Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Garlic Cloves and Quicksilver ❯ The Lowdown ( Chapter 1 )

Intro

I stood in front of the mirror, willing my hair to grow as I stared at my own pale reflection in the glass. It had been brutally chopped off in a fight earlier that night, a claw coming a bit too close for comfort. It was a cool night, but then again, nights are always cold to a demon hunter like me.

 

Chapter One

I awoke with a jolt, the bright gleam of the sun shining through the lace of my curtains. Glancing at the clock, I rubbed my face, pushing away the tight clutches of sleep that still tried to cling to me, taunting me. 9 o'clock am. Had I really fallen asleep after last night's incident? I was battling a long lycan who thought himself way too big for his britches. He had swiped too close for comfort, shearing off my hair with little effort. As vain as it sounded, it did pain me, but not much in the physical sense. We had battled into the early hours of dawn before I managed to get my silver knife out, and slice his throat practically clean off. The event, if that's what you call it, tired me out so much that by the time I stumbled home it was 3 am. Six hours of sleep wasn't enough but it was the longest undisturbed sleep I'd had in ages. Being a demon hunter slash part time mercenary isn't easy. It doesn't make you many friends, and it doesn't make you popular, but it is fulfilling, and puts bread on the table. Go figure. Every one pays a price for something. The truth is, I don't know exactly what I am, but hey, I have some room to figure it out, I am only 19. Rolling myself out of bed usually is a great chore for me, and it was no different this morning. Groaning, I got out of bed, stiffer than a board, and shuffled off to the shower drawn by the though of being clean, and warm. Who doesn't like a hot shower? I got in shutting the shower curtain and turning on the hot water. If it wasn't scalding, I wasn't happy. I sighed in relief as the water lashed like hot flames over my head, burning me for a split second before dripping over my back and in turn, my butt before going down the drain. I always tend to wash first, quickly so as to leave me more time to just stand and bask in the heat of the shower before moving onto my hectic day. I did this, and stepped out of the tub clutching a towel to my freezing naked flesh as it attempted to adjust to the temperate outside of the warm sanctuary. I dried off, threw my towel in the hamper and walked back to my room. I lived alone, so why worry about be indecent? I slipped on a pair of black panties with lace around the edges, and a matching bra. Over top of that went my favorite blood red top, styled in the medieval fashion, with black criss cross laces in the front, a V-cut front and long angled sleeves. Black capris, knee high boots and a hooded cape completely my rather dark looking ensemble. I looked mysterious, and maybe even a bit badass…and I liked it. My traditional black eyeliner only heightened the effect of my outfit. I grabbed a few of my better knives, my claymore, and my staff and headed out the door, keys in my other hand. Now-a-days, it's a great idea to hide your weapons because most people, OK A LOT of people frown heavily upon them. So only my staff showed in my hand opposite the keys. I unlocked the door to my humble corolla, put my staff in the passenger seat, and pulled out of the community driveway at my apartment complex. Driving to work is always fun. Who doesn't want to drive in traffic at 7 o'clock in the morning with no coffee, screaming road raged drivers, the slow elderly taking a Sunday drive—every single day of the week while avoiding those who drove like bats out of hell. Fortunely, I made it in one piece again to the skirts of (name here-haha) where my work place stood. It was a brick building, about three stories high, and built in the 1930's. There was no denying it was old, and looked like it with its broken windows on the third abandoned floor, it's decaying walls and its smell. But, an office it was nonetheless. I parked out front, narrowly missing running over the glass of a broken beer bottle. Oh the joys of the city life, rolling heaps of trash, the sparkle of glass when the sun hits it just right. But I can't help it if I'm rather fond of it.