, Steve. She still might think you’re
“Leggo!” just a standard asshole and kick you out….
I give him a slap. Robbie says, “Hey,” gets up and Now Robbie’s standing in front of the window,
looks uncertain. Fuckin’ amateurs. I pull the gun out blocking my view, gesturing for me to come out. I jerk
and fix the red dot on Robbie’s chest. my head for him to move, but he doesn’t get it. Moron.
“Bang. You’re dead.” I stick the barrel up under And here comes a cop car. Wow, that’s some rapid
Steve’s chin. “You, too. Say ‘hi’ to God for me.” response. Suspiciously quick.
I step back, let him drop and lower the pistol. He’s a slave, too.
“I ain’t as fast as a vampire, and I ain’t as strong, Robbie looks from me to the gallery. Shit. He wants
and you two assholes ain’t got shit on me. The gun scare to go fuck with the cop. I’m out of my seat, and he
you? Lots of vampires don’t need them. Maybe you’re waits for me to join him in front of the bar. For once,
not completely worthless, ‘cause you at least got the his indecisiveness is a good thing.
call, but don’t think it’s gonna be easy and don’t think “They’ve got him, Sean!”
it’s gonna be fun. Now, who votes to do it my way?” “No foolin’? You think we should go over and get
† † † arrested, too?”
Cripes, but she’s pretty. “But… we can’t just let her…”
Marisol Vlacek owns a gallery — not like a museum “Look close at that cop. You see anything weird?”
kind of place, but one full of that weird-ass modern shit. He screws up his eyes. “No?”
The kind of place for people who wear black turtlenecks Suddenly I got a bad feeling. “Come back in here.”
and sip wine and go to the ‘cinema’ instead of the movies. I drag him into the bookstore and write a symbol — the
A place for phonies. Perfect spot for a goddamn fang. new one from D.C., the one that means ‘demon.’ Any
We sniffed around before sundown, but any one of hunter would recognize it.
us would have stuck out like a sore thumb inside. So, I “Uh… it means… uh…”
got Steve some clothes that were faggoty enough to fit in “How about this one?” I just draw some bullshit.
and told him to go in with his mouth shut and eyes open. He looks at me, helplessly.
Now I’m at a bar across the street, nursing a brew. “Shit, you never got the call at all, did you? Did
Robbie’s at the bookstore next door. Steve went inside you? You lying little punk?”
maybe 10 minutes ago.
“Sir?” It’s some timid librarian type. I haul Robbie
The bar windows are frosted and fancied up, but out of the store. The squad car’s gone, with Steve in tow.
I can peek out the edges. The gallery has big picture
The cop’s going to drive him out behind a ware-
windows with weird paintings in ‘em — shit with
house near the police station and hand him over to
hair and fur and bits of leather glued on. Between the
Edouard.
paintings, you got the fakes wandering around gassing,
Can we nab him?
Marisol cruising between ‘em in a slinky green dress.
Not without the cop calling in a bunch of backup.
It matches her eyes, you know.
What does Edouard do with him?
I don’t give a shit.
Most likely takes him back to the gallery.
Red hair and green eyes are supposedly the combi-
nation most favored by the Devil. “Sean? Sean!” It’s Robbie.
I catch a glimpse of Steve between the paintings. “What?”
He’s by himself, looking around, looking lost. Poor “What do we do now?”
bastard. Just don’t draw attention to yourself, kid. Play “I’m thinkin’…. Look, if they take him to the po-
it cool. Take it easy. lice station, it’s gonna be a — I dunno — a drunken

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disorderly kinda thing. Disturbing the peace or some Now that you’ve given them a pretext, that is. Steve
bullshit. He’ll get the drunk tank and community ser- would snuff it, of course, but you must know that he
vice. No big deal. What we gotta worry about is if they almost certainly will in any event.
take him somewhere and shake him down.” Ignoring you….
“Steve would never say nothin’!” But you need that personal touch, don’t you? You
“He wouldn’t want to but… listen, they got ways, need to be the one who kills her. So much for ‘I just
y’know? But we’ve got time.” I look through the window. want the evil fuckers gone.’
Bitch is still strolling around, laughing about the guy I hear a commotion from the front. That must be
who just called her a vampire. Does she look a little Robbie. As predicted, the nasties come out the back.
distracted? Hard to tell. Edouard first. I pop him one right in the center. Sweet.
“Nothing too big is going to happen while she’s He falls, gets up and scrambles toward her car. So loyal.
at her party. When she kicks people out, she’ll go It’s touching, really.
question him — if he’s not in jail. We’ll assume “Vassago!”
he’s not — worst-case scenario, y’know?” I pull him She comes out, poison green and gorgeous, but
toward the car. limping. I sweep down on her like night. She moves
We drive to where Steve parked to get the shotgun faster than a cat, but I know where she’s going. She
from the trunk, but of course Robbie doesn’t have a isn’t even as tough as Amy, after all. I just enfold her
key so we have to smash a window and fold down the in my wings and tear her to ribbons.
back seat. Then it’s off to my hotel to get the stuff from I finish in time to see Edouard tearing out of the
my room. If I have to disappear, I don’t want to leave parking lot without her. Maybe not so loyal.
anything behind. Finally, we fill up the tank on the “Sean!”
station wagon, stop to siphon some gas into bottles, I drop her and turn. I let the monster body go, too,
and then fill the tank again. ‘cause it’s Robbie’s voice.
“Here’s the plan, Robbie. You ain’t goin’ up “Sean! You gotta help me!”
against no vampire, not without even the basic shit Holy crap, the little bastard’s found Steve!
you need against them. Your job is to get into the Didn’t save him, though. I can see from here that
gallery through the front door, find Steve, and haul Steve’s open from neck to nuts. Guess he gave the
ass out the back. I’ll be parked there, an’ I’ll leave the bitch that limp. Robbie’s in shock, he’s hysterical.
doors unlocked.” I’ve seen people freak out like this before. He’s
“But… what if they’re in there when I go in?” dragging his buddy out and, damn, Robbie’s fucked
“That’s what the gasoline’s for, to make sure they up, too. Don’t know who got him, or what, or how,
ain’t. You’re going to hit the door with a gas bomb, got but he looks gutted.
it? Aim high. Then you have to smash in a window, I get to him just as he collapses under Steve’s weight.
or shoot it out with the shotgun, and get inside that “Help me, Sean. Help me, help me….”
way. Can you do that?”
The boy’s gonna die.
He nods, but he’s just a friggin’ kid. It could hap-
Tell him my name.
pen, I suppose.
What?
“When you’re inside, look for Steve. Don’t call out!
If you see anyone moving around, throw a gas bomb. Teach him my name! If I take him as a vassal, I
When you’re out of bombs, start shooting.” can save him.
† † † I look down at the pleading kid. Poor little fuck.
It ain’t a great plan, but I only need Robbie to get “Sorry,” I say.
as far as lighting that first Molotov. Anything past that Then I’m outta there.
is gravy. I get to the back of the gallery with my own † † †
gun and wait, aiming it at the door. I’m in Chicago. For my money, it ain’t been the
You know, if you really want her dead, I can tell same since M.J. left the Bulls, but I did get a good
you the names of some local vampires who would deep-dish downtown. Now I’m in some candyass
happily kill her. suburb at a (no-foolin’) craft fair, because Boss said
I’m ignoring you. that’s where I’d find my next imbued. Boss has been

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heckling me all day. His voice is like putting your Yeah, to see if your ideas match theirs. And if
hand in a garbage disposal. they don’t — if you wanna actually kill monsters or
I think I’ve got your ethics pegged, John. something — they get all huffy-puffy and snooty and
That’s swell. stuck-up. But if you are a monster, well shit, they let
You drew the line at the girl. And Robbie. you in with open arms.
Why do you care? Leaf — that’s her name. Damn, how granola is
that? She closed down her display. Packed it all up to
Eh, I might as well tell you the truth: I want to
help me. If that’s how she runs her business, she must
hollow out your soul. I want to rid you completely of all
be hurtin’ pretty bad. But anyway, she packed it all
moral remorse. When I’ve done that, ‘John Coaler’ will
in her car and drove me to some organic restaurant. I
effectively cease to exist and I’ll capture your immortal
think she liked it when I ordered a vegetarian meal.
essence for my personal use.
What a sap.
Yadda yadda yadda. Good luck on that one, Darth.
Now she’s giving me the big brown eyes look and
Don’t think I can do it?
wants to know what happened to me.
I think I’m tougher than you know.
Watch out, John. She’s trying to trick you — trying
Pride before the fall, Johnny. to make you submissive and docile.
Maybe I’ll just kill myself before you can do Still, I gotta tell her something.
that. After all, there’s part of you in me, right? If I
“Well, I… I used to live out West, in Seattle.
kack myself, everything you’ve invested in me goes
Worked on boats, you know. Fixing radios an’ motors
down the crapper.
an’ stuff.” I scratch my head. “And I started hearing
I don’t think you’ll kill yourself. this voice. In my head.”
I turn a corner and there it is. A little booth like all “What sort of voice?”
the other little booths, full of handmade wreaths and
“A man’s voice. Tellin’ me to do stuff.”
knit mittens and all kinds of kitten-pinecone-artsy-crap.
“What kind of stuff?”
This one’s full of bowls and cups, only they’ve all been
made with hunter signs. “At first, not so bad. You know, just, uh… a
little stealing. There was this woman with a dia-
Shit, I get it. Potter116! The drippiest of the drips.
mond necklace—”
Cripes, I figured her tag was a last name or something.
Don’t tell her about that! You idiot!
And fuck, she’s looking right at me and I’m
off-sight! I feel a twinge in my gut, and I shift. “Little things.
You know. Stuff I might have done anyway before, only
She ain’t much to see — chunky and saggy, with
I didn’t have the nerve.”
her hair in a dyke-chop. She’s wearing some kind of
African print shirt and a rope of beads long enough to “It doesn’t take courage to do evil,” she says. Sun-
moor a schooner. Her face just got pale and her jaw day-school teacher voice. She tilts her head. It’s funny,
dropped, like she’s seen a ghost — or something worse. sitting down, in this light. She’s almost all-right looking.
Not gorgeous, but, you know, not bad.
She must be sighting me. I have to wonder what
I look like. Not that you could do anything about it, could you
John? Not even if she begged you….
She comes right out from behind her little table
and asks, “What afflicts you?” “Did the voice promise you anything?” Again with
the doe-eye stare.
I can’t look at her. Can’t take it.
“Uh… yeah.”
Why don’t you just tell her?
“What?”
I can’t but whisper, “I’m possessed.”
Power. Freedom. Revenge.
† † †
“He… uh… told me he could get me money.”
Jesus Christ, this is too easy. I don’t know why I
never did this before. You go up to one of the wussbags Cripes, why am I lying to her? Suddenly, this all
and tell ‘em you’re a hunter. They look at you funny, seems so fake. All of it, going around the country, doing
wondering if you’re a cold-ass killer or if you’re on their these, these motherfuckin’ missions for the Boss… it’s
side. It’s like a, a whatchacallit… crazy. I didn’t want this. I just wanted to be left alone!
Just to, to get by, to not have to worry so much about
Litmus test.
my next rent check. I never asked to see werewolves

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and vampires, never asked some angel to pump me full chubby, but this is a guy who’s done work. Sandy-brown
of bullshit and hang me out like a piñata. That’s it, hair, a little beard. Looks like he could take a punch
that’s what I am, what we all are. We’re full of angel and maybe throw one back.
shit, and when the critters beat on us long enough, we Leaf stands up. “Excuse me.” Her voice is suddenly
burst open and splatter them. hard. She goes over to the guy. I turn my ear toward
I suddenly want to trust her and tell her all this, ‘em and catch her saying, “Unless you’ve got the papers
tell her what I’ve done and how tired I am. signed, I don’t want to see you.”
John, that’s her fucking with you! Wake up, dam- He says something back, something low. I
mit! Remember how the snivelers always talked about watch their reflections in the back of my spoon.
creatures having a ‘moment of truth’? You think that He looks nervous. She looks pissed. They lower
just happens? It’s an angel trick! She’s using it on you their voices, gesture, shake heads. I see him point
right now! You feel tired because she wants you to. She at me and he looks… what, jealous? Not happy,
wants you to give up and cry and tell mama all about that’s for damn sure.
it. She wants you to put your head on her shoulder and When he puts his hand on her arm and she swats
surrender. Are you gonna? Are you gonna surrender it off, I decide that’s my cue.
to another woman? “This guy bothering you?”
I grit my teeth. He’s right. Or maybe he’s playing She’s flushed. Her mouth’s flat but she’s trying to
me, I don’t know. All I do know is I’m mad now. play it dignified. “Nothing he does bothers me. He’s
“Was it just money?” beneath my notice.” Ouch.
“Yeah. And he did it. Only he cheated.” “I’m her ex-husband,” the guy says.
“Cheated how?” “Well, I don’ wanna butt in—”
“I had the money for a while, but, uh… I lost it.” “Then don’t,” he says.
“Lost it how?” “It sounds like she doesn’t want to talk to you.”
Hang your head and tell her ‘gambling’. He turns on me and leans in. “Look. You may have
“Gambling.” fooled her, but you haven’t fooled me.”
She gives my hand a sympathetic pat. “Was that “Why don’t you back off?” I try to say it nice.
why you needed money in the first place?” “No, why don’t you back off?”
“Yeah.” I do my best to look ashamed. It’s not easy Bam! Next thing I know, I’m stumbling away. My
‘cause I’m actually getting more and more pissed. back slams into the edge of a table. I almost fall.
Think of Annabelle. Or better yet, her black buddy, Bastard used blowback on me!
the one with the big thick cock…. “Leave him alone!” she yells, standing between us.
I can feel myself flush. I bite my lip. That’s a dirty “Leaf, he—”
trick, Boss. “At least he didn’t hurt a child,” she says.
It works, though. I pile it on while I’m ahead. Everyone in the restaurant is looking at him.
“I can’t… I mean, I tried to quit, but… and now Ex-hubby turns bright red and stumbles toward the door.
he’s telling me he can get me more money, but I gotta He turns back once, like he wants to have a parting
do more stuff. Worse stuff.” I look away from her and shot, but he can’t think of anything to say.
whisper. “He wanted me to hurt a little girl.” † † †
Her hand tightens on mine. “Did you?” Her voice Now I’m in her apartment. All I have to do is tell
is urgent, afraid. her I’ve been sleeping in my car and she’s offering to
“No. I fought back. But it was hard.” Holy crap, I’m let me use her shower. Is this some kind of trap or is
actually crying. “He was angry. He hurt me real bad.” she really this trusting?
“You have to resist him, John.” Boss is quiet. He just told me to ask her what she
Cripes, why did I tell her my real name? I just meant about her husband hurting the child, which I
couldn’t think of another one fast enough. Shoulda did. It was on the ride over here, and she looked away,
used Ron or Sean or Don again. really angry or sad. But she didn’t want to talk about
Then it’s like the temperature drops. I glance at it. Can’t figure her out, and the Boss is playing his own
her and she’s looking away, off to the left. I look that damn game. Typical.
way and there’s a guy. Not real tall, but solid. A little “Ain’t you, like… nervous?” I ask her. I gotta know.
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“The Living Power protects me,” she says. Just like She closes her eyes and I slam the right-hand rock
that. La la la. into her head as hard as I can. She drops right out the
“Must be nice.” chair. Before she can recover, I get on top of her and
“It is. But it’s also an awesome responsibility. I’ve pin her down.
been given a lot, but I’m expected to do a lot with it.” “Why… wha…?” She’s bleeding from her temple,
Like it’s that simple. dazed and confused.
Maybe for her, it is. “I told you a buncha bullshit about the voice.
What are you talking about? I heard him, all right. But it wasn’t for something
simple like money. What he offered was my free-
Maybe the ‘Messengers’ like ditzy morons who’ve never
dom. Before him, I was stuck. A vampire had me.
had to deal with life’s shit. Maybe the gullible peaceniks get
You know all about them, right? You’ve probably
the lion’s share of the protection, while you soldier types
had all kinds of chats with them, sitting around,
get in one good attack before you’re used up. Like Steve.
trying to understand them, trying to see their point
Kill one and die. You’re hand grenades — dangerous but
of view!”
expendable. Witness and Potter, on the other hand, inherit
the Earth because they’re docile optimists that the angels “John, just let me up. We can talk—”
can push around. “Talk? Yeah, you love to talk, don’t you? Love to
“John? Are you ready to start?” post on hunter-net. All your theories. All your pretty
ideas about how they’re just misunderstood. They just
“Start what?”
need love and caring.”
“I know you came here to… get clean,” she says.
“You know about—?”
“I think we both know you want that for more than
just your body.” “About hunter-net? Bitch, I was Rigger! Yeah!
Remember me now?” She looks scared, so I guess she
Don’t let her do it, John.
fucking does.
What’ll happen?
“Whatever happened to you, I can help. I can help
Just don’t.
you get past it, please! Let me help!”
“I think I can free you from your… your rider,” she
“It’s a little late for that, don’t you think? Where
says. “If you’ll let me.”
was your help when I got kicked off the list? When the
“What do I have to do?” werewolves came for me on the boat? When that bitch
Remember the deal, John. Annabelle wanted to know what kind of man could
Quiet, you. Someone scaring you? survive that shit, when she fucking captured me. Where
I almost put on the sight, but I can’t quite bring were all my ‘fellow imbued’ then, huh?”
myself to do it. What if he’s right and she’s tricking me? Something’s thumping, but I don’t care. Maybe
Or what if she’s sincere but the Messengers are using her? just my heart.
“Hold these,” she says, giving me two big chunks “Whatever she did to you… whatever she put
of quartz crystal. “And put this on.” It’s like a necklace in you….”
with a bunch of different rocks hanging from it. She “She made me eat crap! She passed me around to
fusses over it, getting them in just the right place. Then all her pals. I did it all. She made me suck their cocks!
a headband with a rock on it. Cripes. Whaddaya think about that? I was her dog. I wore a
Don’t let her, John. You won’t like it. collar and crawled. I got on all fours and I begged, begged
“Sit here.” She puts me in a chair and seats herself to eat out her dead cunt. You think you can make that
facing me. better? Huh?”
She wanted you off the list. Remember all the shit “John, please….”
she posted about you? You think she’d be giving you this “That’s love. That’s understanding. She taught
‘spirit cleansing’ crap if she knew who you really are? me good — I understand fang love better than any
“Try to relax. Just close your eyes and visualize all man alive!”
that negative energy draining out.” “So you gave away your soul.”
Where was she when you needed her? Where was “Hah! The Boss, he gave me my soul back. And
she when you were helpless and alone? She was helping you know what? I was happy. With Annabelle, with
out the dead things, that’s where she was! the bitch fang, I was happy. At least she protected me.

