Dirty Blood by Heather Hildenbrand Page B

a
hand to wipe the dust from the cover and then wiping her hands on
her jeans.
    Dust bunnies flew in every direction, and tiny
particles danced in the light above our heads. The book was bound
in heavy leather and there was a symbol etched into it that I
didn’t recognize, even with the dust removed.
    “It contains the history of the Hunter race.” She
opened to a bookmarked page, revealing heavy cursive script.
“Hunters begin training usually around age five, just like you
would start grade school. It’s mostly informational at that point
and a lot of it comes from this book. I won’t bore you by going
through it page by page but you should read it in your spare time.
It will answer a lot of your questions about where you come from.”
She flipped through a few pages and I saw that it was broken down
into topics and categories and even had a few rudimentary pictures
portraying various weapons and fighting techniques.
    I scanned the pages for a few minutes, taking it all
in. “So, if I’d known what I was, I’d be carrying this thing around
instead of my World History book?”
    “Well, not this exact one. This one was a gift from a
good friend, years ago. It’s an original print. Few Hunter families
have an original print anymore.”
    “Are you sure you want to loan it out then?” I asked,
worried.
    “Yes, I’m sure.” She smiled at me reassuringly, and I
was struck again by how open and honest her expression was. It made
me trust her on a level I couldn’t really explain, but I decided to
go with my gut, mainly because it felt good to trust someone right
now.
    “Thank you,” I said. Then Fee’s first comment
suddenly dawned on me. “How do the parents know? That their kid is
a Hunter, I mean. You said they start training at five, but how do
the parents know?”
    Fee hesitated and there was something unreadable in
her usually open gaze. “Well, to answer your question simply, it’s
in the genes. Your gift is passed down in your blood, as it will be
in your children’s blood, also.”
    I blinked. “So, one of my parents was a Hunter?”
    “Yes.” She watched me with a look of understanding
and then just waited while I let that sink in.
    My thoughts were jumping back and forth. My first
thought was of my mother. She was the exact opposite of everything
I imagined a Hunter to be. (I got my slim, not exactly muscular
build from her.) She was the least violent person I’d ever met; she
didn’t even like fight scenes in movies, for goodness’ sake. Then I
thought of my dad. Maybe it was him. He’d died when I was so young;
there was no way I would’ve really known. And what if he’d kept it
from my mom, too. She might have no idea either. Which meant she
would never believe me if I told her now.
    “Just read through the book when you get a chance,
and we’ll talk more after that,” Fee said, finally.
    I nodded, still reeling. Fee started to rise from her
chair and that snapped me out of it. There was still so much more I
didn’t know. “Wait, I have another question,” I said. “What is the
point? I mean, why do Hunters train to fight or even exist for that
matter? What’s the purpose?”
    “Well, the quick version is this: Werewolves and
Hunters are enemies, and have been for centuries. There are many
legends as to how both races came to be, but no one knows for sure
anymore. What we do know is that Hunters are here to protect humans
from Werewolves. A lot of Werewolves aren’t … friendly to humans.
That’s when a Hunter steps in. They train to fight from the time
they are very young in order to perfect their speed and strength
because without training, and even with a Hunter’s added physical
attributes, it’s nearly impossible to win against an angry
Were.”
    “You mean like with me and Liliana,” I said.
    Fee nodded. “Yes, you were lucky to have survived.
Which is why Jack and I want to help you. Without training, you’re
an easy target.”
    “But I’ve never met any other