The Angel Carriers

Deep breaths.

Dad always says to slow my breathing before a chase. Well—the hunt, as he calls it. But that's beside the point.

Even with my brown jacket and the black hoodie pulled over my head, the cold breeze of the empty forest cuts right through me.

The night itself feels peaceful.

My job? Not so much.

The tree behind me offers little comfort, because I know what's about to happen.

I've been training for four years now. At nineteen, Dad finally decided I was ready for my first real hunt.

"Maximus!" My father's voice echoes from somewhere in the forest. God knows where.

"Go! It's loose! Fucking go!"

My eyes shift into their Lycan form—dark yellow, like always—and I take off at full speed.

People always think Lycans and Werewolves are the same thing.

They're not.

But we can run just as fast.

Even though it's early winter, dead leaves still cover the ground. If I don't move faster, my target will hear me coming.

Then I catch the scent.

Lycan senses definitely have their advantages.

The weirdest part is that my hair somehow stays perfectly in place while running this fast.

I can smell gasoline from the highway just beyond the forest.

Damn it.

If the target reaches civilians, this becomes a disaster.

"Hurry up!" Dad shouts again from somewhere behind me.

Great. How am I supposed to focus with him breathing down my neck?

I push harder, my speed increasing. The urge to drop to all fours creeps in, but I fight it.

Like Dad always says—we're not mindless beasts like werewolves.

We keep our humanity.

We don't transform into giant wolves every full moon either.

Which is a massive plus.

Finally, I see him.

My target.

About my height—maybe six-one.

While still running, I reach into the front zipper pocket of my coat, pull out a throwing knife, and launch it.

Bingo.

The scream confirms the hit.

The blade punches straight through the back of his knee.

"Ha! Thought you were getting away?" I say proudly as I approach him.

"You know who I am? I'm Maximus—the best hunter in this town, boi!"

Okay. I might have overdone that.

The Vampire collapses, clutching his knee. The blade sticks out through the front of it as blood pours onto the leaves.

Then he looks up.

Blood-red eyes.

Dad always says never feel sorry for them. Vampires are soulless.

Predators who see humans as nothing more than their next meal.

"You're a fucking idiot," the Vampire spits.

"You're just a child. We have eternal youth while you dogs rot away with age. You need food. Air. We only need the source of life."

"Yeah?" I laugh.

"And now I need a doctor because your logic is killing me over here."

Suddenly the Vampire lunges at me.

Which is impressive considering there's a knife through his knee.

Fast.

But not fast enough.

I slam my fist into his jaw and send him crashing back to the ground.

"You were saying?" I ask sarcastically.

Wait.

I'm supposed to question him first.

Right.

Before I can say anything, my father suddenly appears from behind a tree like a damn magician and grabs the Vampire by the throat.

"Hey Da—"

"Shut up!" he snaps.

He lifts the Vampire into the air with one hand.

Awkward.

"Fucking useless," Dad mutters.

Then he rips the Vampire's head clean off.

"Holy Elf burgers!" I shout.

The body turns to dust instantly.

Dad storms toward me.

He's six-four, but somehow he always feels bigger than that.

Like he fills the entire space around him. Long hair. Five-o'clock shadow. Always dressed like an angry biker.

"How many times have I told you," he growls, "when we're in the field you do not call me Dad. You call me Socrates. Just like I never call you Maxwell."

"You never call me Maxwell anyway."

"That's not the point."

He turns away, already irritated.

"You toyed with it. You didn't get straight to the hunt. You asked no questions. Why?"

"I was just about to—"

"Don't lie to me."

I sigh.

He's not going to listen anyway.

"Sorry."

"Sorry won't save you when the Angel Carriers assign you a real mission. You're better than this, Maximus. Act like it."

He starts walking away.

"I'll see you at home."

"Wait. We're not driving back together?"

"I don't reward failure."

I roll my eyes as he disappears into the trees.

Mom wouldn't have been this hard on me.

Even though I was only four when she died, I still remember

her.

Her smile.

Her scent.

Her warmth.

I lower my gaze as the memory washes over me.

Then something feels wrong.

I turn quickly and scan the forest.

It feels like someone is watching me.

"Socrates?" I call out, correcting myself.

"Are you doing some secret test or—"

I freeze.

A figure stands in the distance.

Definitely not human.

Half his hair is gray.

The other half black.

His skin is pale—almost gray.

Then I see his eyes.

Yellow around the edges.

Red in the middle.

And the center—where the pupil should be—is black.

But not round.

"What the hell..." I mutter.

"Hey!" I call out.

"You lost?"

No answer.

Just the wind moving through the trees.

And what the hell is he wearing?

Looks like some kind of bondage outfit.