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More than the Messengers ever did. More than you “Don’t believe him!” It’s like trying to talk while gar-
fuckers on the list ever did!” gling marbles, but I get it out. I try to shoot her, but with
Someone’s yelling, but I don’t… the monster body and the hooks in my palms, I drop the
“We never meant…” gun. She’s scrambling on all fours, heading for the door.
“You did! You abandoned me and you were glad “Leaf, call my name! Invite me in! I beg you, you
I was gone! Well, you’re never gonna let anyone are my only chance for salvation!”
down again!” I can only scream. I lunge for her. I wanna tear her
The door splinters. Me and her both look up as a head off, but I feel the Boss burning me inside.
hand reaches through and opens it. It’s her goddamn “What’s your name?”
ex-husband and he’s got a gun! “Vassago!”
“Oaken!” she screams. I’m drawing my piece but “Vassago!”
it’s too late. “Damn you both!” I cry.
“Don’t!” she shouts. Then she’s gone and I collapse.
Shit, his gun jams! Mine doesn’t. He’s gutshot. He † † †
screams, she screams. Bitch is gonna get the cops on me I’m on I-88 heading west. Boss tells me there’s a
if I don’t shut her up. I point the gun down at her face. couple primo fangs that way, getting fat and lazy on
“Back….” he says. cornfed Iowans.
Dammit! Shit got hectic in Chicago. I wound up having to
Her ex- still has a good blowback in him! Now I’m go out her back window. Cops have my description,
10 feet away from her. She’s stumbling up and hisses and I’m pissed at the Boss.
at me. God! Hurts! Feels like… like she’s pulling the Backstabbing motherfucker.
Boss out of me by the roots, like he’s my skeleton and I thought you considered my patronage worse than
she’s trying to drag him through my skin! death. Or have you forgotten Robbie so soon?
“Vassago!” I don’t know if I want his help, or to help You owe me another imbued.
him. The ex- is raising his piece again but I beat him to Fine, fine, whatever you want. Potter’s going to be
it. This time I hit his head and that should do it for him. lots of fun, and you deserve a reward for introducing
“You…” I try to speak, but suddenly the Boss is her to me.
talking through me. What makes her so special?
“Leaf! Speak my name!” Don’t get me wrong, John. You’re wonderful when
What the fuck? I aim at her and she just screams it comes to fucking people up. But she wants to redeem
at me. Shit! Can’t fire! me. Unlike you, she still has good intentions. If I can
“I need your help! Please! I was desperate to bring her down… mmm.
find you!” Crazy. I’m actually hoping Potter toughs it out.
“He’s lying to you!” Boss is trying to control my You think she’ll resist where you couldn’t? Not
mouth. We’re fighting over words. very likely.
“Fuck you!” she shrieks. Yeah, but I’ve seen a lot of unlikely shit in the last
“I need the strength of the Living Power! Invoke coupla years.
my name and I can save you from Rigger!” Next stop, Davenport. Where do I look for the vampires?

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 CHAPTER 4: RULES AND STORYTELLING

Chapter 4:
Rules and Storytelling
How are the mighty fallen, and the weapons of war perished!
— 2 Samuel 1:27

From the moment a hunter witnesses demons does he have left to return to — a life in tatters, a life
preying on defenseless people and he decides to act, he dismantled to pursue his mission? And even if he
he sets himself on a path that spirals slowly downward. does have something to go back to, can he live with
No matter what his goal or agenda — whether his choice — try to ignore the truth and force himself
to destroy the supernatural or to help monsters exist to live a lie?
alongside humanity — he finds the going hard. The For many hunters, there’s no choice at all. Once
obstacles are insurmountable, his enemies unstoppable, you commit to the struggle with the supernatural, you
and his hopes perhaps impossible to fulfill. He has see it through, if only because there’s nothing left that
tools in the form of edges and second sight, but they’re makes sense apart from your crusade. So the chosen
inscrutable and unreliable, and sometimes fail him squares his shoulders, accepts the price, and carries on.
utterly. To fulfill his goals, a hunter needs more tools, But the only way forward is downward.
stronger ones. And he manifests them. He discovers The imbued have learned that with great power
that his abilities grow and expand as he pursues his comes not great responsibility, but chaos and insanity.
agendas — but only if he commits himself fully to his Hunters who manifest powerful edges always seem to
cause. If he devotes himself completely, leaving family, have something wrong with them. Maybe it’s a natural
friends and his old life behind. If he’s prepared to sac- consequence of the struggle with the darkness. Or per-
rifice everything, even his sanity, to do what’s needed, haps the imbuing is fundamentally incompatible with
then he might actually succeed. the human mind, body and soul. No matter the reason,
Of course, there’s the opportunity to stop, to turn the results are the same: powerful hunters with a grip
from the cause. A hunter can always pull himself back on reality that is tenuous at best. Call them extremists,
from the abyss — to simply quit, stop short or fail. And prophets, psychos, saints - the labels don’t matter. All
while he still bears the mental scars and derangements that’s important is their power, their dedication and
he’s accumulated, he can save himself from self-de- the danger they pose to monsters, ordinary people,
struction. But what does he gain in doing so? What other hunters and themselves.

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And beyond the madness of extremists, beyond even Willpower to overcome them if they become a problem.
their amazing capabilities is another height. A pinnacle The important thing is that your character is still the
at which hunters rise above even insanity to become same, only with more options and power-ups. Right?
something beyond comprehension. They become a force Wrong.
of nature that walks as a human. These imbued gain Extremists are far more than just hunters with a 7+
ultimate power, but in doing so they become separate Virtue rating and a few screws loose. They are beings
from other hunters and perhaps from the human race. so dedicated to and driven by their personal agendas
Burning terribly bright, these exceedingly rare imbued that they have leave virtually everything else behind.
are consumed by their own might, but leave an indelible For an extremist, there is no return to a normal life,
mark on the world in their passing. or perhaps even the desire to do so. In time, all that
What will hunters do in order to succeed? How far can matter is her obsessive worldview. To free a town
will they go to confront the supernatural? Can they of supernatural influence. To destroy the creature that
resist the temptation to use every advantage available killed her husband. To make a particular being see the
on their quest — some of which that may come at a horrific error of its ways. When a hunter reaches this
high price? These are the questions many chosen must level of intensity, she has precious little in common
face in their “careers” and in a Hunter chronicle. with other hunters — or other human beings. They
Previous Hunter supplements have discussed don’t see the facets of the truth that she does. They
extremists, those hunters with 7+ Virtue ratings who don’t understand what is expendable for a greater cause.
receive potent gifts but who are stricken with madness. They don’t know what lengths must be gone to if a
Beyond even these hunters are a very few who manifest difference is ever going to be made.
level-five edges — the ultimate power of the imbued. Indeed, some imbued wonder if these “blessed”
Until now, the latter have existed outside the Hunter hunters are still human. Physically, extremists seem
rules, as Storyteller characters. To “lesser” hunters, normal. Unless they use edges, they still suffer all the
these bizarre imbued may have been unreliable allies, limitations of the human body. It’s possible, however,
unpredictable enemies, champions to emulate or that an extremist’s “madness” is not insanity at all, but
terrifying object lessons. They’ve been messiahs and that they simply no longer think like most people. What
monsters, but they’ve never been offered as players’ we would perceive as insanity may instead be a perfectly
characters — until now. rational response to information and knowledge that
Fall from Grace shows how to capture extremists we — or “lower” hunters — simply can’t understand.
and the heights of hunter existence in the Storyteller The extremist Fyodor is a perfect example of this
system. This book offers guidelines on how you can alienation. He often seems to act erratically, changes
play such blazing stars. Extremists are more than just allegiances for no apparent reason and says things that
lunatics with immense power. There’s a method to make no sense. But he is also privy to comprehension
their madness, and they have the capacity to do almost of and insights into bizarre forces and realities that are
anything in the pursuit of their goals. Players need to impossible for a normal human or most other hunters
understand that achieving this status means more than to grasp, let alone receive. Was he driven mad by his
just adding a few dots to a character sheet. It demands visions? Or is he able to receive his visions only because
radical and permanent changes to a character, and a he has learned to think in a different way?
whole new approach to the hunt and your chronicle. Then again, some extremists might be insane.
Characters at this level typically remain playable for They’re still altered by their fanatical dedication, but
only a short period before dying, burning out or becoming their growing madness might be due to an inability to
something unrecognizable. But in that brief time, you can cope with the change, rather than a process of adap-
find new and challenging roleplaying experiences. tation. Such an extremist is a tormented soul, driven
to follow her urges and goals, but unable to cope with
The Road to Perdition
Having survived months of constant terror, strife
the demands that are imposed upon her. Distanced
from her friends and allies by her ailments, all she has
left is the pursuit of her own psychotic agenda — the
and contention, your character has become not only only thing that still makes sense to her.
more skilled, but also more potent, with high Virtues
Playing an extremist is a challenge. It requires
and stunning level-three and even level-four edges. Sure,
coming at your character from a whole new direction,
he has a few derangements to deal with, but you can use

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because your hunter has changed from the character

you originally created. You might want to re-evaluate
where your character fits into the chronicle, and how
he interacts with other imbued. And then there’s the
challenge of portraying madness in a realistic fashion.
Hunter is not about superheroes. It’s about ordinary
people going to extraordinary lengths to perform mi-
raculous acts. The following guidelines should help to
play someone who has gone too far, too fast.
Method to the Madness
Some extremists suffer from conflicting derange-
ments. They develop a mental ailment for each Virtue
point they gain above 6, and are buffeted around
almost randomly by conflicting, nonsensical thoughts
and emotions. This kind of disjointed madness might
be fine for Storyteller characters, but playing such a
hunter isn’t usually very satisfying. He may have no
direction and can seem utterly inconsistent from one
scene or session to the next.
As an alternative to this haphazard approach to
portraying an extremist (which is recommended for
only the best roleplayers), try creating a coherent
worldview for your hunter as the basis for her insanity.
As the character acquires derangements, her various
psychoses combine with her personality and experienc-
es to create a consistent — but irrational — view of
reality, and you can decide your character’s behavior
based on that whole.
Consider Carol McIntyre, a hunter who develops
the hypochondria, obsessive, paranoia and fugue de-
rangements as her primary Virtue increases. Now, these
conditions could all exist on their own, sending Carol in
all kinds of different and paradoxical directions. But how
could these ailments interact to form a single, complex
insanity, and how might that complex syndrome evolve
and change as more derangements manifest?
Let’s say Carol develops hypochondria when she
gains 7 Mercy. When she reaches 8 Mercy, she gains
an obsession. What if the object of her obsession is
disease, which connects to her hypochondria? Her next
derangement, paranoia, could also be related to disease.
Perhaps she’s convinced that others try to infect her
or carry a disease of some sort. At the pinnacle of her
power and madness, Carol might enter fugue states
when she really is in the presence of disease, such as
being in a hospital.
Now to tie all those conditions into a coherent
worldview: As she grows more obsessed with disease,
Carol “realizes” that evil forces are creating diseases
to destroy the human race. In every encounter with

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a supernatural creature, she looks for the viruses and Extremists tend to take this natural progression
contaminants that must be at work. Every time she’s one step further and fixate utterly on a goal. Even the
exposed to a disease — even something as innocuous most chaotic and erratic extremist works toward a
as someone with a cold — Carol risks entering a fugue target in her own way. This driving motivation can
state or lashing out with her edges to destroy the “evil.” seem like the last tangible, reliable foundation of life.
Assuming that the derangements you choose for It’s the grand purpose that her tattered mind demands
your character all arise logically from her identity and that she fulfill at any cost, because little else remains
chronicle, it shouldn’t be difficult to find some way or seems to matter. Without an external goal on which
to connect them. See “Playing with Derangements,” to focus, an extremist could drown in the chaos of her
below, for more advice on choosing ailments and how insanity. After all, trying to address every creature and
to roleplay their effects. threat in the terrifying reality into which she’s is mired
Once you establish your character’s worldview, use it would be overwhelming. Examples of such focused
to help determine her goals and how she pursues them. goals are Fyodor’s obsession to learn the secrets of the
Carol probably develops a goal relevant to disease since Messengers, Crusader17’s drive to eliminate evil as he
her very identity revolves around illness. Perhaps there defines it, and Potter116’s determination to cure any
really is a supernatural virus loose in the world and she creature she encounters.
dedicates her life to eradicating the source. The player of an extremist hunter is encouraged to
A coherent worldview is a powerful tool for an choose a goal that her character focuses on and works
extremist pursuing her ideals. Extremists can make toward. The evolution of this goal is slow as your char-
intuitive connections and deductions that would be acter moves down the path revealed at her imbuing,
impossible for a rational person to make. Or they can and that almost always leads further and further from
see signs and portents that are invisible to the sane. her old life. She needs to find something to keep her
Their “increased” awareness can allow them to perceive motivated and directed, having lost so much of what she
threats and dangers where others might be blind. held dear before. Creating a strong agenda gives your
character a reason to keep going, and a foundation to
But madness is also one of an extremist’s primary
a life that’s increasingly ragged around the edges. She
obstacles. It prevents her from interacting effectively
finds a point to work toward, and ushers her energies in
with other people and blinds her to things that might be
that direction, allowing her to exist while everything
perfectly obvious to the sane. And, of course, absolute
else in her life collapses.
madness can cause a hunter to recognize connections
between events and people where none exist at all. Pursuing a goal can be your hunter’s primary activity,
She could go off on a wild goose chase or put citizens, and a major plotline in your chronicle. But what kind
creatures or other hunters in danger with no provocation of goal is appropriate for your character?
whatsoever. For example, Carol McIntyre sees everyone It should be logical. No one just wakes up one day
as a potential Typhoid Mary, and only communicates and decides to overthrow a government — not even
with other people if they undergo sterilization proce- an extremist. Your hunter’s goal should arise naturally
dures and rituals. Her obsession with sickness could also from your chronicle. It should be something that has
lead her to assume that a dead person has been killed been established earlier, that can now be explored in
by a virus, even if he’s obviously been hit by a car. more depth. For example, if your character has been
uncovering supernatural corruption in her city gov-
Eyes on the Prize ernment, her goal might be to cleanse the taint from
When the chosen are imbued, they’re confronted the mayor’s office. Pursuing a goal that relates back to
by a dangerous reality. There are horrifying problems — the chronicle makes for a satisfying story, and creates
rots attacking family, vampires preying on the helpless opportunities to involve the other characters in your
— that have to be dealt with right now. It’s not until hunter’s objectives.
hunters gain some successes, experience and breathing It should have emotional resonance. As well as story
room that they can aim for more remote goals — to find logic, a goal should have an emotional logic. An ex-
out why the dead are walking again, or to destroy the tremist’s motive is an all-consuming passion, so it needs
vampire crime lord controlling the city’s drug market. to be something about which he’s passionate. Look for
As a chronicle progresses, hunters can fix their sights a good personal hook, a reason why your hunter cares
higher and higher and commit more and more to the so strongly. Maybe he wants revenge on the vampire
goals they choose. that destroyed his business. Maybe he’s fallen in love

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with that vampire and stops at nothing to save — and Many different goals can fit your hunter’s person-
have — her. If you make your character’s goal something ality, history and creed. Talk to your Storyteller about
that he truly cares about, you’ll find it a lot easier to which ones might fit your chronicle. Between the two
get immersed in his story. of you, you should be able to construct a purpose that
It should be achievable. Storyteller characters can propels your character throughout the game.
have hopeless goals, but it isn’t usually much fun to Storyteller: Grand Goals in Your Chronicle
play a character on a wholly futile quest. Goals such Extremists as players’ characters can kickstart great
as “destroy all monsters” or “overthrow the U.S. gov- stories and events in your chronicle. They can also be
ernment” probably aren’t attainable — not even for a very disruptive elements that derail scenes, draw focus
powerful extremist. Come up with a goal that can be from other characters and irritate players. Handling an
achieved. Your character might not be able to bring extremist in the chronicle requires some thought on
down the federal government, but she might be able to your part, particularly on the character’s goals.
bring about massive changes on a city or county level. A good motive for an extremist is a resource for you,
It should be difficult. The pursuit of this goal occupies not just the player. It’s something that gels well with the
your character for several stories, if not the remainder of history and direction of your game. It provides a starting
your chronicle. It shouldn’t be something that can be point for interesting stories, and it creates hooks that
wrapped up in a single scene or session. Don’t wimp out other players can use to get their characters involved.
with simple goals like “kill any old vampire” or “burn By contrast, an inappropriate goal doesn’t match the
down that haunted house.” Go for something that throws chronicle, and you can’t use it as a focal point for stories
up obstacles, that requires a process. One easy way to do (or can only do so by ignoring the stories and concepts
this is to build on a simple goal and make it complex. you had previously decided on). A bad goal also leaves
Maybe your character wants to destroy a specific vampire, out the rest of your troupe. It allows no space for other
but he has to find her, stop her plans and defeat all the characters’ input, making the chronicle revolve around
other vampires she’s created. Maybe your hunters wants the extremist almost exclusively.
to destroy a haunted house, but he has to find out why When you sit down with a player and discuss a goal
it’s being haunted, and he has to uncover what keeps the for his extremist, consider the following.
dead as a whole from resting in peace. Does the goal fit your chronicle’s tone? By the time
The seeds of a goal can be planted in several places characters achieve high Virtue ratings, your chronicle
in your character’s history. Even before reaching 7 should have a well-established tone. Still, people can
Virtue and gaining a derangement, your hunter prob- have different ideas about the styles of stories that fit
ably has hopes and aims. These goals might have been your chronicle. If you’re running a gritty, street-level
established before the imbuing, but they take on new game in which hunters struggle for small victories, and
meaning now. “Safeguard my son’s future” is a goal any the extremist player wants her character to reveal the
parent might have, but it assumes new significance truth about the supernatural on national TV, a collision
when the hunter learns the truth about the world. A of tones results. You may feel that such a goal is outside
goal could be established soon after the imbuing, and the theme of your game, and is therefore inappropriate.
then grow in significance as your character learns more. The same problem might arise if your chronicle deals
He might start by wanting to rescue his wife from a with high-powered, epic stories, and a character’s goal
vampire-worshipping cult, only to realize that the cult is to merely drive a vampire slumlord out of business.
spans the country and the only way to save her is to Make sure you and the player are on the same page
destroy the whole organization. about the chronicle’s themes, mood and tone before
Or maybe a goal comes from an extremist’s askew you go any further.
worldview (see above), something the hunter would Can the goal be used to develop interesting stories?
never have fixated upon if he were still sane. Carol Sometimes proposed goals can be just plain dull.
McIntyre starts to believe that supernatural forces Spending every day in a laboratory, fanatically study-
create diseases to ravage humanity — and so develops ing a vampire’s tainted blood might be something an
a goal to save humanity from disease. As her Mercy extremist would do, but you can probably only develop
rises and her madness swells, that goal mutates to suit one, maybe two, interesting stories about conducting
her mindset. Carol increasingly fixates on finding and such experiments. An extremist’s goal should inspire
eliminating the sources of supernatural plague that she stories that require him (and ideally his allies) to act and
knows are out there, somewhere. react in a lot of different ways. You probably want a goal
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that can initiate a variety of different developments and her hunter better than you do, but you should still speak
repercussions. If a goal seems to have limited potential, up if an idea for a goal seems out of character. It may
discuss the possibility of expanding it with your player. be that the player is attracted to a concept that doesn’t
If an extremist doctor wants to investigate vampire really suit the character, and you can encourage her to
blood on a broader level, more story potential may arise. consider variations. Or the player might surprise you
He needs to get samples, capture “subjects,” conduct and show you that the goal is very much in character. A
experiments, try out potential cures on vampires, and hunter might not be likely to be drawn to the vampire
avoid the retaliation of the undead. Most goals develop who destroys his business, but when that bloodsucker
immense potential with just a little tweaking on the turns out to be the great-grandmother of the character’s
player’s part, whether he knows it or not. deceased wife, and the resemblance across the generations
Do you want to explore the goal? It’s possible for a is striking — it’s a whole new ballgame.
good goal to take your chronicle in a new and inter-
esting directions, making stories possible that weren’t
Playing with Derangements
Dealing sensitively with madness is one of the most
before. That depends, though, on whether you want
challenging aspects of any roleplaying game. When
to go in such directions. Let’s say your chronicle has
portrayed convincingly, insanity can add layers of depth,
revolved around events in a small town. The player
wants her hunter to relocate to New York on the trail texture and emotion to a session. Alternatively, a player
of a missing brother. If you want to develop stories and can use it to demand all of the Storyteller’s attention
plots about the hunters in New York, that’s great — and reduce the game to farce. Derangements play a
but if you don’t, there’s a problem. If the player’s idea major part in the lives of extremist characters, and it’s
sounds worthwhile, but doesn’t suit the way you want important to know how to deal with their portrayal
the chronicle to go, say so. Maybe the idea can be re- without derailing your game.
worked so that it better coincides with your plans. The A large part of the challenge is the fact that most
brother might come back to town only to help pave people don’t really understand what madness is. That’s
the way for a cult of demon worshippers. The hunter not surprising. By definition, madness involves defec-
can still work to redeem her brother, but the setting tive mental processes that are so different from those
of the chronicle remains local. of the majority of the population that they interfere
Does the goal include the other hunters in a useful with everyday life. That’s a very difficult concept to
way? Fyodor’s grand goal — to learn the truth about grasp in concrete terms, because the condition defies
the Messengers and the imbuing — involves plenty concrete thinking. The easiest approach is therefore
of other chosen. Unfortunately, it involves them pri- to fall back on quirks and eccentricities.
marily as puppets, experiment subjects and victims. It’s not difficult to tell quirks and eccentricities
That’s not a good way to make other players happy, from genuine madness. The latter tendencies are
so that kind of goal probably doesn’t suit a character amusing, showy or ineffectual, whereas true derange-
in your game. Nor may a goal that involves only the ments blight your character’s life. Someone who
extremist, one that draws attention from the other wears only yellow is quirky. A hunter who carries a
imbued. If the extremist tries to win the heart of a stuffed fish with him at all times and insists that it
vampire, other hunters probably aren’t allowed much gets a seat at meals, yet who takes a normal, active
input into the relationship, and the other players may part in the hunt is eccentric. The quiet person in the
be bored and/or feel ignored any time the extremist’s corner who believes that his body is a puppet that
activities take the limelight. Luckily, most goals can he controls, and he has to keep cutting his arms and
be modified so they involve other hunters in a positive legs with a razor to remind himself why being hurt
and interesting way. Perhaps the vampire would return is deranged. As a rule of thumb, if you’d laugh with
the extremist’s love, but cannot because other, more a person and say “you’re mad” to him, then he’s not,
powerful bloodsuckers bind her mystically. Freeing he’s just eccentric. If you’d try to keep as far away as
the vampire from those bonds — and dealing with possible and say soothing things like “it’s okay,” he’s
the consequences of freeing her — requires the aid deranged. Madness is never pleasant or amusing, and
of the other characters and allows those hunters a it consumes your entire existence.
chance to be the focus of stories as well. Understanding Derangements
Does the goal fit the character? This is a basic point, but There are several different groups of mental defects
it’s worth considering. The player probably understands that can lead to madness. These groups are not nec-

