The alleyway was pitch-black, quiet and cold. A year ago I would have wanted to turn-tail and bolt, but I had learnt much since then; been through too much since then.
In my right hand I held my torch like a police officer, protectively and securely, ready to attack at the slightest sound or movement. I had grown accustomed to the way they moved, the way they attacked. The Shadows. They were quick and wouldn’t hesitate to kill me.
I had been on the run for six months now, never staying in one town for too long, never using my real name. I was Suzanne now. We all had new identities now. We had new bank accounts, new ID’s, new hair, new lives. I had dyed my hair dark, almost black. We couldn’t risk anyone recognising us from the news. We had been in the news a lot at first. We all had to make changes to our appearances. We stayed inside during the day to avoid a member of the public noticing us.
Somehow though, they always knew where I was, what I was doing, where I planned to go. I assumed they were into dark magic, a location spell… I didn’t care. All I knew was, they wanted me dead and I had to stop them.
My great-great-great-grandmother’s necklace swayed from my neck, reflecting the moonlight onto the walls of buildings and metal bins around me. It flickered left and right as I moved, like a beacon saying “Come and get me.”
I wasn’t sure if they were boys, or even men (they could be female for all I knew), but I didn’t care. I knew what they wanted from me, and I wasn’t prepared to hand it over to them.
I moved like a hungry cat stalking prey; my body pressed low to the ground, my footsteps light and slow, creeping forwards and ready to spring at any moment. I was on constant alert, my eyes always watching and my ears always listening. I had grown accustomed to their horrific smell, that murky and muddy stench.
Suddenly, a fox exploded from a nearby pile of rubbish. The light of my torch was immediately on it. I observed closely as it scampered away and I let myself relax. I proceeded onward still, waiting for them to emerge. I knew they would come. They always did, and I was ready.
A shuffle came from behind me, followed by that recognizable whiff of dirt. I span round with the speed of a lightning bolt, torch at the ready.
There was nothing there, but they were close and I could sense them. The hairs on the back of my neck were tingling wildly, as they always did in a situation like this – it was the only familiar feeling that had continuously followed me from home.
Out of nowhere, they grabbed me. I couldn’t see them, it was too dark, but there must have been two of them because both of my arms were paralyzed. I couldn’t move. My torch fell to the floor and I was stuck. I kicked out with my legs but it was no use. They had finally caught me. It was all over.
My real name was Ivy Taylor. The Demon Hunter, and this is my story.