Why is he—

Wait.

Why is he floating?

He's not floating toward me.

He's not floating away.

He's just... hovering.

Great.

Am I seeing a ghost?

And then—

He's gone.

Just gone.

"Hmph," I mutter. "Screw this. I'm out."

I turn around—

"What the hell!" I shout.

He's suddenly right in front of me.

I jump back.

"Hey! Back up!"

Why did I back up? That made it worse.

Up close, his eyes are even worse.

And his scent...

Death.

"Are you a ghost?" I ask cautiously.

He blinks once.

No answer.

Great.

I can't even attack him. Hunters only go after targets approved by the Angel Carriers.

"Look," I say, trying to keep my cool. "If you don't talk, you should probably leave. You're not freaking anyone out here."

Okay, that's a lie.

He's definitely freaking me out.

Then he smiles.

A huge, unsettling grin.

"My name is Hazard," he says softly.

"Soon... you'll be a hazard too."

"...What does that mean?"

He waves.

And vanishes.

I spin around searching for him.

Nothing.

"Damn..." I whisper before heading home.

Thirty minutes later.

I step inside my house and hang my jacket on the rack.

Nice place. Two-story house with a backyard.

Dad's probably out there.

But before I can get to the back door—

"Maxwell!" someone shouts.

Elf Dude sits at the kitchen table.

Yes, that's actually what he calls himself.

Crazier thing, he's the only one that calls me by my actual name.

"Maxwell! How did the training exercise go?"

"Uh... fine."

He narrows his eyes.

His ears are red.

Which means he's high.

"Maxwell, nothing is ever fine. It's either good or bad. I may be blonde, but I am no fool. I am a warrior!"

He draws his sword and starts swinging dramatically.

"Behold! I am Elf Dude! Warrior of warriors!"

"Okay, okay, quiet down," I say.

"Where's Dad?"

"Shhh, Maxwell. I am battling imaginary enemies. Socrates' location is irrelevant."

"Never mind," I sigh. "I know where he is."

Sure enough, Dad sits on the backyard steps staring at the grass.

"You should rest," he says without turning.

"Yeah... probably."

I sit beside him.

"Look, Dad... I'm trying. I know Mom had a reputation for being a top hunter. I get why you push me."

"It's more than that," he says quietly.

"You'll understand when you start taking missions."

"They actually have to give me missions first," I mutter.

He slowly looks at me.

"Maximus, do you think I work some normal forty-hour job? A grocery store? Customer service?"

Honestly, he'd get fired in a day.

"Everything we have—the house, the food, the weapons—comes from the Angel Carriers. Our job is to hunt their targets."

He gestures toward the house.

"If we fail, we lose everything. Including the last thing your mother left us. This home."

I hadn't thought of it that way.

"The Angel Carriers will give you a mission soon," he says.

"We can't let her down."

I nod.

"Yeah."

He stands.

"Now cheer the hell up. Tomorrow's Thanksgiving."

Then he walks inside.

Leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I won't let you down, Mom.

Ten minutes later.

I splash cold water on my face in my bathroom.

Relief.

People might think I'm rich with a house like this, but I'm not even allowed a cellphone.

Then again... who would I call?

I was homeschooled.

No friends.

My bed is calling me.

And I answer.

I drop onto the mattress.

Instant comfort.

My eyes grow heavy.

Sleep starts to pull me under.

Then suddenly—

I can't move.

My eyes snap open.

Hazard stands at the end of my bed.

Holding a knife.

"What—"

"Shhh."

He presses the blade against his lips.

"If you scream, I'll cut your throat, little Maxi-waxi."

Did he just call me that?

"Gonna kill me like a coward?"

"No," Hazard whispers.

"I've been waiting for the next Hunter. There are many people who need killing."

How does he know I'm a hunter?

"I don't work for you, creep."

He floats over the bed, hovering above me.

Our faces inches apart.

Those eyes.

"This town—Novaville—is not what it seems," he says softly.

"Do you want to know anything about your mother? Your father's secret? Why your Elf friend keeps visiting?"

A growl escapes my throat.

"What are you talking about?"

He smiles.

Then presses the knife against my neck.

Cold steel.

"You didn't answer the question," he whispers.

"Do you want answers? Answers the Angel Carriers hide from you?"

Then—

My door bursts open.

"Maximus! Who the hell are you talking to?"

Dad stands in the doorway.

Hazard is gone.

I can move again.

I sit up quickly.

Dad glares at me.

I'll tell him later.

After Thanksgiving.

"Sorry, Dad."

"Good," he says.

"Just masturbate quietly like a normal teenager."

He shuts the door.

And I'm left alone again.

Staring at the empty room.

Wondering one thing.

Who the hell is Hazard?