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essarily derangements in themselves, but are different to paranoia, depression, obsessive-compulsive disorder,
reasons or ways in which ailments may arise. delusion and a number of phobias.
One common underlying problem is defective as- Finally, chronic delusion involves hallucinations that
sociation. A victim experiences twisted logic, tangled the sufferer is unable to distinguish from reality. These
deductions and/or irrational negative association. In may range from simple one-sense phantasms such as
other words, certain mental concepts or pathways are perceiving the smell of freshly baked bread, to modifi-
mismatched or crossed. That might be as fundamental cations of reality such as suddenly thinking everyone is
as associating pleasure with pain and pain with pleasure, wearing the same red T-shirt, to full hallucinations of
or as abstract as grouping objects by color rather than all five senses that completely block out reality, such as
type, so that a gray car would seem more closely related being convinced that you are back in your childhood
to a sidewalk than to a blue car. Defective association home and six years old. The delusions may be occasional,
can play a part in ailments such as masochism, associa- intermittent or continuous, and acute cases may require
tive disorder, self-mutilation, dissociation, depression, that the sufferer be confined permanently for her own
sociopathy and delusion. safety. This source of ailments can inspire paranoia,
Conceptual dysfunction manifests as the absence schizophrenia, depression and fugue.
of specific ideas or concepts from the mind. In other Roleplaying Derangements
words, the victim isn’t able to comprehend a specific There are several guidelines that you can follow to
idea or item and isn’t able to relearn it. All memory and help make playing a deranged character a rewarding
understanding of the concept is gone, and the sufferer experience for all. Always remember, however, that
perceives the subject as something else. A person may roleplaying is a social experience. The way you act
classify all animals — even diverse ones such as birds or as a player bears on the way other players understand
reptiles — as either cats or dogs, for example. Where your character. Obviously, the most traditional way to
the absent concept is more abstract — an emotion or portray your character’s challenges is through his actions
a stage of the reasoning process — the results can be and words, by roleplaying. It’s also possible to increase
difficult to predict, ranging from psychotic tendencies everyone’s understanding of your character’s condition
to depression. by being true to him both in and out of character. You
Emotional isolation is similar to conceptual dysfunc- could constantly act out a mild, non-threatening version
tion. People with this problem may not be able to feel of his derangements throughout each game session,
any emotion, to understand certain emotions, or to doing things like staying out of the banter around the
even accept that other people have emotions. In ex- table or being snappy or aloof. Indeed, you could assume
treme cases, victims may not be able to understand that your character’s ailments to some degree as soon as
treating others badly, even murderously, is any different you come through the door to play. You know which
from treating them well. Other victims may find that approach might suit you best and make your fellow
they have trouble interacting with society because they players most comfortable.
can’t perceive — or feel — anger, friendship, love or In order to play a deranged character you need
other emotions, so are unable to relate to people. Such to figure out how his mind works and how it affects
tendencies can contribute to sociopathy, psychotic rage, his behavior. One way to decide is to make notes on
paranoia, depression and catatonic fugue. which types of objects and events your character might
Another problem is compulsive delusion, with which react unusually to. If your character has paranoia, he
you intellectually know something is true, but sincerely might be fearful or distrustful of strangers. If a fellow
believe otherwise. In a typical case, a person might hunter behaves unusually around your hunter, she may
look at a lampshade, see it is a lampshade, know it’s a become agitated. If she’s had experience with ghosts
lampshade, and yet still be convinced that it’s a stalker possessing people, she may use second sight any time a
lurking in wait — and act upon that belief. The victim friend does something unusual or out of character, just
knows that the things he believes are patently false, yet to be sure. Think about different ways your character
he can’t act against his feelings, so the experience is might react unusually to normal events, and make a
extremely distressing. The sufferer typically feels that list. Then, if your character encounters any of those
he can’t trust himself, or perhaps that he’s an observer situations, you’re reminded to react abnormally.
of his own life. He might develop behavioral rituals By far the most important point to remember when
that let him carry out daily chores regardless of what he portraying a deranged character is to avoid dominating
believes he sees. This general condition can contribute the game. It’s easy for a character’s ailments to snowball
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in influence until almost every aspect of the game is Paranoia doesn’t have to mean believing that a
focused on him and you do most of the talking. That mighty conspiracy watches and plots against you (that’s
can be fun for you, but it’s frustrating and boring for the actually paranoid schizophrenia). Paranoia’s root is
rest of the group. For any game to work, all the players the belief that you’re the center of negative attention.
have to be involved, and a player with a demanding People talking across the street are talking about you.
character is still responsible for sharing the limelight. Laughter is directed at you. Offhanded comments
Being considerate of other players doesn’t have are veiled insults. Even good friends may seem to be
to mean compromising your character’s behavior. It mocking with feigned concern. It may start small with
just means being sensitive about the way you play. It an occasional uncertainty that you laugh off, but it
would be easy for the player of a paranoid character become so intense that it’s overwhelming. This con-
to make a big fuss about becoming nervous when dition can make victims jealous, aggressive, depressed
a fellow hunter gets too near. You could describe or withdrawn. However they react, they feel miserably
how your character shies away, makes accusations unhappy and victimized. Paranoid characters may
and demands to be comforted. It’s just as true to avoid public places, react strongly to vague innuendo
the derangement, however, to tell the Storyteller or allusion, and become suspicious when any familiar
that your character activates his second sight and person’s behavior is different from normal.
checks everyone out. The latter approach is far less Schizophrenia is a term that commonly covers a wide
intrusive. A genuine paranoid would want to keep range of symptoms. At its most basic, it stems from
his observation of others subtle. If he did decide some sort of irreconcilable conflict in your emotions
they were enemies and his only chance or surviving or desires, and manifests itself in sporadic delusions
lay in violence, he could launch a surprise attack. or hallucinations. The condition may be associated
In fact, an understated approach to inappropriate with sudden mood swings, isolation and withdrawal.
behavior can make your character’s derangements While in control, a character can be uncertain or in
more unsettling for other players. Histrionics and pain, frightened of suffering another attack, or perhaps
over-reaction quickly become ridiculous. A covert determined to achieve something concrete while she
approach leaves other players wondering exactly how still can. During an attack, she may be a lot more cer-
irrational your character has become. tain of herself, but the delusions she suffers may have
There are also two other benefits to subtlety that unpredictable results.
help maximize the believability of your character. The Depression is very misunderstood. Most people
first is that avoiding showy displays of ailments helps think clinical depression means being unhappy. Real
ensure that your character doesn’t become quirky or depression is the complete absence of strong emotion
eccentric. There’s nothing specifically wrong with and motivation. A depressive doesn’t become angry,
portraying quirks, but they don’t work well outside of excited, sad, happy, outraged or anything else. The world
comedic games. (Being deranged does not automati- seems gray and pointless; nothing is worth bothering
cally mean your character loses his fashion sense or with. Sufferers do not become violent in general —
can suddenly do complex math problems in his head.) there’s no point making the effort — and may do what
The second benefit is that most deranged people they’re told just to be left alone afterward. Depression
do everything they can to minimize their problems, doesn’t make people unhappy, because they’re no longer
including trying to avoid situations that might trigger capable of feeling unhappy.
a loss of control or that might make their ailments Obsessive/compulsive disorder arises when you’re des-
obvious. If they can resolve a situation without anyone perate to reclaim control over the world, because you
noticing, they do. By being showy about derangements, suffer delusions or feel powerless. It involves building
you miss the whole point — that the problem is horrible precise rituals for dealing with the everyday, and those
and to be avoided at all costs. rituals may be repeated every few minutes if you’re
Roleplaying Specific Derangements under stress. Obsessives are very defensive about their
There are many mental illnesses that we all know rituals and may become agitated or violent if they’re
of, even if common misconceptions mean we don’t threatened with disruption for any reason. A victim
understand them very well. In this section, we look at literally feels that his rituals are the only things holding
some of the best-known derangements, discuss what his mind together.
sorts of feelings they inspire and address how they may Sociopathy is an unpleasant ailment with which
affect a victim. you’re incapable of perceiving other people as genuinely
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real, or of possessing real emotions or feelings. You are Many personality qualities are easy to match to
emotionally isolated and entirely self-focused, and feel derangements. Confidence or leadership can be mag-
no guilt about doing horrific things to people. Other nified into megalomania. Caution or shyness can turn
areas of understanding are not affected, though, and into paranoia. Organization or control can turn into
you’re aware that harming other people will result in obsessive/compulsive disorder. Suffering into multiple
punishment and/or confinement, so not all sociopaths personalities. Frustration into schizophrenia. Courage
are dangerous. The term “psychopath” is often mistak- or enthusiasm into hysteria. Pessimism into manic-de-
enly applied to violent sociopaths. pression. Guilt or repressed anger into fugue. Expressed
Multiple-personality disorder occurs when trauma anger into psychotic aggression. Or, lack of empathy
forces the mind to retreat into one or more fictitious into sociopathy.
personalities as a means of escape. Any time your core If there is no obvious identity progression for your
personality feels threatened, secondary personalities character’s condition, consider recent events instead.
take over until the source of the stress is resolved. The A specific traumatic occasion might trigger insomnia,
majority of these secondaries are children aged five to paranoia, hysteria or a phobia. Paranoia can arise from
eight. Others are unreal creations, such as cartoon char- any betrayal or surprise attack. Hysteria might be the
acters. Only a few are adult or confrontational. Certain result of a close brush with death or the loss of a loved
specific actions may always be undertaken temporarily one. A recent car crash might inspire a fear of traveling
by a secondary, such as walking through an automatic in cars, or a bad gunshot wound could trigger fear of
door. A person’s various personalities have no memory loud noises.
of what happens while they’re dormant, although they Your character’s Virtues can also play a role in
are often aware of each others’ existences and find the the derangements she develops. If she’s one of the
situation unpleasant. Merciful, she might manifest an ailment that involves
Serious phobias are often underestimated. To be withdrawing, such as paranoia, isolation or phobia. If
phobic about something doesn’t mean that you find it she’s an adherent of Vision, her condition may involve
distasteful, unpleasant or frightening. It means that facing consideration, such as manic-depression, obsessive/
the thing throws you into a blind panic, that thinking or compulsive disorder or insomnia. If she’s a Zealot, her
talking about it makes you frightened or aggressive, that derangement may involve displacement of anger, such
you will do whatever is necessary to escape the situation. as multiple personalities, fugue or sociopathy. If she’s
If you’re unable to avoid the distressing circumstance, closely balanced in two or three Virtues, the conflicting
you may suffer a nervous breakdown or even lapse into strains may cause schizophrenia.
catatonia or fugue. Some sufferers are frightened also by By putting some thought into the way your char-
things associated with their fear, such as climbing ropes acter’s derangements progress, you can ensure that she
if someone is phobic of heights. remains playable and believable without the need for
Character Consistency complex storytelling gymnastics on your part.
Derangements do not arise randomly. Like
earthquakes, the majority of them occur at weak
points in the mind, fault lines in the personality.
Beyond All Limits
A deranged hunter with a Virtue or two rated 7 or
Physical brain damage and disease work different-
ly, of course, and depend on the part of the brain higher is a highly effective — if erratic — character,
affected, but most derangements are linked to the and can provide many sessions of challenging and
personality and should suit a victim’s identity as a enjoyable storytelling. If that fate and role is ideal
natural progression of her. for your character’s identity and contribution to the
chronicle, there’s no need to seek any further, radical
Even derangements triggered by a high Virtue
developments for him. This penultimate stage of a
rating do not emerge from a vacuum. They arise from
hunter’s evolution is a satisfying experience in itself.
your character’s personality, and are often a dangerous
But for those who want to push things even further
overemphasis of a previously minor personality facet.
— over the edge — there is one final stage: gaining
If and when your character acquires a derangement,
a level-five edge.
consider her personality. Look for dominant qualities
or behaviors that could be magnified into a mental No hunter “just happens” to develop a level-five
problem. That way your character keeps her basic edge. This pinnacle of power is not something that
identity; it’s simply intensified. occurs naturally. Nor is it something a hunter recog-

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Storyteller: Edges and Conviction

Beyond being mad and possessing high-level edges, First, be stringent about allowing extremist charac-
extremists are also able to create very powerful effects ters to gain Conviction. Hunters gain Conviction for
with their low-level edges. Every Hunter power is achieving their goals and acting in accordance with their
based on a Virtue + Attribute dice pool. Extremists creeds and Virtues. Extremists have complex, strange
have Virtues in the 7 to 10 range, so their edge rolls goals that are extremely challenging to achieve. It should
are made with anything from 8 to 15 dice. Extremists take more than simply calming a ghost or slapping wood
are therefore unlikely to fail edge rolls, and can cause on a vampire for an extremist to gain Conviction. She
very powerful effects. A Martyr with 8 Mercy and needs to make real progress toward her goal and act
Demand could rip a bank-vault door off its hinges. A in accordance with her worldview. Yeah, the player is
Defender with 10 Zeal and Ward can create a barrier likely to accumulate Conviction from taking risks on
that no creature could hope to penetrate. edge rolls, but don’t give her anymore Conviction unless
The situation becomes even more drastic when her character really deserves it.
Conviction is risked. The player of an extremist who risks Second, an extremist’s outpourings of power might
Conviction could roll more than 20 dice on an edge — incur unusual side effects. Normal humans certainly
guaranteeing not only an incredibly effective use of the react with terror and confusion to the use of an edge,
power, but easily gaining another point of Conviction. but when an extremist’s degree of power is displayed,
it might also affect other hunters. Decide on a “over-
For Storyteller characters, you can use this level
the-top power level” suitable for your chronicle; a
of reliable power to awe, impress or terrify players’
number of dice that causes side effects when used in
characters. No hunter is entirely casual about using
an edge roll (15 is a good figure). If that number of
edges, but Storyteller extremists can come close.
dice is rolled, other imbued suffer the confusion and
Players and characters alike may be taken aback
forgetfulness that regular humans feel when edges are
when they meet a fellow imbued who never sleeps used in their presence. Second sight protects against
(thanks to the Vigilance edge), or who can easily this bewilderment as normal. You might even decide
and reliably read the thoughts of every creature he that if a huge dice pool is rolled (say, 20 dice), that
encounters (using Revelation). Even a hunter who other hunters’ second sight isn’t a reliable defense,
constantly uses second sight can be unsettling. and that extra Conviction may need to be spent, or
When it comes to players with extremist char- Willpower rolls made, for other imbued to stay focused.
acters, things get more complicated. Reliable, Wielding this degree of power doesn’t necessar-
predictable powers are the stuff of superheroes, not ily make extremists seem “inhuman” or “wrong” to
the imbued. If hunters start using their edges casually, observers’ second sight. These powerhouses may be
it can damage the mood and “power level” of your mind-blowing, but they can still seem to be on the
chronicle. Obviously, the accumulation of derange- “right” side to other hunters. At least, these wackos
ments is one balancing factor for such power, but you can seem okay until they do something wild or dan-
may find you need more options to regulate players’ gerous to hapless people, undeserving monsters or
creations. Here are two suggestions to help offset the fellow imbued. But then, there’s rarely any warning
increased power of extremist characters. of that kind of behavior.

nizes as a “career achievement” such as a title or corner to obtain this degree of potency you must choose to
office. This height is reached through either great accept the risks, and ensure that your hunter deserves
effort to fulfill the kind of goal discussed previously, or the prize. The Storyteller must also decide whether to
is offered to a hunter by forces beyond humanity and allow such power in her chronicle.
perhaps beyond this world. Very few hunters survive Technically, any hunter who has a level-four edge
long enough to obtain level-four edges. The struggle might eventually obtain a level-five edge. It’s important
with monsters and one’s own crumbling sanity destroys to remember, however, that this is a much more com-
most imbued. Chosen who manifest a level-five edge are plex and meaningful acquisition than just adding a dot
vanishingly rare. There may not be more than a dozen to or entering a line on a character sheet. Along with
or two of them across the world. So, for your character the edge comes a whole new way of thinking, and many

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radical changes in your hunter’s personality. Don’t take hunter? Is she really that focused or unhinged? If all you
this progression lightly. It’s a massive change to your really want is a nifty new edge or a bigger spotlight in the
character that has a profound effect on your chronicle. chronicle, your Storyteller is unlikely to be sympathetic. If
It’s therefore important to keep a few things in mind. it’s something that makes absolute sense for your character
For Players — if she has the all-consuming dedication or compulsive
Obtaining a level-five edge is one of the final, greatest personality to go to such lengths — and you feel up to
achievements your character can ever make. There’s very the challenge of playing such a being, only then should
little left to accomplish from that point, except use the edge you discuss it with your Storyteller.
to achieve his greatest goals. Level-five edges typically arise Some level-five edges are “normal,” manifesting
near the end of your character’s story. After getting one, like any in a creed path that a hunter displays. Others
there’s probably little left but her death — and hopefully come from different sources, ones that hunters have
success in one last, triumphant act. Your hunter literally no comprehension of or control over. It’s up to the
burns out from the power gained, or goes out in a blaze of Storyteller to decide if such external forces come
glory or simply lives on borrowed time as her body succumbs into contact with your character. You can certainly
to the might she wields. You may choose to pursue a lev- approach the Storyteller and discuss your interest in
el-five edge for your character if you’re prepared for her to such a transition, but the decision is hers to make.
die or become unplayable shortly afterward. (Ultimately, Your character certainly has no idea that such options are
her fate is at your Storyteller’s discretion. He might even available. Alternatively, the Storyteller may decide that
have some more stories in mind to tell with her, for a little such a force makes contact with your character, even
while anyway….) if you haven’t contemplated it.
You should also be sure that such an evolution is right For Storytellers
for your character. Is it appropriate for someone as driven The presence of just one hunter with a level-five
as even an extremist to push himself toward power beyond edge in your game can have an enormous impact on
all the limits of reason? Is it a natural progression for the your chronicle. At this level of power,

