The Huntress Bloodlust (Pt2 )

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Chapter 14

My enemies raged like they had never done before. There was a lot of work for me to do and I did it with undisguised pleasure. The best thing about it was that I didn’t hesitate. I showed no sign of insecurity or fear. I didn’t even think of what this coldness said about me or what kind of person I had become. I simply didn’t care. Without taking a breather, I sent the monsters back to where they had come from.

Time just flew as I ran through the town, being after the next monster. It met its end on a deserted piece of land, in complete seclusion. Breathing heavily, I stood there and looked down at the dead thing. My breath turned into white clouds, which rose into the cool night air. As I stood there, looking at the ugly creature, the same fury and anger, which I had hidden from the Father, welled up again. My whole body started to tremble, as I tried to fight against the red wave, which was building up inside of me. It consisted of rage and hatred. I hated these monsters because they existed and made it necessary for me to be here. They were the reason why I hadn’t been allowed to keep my child. It was the rage I felt for the people, because they were depraved and kept making it worse. And I was furious at myself, because I had believed I could do anything about it. What a stupid thing to do! I had lost the fight.

The wave of anger rolled over me and I blew a fuse. I lifted my sword and thrusted it into the monster, lying on the ground. Again and again, I slashed it from top to toe and dismembered it until I reeled back with exhaustion and collapsed. Completely out of breath, I sat there and stared at the bloodbath I had caused. I burst into tears of despair, when I realized what I had done. It took me some time until I was able to go back to the church. A clean-up team wasn’t necessary. There was nothing left they could have taken away. I already had done the work.

Thirty minutes later, I stepped through the portal. Immediately, I saw the Father, who sat on a wooden bench, waiting for my return. When he heard me, he turned around, looking at me over his shoulder. As soon as he saw me his eyes widened. He leaped up, but didn’t approach me. Was he afraid of me? “I couldn’t blame him,” I thought. I wasn’t sure, but I thought I was providing a horrible sight. At least, I felt like that.

“What happened, Ada?” Father Michael asked.

“A fight,” I answered, evenly.

“Are you hurt?”


“Was it a vampire?”


“What was it?” My curt answers riled him. He sounded more impatient.

“A smallpox-monster.”

“Was it a hard fight?” he pressed me.

“Not really,” I replied.

His questions came to a sudden end and he stared at me. I saw him pondering. His looks turned from my face to my clothes and back again. After a while, the penny dropped. “What did you do?” You couldn’t miss the horror in his voice. He understood I had not just eliminated the monster but literally had gone berserk.

Embarrassed, I looked to the ground. Meanwhile, I had realized I was no better than the people, who I had described as bad recently. Even if I had felt some sort of relief when making mincemeat of the monster but I definitely had gone too far. I now knew that and I felt ashamed of myself. Especially as the disgusting blood and lots of other things stuck to me, which were now defiling the sanctified ground of Father Michael’s church. The longer the Father looked at me, the more it seemed to me as if I could literally feel his disappointment. I could no longer stand his anxious looks. I started to move so I could clean myself. As I walked past him, his eyes followed me. He let me go without saying a word.

I took a long shower and scrubbed my skin until it was a blazing red. But still I felt dirty. Also the new clothes, which smelled of peaches, couldn’t change anything about the way I felt. Carefully, not to come into contact with the monster’s remains, I put my ruined working clothes into a garbage bag and tied it. With a sigh, I let it fall to the ground and sat down on my bed. The knock on my bedroom door startled me. Father Michael didn’t wait for my permission to come in, but just opened the door. However, he didn’t enter the room and watched me from the doorframe.

I couldn’t find anger or sadness in his black eyes but infinite disappointment. And that was worse than anything else, much worse than any expressed reproach, even worse than the pain of a slap in the face. I looked to the ground and started to cry. I couldn’t do anything against it. I couldn’t stop. Convulsions shook my body. Weakly, I fell to the side and landed on my pillow. I buried my face in it as if by doing so I could hide from the Father and escape his clear disappointment, which was so hard for me to bear. He was the last person I had wanted to hurt by soiling what he had taught me. And what had happened tonight surely has never been part of his lessons. That’s not what he had taught me. It was all just my fault.

That’s why it surprised me even more, when I suddenly felt his hands on me, which were trying to make me look at him. I shook my head and tried to shake him off.

“Ada, please look at me,” he whispered.

“I can’t,” I muttered into my pillow, sobbing.

“Please, honey,” he said.

These words made me sit up straight. He had never called me honey before. Carefully, I turned my head to the side and looked at him. He smiled at me and opened his arms. Slowly, I sat up and thought about rushing into his arms. Secretly, I still waited for him to tell me off and criticize me. But instead of contempt he showed me understanding and even wanted to comfort me.

“How does he do that?” I wondered. How could he muster so much understanding for someone like me? I didn’t understand it, but he forgave me my despicable act.

With a sigh, I fell into his arms, leaning my cheek against his chest. To be close to him was just what I needed. His warmth flowed through me. His arms, which held me even tighter, gave me a sense of security. I did not know I had longed for his touch so much until I felt it. And that he offered it to me, after what had happened, filled me with endless gratitude.

We sat there for a long time. We didn’t say a word and I was glad about Father Michael not asking for the reason why. But I assumed his ancient knowledge of human nature or God-given abilities, whatever you’d like to call it, helped him to have a clue. Somehow, we secretly agreed we would no longer mention the incidents of that night.

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