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the character has the potential to accomplish miracu- edges manifested by extremists. Nor do hunters know
lous feats — to bring down an entire cult or lay to rest that entities other than the Messengers could offer such
every ghost in a haunted asylum. To fit this level of gifts. Not even power-infused hunters who wield these
power, you probably need to ratchet up the intensity effects may know who or what bestows them.
of your adversaries and plot twists. Encounters with There are in fact three different kinds of level-five
solitary, confused or weak creatures may seem paltry edges available to suitable hunters.
now. Maybe that level of intensity would wreak havoc Divine: When pursuing their all-consuming goals,
on your planned story developments. It can always cause many extremists undergo terrible ordeals and hardships.
problems for non-extremist characters who might not A hunter loses her mind, but may also lose everything
have the strength to work alongside their powerful she once cared about and be forced to compromise
comrade, leaving some players feeling powerless and ideals she once treasured — everything that is and was
frustrated. And after the extraordinary character dies precious to her. And yet, it might not be enough. Her
or moves on, you may find it difficult to return your goal may still elude her and she has to try harder and
chronicle back to its previous level. “Lesser” hunters forgo even more. At this point, some extremists can be
are forced to witness a breadth or depth of reality that touched by a transcendent, inhuman power — similar
they’re not prepared for and unable to forget afterward. to that of the Messengers, but still different, greater.
They may not be able to contend with monsters at all, This force offers the hunter the strength she needs to
or may lose healthy respect for any “weak” ones. For fulfill her aims. If she is worthy. If she will sacrifice
these reasons, don’t be afraid to veto a player’s request everything she has left.
for a character with a level-five edge. Those hunters who obey, who give of themselves
Now, having said all that, don’t be too hasty to shoot utterly are filled with a majestic — perhaps even holy
the notion down. Introducing a hunter of this magnitude — power, one that cannot be opposed or denied. And
as a player’s own, even for a short time, is challenging as long as a hunter remains worthy of that power, she
and rewarding. Everyone in the troupe may benefit from continues to manifest it until it may finally consume her.
the experience. Think things through before you say yes Corrupt: Some extremists are on the long road
or no, and be prepared to run with it afterward. toward their final goal and find the going more difficult
Due to the nature of level-five edges (“divine,” than they could have possibly imagined. Certainly, the
“corrupt” or “independent,” all of which are explained difficulties could be overcome, but only with extreme
below), some characters may actually be approached by effort, time and sacrifice. Then some entity comes to
entities offering them this ultimate power. Obviously, them — perhaps subtly, perhaps overtly — and offers
that’s a decision for you, not the player, to make. You them an advantage right now. There’s only a small
should decide whether a character with a level-four price, a minor bargain, and in return the hunters get
edge is approached by “divine” or “corrupt” forces. Do vast power.
these entities contact any powerful extremist, or is there But it’s a tainted offer, a deal made with forces
something about this hunter in particular that makes of indescribable evil. The power is real, yes, but it’s a
him attractive? If they don’t contact him, is it because poisoned chalice, the lure that leads a hunter into a
there’s something wrong with him? What form does trap. Before long, a hunter finds himself working as a
their initial contact take and what edge do they offer? pawn of dark powers, and perhaps even becomes an
Or might the character rebuke them both and find irredeemable monster himself.
his own way to power? There’s more advice on how
Independent: Some extremists find the power
to decide these points, below, but it’s worth thinking
within themselves to exceed their own limits. Con-
about them early before you make decisions.
sumed by their madness and commitment to the hunt,
Three Paths to Oblivion a need arises in these hunters to devote themselves
Most hunters don’t even realize that level-five edges solely and utterly to their cause. Their unshakable
exist. Such powers are simply unimaginable, or are so determination, their rigid focus on their goals, their
rare that their effects are almost never witnessed, or uncontrollable madness — these are the tools they
are reduced to ridiculous rumor — or are mistaken for use to go beyond what other hunters are capable of.
the capabilities of monsters. Certainly, no imbued have At great cost to their already fragile sanity, these
learned that some of these staggering powers are actually extremists manifest a level-five edge appropriate to
related to — or so very different from — the “normal” their creed Answerable to no one but themselves,

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Storyteller: Early Signs

Corrupt and divine edges come from external • Instead of sending out feelers to the extremist, the
sources. These cosmic forces don’t just pick hunters at Powers That Be might prod other imbued that interact
random, they look for imbued whose outlooks, meth- with her. Again, this approach is fairly subtle; the powers
ods and goals mesh well with their own agendas. For cannot command other hunters, only offer them hints
divine beings, this means a character with a goal that and cryptic messages. Corrupt forces might encourage
keeps her involved with the supernatural in some way, an extremist’s allies to bring her a book of evil lore,
whether fighting, reconciling or offering guidance — and then observe what she does with it. Divine forces
and who shows great determination in pursuing that might direct other hunters to ask for the extremist’s aid,
cause. Corrupt powers don’t care what the character distracting her from following her goal. If the hunter
is doing. They’re interested in hunters with damaged is easily diverted from her purpose, she might not be a
and antisocial personalities, hunters prepared to cut suitable candidate for their final gift.
corners and hurt the harmless to fulfill their goals. • The character might encounter a corrupt or
These forces might approach a hunter seemingly divine extremist that has already entered the service
out of the blue, after watching her for awhile. (Ideas of these forces. Such a devotee might encourage the
on how to run such introductions are offered later.) character to learn more if she finds the extremist’s
But it’s also possible that the powers might “test the power and demeanor intriguing. Or the “tutor” might
waters” earlier in the chronicle, before committing act as a deterrent, terrifying the hunter and convincing
to approaching an extremist. In doing so, they gauge her that such a path is wrong for her. Such a rejection
how receptive a hunter might be to a bargain later. might cause one set of powers to lose interest in the
This litmus test also allows you to see how interested character — or make the opposing force suddenly
a player might be to the notion of gaining a level-five interested in recruiting her.
edge for his character. If the player reacts negatively • Alternatively, the hunter might encounter an
to hints and foreshadowing, you can drop the idea. “independent” extremist (explained later in this chapter)
If he reacts with interest, and his character reacts who has encountered the Powers That Be and rejected
in a suitable way, then it could be worth following them. Such imbued are rare, but they do exist, and some
up later in your game, when the character is ready. of them warn other chosen of the dangers of falling under
Here are some ways to foreshadow the presence inhuman sway. This doesn’t even have to be a personal
of divine and corrupt powers. encounter between hunters. The character in question
• The hunter gets messages or visions from the might find a copy of Fyodor’s Apocrypha, which alludes
Heralds that hint at greater things. These signs can to the powers that might operate behind the imbued, and
come from divine powers, encouraging the hunter suspect that they hold sway over the author.
to push herself a little further. Or corrupt powers This sort of foreshadowing should be handled
can briefly usurp the voice of the Messengers, urging delicately or characters (and players) will become
the character to take the easy way out and not worry suspicious of what’s to come. One or two incidents
about the consequences. The form of these messages of this sort are enough for the powers to feel out a
can vary wildly — see “Portraying the Ministers” and character’s suitability — and for you to determine
“Portraying the Corruptors” for some ideas on how how interested the player is in a full-blown story of
these forces may communicate. contact with otherworldly forces.

they use this new power to complete their crusades of their abilities? Why are some hunters given power
— or die trying. from outside sources? What are those entities, and
An extremist can obtain that final, impossible how can they lend the imbued such strength? The
power by one of these three means. He can fulfill his following background to the imbued and the forces
destiny or he can fall, destroyed by the power he had behind them should go some way to answering these
dared hope to control. questions and others.
Storyteller: The Whole Story (Note that the following cosmology is used as
If you’re the Storyteller of your Hunter game, backstory to the published Hunter books, but doesn’t
you’re probably asking some big questions by now. have to be canon in your game. Any “light” or “dark”
Why are most imbued cut off from the highest levels forces in your chronicle need be nothing of the sort.

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Now is not the first time in history that heroes have

Your Hunter’s First Time arisen from humanity to defend mankind against mon-
Your hunter’s existence has been a long and sters and oppression. It’s happened at least once before,
harrowing one. He’s seen things that no person in specific parts of the world, in an almost mythical past.
should witness, done things that no one should have In a distant age when Creation and humanity were still
to perform and borne the burden of a reality that no young, the Heavens oversaw reality. Mankind lived a
one should have to endure. The first manifestation humble existence and honored the gods. And yet, the
of his edges could have been terrifying. How could universe was vast, and it demanded much of the atten-
he suddenly do these inexplicable things? Perform tion of the Powers That Be. In the gods’ absence from
these miracles? Over time, however, as he became the Earth, foul lords emerged from their dark places,
more focused on his objectives and perhaps jaded by jealous of the gods’ power and of humanity’s divine
his life, his edges might have become better under- favor. Free to exact their will, these demons abused
stood, perhaps even trusted and relied upon. They the world and mankind, imposed afflictions, inspired
may have kept him alive and helped him fulfill his sorrow and stole life itself.
driving goal when no tool or skill could.
When the Heavens turned their gaze back upon
When your character gains a level-five edge, the world, they saw what the demons had done. As
however, he enters a new era. He reaches a new punishment for the jealous lords’ offenses, the gods
pinnacle of power that he couldn’t even guess at (let chose heroes from among humanity to defend it against
alone, imagine) back in the days after his imbuing. further harm. These warriors and champions ferreted
Level-five edges are sheer, unbridled energy without out the demons’ agents and severed corruption’s grip on
bounds. If the first powers he wielded were akin to the land. A Golden Age of prosperity and joy followed
AA batteries, and the ones he developed later were as the chosen shepherded the human flock.
the equivalent of car batteries, a level-five power
And yet, as time passed and the tasks of the chosen
is a lightning bolt.
were completed, the warriors grew complacent. With the
Attaining this magnitude of power should be agents of the dark lords driven out, the heroes sought
shocking and revelatory, even for a manic, bro- new challenges and entertainment. Eventually, they
ken extremist. The experience is reminiscent of discovered that it was easier to gain power from weaker
the first time your character wielded an edge. It’s creatures than by carrying out their sacred duties. They
starling, confusing and frightening. Your hunter learned how to tap the life energy of their people in
can suddenly do something extraordinary and order to gain strength, and the discovery spread. In
incomprehensible even to him. the downward spiral that followed, the chosen fell to
Perhaps the best way to capture this monumental fighting amongst themselves as they captured human
event in your roleplaying is to revisit the feelings your followers, claimed power, struggled for control and
character had at the imbuing and in the days and weeks staked their claims on the Earth.
that followed. Allow him to be frightened of himself When the Heavens realized what had become
again. Let him remember what was important to him of their creations, they delivered divine justice once
in his past — family, friends and dealing with the petty again. The world’s heroes were damned to a miserable
monsters he encountered back then. At least, let him existence, and they retreated to their lonely dens. De-
remember until the weight of his compelling agenda spairing, the Creator of All and his Ministers turned
comes crashing down again and he gets his mind around their backs on Creation and the cycle of ages. A shadow
bringing this new capability to bear. fell across the world, and the demons crawled from their
For tips on how to portray the manifestation holes to wreak havoc once more.
of a level-five edge, see pp. 144-145 of the Hunter Ages passed, and the powers of darkness came to
rulebook and apply the same experiences with dominate the world. The Ministers, perhaps less severe
low-level edges to these epic ones. than the Creator Himself, felt compelled to intervene
before all of creation degenerated into chaos. This time,
though, they resolved to make less corruptible agents.
You might have your own explanation for who chooses These new champions — the imbued — would be weaker,
and empowers the imbued, and you are invited to adapt more limited. Lacking great power, they would not be
the sources and manifestations of powers presented in misled by power. What they lacked in raw ability, they
this book as you see fit.) would make up in numbers. Limiting themselves to only
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fleeting contact, and giving hunters the tiniest portion The Ordeal
of their power, the Ministers hoped that these agents In order to be chosen by the powers to receive a
would suffice to hold back the dark hordes. level-five edge, an extremist must prove himself wor-
But the Ministers, having little understanding of thy. The higher powers don’t care if a hunter is brave,
human thoughts and nature, did not see that their kind or pious. They care only that he is willing to
agents would not be content with limitations and mere push himself to the limit — and beyond — in pursuit
hints. Hunters needed to know their true purpose, and of that to which he is fixated about the supernatural.
found their abilities insufficient to battle the darkness To qualify for a level-five edge, the hunter has to be
as they wanted. The imbued looked for help — and willing to suffer arduously for his cause.
dark forces answered. If a hunter qualifies for a level-five edge — that is,
The most powerful and evil beings — too vast he has a level-four edge in his creed path and a rating
to even exist in this reality — had longed to regain of 10 in his primary Virtue — the higher powers may
control here. While they could not act directly in the watch him, gauging his worthiness. If they feel he has
world they could still reach out to mortal agents. Using potential — if he strives to follow the hunt despite all
the same mechanism as the Ministers, some of these costs, if he willingly compromises the things he cares
beings have made contact with the most powerful (and about in order to succeed — they may contact him
unstable) hunters and offered them the strength and with an offer of power. But first, he must prove himself.
information the imbued crave — in return for service. As the character works toward his great goal, mile-
Now these forces use corrupt extremists as cat’s-paws stones are reached; developments or accomplishments
and servants. propel him further toward his destiny. The hunter striv-
In response, the Ministers have decided to rescind ing to demolish a worldwide demon-worshipping cult
their previous self-imposed prohibitions. In order to finally tracks down its headquarters. Carol McIntyre,
halt the corruption of their servants, the Ministers obsessed with the connection between disease and the
have begun to make direct contact with hunters once supernatural, destroys a nest of vampires that spreads
again, as they did ages ago. To those few imbued deemed HIV with unclean fangs. In her effort to cleanse her
worthy, the Ministers offer the power that was previ- hometown that’s corrupted by an evil spirit, Lorna
ously withheld, and the opportunity to strike at the Willborn confronts and forgives her childhood rapist.
heart of the dark beings threatening the world. Now These milestones are achievements but aren’t enough
the Ministers and the dark forces target each other to satisfy the extremist. They’re only markers on the
directly, using these amazing and mad imbued as their road to his destination, not the destination itself. But
weapons and champions. these accomplishments are signs that he’s advancing.
They’re successes that inspire him further toward
Divine Inspiration
Are the imbued agents of God? Some hunters
ultimate victory.
At some point in your chronicle, your hunter sets
certainly think so. Even agnostic or atheist hunters his sights on a new milestone, just as he has done before.
find it hard to come up with an explanation for their But this time the road will be hard, worse than ever
condition that doesn’t involve some sort of higher before. Reaching for this vital prize will push him to
power. It’s possible that a “divine” will is responsible the limits of his abilities and strip him of everything
for hunters’ change — a vast and incomprehensible he believes is important. He will be abandoned by his
force that has little in common with the humans it allies, accused of treachery, and stripped of his strength
influences. This force tends to be content to imbue and power. Like Job suffering trials, the hunter is forced
individuals and leave them to fend for themselves, to prove his righteousness by struggling onward even
occasionally prodding them with garbled and cryptic while he has no reason or right to carry on.
messages. But in a few rare cases, this divinity returns The hunter has a choice. He can continue along
to a subject — an extremist, one whose dedication the path of thorns until he reaches the next milestone,
and knowledge approaches that of heroes who were never giving up or allowing himself to be defeated. Or
blessed and empowered in the distant past. The divine he can turn back, beaten by overwhelming odds, unable
power offers the hunter great strength and incredible to go beyond the limits of dedication. Those who turn
capabilities and asks only for his mind, soul and in- back are abandoned by the higher power — left broken
dividuality in return. and bleeding (if not already dead), never again to be

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considered for the ultimate blessing. The hunter who prevails and proves his worth may be contacted by a force
that can only be called “godlike.”
Example: Ibrahim Nasir’s great goal is to beat back the supernatural forces that he believes oppress
his people — Muslims and African-Americans. He makes no small efforts, in one significant case
providing legal defense for death-row inmate Tyrone Bellemy, and then trying to break the hunter out
of prison. But it isn’t until later, when Nasir hears of a black prisoner who attacked a prison guard
in a “racially inspired” incident, that Nasir is truly inspired. He travels to Mississippi to speak to
the prisoner, who claims to be falsely accused of murder. Nasir, obsessed with finding justice against
monsters’ tyranny, dedicates himself utterly to freeing the man.
Soon, though, Nasir finds he is alone in his fight. The Muslim Federation, the organization that he
has worked with in the past, doesn’t want to get involved in the case. Nasir’s allies in the Federation
tell him they have reviewed the evidence and are convinced that the prisoner is guilty. Nasir angrily
decries the Federation as cowardly — and it, increasingly wary of their colleague, cut him off
and reject him.
Working alone, Nasir investigates the murder. Local citizens and police label
him a troublemaker and race-baiter, but he keeps digging. All the evidence
corroborates the official version of events, but Nasir keeps
investigating. When a group of angry locals beat him for his
interference, his edges prove useless and he is hurt badly — but
Nasir is not daunted.
Before long, Nasir’s hunt for the truth brings
him into contact with isolated imbued. Not even
they will aid him in rescuing the prisoner. They
fail to see monster activity at work where
it’s painfully clear to Nasir. When he lashes
out against the hunters, they reject him just
as the Federation did. Nasir’s increasingly
erratic behavior even gets him banned from
visiting the prisoner in jail. He has no allies,
no resources, and his imbued abilities can do
nothing to help him. Faced with an impossible
task, Nasir is tempted to give up — but instead,
he decides to break the prisoner out of jail, just
as he and the Federation attempted with hunter
Tyrone Bellemy.
Nasir steals money from Muslim Federation
accounts, which leads to a warrant being issued
for his arrest. In hiding, he uses intermediaries
to bribe guards and get details of prisoner
movement. Armed with weapons and explo-
sives, Nasir breaks the man out of prison,
injuring several guards in the process. Both
men are now on the run — and the object
of all Nasir’s attention finally confesses
that he did, in fact, com-
mit the murder in a fit
of rage. He did it of
his own free will and
was not “influenced”
by anyone. Nasir has
thrown his life, allies and

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future away for nothing. The only way he could hope to vageable vampires. Some extremists, however, focus on
reclaim what he has lost would be to turn the man in. But goals outside the Ministers’ supernatural focus, such as
Nasir fights the temptation and uses the last of the stolen creating an extended family and holing up in a Mon-
money to smuggle the escapee into Mexico. Perhaps mon- tana compound. Extremists who turn their back on the
sters motivated the man to kill without his knowledge, or Ministers’ purpose are not considered for a divine edge,
used him as a cover for a crime they actually committed. no matter how dedicated they are to their individual
Meanwhile, Nasir stays in America. causes. These people just don’t do anything to attract
Then one night, the powers come to him in his dreams. the Ministers’ attention.
Blessings If you decide to offer the opportunity for such an
Now that your hunter has proven just how far edge to a hunter, you probably want to develop a story
he will go in pursuit of his agenda, the divine powers that revolves around the character’s ordeal. This story
come to him. There are many ways in which the pushes the hunter to his limits, and if he measures up,
powers could appear. Sometimes they speak directly he might receive his reward.
into a subject’s mind just as the Messengers do — but Ordeals
louder, more urgently. They may appear in a storm of The Ministers need to determine whether a hunter
images, visions of sacrifice and victory, blessings and is worthy of their blessing. If a hunter has already un-
ordeals. They could appear in dreams, in signs, in a dergone tragic suffering and shown his willingness to
burning bush. They might even send a person — or give everything in the pursuit of his goal, that may be
what looks like a person — to present their case. These enough to convince the Powers That Be. But in most
forces have few limitations and tailor their appearance cases, not even extremists push themselves far enough
to suit the situation, their own unfathomable desires, to satisfy these beings, so they test the hunters. Such
and the comprehension of the hunter they approach. a trial is ideally a story in your chronicle that pushes
The powers make the character an offer — perhaps the hunter to his limits.
straightforward and simple, perhaps oblique and con- What kind of story can you develop about this or-
fusing. You have proven your worthiness. If you will do our deal? It should be something difficult, almost impossible.
work, you will be rewarded. The divine powers wish the The Ministers want to know that a hunter can take
hunter to follow their instructions, to do their bidding care of himself. They want to see determination. They
in his interactions with the supernatural. In return, he want to see the hunter’s emotions come into play. And
will receive their guidance — and their power. they want to see him ignore those emotions and push
If the hunter refuses, the powers leave him and never himself onward despite any reservations.
return. He remains his own person, but must still deal What elements are core to the character’s per-
with all the acts he has committed and sacrifices he sonality and story? Does he have a beloved relative, a
has made to reach his current position. Such a hunter favorite possession, a primary method of investigation?
can never gain a divine edge, but may yet obtain a If so, that facet of the character can play an important
corrupt or independent one (see below). If he accepts role — the character loses it, at least temporarily. When
the offer, divine energies flood through him, changing forced to choose between protecting his brother or
him forever, remaking his personality in the process. chasing his quarry, he is expected to forsake his broth-
er. If a Merciful hunter seeks to protect a creature but
Storyteller: Portraying the Ministers his fellow imbued want to punish it, the protector is
As Storyteller, it’s your decision as to whether a expected to side with the creature — even if his allies
character might receive a divine edge. Not every ex- turn on or assault him. Ibrahim Nasir was forced to
tremist is a suitable candidate for the Ministers’ favor. break his ties with the Muslim Federation in order to
The divine powers choose hunters who show limitless
pursue his goal, and his work with the Federation was
dedication to a cause, pushing themselves as far as they
a major part of his identity and purpose.
can go to achieve their dreams. But it’s not enough to
While the ordeal of every candidate for divine
strive for a goal. A hunter has to be chasing a goal the
favor is unique, some factors are common to them all.
Ministers approve of. These powers created the imbued
in order to counterbalance the supernatural forces of • A trial should last for several chapters and involve
the world. Many extremists have goals that fulfill this a wide variety of scenes and challenges. The story should
purpose, whether it means destroying all monsters in be about more than just combat, investigation or emo-
a town or running an “underground railroad” for sal- tional turmoil — it should involve all of these things.

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• The hunter should be stripped of the tools and of this story. He is under direct Minister scrutiny, after
advantages that he usually relies on, which might in- all. Use this guidance from above subtly. The player
clude his weapons, resources, allies or anything else that should never suspect that the Ministers are setting his
is normally a significant aid in his stories. It’s easy to character up. Instead, you as Storyteller are simply
keep striving when you know you have a fully stocked constructing a harrowing and challenging story.
arsenal and friends to back you up. It’s a lot harder For example, a monster-hating character might hear
to keep going when you’re broke, starving and alone. the Ministers say “THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL” when
• The hunter’s edges and second sight should be he encounters a vampire. The monster is dangerous
vital at some point in the story, and useless at another. and corrupt, but not as powerful as the message implies
It’s important for the hunter to prove that he can use — although the hunter doesn’t know that. Further
the gifts of the Ministers effectively, so there should messages such as “DARKNESS GATHERS” or “THE
be supernatural challenges to overcome with edges. DEAD KING RISES” further the impression that this is
But it’s also important for the hunter to prove that a powerful creature responsible for much evil, and that
he’s willing to continue his quest without his amazing destroying it will be a major milestone in the hunter’s
advantages. His powers could be useless for several crusade. With that kind of encouragement, the hunter
scenes. Maybe he has to deal with normal people upon is likely to go to extensive, if not extraordinary, lengths
which edges and second sight have no effect. It could to find and deal with the vampire.
mean several scenes of conflict with the supernatural, (Also remember that not all hunters hear the Mes-
with the hunter running out of Conviction to power sengers — or Ministers — as booming voices. Some see
his edges. Or maybe his Conviction is reduced to zero visions, see words in newspapers rearrange momentarily,
and kept there artificially. are visited in dreams by “spirit guides,” and by many other
• The character’s derangements should play a major means. Whatever the medium the Ministers use, their
part in the story. There could be scenes in which the advice can be used to encourage a hunter to undergo an
hunter has to resist his madness in order to succeed, ordeal. She might receive a vision of an abandoned mine
as well as scenes in which he has to willingly embrace shaft and know that it harbors an evil force, or find that
them but still succeed despite his erratic actions. her I-Ching consultations keep pushing her toward a
• Each new event in the story should take a toll on confrontation with the leader of the local imbued.)
the hunter. Each scene should bring the risk of injury, You can also influence other players’ characters
rejection by allies, or a loss of Conviction or Willpower. to get involved in the extremist’s trial by use of the
The Ministers need to see the hunter suffer to know Ministers. Even if these others aren’t eligible to receive
that he can persevere. a divine edge, the Ministers can still manipulate them.
Ibrahim Nasir’s ordeal is a good example of this If the Powers That Be want other imbued to cooperate
sort of story. His task — to free a prisoner believed with their chosen subject, the allies might receive the
to be the victim of the supernatural — incorporates same messages he does or perhaps ones of encourage-
a variety of different challenges — combat, struggling ment such as “THE CAUSE IS JUST” or “THERE IS
with bureaucracies, investigating the crime, and TRUTH IN MADNESS.” The Ministers are more likely
confrontations with other imbued. He sacrifices his to pit other hunters against the extremist, however,
allegiance with the Muslim Federation and with other so that he must prove his worth without aid. Even if
hunters, and becomes wanted for embezzlement. He allied imbued initially cooperate with the extremist,
relies on his edges and second sight when searching for they could easily be encouraged to turn against him
monstrous involvement, but has to work without them with messages such as “STOP THE MADNESS” or
when battling mundane opposition. And his progress is “DESTRUCTION WITHOUT BOUNDS.” Depend-
made more complicated by his mental instability — the ing on the messages you transmit, you can inspire the
very inspiration for his crusade — which leads him to hunters to work together — or arrange a situation in
orchestrate a jailbreak and become hunted by the law. which the extremist and fellow chosen come to blows.
When motivating an extremist into a divine trial, Don’t go overboard with such otherworldly inter-
don’t be afraid to use the Ministers and the hunter’s vention, though. The Ministers can inspire a chosen
Patron Background to drop hints, information and subject to overcome a specific obstacle, and they can
inspiration. Even if the character doesn’t have a rating manipulate other hunters to make them into obstacles,
in Patron, he can receive more messages than usual. but the Ministers can’t simply wave their hands and
Consider the hunter to have 2 Patron for the duration create trials to throw at an extremist. Nor should you
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take direct control of anyone’s character. Be fair with something more than human, and more than any im-
your players. If you don’t, they may resent their char- bued. The entities behind the imbuing channel their
acters being commandeered. power directly through him.
Offering Power Your character gains the following benefits.
When a divine candidate has pushed himself as Edge: He manifests a level-five divine edge. It can
far as possible, giving up everything and still persisting be selected from the list below, or the Storyteller can
in his quest, the Ministers come to him. It might be design an edge suitable for your character. The power
when he finally succeeds in his mission, despite all that should be appropriate to his identity and personal
success has cost him. Or it may be truly impossible for mission (and creed to some extent). An Innocent is
the hunter to succeed in his quest, no matter how he unlikely to receive a combat-focused edge, for exam-
strives. In such a case, the Ministers might appear, give ple, and an Avenger might not receive an edge that
him aid and a chance to succeed, after all — but only grants visions and insights. Beyond that, creed doesn’t
if he would have continued the struggle on his own, necessarily have bearing on what potent edge a divine
not caring that he could not possibly prevail. hunter can wield. The Storyteller might decide to
The Ministers do not necessarily come to the award a divine extremist one of the level-five edges
hunter in a subtle form. There may be no reason for published in a Hunter book, but those powers are
them to hide now. How they appear varies from hunter typically the province of “independent” extremists.
to hunter, based on what each can comprehend, just They’re essentially acquired by gaining strength from
as the hints of the Messengers are different for every within the structure established by the Messengers, not
other imbued. The chosen one might hear a voice from without as divine extremists gain it.
in his head, like that of the Messengers, only louder, A divine hunter can manifest only a single level-five
more powerful. He might be subjected to a flood of edge, and can never receive another.
visions, images of sacrifices and power, broken bodies Patron: Your hunter gains the Patron Background
and burning bushes. A pious hunter might see angels at a rating of 5, permanently. Your character doesn’t
coming to greet him, while another might dream about hear the Messengers as other hunters with this Back-
the ghost of his mother telling him that he is blessed. ground do. He now receives direction directly from
Whatever form the Ministers take, the message is forces even greater. Think of the Messengers as a filter
generally the same. The hunter has proven his worth, that distills the voice of those forces. Without that
has shown that he is willing to do whatever it takes to filter, your character receives guidance directly from
reach his goals. The Ministers are prepared to reward the source. That means different sorts of sensory input
his dedication — if he serves them directly. If he ac- for the character from then on. The guidance of the
cepts their offer, he will receive great power, but the powers is still cryptic and confusing, but it’s stronger and
Ministers will push him to further his aims and theirs, contains more information. As well as hearing voices,
to take a greater role in righting the imbalance between the hunter might see visions, speak to the powers in
the human and supernatural worlds. The power comes his dreams or simply know whatever he needs to. Of
at a price — the Ministers are clear on this. course, this can mean the powers order your character
Whether or not the hunter accepts the offer, he directly, telling him what they want him to do. Will he
finds himself in a difficult place after his ordeal. The have the courage to defy his masters when they order
character has probably burned many bridges, lost friends him to commit acts he cannot condone?
and allies, and racked up a variety of legal, financial Aura: The presence of a divine hunter electrifies
and social problems. Dealing with the consequences any other imbued in the immediate vicinity. All
of the ordeal can be a story in itself, especially if the hunters within 10 yards of your character (except for
hunter rejects the Ministers’ offer. Alternatively, the “corrupted” hunters; see “Power Corrupts,” below)
character can turn his back on those consequences and receive messages and directions from the Messengers
take the chronicle in a new direction. (Other possible as if they had 3 Patron. Characters who already have 3
avenues for the extremist are explored under “Power or more dots in Patron notice that the “volume” of the
Corrupts” and “Independents,” below.) Messengers is turned up slightly, making any guidance
a little louder and more insistent.
Benefits Receiving such messages in the vicinity of your
When your hunter proves himself, he receives the character can be a dizzying and confusing experience for
blessing of divine powers. In many ways, he becomes other hunters. It can be like experiencing the imbuing all

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over again, or suffering a barrage of shouted instructions. cannot withstand the force of the divine without suffering
But the experience can also provide much needed infor- harm. Your character, once able to hold his madness in
mation and assistance on the hunt. All hunters in your check by sheer force of will, can no longer muster the
character’s proximity can receive the same information strength to control his damaged psyche. Flare-ups of his
or input from the Messengers, each character can have a single ailment burn out of control.
different experience, or different characters may be able Willpower: Your hunter is now a broken per-
to interpret the same message with a separate meaning. son, even if he’s powerful. He rarely draws courage
Other hunters continue to receive a Patron rating until or strength from day-to-day life, only from winning
they move more than 10 yards away from your extremist. victories on the hunt and obeying the orders of his
Conviction: If your hunter has a starting Convic- masters. In game terms, your character no longer re-
tion rating of 3 (which includes all hunters, except for gains Willpower during downtime or from a night’s
Avengers, Martyrs and Waywards), his rating increases sleep. His score is not restored to full between stories;
to 4, permanently. The powers are always there, guiding it remains the same. He regains Willpower from acting
and aiding your character, and their presence increases in accordance with his shared Archetype, and perhaps
his vigor for the hunt. for reaching milestones on his quest, but he often seems
uninspired and listless compared to other, more sane
Drawbacks hunters. Furthermore, your character’s permanent
While a divine hunter is incredibly powerful, he Willpower rating cannot be increased with experience
pays a great price for that might. When he allows the points. It cannot be raised any higher than it is when
divine forces to enter him, it’s like an electric current he obtains his divine edge.
that burns him from the inside out. The forces give him
clarity and focus, alleviating much of the madness that Divine Edges
he suffered previously. But in order to “make room” for Divine edges are quite different from the “normal”
their influence, the divine alter your character’s very edges manifested by other hunters. Strictly speaking, di-
nature and personality. A divine hunter is a vessel, vine edges aren’t “edges” at all. The effects of the imbued
fueled by a holy flame, but that flame burns away much are powers created for frail human bodies to contain.
of who he once was to make him a worthy champion. The level-five edge of a divine hunter is actually the raw
Personality: Both of your character’s Nature and might of the divine itself, channeled through a hunter
Demeanor change to one of Autocrat, Dreamer or who tests the limits of human potential. Divine edges
Fanatic. That is, Nature and Demeanor become the all have the following features in common:
same, and both become one of these three Archetypes. • They are not restricted by creed or Virtue. A
If your hunter’s Nature already was one of these, it can hunter could manifest any divine edge, as long as it
remain the same and Demeanor changes to suit it. Your suits his benefactors’ will. (He can possess only one
character’s personality is subsumed by the higher powers. power in total, however.) Divine edges never rely on
A change in Nature and Demeanor does not mean a a particular Virtue for their effects. They operate using
change in your character’s driving goal (assuming it the character’s primary Virtue, whatever that is, which
hasn’t already been fulfilled). It merely means he pursues is rated 10.
that goal for different reasons and in different ways. • Divine edges are almost always highly visible.
Derangement: Until now, your hunter has had a They can manifest in bursts of brilliant white light, flares
number of derangements. Choose the one that is most of energy or roaring flames. It’s impossible to use one
pivotal to his personality and his goal. That might be subtly or secretly. They cause a display that everyone
the first one he gained at 7 Virtue, or one acquired in the immediate vicinity notices. Normal humans are
later that best defines his goal and worldview. Carol still confused and forgetful after witnessing such effects,
McIntyre’s most important derangement is her obses- but most hunters and supernatural creatures recognize
sion with disease, even though her worldview started and recall the results.
with hypochondria. Your hunter is alleviated of every • Many “normal” edges affect one sort of en-
derangement he has except for this core instability. The tity — creatures or the imbued or ordinary people.
divine give your character new clarity, burning away the Divine edges affect everyone equally. They do not
madness that has tormented him for so long. He has distinguish among targets. An edge that affects the
only one derangement now, but this one can no longer be mind of a monster can do the same to a hunter or a
controlled by spending Willpower. A human personality normal person. Some divine edges such as Cremate,

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below, might affect only a particular kind of entity, but determine the identity of a body, or even that ashes
these limitations are usually side effects of the edge’s were once a body.
main purpose (in the case of Cremate, to obliterate If an undead creature — a vampire, zombie or
all signs and remains of the dead so that they cannot ghost — is in the radius of Cremate, it takes a num-
be harnessed by the supernatural). ber of levels of lethal damage equal to the successes
• Divine edges cost four Conviction to activate, achieved on your roll. This damage cannot be soaked
rather than the two required by most “standard” with Stamina or powers. Cremate sets the creature’s
level-five edges (those available to “independent” very essence alight, not just its flesh. The creature
extremists and as printed in the Hunter rulebook and can make a Willpower roll (difficulty 8) to reduce
in the various creed books). the damage, however. Each success reduces the harm
The following are examples of divine edges and suffered by one level.
what they’re capable of. Storytellers should feel free Cremate can only be used once per scene.
to design more powers to suit their chronicle and the Denounce
players’ characters using these edges as guides. A hunter with this power can channel the wrath of
Cremate the divine into a single word or phrase — a judgment
Perhaps the supernatural’s greatest sin is that it has made upon a person or creature that has been found
cheated death itself. In pure nature, death is an ending wanting. The power of this word rips apart a subject’s
and a beginning, part of an ongoing cycle. Supernat- very being. It does not injure or wound her, but it
ural creatures such as vampires, ghosts, zombies and leaves her weakened and chastened for the rest of her
necromancers upset this balance and make a mockery existence. Unlike most divine edges, Denounce does
of the natural order. Cremate is intended to fight such not create a display of light or fire — merely a word
blasphemy, to protect the bodies and souls of the dead that echoes like thunder in one pair of ears.
and to ensure that the natural cycle is enforced. Just what word is used with Denounce is up to the
The hunter concentrates and a soundless explosion hunter. It can be a whisper or a scream, a single syllable
of light erupts from her. Any dead body in her vicinity or a string of words. A pious hunter might shout, “God
is instantly consumed by fire and energy, burning the judges you!” or “I cast you out!” A more withdrawn
corpse to ashes. Any undead creatures caught in this hunter might simply whisper “Burn” or “Wither.” The
explosion are also consumed. And even if they can hunter can use a different word or phrase each time he
endure, they are burned and mutilated. uses Denounce. What matters is his intent to weaken
System: Spend four Conviction and roll your the subject of his wrath.
character’s primary Virtue + Strength (difficulty 6). System: Your character speaks a word or phrase.
Cremate affects any dead body within a number of Spend four Conviction and roll your character’s pri-
yards equal to the successes achieved on your roll. mary Virtue + Charisma (difficulty 6). Denounce can
Those bodies are burned to ashes instantly. This pro- affect any single, specified target that can hear the
cess is so efficient that it leaves no remains — bones, word. Deaf targets are not affected by the edge. Nor
teeth, clothes and pacemakers are reduced to ash. The are those who are too far away to hear the word. (The
heat from the bodies does not set surroundings on fire. effect cannot be accomplished through a megaphone
Cremate affects only the remains of dead creatures, or loudspeaker.) It’s necessary for the target to be in
animals and people — it does not set wood on fire, the same area as the hunter — the word cannot be
even though wood is the “dead body” of a tree. Once transmitted over telephones, recorded on tape or
a body is consumed, the fire winks out. reproduced artificially. If the target hears the word, it
Bodies destroyed by Cremate cannot be resurrected, may resist with a Willpower roll (difficulty 8). Others
reanimated, possessed by spirits or affected in any other who hear the word are not affected — only the person
way. If a person’s corpse is destroyed by Cremate, that targeted feels the edge’s power.
person does not rise as a ghost in the future. And if a For each success from your roll that remains, the
dead person’s body is subjected to Cremate after he has target loses a Trait point permanently. Denounce can
become a ghost, the spirit is harmed no matter where affect the target’s Attributes, Abilities and permanent
it is located as if subjected to the power in person (see Willpower. The player decides what Traits are affected.
below). Ashes left by the edge are resistant to foren- Your character must know a target possesses a particular
sic analysis. No amount of study or science is able to Trait in order to affect it, so Abilities can be affected

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only if the hunter has some knowledge of the target’s be noticed even in direct sunlight. Infuse can be used
capabilities. Attributes and Willpower can be reduced once a scene and lasts for a number of minutes equal to
to a minimum of 1, while Abilities can be reduced to the successes rolled. If your hunter is Incapacitated, the
zero — effectively destroying a target’s ability to use the edge’s effects cease. The effect can also be terminated
talent, skill or knowledge forever. (Experience cannot prematurely if your character chooses.
be spent to restore lost points of any kind).
Channelling the immense power of the divine is
more than a mortal frame can bear. After using De-
Power Corrupts
In their relentless pursuit of overriding goals,
nounce, your hunter suffers a level of lethal damage that
extremists face opposition and obstacles constantly.
cannot be soaked. Denounce can be used only once per
Some of these challenges can be overcome fairly easily,
scene, and it can affect a given target only once. If a
such as lowly creatures that don’t perceive the dangers
target has lost any Trait levels to Denounce — ever —
extremists pose. Some resistance is daunting but can
any attempt to use the edge on him a second time fails.
be defeated with effort and loss. And some obstacles
The hunter can keep using the edge on a given target,
can seem insurmountable, to be overcome with only
however, if previous efforts have failed to remove any
the greatest effort and commitment. No matter their
Trait points from the intended victim. scale, these distractions slow the hunter down and keep
Infuse him from fulfilling his goals - the only desires that give
More than any other divine edge, this capability his existence purpose anymore. If only the hunter had
hearkens to the heroes of the ancient past — resplendent another way or a helpful tool.
warriors of light with awesome power. Surrounded by a Some extremists hear a whisper amid the buzz of the
blazing halo of light and heat, the hunter is blessed with Heralds. Some receive dreams in a rare peaceful night’s
great physical power, and a majesty that strikes fear and sleep. Some hear an urgent voice calling to them in
awe into the hearts of friends and enemies alike. a pitched battle. Wherever the message comes from,
System: Spend four Conviction and roll your however it’s phrased, it always says the same thing, If you
character’s primary Virtue + Stamina roll (difficulty need power, you can have it. And if the hunter agrees, if
7). The successes on this roll enhance other rolls and he takes the easy way out, if he accepts the offering, he
capabilities. Conviction can be risked on this edge roll, is granted strength. And he is forever lost.
but not on any rolls enhanced by this power. As opposed to gaining a level-five divine or inde-
Successes rolled are applied to all of the following pendent edge, gaining a corrupt power requires no effort
applications: or sacrifice, no mental anguish. It does, however, require
• Successes are added as dice to your hunter’s soak a hunter who’s prepared to meet the devil halfway —
pool. If lethal damage is incurred, these extra dice can someone whom (on some level) is already corrupt, already
be rolled to soak that damage. rotting around the edges. A hunter who cares little about
• Successes are added to the damage pool rolled when others, who’s prepared to trample people underfoot to
Melee or Brawl attacks are made. The type of damage nor- get what he wants, who wants to make his enemies eat
mally inflicted with an attack does not change — bashing 10 pounds of shit before they die, or who simply craves
for a punch or lethal for a knife, for example. This effect immediate results and doesn’t care how they’re attained.
cannot be combined with the effects of Cleave — your Only such a hunter is willing to make a deal with the
hunter must use one edge or the other. devil to get what he wants — or needs.
• Successes are added to the pool of any Social All the hunter has to do is consider an offer and not
roll used to intimidate, impress or command others. ask too many questions about who or what makes it. All
Your hunter’s will is simply hard to resist. Such efforts he has to do is accept a bargain without worrying about
work on normal humans, other hunters and supernat- the terms. All of a sudden, he receives a level-five edge —
ural creatures. a powerful capability, and one unlike the edges of other
hunters. Getting a corrupt edge is comparatively easy. It’s
The successes from your Virtue + Stamina roll are
what happens after your character receives it that’s hard.
applied equally to every benefit above, not spread or
divided among them. It’s also important to note that Poisoned Chalice
the successes are added as dice, not automatic successes. A hunter who gains a corrupt level-five edge must
The halo of light created by Infuse is not bright have 10 in his primary Virtue, can be of any creed
enough to blind opponents, but it is bright enough to and must have the level-four edge of his creed path.

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That progression in power makes him receptive to Storyteller: Portraying the Corruptors
what demons have to offer. One might think that As with divine edges, it’s your choice as to whether
with such power would come commensurate wis- an extremist character might be offered a corrupt edge.
dom, and yet a hunter who accepts the invitation There’s less work involved with corruption, because you
of the darkness does the unthinkable. He allows a don’t have to orchestrate a story about a character’s
primal, bodiless force of evil to enter his soul. The trials or ordeal. Instead, you just have to give some
invader — call it a demon, devil or evil spirit, they thought as to what the corruptor wants, and how it
all apply — cannot force the hunter to obey its attempts to push the hunter toward that goal after the
commands. Not yet. But it worms its way into his character has received the power he craves.
mind — pleading, cajoling, threatening. The monster The Offer
might speak clearly or communicate in visions or
The dark force that tempts the hunter is not the
dreams. Maybe it even remains hidden so that the
same as the Ministers, but it has more in common with
hunter never realizes he’s possessed, but no matter
them than it does with humanity. The being is an
how you cut it, the extremist has sold his soul. Yes,
ancient evil spirit that makes the world and humanity
the possessor allows the hunter to use its power, to
its plaything, just as it did ages ago. The being uses its
strike down the terrible creatures that the host can
proximity to the world and its denizens to usurp the
see. But in return, it asks a favor. Just a little favor
“connection” between the Messengers and a hunter,
at first, and then bigger ones.
allowing it to offer the character guidance and strength
In order to keep benefiting from the demon’s pow- in return for favors and an anchor in reality.
er, the hunter must meet its demands. At first, these
When a demon notices a powerful hunter and at-
requirements are minor — the demon might ask the
tempts to corrupt him, it plans its approach carefully.
hunter to strike down a certain creature, to threaten
Not even the most insane, debased or desperate hunter
but not hurt an occultist, to retrieve an old book and
reacts positively to an overt offer of power from an evil
give it to another person. Such tasks seem innocuous,
entity, so the corrupter usually disguises itself. Some
and perhaps they are — but they’re still a trap. Soon
mimic the Messengers, speaking directly into a hunt-
the demon demands that the hunter perform an act
er’s mind. They drop cryptic hints such as “THERE IS
he finds morally abhorrent — kill a hapless person
or burn down a hospital. Depending on the nature of AN EASIER WAY” or “AID IS WITHIN REACH,”
the hunter’s possession, the character might not even offering aid or results. A subtler way might be to ap-
realize he’s being ordered about. The demon might pear in dreams or to mimic the voice of a trusted ally
send him dreams or visions that show him performing or loved one. The demon has some ability to read the
terrible acts over and over again — until the hunter hunter’s mind, even at this early stage, so it can tailor
finally acts out his nightmares in an effort to indulge its approach to target the extremist’s vulnerabilities.
or exorcise his fantasies. Oracle171 is a corrupt extremist. She once thought
the Messengers were her father speaking as an angel,
These activities further the demon’s unknown
so the demon that came to possess her appeared as a
agenda, but they also break down the hunter’s resis-
second, wiser angel, a form she was predisposed to trust
tance, slowly corrupting him to a point at which he
and then obey.
no longer hesitates to commit atrocities for his master.
Eventually, the extremist is either weak from resisting The means used to make contact also depends on
the demon’s orders or so debased that he is barely the demon’s capacity to communicate with a hunter.
human. In either case, the demon makes its play. It A spirit may be unable to speak in ways that are in-
attempts to expel the hunter’s soul and possess the telligible to humans, so the being might approach the
extremist fully, gaining a body and the ability to act hunter in visions, surges of emotion or just by placing
directly in the world. That’s when the dark forces have knowledge directly into his mind. Not all demons can
claimed another victory over the divine and stolen communicate in simple and direct ways, so feel free
yet another champion from the Powers That Be, just to come up with creative means of interacting with a
as was done in ages past. hunter. Perhaps the character gets emails that don’t
A lucky, determined hunter who has made a deal originate from any existing ISP. Perhaps he comes to
might have the strength to put a bullet in his own head believe that his dog whispers secrets to him.
before he falls completely. A weaker extremist becomes If the hunter ignores any offers or refuses to accept,
one of the very things he once struggled against. the demon may cut its losses or persist. Further offers

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might be more insistent, more cajoling or perhaps just terrible acts — compulsions that accompany power-
better timed. A hunter is more likely to respond to ful instincts and flashes of inspiration that help him
an invitation of power in a crisis than when at ease. accomplish his objectives. If he fights those urges, his
Eventually, even the most persistent corrupter gives up edges and instincts desert him — only to return when
if a hunter refuses all offers. Many imbued eventually he gives in. It probably isn’t long before the extremist
take the offer, though. The demands of the hunt are becomes dependent upon the gifts he occasionally
just too much to fulfill without help, and these chosen manifests, and the demon can watch as the hunter
do not necessarily realize that they doom themselves. corrupts himself.
Quid Pro Quo This quid pro quo arrangement continues until
Once a hunter accepts a demon’s offer and uses the either party gets everything its wants — at which
edge offered, the demon can take up a parasitic “residence” point, the demon turns upon its servant and attempts
inside the hunter’s mind and soul. The demon’s “self” to destroy his soul and possess his body (see “The End
— the bulk of its essence — remains separate from the of the Line,” below).
hunter, somewhere else in the world. This arrangement What kind of agenda does the demon have? Most
means that killing the hunter does not kill the demon. want to boost their powerbase on Earth in some way
It might weaken the being momentarily, but no more. — gain followers, destroy their enemies, gain relics
Similarly, the demon is silenced and isn’t aware of the of power or tomes of occult lore. The corrupter’s true
host’s activities when the hunter activates second sight, essence could be contained in an object of some sort,
but it can communicate with and regain the imbued’s and obtaining control of that object might be a primary
awareness as soon as the sight lapses. goal for the demon. Furthermore, devils are creatures of
After taking up residence, the demon probably con- pure evil; they exist to destroy and corrupt. Some of a
tinues to communicate with the hunter in the same style beast’s requests may not further its agenda directly, but
it did to make its initial offer. That might be because it it can still revel in the horror caused when its hunter
can communicate no other way (some demons are so murders unsuspecting people or interferes with the
alien that words and language are foreign concepts). But efforts of uncorrupted imbued.
even demons with adaptable communication abilities When deciding on your demon’s agenda, keep it
probably keep using the same means of interaction — and simple. It wants a certain object, a certain person dead
the same lies told about their true nature — because a or a certain government instated. The ultimate goal
hunter might finally resist if told the truth. The choice should be difficult to reach, but not impossible. This
depends on how the corrupter thinks the hunter will goal should also be fairly compatible with the hunter’s
react to the truth. A pragmatic, debased extremist like own overriding goal so both can be pursued at the same
Rigger111 might take the revelation in stride, not car- time. A good example is John Coaler’s desire to kill
ing about his damnation. A more sensitive hunter like the hunters whom he feels abandoned him, which also
Oracle171 needs to be coddled and protected from the conveniently eliminates threats to his demonic master.
truth, or she might rebel against her corrupter. A devil possessing our disease-obsessed hunter might
However the demon presents itself and commu- assist her in destroying the plague pits of London —
nicates with its servant, it soon begins to push the mass graves from the time of the Black Plague. It’s just
hunter into following its agenda and working toward a happy coincidence that the pits are the hiding place
its goals. The terms of the relationship are simple. of the demon’s infernal rival.
The demon will order, suggest or beg the hunter to Come up with a few acts that the demon needs
perform a task, simple or challenging. If the hunter the hunter to perform to reach the being’s goal, and
doesn’t cooperate, the demon withholds its aid and a few that are just for shits and giggles, such as killing
the hunter cannot manifest his level-five edge. Like ordinary people. The latter “small” atrocities serve a
any extremist with obsessions to pursue and goals to double purpose: They indulge the demon’s hatred of
fulfill on the hunt, the hunter still faces challenges on humanity and wear down the hunter’s resistance to the
his path. If he does what the demon asks, the corrupter possessor’s efforts to take control.
does its part to help the extremist realize his agenda.
It’s possible that a subtle demon could achieve Benefits
and maintain this relationship without the hunter Edge: The hunter gains a corrupt level-five edge.
even knowing he’s possessed or being used. The It can be selected from the list below, or the Storyteller
hunter might simply feel urges or impulses to commit can design an edge suitable for your character. The

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choice of edge should reflect the character’s person- manage to expel the demon from his soul, he would still
ality and methods. It might have positive application be tainted until his dying day (and perhaps beyond).
if the hunter doesn’t know he’s possessed, or it could Revulsion: Contact with a demon is more than
have devastating effects if the imbued wallows in the any human soul can bear. Listening to the demon’s
pact he’s struck. Primary Virtue and creed have no voice or being subjected to its influence can leave a
bearing on which infernal edge a character may gain. hunter feeling nauseated and violated — or worse, can
Indeed, the Storyteller could decide to award a corrupt strengthen the darkness in the hunter’s soul. In any
extremist an appropriate level-five edge published in a scene in which your character interacts extensively
Hunter book, instead. Those powers are typically the with its demon possessor (accepting an order, asking
province of “independent” extremists, though. They’re it questions, taking its advice) or he uses his corrupt
essentially acquired by gaining strength from within edge, roll Willpower. The difficulty starts at 7, and may
the structure established by the Messengers, not from be higher depending on what terrible acts your hunter
without as infernal extremists gain it. performs. The Storyteller decides the final number. On
A corrupt hunter can manifest only one level-five a successful roll, your character manages to bear the
edge, and can never receive another. horror of the demon’s presence a little longer. On a
Patron: Your character gains the Patron Back- failed roll, he loses a point of Willpower. On a botch,
ground, rated 5, permanently. The demon constantly the hunter loses a permanent point of Willpower.
feeds him orders and information. If the character had Second Sight and Edges: Your character is no
dots in Patron before his possession, those are replaced longer connected to the Messengers. He no longer re-
with his new rating. The Messengers can no longer ceives their hints or visions to guide him on the hunt.
contact the hunter with their clues and mysteries. He He is still able to manifest the edges he had before
receives input from his corrupter alone, and it has its becoming corrupted, though. He can also activate
own style of contact, voice and agenda. A demon might second sight. When second sight is active, his demon
not reveal to a hunter that the person next to him on a is silenced and doesn’t know what the character thinks,
train is a zombie, but it may tell him that an intended sees or does at the time. The protection of the sight
quarry is talking on a cell phone at the next stop. The temporarily severs the corrupter’s link to the hunter’s
demon may communicate in visions, in an imitation soul. But if the hunter manifests his corrupt edge while
of the Heralds, in a conversational tone or in archaic second sight is active, the sight instantly ends and can
speech. It may give clear and more immediately useful be reactivated only after the edge’s duration is over.
information than the Messengers ever did — but only
Similarly, activating second sight while a demonic edge
a fool forgets that a demon has its own purpose and
is active instantly causes the edge to cease. In either
reasons for sharing (assuming an extremist even knows
case, you have to spend Conviction to reactivate the
he’s possessed).
terminated sight or power afterward. Apart from these
Drawbacks changes, your hunter’s second sight functions the same
Taint: Accepting the power of a corrupter separates way as it did prior to his fall.
an extremist from his fellow imbued — even more so Corruption: The greatest drawback to your hunter’s
than he was before. To other chosen, your character pact is, of course, the constant temptation to follow his
is no longer one of them. He is a monster himself. A demon’s advice, which eventually leads to his destruction.
corrupt hunter registers as “wrong” to second sight, His demon may never admit that it works to that end,
and observation edges such as Witness and Illuminate but isn’t that the classic point to all deals with the devil?
can indicate that he’s somehow tarnished or fallen. When your character’s permanent Willpower rating
Darkness may seem to be cast across him constantly. reaches zero (see “Revulsion,” above), he is possessed by
He might cast a shadow that has wings or an inhuman the demon permanently. His soul is destroyed.
shape. What’s more, the extremist is now subject to As your character’s internal struggle unfolds, does
edges that affect creatures. Hunters can, say, conceal he resign himself to damnation or struggle to retain
themselves from the extremist using Hide, or hold him what little of himself that remains? Does he strive
back using Ward. to stay clean, relying on the demon’s power only in
These are permanent changes and are enforced even times of extreme danger, and then punishes himself
if the extremist does not manifest his demonic edge afterward for his weakness? Or does he come to accept
at any given time. Even if the hunter could somehow his vulnerability, perhaps even reveling in the freedom

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to break the law and defy morality? Will your character Channel
become a monster or somehow save himself before his We all know the image of the classic “demon” — a
ultimate collapse? Such is the challenge of playing a nightmare monstrosity with claws and horns, wings and
corrupt hunter. scales. Through the power of his dark master, a corrupt
What happens to your character if and when he hunter can become such a creature, actually changing
loses his struggle is up to your Storyteller. He could shape for a short time to assume devil form.
become Storyteller property; an antagonist whom When transformed, the extremist is a horror to
other hunters may stalk and fight. He could become behold. Spikes burst from his scaled skin, inch-long
one of the irredeemable damned, playable as a foe in claws emerge from his fingertips, and bat-like wings
Demon: The Fallen. Or the infernal spirit occupying burst from his back. The hunter is deformed with little
your character’s body could be immersed in the reality semblance to humanity. He is a monster. The hunter
of being human and seek penance for his sins, becoming is also a killing machine — stronger and faster than
a playable Demon character. It all depends on where humanly possible, able to shred flesh with claws and
your chronicle is headed and what avenues your troupe fangs, and with skin like armor.
is interested in exploring. System: Spends four Conviction and roll your
Corrupt Edges character’s primary Virtue + Wits (difficulty 7).
If the roll succeeds, your hunter transforms into
Corrupt edges are even less like “normal” edges
a demonic creature. This is a real, physical trans-
than are divine ones. Corrupt edges are utterly alien,
formation that is obvious and terrifying to anyone
the product of a demon channeling its corrupt powers
in the vicinity. Clothes are ripped and torn, wings
through your hunter. These edges often have mon-
emerge, guns cannot be held in misshapen hands.
strous, bizarre effects. Corrupt edges have the following
Infernal form persists for a number of turns equal to
features in common: the successes you achieved on your roll, although it
• Like divine edges, the powers of darkness are not may be undone prematurely if the character chooses.
restricted by creed or Virtue. A hunter can manifest any After this time, the hunter reverts back to his nor-
single corrupt edge, as long as the creature inside him mal state. Channel can be used only once per scene
is capable of producing the effect. Edge rolls are always and requires a full action to complete; no multiple
based on your character’s primary Virtue and its 10 rating. actions are allowed when transforming.
• A corrupt edge can allow your hunter to perform The hunter receives the following benefits while
feats that most normal edges cannot — change shape, in demonic form.
raise the dead, warp reality and reach beyond the • The total successes you rolled are added as bonus
material world. It’s challenging to create subtle effects points to your character’s Physical Attributes. Each
with these powers, though. They’re sledgehammers, success used raises an Attribute by one point, to a max-
not scalpels. imum total of 7. You choose which Attributes are raised,
• Seeing a corrupt edge in action usually terrifies and they can be different every time your character uses
and confuses normal humans, as well as hunters un- this edge. If you get six successes on the roll, you might
protected by second sight. The mechanical result is the raise each Physical Attribute by two dots. If you get six
same as for the confusion caused by some monsters’ successes again on another occasion, you might improve
powers. Witnesses to corrupt edges are overcome with your character’s Dexterity by four and his Stamina by
fear, revulsion and brain-wracking horror. two, leaving his Strength unchanged.
• Like divine edges, corrupt edges are rarely selec- • Your character can soak both bashing and lethal
tive in their targets. While a normal edge might affect damage with his Stamina rating. If his Stamina has
only creatures, leaving hunters and mortals untouched, been improved by the change, he soaks damage using
a corrupt edge typically works on anyone or anything his new rating.
in the vicinity. • Your character’s claws and fangs are similar to
• Because of their versatility and alien nature, knives, doing Strength +2 lethal damage. Roll Dexterity
corrupt edges cost four Conviction to activate, rather + Brawl to hit with these weapons.
than two. • The spines growing from your character’s skin
The following are some possible corrupt edges. The damage anyone who touches him or attacks him un-
Storyteller can create a unique one for your character armed. Anyone hitting the hunter in this fashion takes
based on these examples. two dice of lethal damage.
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• Using his wings, your character can fly at a speed equal

to his normal running speed. If his Dexterity is improved by the
metamorphosis, recalculate his speed using his new rating.
While in demonic form, your hunter cannot speak or
communicate effectively. This is a killing shape, ill suited
for anything but destruction. If the hunter becomes
Incapacitated, the edge’s effects cease and he reverts
back to his normal form.
Enthrall
The hunter can influence the minds of
people and even monsters by using honeyed
words and impassioned speech. This isn’t
telepathy or mind control (not exactly).
The hunter becomes so charismatic in the
eyes of his audience that members would
do anything he asks. Under the influence
of Enthrall, people agree to create cults,
overthrow governments or even sacrifice
their loved ones at the hunter’s whim. Super-
natural creatures are slightly more resistant
to the edge.
System: The hunter addresses a target or
a group of targets. He has to speak for at least
a minute, so this power isn’t usable in com-
bat. A number of targets up to the hunter’s
Manipulation can be affected at one time.
If more people listen, the hunter decides
which are affected. Subjects must be in
your character’s physical presence; he
can’t be on TV or recorded.
Spend four Conviction and roll
your character’s primary Virtue + Manip-
ulation (difficulty 7). Targets resist with a
Willpower roll (difficulty 8 for humans and
hunters, 6 for monsters; one roll can be made
for all members of a group or the Storyteller
can roll for each subject individually, as he
chooses). If the subjects don’t get more successes
than you do, they consider your character a wise
and wonderful person who should be obeyed
or even worshipped.
The effects of the edge last indefinite-
ly (although your character can repeal
them completely at any time, at will).
Affected subjects continue to revere
the hunter while he is Incapacitated
and even after his death, raising him
to the status of a messiah who looks down
from Heaven upon his devoted
followers. Subjects may eventually

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overcome the effects of Enthrall if the hunter forces In the next turn, your hunter reappears some dis-
them to act against their nature or personal well-being. tance from his original position. Walls and obstacles
It’s up to the Storyteller to decide what actions might are meaningless. The character moves outside the real
cause a subject to rebel. Sacrificing one’s family, defy- world when using Transport. The only thing that could
ing religious beliefs or demonstrations of the hunter’s thwart your character’s travel is Suspend, the level-five
corrupt nature might all qualify. Wavering followers Redeemer edge (Hunter, p. 154), which blocks move-
get another chance to resist with a new Willpower roll, ment out of this level of reality.
and can add successes achieved to any rolled in previous The distance traveled depends on your roll — up to
efforts to escape. When accumulated successes finally 100 yards per success achieved. Your character hunter
exceed those you gained on your initial edge roll, the can “aim” for any destination he can see, instinctively
subject throws off Enthrall’s effects. Your character knowing how far the edge can reach when activating
cannot use this edge on a follower again until he or she it. It’s also possible for the hunter to appear at a desti-
breaks free, although it’s unlikely that many of them nation he can’t see as long as his demon mentor can
defy his will if he is careful not to push them too far. sense the location and guide the edge’s effects (which
The Storyteller may decide that particularly po- is a matter for the Storyteller to decide). There is no
tent or ancient monsters are particularly resistant to danger of reappearing within solid objects; your hunt-
Enthrall and make Willpower rolls against a difficulty er’s infernal guide makes sure of that. If he chooses,
lower than 6, or that they get one or more automatic your character can travel a shorter distance than your
successes on the roll. successes would indicate.
Hunters with active Conviction are unaffected by Moving through the tunnel’s alien space is a trau-
Enthrall, but can be brainwashed like any other normal matic and unsettling experience. The first use of the
person when their second sight is inactive. If a hunter edge in a scene calls for a Willpower roll as usual to
is captivated and later activates second sight, Enthrall’s test for “revulsion” by your character’s damnation (see
hold may be broken completely or the character may p. 111). Each subsequent use of the edge in the same
regain control only for the duration of a scene, after scene increases the difficulty of the Willpower roll
which the obedience is restored. The Storyteller decides by one. A hunter who relies heavily on his edge soon
if subsequent use of second sight can break Enthrall. crumbles under the strain of seeing that which humans
This edge can be used only once per scene. are not equipped to comprehend, and he rapidly falls
Transport to absolute corruption by his mentor.
For all the powers of the imbued, they are beings No other people, hunters or monsters can be brought
of this world, this reality. Some have seen hints that with your character when he travels.
there are worlds beyond, levels of existence invisible
to reality — but all they get are glimmers. A hunter
with Transport sees more than glimmers. He can reach
Independents
Not every extremist hears the whispers of divine
out and touch the fabric of a different space. Indeed,
he can tear it open and open a tunnel. or dark forces. And some who are tempted by these
entities manage to resist offers of power. For either kind
Invisible to the human eye, a doorway hangs open
of hunter, there is another way — their own.
for an instant, long enough for the character to slip
through before it closes behind him. In that alien At their core, the imbued are limited in capability.
space, time and distance do not mean much, and the Deliberate blocks were put into place to prevent them
hunter is bombarded with incomprehensible stimuli. from achieving the most powerful edges. But a few
Moving through a “tunnel” in that space, the hunter dedicated, deeply insane hunters unwittingly find that
exits out the other end — hundreds of yards from those boundaries are not impassable. With great effort
where he entered. and a dedication that no sane person could manage,
System: Spend four Conviction and roll your some extremist hunters transcend their limitations
character’s primary Virtue + Wits (difficulty 7). If the and reach the height of power — the level-five edges
roll succeeds, an invisible gateway opens for an instant of their creeds.
and envelops him. Hunters with active second sight Such might comes at a heavy, terrible price. The
see a brief glimpse of a jagged hole in space, filled with effort required to break through the barrier imposed On
roiling energy and clouds of black light. To every other High shatters a hunter’s already fractured personality.
witness, it’s as if your character simply disappears. Once she was a normal person. Over time, as her Virtues

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increased, she became increasing unstable. When she Now extrapolate that scenario to absurd propor-
obtains a level-five edge, however, your character barely tions — contending with monsters in a reality where
thinks or acts like a human being at all. Everything the supernatural exists — and you have the mindset
she is, every thought she has is dedicated wholly and of an extremist hunter. The character devotes his
solely by her personal worldview and overriding goal. life to his driving purpose, his great goal. It’s the
She can no longer control the madness that she has be-all and end-all of his existence. He brings insane
fought against for so long. And most of the time, she determination to his agenda; no stable person could
has no wish to. commit so completely.
An independent extremist is not an ordinary per- Maybe he’s so confident in his ability to reach his
son anymore, she’s a force of nature. While divine and goal that he sees an offer of aid as an insult. Perhaps
corrupt hunters undergo their own personality changes, it’s stubbornness; he’s not going to relinquish control
those shifts may not be as extreme or uncontrollable as to something else, no matter what the benefits. The
the ones suffered by so-called “independent” extremists
— hunters who attain level-five edges by their own Storyteller: One Master, Two Voices
force of will. You may be wondering what the difference is be-
Live Free or Die tween an independent and divine extremist. After all,
Some independent extremists are never approached both ultimately work for the Ministers, whether at a
by either corrupt or divine forces. Rather, they toil in distance or painfully close, and both receive their edges
isolation before breaking through to a new state. Perhaps and second sight from the same source. The difference
they work covertly throughout their imbued existence and may seem small, but it’s actually very important.
don’t draw any kind of attention to themselves. Maybe A divine character receives his power directly
they struggle so aggressively through their “careers” that from the Ministers. Another, greater personality
the cosmic forces intuitively sense the futility of trying occupies part of the hunter’s mind, directing and
to draft these imbued. These “untouched” extremists are advising him, using him for its own ends.
rare, though. Most would-be independents are approached By contrast, an independent extremist still obtains
from Above or Below at some point — and reject any her power through the “usual channels,” through the
offers of help or promises of power. mechanisms put into place by the Messengers when
What makes someone spurn all aid, choosing to all hunters are imbued. She continues to receive infor-
pursue her dream alone? Why would an extremist refuse mation from the Messengers, but it’s still oblique and
the bargains of both the divine and corrupt and doom cryptic. The independent hunter is not manipulated or
herself to a solitary struggle? Imagine you’ve dedicated directed by another force. She makes her own choices
yourself to a project (building a house, for argument’s based on her own deductions and insights. She finds
sake). You’ve designed the house yourself, drawing her own way to battle evil, on her own terms and by
up the plans and acquiring the permits. This house her own standards, however skewed they may be. It’s
means everything to you, and you’re prepared to pay even possible that the Ministers don’t know that an
for everything and work as hard as necessary to make it independent hunter has transcended her limitations.
all come together to your tastes. Perhaps you’ve had to They lend her power as they would any of their chosen
hire help at different times, but they’ve followed your and are unaware of how she uses it.
orders and worked to your specifications. To use a mundane parallel, think of the imbued
Now along comes a professional builder. She’s pre- as office employees. A divine hunter is given a great
pared to lend her efforts to build the house, giving you deal of power, but is constantly monitored and
labor, tools, materials and her experience at a reduced directed by his boss. The independent hunter rises
cost. There’s just one catch: She needs to revise the slowly through the rank and file to obtain similar
plans. She says you’ve made a good start, but that you powers, but doesn’t suffer the same degree of “mi-
need to adopt her vision — and she wants to change cro-management.” Her boss learns only what she
the design. reports, assuming she reports anything.
This is your dream house. This is the biggest, most Independent extremists are very different from
important thing in your life. Do you let someone else their divine equivalents, and there’s no guarantee
take control of it, even to a small degree? Is this going that the two have the same goals or that they even
to be your house or hers? recognize each other as allies any longer.

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hunter might not trust the motives of unidentifiable ments, she has changed and become more erratic. As
and perhaps alarmingly subtle or demanding forces, a reaction to the rigors and demands of the hunt, she
and he isn’t about to set his goal aside for someone (or casts aside her old life and is consumed by a desire to
something) else. fulfill an all-consuming mission (whatever it might
At its core, this determination to stay the course be). Now think about how your character reacts to the
and refuse all aid is a matter of identity. Devotion to events of the chronicle and this transition, and make
the crusade is the foremost part of the hunter’s per- the change in Nature at a point where it truly seems
sonality. To change that goal even a little, to cede like a logical step for your hunter.
control or even take external advice would be like Example: When she was first imbued, Carol McIntyre
denying one’s self. was a volunteer nurse who cared about her patients, but she
A hunter with devotion this strong might resist disguised her feelings behind a crusty, irritable exterior. In
the offers and temptations of a different or easier path. game terms, her Nature was Caregiver and her Demeanor
In doing so, he stands alone, and in his solitude, he was Curmudgeon. But that was a long time ago. As Carol
might find that his own strength matches that which draws closer to reaching her ultimate goal of destroying su-
he rejected. pernatural diseases, her personality changes to more closely
suit her dedication and purpose.
Breaking Through If Carol becomes an Autocrat, her focus might be
The following rules provide a system for attaining externalized into using others as assistants and tools. She
a level-five edge as an independent extremist, showing might create a cabal of doctors and disease sufferers,
the path from “mere” hunter to solitary giant. These ordering them to gather data from across the country.
rules were originally published in the Hunter Players As a Fanatic, Carol might be a “medical terrorist,”
Guide (p. 91) and are elaborated on here. raiding hospitals for records and supplies without care
Becoming for the consequences or the welfare of patients. Or she
Transcending the boundaries of hunter power is a could become a Perfectionist, fixating on eradicating any
process, not something that happens instantaneously. danger of infection or disease afflicting her. In the last
Although a level-five edge can manifest suddenly, it case, she adopts rituals and procedures that she believes
emerges only after the extremist goes through a number will prevent her coming into contact with disease or the
of personality changes. This process happens in the infected, giving her the sterile security she needs to fight
course of the chronicle, not during downtime, and contagion. Carol once cared about patients as people.
players who wish to obtain level-five edges for their Now they’re just specimens and disease carriers to be
characters must roleplay these changes. ignored or eradicated. But surprisingly, Carol’s allies
To qualify for a level-five edge, your hunter must find her easier to get along with now than she was be-
have a rating of 10 in her primary Virtue, and she must fore her behavior change. Now she’s too obsessed with
have a level-four edge in her creed path. disease to bother with the “emotional armor” of insults,
Personality: First, the hunter undergoes a major and too preoccupied with her objective to hide behind a
shift in both Nature and Demeanor as she foregoes bad temper any longer.
who she was and devotes herself solely to the hunt. The Some time should pass in your chronicle between
character’s Nature becomes one of Autocrat, Fanatic your character’s identity change and the manifestation of
or Perfectionist. Her Demeanor also changes to match a level-five edge. This shouldn’t just be downtime, but a
her Nature. At this stage, the hunter can no longer period in which you can demonstrate your character’s new
disguise her true self (or, indeed, understand why she personality. Ideally, a full story separates the Archetype
would want to). There’s no real correlation between change and the next step in the process.
a hunter’s creed or Virtue and her new Nature. The Willpower: After an appropriate amount of time is
change is dependent on the character as a person, not spent playing your transforming character, the hunter
on her edges or capabilities. may finally manifest her level-five edge. This emer-
If your character’s Nature was one of these three gence usually doesn’t happen during a period of calm.
Archetypes before attaining this height, it may remain It probably happens in a time of dire crisis, when your
so now and her Demeanor also changes, or she adopts character desperately needs to do something to survive
one of the other two Archetypes. It’s your call. or save her plans from complete disaster. Perhaps a
This change should not “just happen.” As your werewolf is about to disappear into thin air, carrying
hunter has grown in power and developed derange- the infected tissue sample. Or zombies are about to

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devour your character’s long-lost brother, and your anymore than, say, a hunter with a low Virtue rating
hunter is unarmed and too weak to fight. Or John and 5 Patron. Your character must still make her own
Coaler puts a gun to your character’s head and cocks sense of the intelligence that the Messengers impart,
the hammer. This is an important moment and should she is now simply more receptive to it and perhaps
not be glossed over. It’s as traumatic and life-changing victimized by it.
as the imbuing that first put your character on the Storytellers in search of ideas on how to portray
path to this moment. such high levels of Patron can find more advice and
Faced with disaster, the hunter makes a supreme, suggestions in Hunter Book: Hermit
impossible effort of will, tearing down spiritual Dedication: Your hunter becomes a living, breath-
barriers and seizing the power that the Ministers ing embodiment of her personal crusade. Virtually
sought to deny her. Mechanically, it’s a simple pro- nothing can sway her from her course. Her personality
cess: Your character’s permanent Willpower rating and dedication are so strong that they can barely be
drops by five. In roleplaying terms, it’s a lot more altered, even by supernatural means. Your character is
difficult — a supreme act of will, the disintegration protected from supernatural powers that would affect
of personality, a maelstrom of pain and effort that her mind, emotions and body at all times, just as if
no normal human could withstand. second sight was active. While she always receives
When your hunter’s Willpower rating is reduced, the protective elements of second sight, however,
she manifests a level-five edge along with a variety of she receives none of its sensory benefits. In order for
other benefits, and some major drawbacks. your hunter to see through illusions or to detect the
supernatural at work, you must still spend a point of
Benefits Conviction.
Edge: Your character manifests a single level-five
edge for her creed path. It could be from the Hunter Drawbacks
rulebook or from the appropriate creed sourcebook. Going it absolutely alone to gain amazing capabil-
The Storyteller could also create a unique edge using ities has its ramifications. Independent extremists pay
any of these printed ones as examples. A hunter cannot a high price for defying the Powers That Be.
obtain a level-five edge from any other creed path, even Virtues: When your hunter gains a level-five
if she has 10 in the appropriate Virtue and a level-four edge, her other Virtue ratings are frozen. You can no
edge from another path. (Say, a character has 10 Zeal longer increase your hunter’s other Virtues when she
and the level-four Judgment edge, and 10 Vision and gains 10 points of Conviction. Your character is the
the level-four Visionary edge. She’s a Judge, however, living embodiment of her primary Virtue. She can no
so can gain only the level-five Judgment power.) Fur- longer indulge in observing the others. If your hunter
thermore, a hunter can manifest only one level-five has unspent Virtue points gained previously, they can
edge. She can never obtain another. still be spent to gain new edges.
Patron: Your hunter receives the Patron Back- Disturbing Presence: After the imbuing, some
ground at a rating of 5. If she already had the Background, hunters wonder if they’re much different from the crea-
its rating increases to 5. With the barriers around her tures they face. Indeed, as the imbued pursue the cause,
soul shattered, your character is immersed in a con- they stray further and further from their former lives,
stant, high-volume stream of information and guidance delving deeper into madness. Evidence of inhumanity
from the Heralds. This is useful, because it aids her in is even stronger among independents who forego their
attaining her personal, solitary goal through messages, identities for the mission. Their very presence disturbs
sensory input and visions. But it’s also a terrible burden normal people, and other imbued. Different indepen-
and distraction, like having a bullhorn blaring incom- dents can manifest this manner in various ways. One
prehensible instructions in her ear. The hunter may may disregard ordinary people, fellow imbued and even
find herself confused and disoriented at times, and so “lowly” monsters altogether. Another may be utterly
bombarded with information that she can’t act. unable to observe social niceties and mores.
Understand that the input received from Above No matter how it manifests, this sense of oblivious-
through 5 Patron is like that any hunter would receive ness or inhumanity has a simple effect: It halves your
with such a Trait. Being an independent extremist sim- character’s Social dice pools (round all fractions down).
ply makes your hunter more receptive to the Heralds’ This penalty is incurred whenever your character inter-
information. It doesn’t put her at their beck and call acts with normal people and “lesser” imbued. The only

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ones unaffected by her behavior are supernatural crea- a given individual is an enemy or someone worthy of
tures, imbued with Virtue ratings of 7 or more, or hunters punishment and your character sets out to destroy the
of the Hermit or Wayward creeds. These individuals that target. A Zealot may focus on a corrupt detective who
are themselves removed from everyday comprehension sells drugs and guns to street gangs, but she’s just as likely
can be unperturbed by your extremist’s behavior. to decide that a pillar of the community, a man who was
Compulsion: Beyond the derangements your char- always kind to her, is actually a monstrous child-molesting
acter already suffers, an independent extremist’s mind degenerate who must be punished.
and perceptions are altered even further upon attaining
a level-five edge. Your hunter is now the embodiment
of her primary Virtue, and everything she sees and
Storyteller: The End of the Line
Once a hunter receives a level-five edge, she typ-
thinks is colored by that Trait. This personification of
ically begins the final act of her personal story. Little
the mission can sometimes cause your character to be
stands in the way of her reaching her personal goals.
seized by a compulsion that cannot be denied — an
And little may stop her from dying, burning out or
urge that might coincide with her personal crusade or
going completely insane in the process. The energy she
that could fly in the face of everything she wants to
wields can simply be too potent for the human body,
accomplish. Once per story, your hunter can be directed
mind and spirit to contain for long.
by the Storyteller to act or think in a certain way — and
this directive cannot be denied, not even by spending There is a simple rule that you can impose for
Willpower. Extremists are erratic, unpredictable and these extremists, if you choose — once a character
appallingly powerful. receives a level-five edge, she has only one story left to tell
before she leaves the chronicle. That limitation not only
Merciful imbued (Innocents, Martyrs and Redeem-
ers) can see monsters as deserving of forgiveness and reflects the last desperate efforts the character makes,
understanding. Such a hunter might use her power to and the stresses she imposes upon herself, but it also
protect a creature from harm — even a dyed-in-the-wool keeps what is an extremely powerful character from
monstrosity with no interest in anything but murder. The running amok in your game. A hunter of this magni-
hunter might not be able to explain why she preserves the tude allowed free reign in your chronicle could wreak
creature, or even bother to justify her actions to anyone. widespread destruction amongst the supernatural,
Once per story, the Storyteller can tell the player of a bestow unfathomable forgiveness upon monsters and
Merciful extremist that a creature has great potential and break their hold on humanity, or see the world through
must be spared, no matter what the cost. to an earth-shattering fate. Maybe that’s the kind of
end you want for such a monumental character, and
Hunters of the Vision creeds (Hermits, Visionaries
maybe it fits. But assuming that you want to hold onto
and Waywards) can believe they know the truth in all
some kind of recognizable setting in which to continue
circumstances. They might consider themselves the
storytelling, it’s recommended that a hunter with a
leaders of the imbued, destined to direct their fellow
level-five edge find her destiny in fairly short order.
hunters. Anyone who says otherwise might be deluded
or an enemy. Once per story, the Storyteller can tell Yes, a different, ongoing, world-changing chronicle
you that your character knows something with absolute is yours to create if you like, but it’s a challenge of
certainty, no matter how unlikely. This knowledge must your own making. Perhaps it’s best to ask the player
be acted upon despite any opposition or argument. Per- or troupe how they’d like events to progress, but not
haps he “realizes” that the true purpose of the imbued actually reveal what fate has in store for the character
is to destroy each other, leaving only the strongest to in question until it becomes cold reality.
ascend to Heaven and overthrow God. Or maybe he If you give one of these extremists one last story
decides that members of a particular ethnic group are to tell, it’s perhaps best to focus on her attempting
tainted by the supernatural and must be isolated for to fulfill her driving goal — that which may have
further study. arisen much earlier in her hunter career and has
Zealous extremists (Avengers, Defenders and Judg- pushed her to these heights (or depths). If she suc-
es) can be prone to wild acts of violence, without any ceeds in her quest and accomplishes her goal, her
apparent sign of provocation. These Zealots may pun- story may still be over. She might have nowhere
ish others for apparently minor or nonexistent crimes, left to go, nothing else that needs to be done. Now
whether the victim is a monster, a hunter or a normal she can rest, meet her maker, relinquish her body
person. Once per story, the Storyteller can decree that or burn out like a dying star.

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Storyteller: Alternative Routes Epic Stories

The potential for a divine, corrupt or indepen- An epic story pulls out all the stops and raises
dent extremist — one who develops a level-five the stakes of the chronicle, all the while keeping the
edge — is really cool and can make for some fun spotlight on the extremist and his last great push to-
Hunter stories. But while surviving long enough ward achieving his goal. This story may take multiple
to get a high Virtue rating is arduous enough, chapters (game sessions) to tell and require great effort
acquiring otherworldly power is a Herculean task. on all the hunters’ parts, but it has the promise of a
Your players might not be interested in taking their fantastic reward. The key to an epic story is to make
characters in that direction. According to the game it revolve around the last, most important milestone
rules, rising to the absolute height of power requires in the extremist’s quest.
that a hunter’s “career” follow a very precise route Let’s return to Carol McIntyre. Her final story best
on which he gains specific edges. He must follow focuses on her belief that diseases have a supernatural
his creed path and all of his primary Virtue points origin. The Storyteller decides to confront her with a
must be dedicated to that calling. The player of supernatural virus, what she believes is the source of
a Redeemer must invest all his character’s Mercy all monsters, and a threat that she can wipe out once
in Redemption and gain its edges, for example, and for all. Now to structure a lengthy, satisfying story
rather than spend any Mercy to gain Innocence on that premise.
or Martyrdom powers. “Straying” from the path Let’s suppose that a virulent disease spreads among
denies the character the greatest edges available the citizens where Carol and her allies live. This virus
to him — level four and now level five. resists treatment and some of its victims rise again as
What if, however, you want to tell stories about the walking dead. The first chapter of the story involves
characters with miraculous powers and none of the Carol and the hunters encountering zombies, realizing
players’ characters fit the bill? Players have spent a virus is involved, and tracking down the source — a
primary Virtue points in different creed paths. Or cult that worships death and deliberately infects people.
maybe following such a strict path to power seems too In the next chapter, the hunters learn that the cult is
restrictive. In that case, ignore the standing rule that a widespread and they track it across the country to find
character must have a level-four edge in his creed path its leader. He’s a U.S. senator possessed by a powerful
and a 10 primary Virtue rating to get a level-five edge. ghost, a creature that wants to infect the world. When
Maybe all he needs is a 10 Virtue rating, with a wide the hunters finally get past the senator’s followers, Carol
assortment of edges. It’s a 10 Virtue that imposes so can exorcise the ghost and destroy the virus — but she
many derangements on a hunter, after all. If his head gives up her life in doing so.
is just as messed up as a strict creed follower’s, why That’s an epic, satisfying story. It goes to amazing
can’t they both gain the same kinds of capabilities? heights with widespread repercussions and it leaves
So, feel free to invite characters to gain level the surviving hunters with new awareness. They’ve
five-edges (or impose such powers on hunters) after accomplished great things. It’ll be hard for them to
Virtues hit 10. Whether a hunter has four edges from go back to taking down “ordinary” shamblers in local
one creed path or an assortment from a variety of graveyards. But without Carol’s support, what more
paths may not matter to you. Telling cool stories is can they do? If nothing else, the survivors are left with
what matters, and allowing a wider array of imbued the encouraging knowledge that hunters can make a
to go the high road, to go the low road or to find difference in the world.
their own road allows for some great storytelling. Tragic Stories
Hunter is a horror game, and many horror
stories end badly. An extremist hunter is a luna-
Two general kinds of story are appropriate for tic. Some are the servants of supernatural powers.
this final chapter. An epic story pushes the chronicle There’s every possibility that in a hunter’s madness
to its limits and lets the character go out in a blaze and confusion, her quest takes a disastrous turn.
of glory. A tragic story allows the extremist to be She makes a horrific choice or decides that some
undone by the blindness imposed by her insanity, heinous action must be performed for the greater
emphasizing the horror of madness and the disastrous good. An extremist might lead a crusade against an
consequences of fanaticism. enemy that doesn’t really exist, or decide to destroy

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everyone in a small town because she believes them to an unimaginable end, will be satisfied with the
all to be corrupted by evil. Maybe there’s a kernel passing of his hunter. A chronicle with a rewarding
of truth to her assumption or belief, but her choice end may suit his character’s rise, and his creation
of solutions means horrible loss and suffering, and plays a central part in this final hunt. All the players
the extremist can’t see any alternatives. may slap you on the back and tell you what a blast
In a tragic story, the extremist’s quest ends badly. they had, and the player without a character may
As in an epic story, the plot comprises the finale of her quickly make preparations for a new one to introduce
crusade, but her efforts are misguided and little good into your game.
can come from her actions. There’s no guarantee that Some players find it hard to let go, though. They
Carol McIntyre is correct in her belief in supernatural may want to keep playing their powerful extremists,
diseases. What is certain is that she’s paranoid and no matter what, and could be irritated or upset if
unstable, and capable of doing anything to wipe the you suggest that such a character should be retired.
“contagion” from the Earth. That obsession can easily Fortunately, the very nature of an extremist helps
lead to a tragic story in which she attacks an undeserving you wrap up the hunter’s story. It’s almost impossible
target or causes widespread harm. for one of these people not to get in over his head
In this kind of finale, Carol’s allies might en- in a final story.
counter a ghoul who works by day in a local hospital. The following suggestions help determine the final
Carol seizes on the discovery as proof that the hos- fate of an extremist, hopefully in a satisfying way. It’s
pital is a source of supernatural viruses. The ghoul important that you don’t simply rule that a hunter
must have been developing plagues for his undead dies, or you don’t take control of the character out of
master in the hospital’s lab. Investigating, Carol the player’s hands. That’s no fun for anyone. Be fair
finds the hospital is full of sick people, as one would and let the player make the decisions — but don’t
expect. That tells her, however, that everyone in the let him ignore the uncontrollable pressures working
building is tainted, that the whole hospital must be on his character.
destroyed. When her uneasy allies try to make her Divine: The Ministers don’t care if their servant
see reason, she realizes they’ve been corrupted all dies in the course of her duties. They only care that
along and drives them away. Carol invades the hos- she gives her all and does their bidding in alleviating
pital, stalking and murdering patients and doctors. the supernatural threat that looms over the world.
Her former friends must bring her down before more The messages and visions they send motivate her to
defenseless people die. go further and further with her mission, without the
Tragic stories are tricky to run, especially when respites needed to heal or regain her wits. Add to
the primary character — the extremist — is likely to this the irresistible compulsion of the hunter’s core
be moved into the role of antagonist to other players’ derangement and the divine extremist has little left
characters. You might therefore propose such a climax to fulfill or offer but her one calling. In a final dra-
before actually going through with it to make sure the matic flourish, the limitless power of the Ministers
player and the other troupe members are comfortable might consume the extremist utterly, turning her into
with that kind of resolution. You can also moderate nothing but energy and ash.
absolute tragedy by allowing for small victories in Corrupt: The infernal constantly tries to weaken
a larger defeat. In the proposed story, Carol might and corrupt the demonic-possessed hunter, encouraging
discover that vampires are stealing from the hospital’s or forcing him to perform unspeakable acts. Once the
blood supply, which is why their ghoul worked there. hunter reaches the final scene of his story, he may be
Carol doesn’t achieve the grand, liberating victory she exhausted and low on Willpower. That’s when the
aspires for, but she does expose the blood’s theft before demon strikes, attempting to wipe away the hunter’s
her destruction. soul and possess him fully, gaining a body with which
For more advice on running tragic stories, read to have his way with the world. The hunter might get
“Storytelling Tragedy” in the Hunter Storytellers a Willpower roll to resist this absolute resignation, but
Handbook (p. 166). the demon keeps trying and it eventually will succeed.
Death and Endings Perhaps the hunter’s last hope is to activate his second
It’s quite possible that a player of an extremist, sight, shut out his possessor for a short while, and use
who has raised his character from humble beginnings that opportunity to end his own life to go out in quiet

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penance or in a blaze of glory. If he fails, the demon he grew from being a pragmatic lobbyist to a passionate
assumes his body — and probably becomes a major advocate of Islam for the African-American community.
enemy for remaining hunters in the chronicle. Such a His imbuing only energized him further. Nasir
character can be represented using the Demon: The soon became a leader and important voice for Atlan-
Fallen rules. ta’s imbued, giving his all to do what he increasingly
Independent: These hunters are at the mercy believed was Allah’s work. Through his connections
of their derangements, and they urge themselves to and planning, hunters in Atlanta gained access to
fulfill their goals perhaps more so than any other legal protection, coordination and resources. And if
extremists can. An independent hunter’s Willpower Nasir worked harder for African-American hunters
rating is pitifully low, leaving her with little ability than he did for ones of other races — well, that was
to restrain her mad impulses. On top of that, the justice. Someone had to go the extra mile for people
hunter suffers compulsions inspired by her primary like Tyrone Bellemy, a hunter imprisoned by a biased
Virtue that she cannot possibly resist. By the final legal system — a system corrupted and controlled by
scene of her story, the hunter may be controlled the supernatural. Nasir gave everything he had to the
completely by her ailments and impulses, pushing Muslim Federation and the imbued, and he began to
her into a final confrontation with the supernatural believe that success and a golden age were just around
that she’s unlikely to survive. And yet, that absolute the corner.
commitment defines her and gives her death — and That was before September 11th, 2001.
existence — meaning. Suddenly America became a lot less friendly toward
Muslims, whether black or Arabic. Ibrahim’s friends
Prominent Extremists
The following hunters started out like many imbued,
became suspicious strangers, his contacts became dis-
tant. Even the imbued, the hunters he had worked for
so tirelessly, kept him at arm’s length, always watching
terrified, confused and isolated. But when they proved
for signs of treachery.
to survive repeated encounters with inhuman things,
they gained power over the creatures and found solace Nasir refused to let the distrust and stress get to him
in pursuing personal quests against the supernatural. and threw himself further into his calling. He worked
They might have lost their former lives to the creatures around the clock to protect the local imbued — with
of the night, but they could make their mark upon precious little thanks — and to improve the perception
their oppressors. In time, however, the pressures and of Islam in the community. Soon the pressure and lack
demands of these quests took their toll and eroded of sleep began to take its toll, and Nasir’s mind frayed.
these hunters’ sanity. Yes, they won victories against He lashed out at other Federation members and ranted
the other side, but at what price? Now these imbued
linger on, continuing to pursue their agendas, but often
through a cloud of insanity, and with repercussions
for monsters, ordinary people and other hunters. As
Storyteller, you can introduce these characters to your
chronicle as hunters’ allies or enemies.
Ibrahim Nasir
Originally, the choice to become a Muslim was a
political decision, not a spiritual one for Ibrahim Nasir.
His work as an activist for African-American rights
was his passion, but he was just one man. Embracing
Islam, changing his name, joining the Muslim Federa-
tion — these things were practical, measured decisions.
Religion had nothing to do with them.
But even before his imbuing, Nasir began to realize
his decision was not as calculated as he had believed.
Islam spoke to something deep inside him — a desire for
faith and to be part of a greater community. Over time,

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about society’s vendetta against blacks and Muslims. pet for months and was forced to degrade himself for
People stopped returning his calls. her amusement.
Then Nasir began to dream about Nate Altman, And then Vassago rescued him.
a black man imprisoned for murder in Mississippi. When the monster crawled into his mind and
Encouraged by dreams telling him that Altman was made him an offer, Coaler didn’t hesitate. With the
important, Nasir grew obsessed with rescuing the man. demon’s assistance, he escaped Annabelle. He was
In the end, the hunter threw everything away — his free again — but in reality, he had just changed one
career, freedom and sanity — to free Altman. master for another.
In the aftermath of the breakout, with his life in Still carrying the emotional and mental scars of
ruins, Nasir believed The Prophet came to him in his torture — perhaps scars he’s carried throughout
a dream. He had been chosen to lead, and lead he his angry and frustrating life — Coaler wants nothing
must. Islam was under attack and needed a protector more than revenge. Revenge against the monsters, but
— someone to hold back the darkness that sought more importantly, against the imbued. He put his life
to snuff out the light of faith. Nasir awoke with a on the line time and again, and how did the fuckheads
burning purpose and the power to make people listen on hunter-net repay him? They left him to become a
and believe. vampire’s dog.
Nasir is still in hiding, hunted by the FBI for his Now Coaler roams the United States, living hand
part in Altman’s escape. He moves from safehouse to to mouth. Vassago — the demonic force he calls “Boss”
safehouse, hidden by Islamic radicals, and he preaches — directs him to find hunters and vampires, all in
his new gospel, his truth about the world. The evil force Coaler’s hopes that he will get to destroy vampires who
targeting Islam, he believes, is the same that has kept remind him of Annabelle, and to kill the hunter-net
people oppressed for centuries, the same breed that posters who betrayed him. In return, the Boss demands
runs the institutions that keep his people sick, broken Coaler’s services, fighting its enemies and protecting
and defeated. its interests. It also tries to force Coaler to perform
Soon, Nasir believes, his army will rise up against acts of pointless murder and atrocity, all the better
the darkness. They shall have the weapons, the will and to wear down his will so that Vassago can possess his
the power. And, he says, they shall have the blessing body permanently.
of the Creator. At first, Coaler didn’t have a problem with the
John Coaler, a.k.a. Rigger111 arrangement. He got his revenge, he killed monsters
and weak chumps alike, and it wasn’t like he cared
His whole life, no one ever did a fucking thing for
about the killings the Boss demanded. But slowly,
John Coaler. Not his family, not his string of employers,
and especially not the damn imbued.
As Rigger111, Coaler was a well-known — and
unpopular — poster to hunter-net. He spoke his
mind and didn’t give a shit about rules, etiquette
or manners. He knew none of that meant a damn
in real life, in a world haunted by monsters. He
finally crossed the line when he posted the names
and details of other hunters to the list, imbued who
“inconvenienced” him. Witness1 banned him from
the list, and Coaler lost contact with the wider im-
bued community.
At first, that suited him just fine. He didn’t want
or need those weak assholes, anyway. But on his own,
Coaler found himself no match for the monsters that
came for him. He bailed on the shitty job he was holding
down and tried to run, but Annabelle found him. A
vampire with a taste for novel atrocities, Annabelle took
control of Coaler’s will when he was weak and made
him her slave. Coaler was treated like the bloodsucker’s

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John has begun to rebel against his new master. Even a Mary Ellen threw away the life she used to have —
bullying bastard like him draws a line, and the demon her husband, job, lifestyle and sanity — and dedicated
keeps trying to push him over it. More importantly, herself to searching for her children. She relentlessly
Coaler slowly realizes that killing the imbued doesn’t pursued every lead, every clue, even those that existed
make him any happier. It doesn’t fill the emptiness only in her warped mind. The very fight against the
inside him. supernatural took second place to her obsession. Other
For now, Coaler continues to do the Boss’ bidding monsters didn’t really matter when her children were
and pursues his own vendetta, but each murder brings still out there.
him a little closer to defiance. If he’s lucky, that resis- Mary Ellen’s allies began to regard her as a dan-
tance might become a rebellion before Vassago devours gerous psychopath. She thought of other imbued as
his soul completely. fools trying to keep a lid on utter chaos. She also
Profile began to grow increasingly suspicious of the motives
Attributes: Strength (Large) 4, Dexterity 2, Stami- behind the imbuing and the true purposes of the
na (Tough) 4, Charisma 2, Manipulation 2, Appearance Messengers. If these beings truly wanted to fight evil,
2, Perception 3, Intelligence 2, Wits (Cunning) 4 why did they leave the chosen in the dark? Why
Abilities: Alertness 2, Brawl (Hay-makers) 4, didn’t they simply tell her where her children were
Computer 1, Crafts 2, Demolitions 1, Dodge 2, Drive 2, instead of orchestrating meaningless puppet shows?
Firearms 3, Intimidation (Bullying) 4, Might 3, Security The hunt and the Messengers were a lie, pointless
1, Stealth 1, Streetwise 3, Subterfuge 3, Survival 3 to a woman living in a world defined by three words
Backgrounds: Grace Under Pressure 3, Iron-Willed — find my children.
2, Patron 5, Steel Nerves 3 It took months of searching, months that
Edges: (Defense) Ward, Rejuvenate, Brand, pushed Mary Ellen further and further into the
Champion, Channel abyss, until she finally learned the truth. Her
children were alive, and she would never see
Vision: 1, Zeal: 10, Conviction: 5, Willpower: 5
them again. Her husband Michael, the father of
Derangements: Anti-social Personality Disorder, her children, had given them away to monsters,
Compulsive Aggressive, Manic-Depression, Post-Trau- to creatures that claimed a connection to them
matic Stress Disorder closer than hers. The man she once loved had
Mary Ellen Kramer destroyed her. Her children had never been hers.
A ragged, dirty, skinny woman travels America, They had always belonged to the darkness. And
following her own erratic impulses. From time to the Messengers had let it happen.
time, she connects with a group of imbued, helping
them fight supernatural evil. But she knows that such
dalliances are just a distraction, just the warm-up act,
and she occasionally tells those who will listen about
the real performance.
Mary Ellen knows the truth: The Messengers are
the enemy.
She didn’t always feel that way. Some days, she can
still remember when she was first imbued, when she was
still blind. Like a good puppet, she fought the monsters
infesting her community. She tilted at windmills and
had her share of little victories. Then one night she
came home to find a monster stealing her children — a
creature that tossed her aside like a rag doll.
When she came to in the hospital, her husband
Michael told her that their house had burned down
and that Ethan, Amber and Chloe were dead. But
that was unacceptable to Mary Ellen. Such a reality
could not be, and rather than believe it, she embraced
madness with open arms.

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Such a revelation should have destroyed Mary eyes, she whispers what she knows to be true — she
Ellen. Perhaps it did. Her mind shattered, but in her tells them to cut the strings.
madness she found a new subject for the revenge she Profile
sought: the Messengers. The unknown eyes in the Attributes: Strength 3, Dexterity 3, Stamina
sky that pulled strings and laughed while children (Tireless) 4, Charisma 3, Manipulation 2, Appearance
turned into shadows. In Mary Ellen’s madness, rage 2, Perception 3, Intelligence 3, Wits 3
burned inside her and she found a way to harness it, Abilities: Alertness 2, Athletics 3, Brawl 3, Dodge
to crack open the secrets of the Heralds and pull fire 2, Empathy 1, Endurance 3, Intuition 3, Melee 2, Per-
out of her very body. formance 1, Security 2, Stealth 3, Survival 2
Soon, that fire will consume her. Soon, but not Backgrounds: Contacts 3, Destiny 3, Patron 5
yet. Not while she still has a job to do. Mary Ellen no Edges: (Martyrdom) Demand, Witness; (Ven-
longer searches for the children that can never be hers. geance) Cleave, Trail, Smolder, Surge, Smite
Instead, she stokes the fire and works with other imbued Mercy: 3, Zeal: 10, Conviction: 8, Willpower: 3
in their puppet games. To those who will listen, who Derangements: Dissociation, Manic-Depression,
can see past her madness and the smoldering in her Obsessive/Compulsive, Schizophrenia

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