Hunter's Legacy

Alexander

“She needs a hospital.”

“We can’t, exactly, take her to a hospital,”

“She could die!”

They had been driving for an hour and a half; and bickering for as long as well. Alexander wanted to make a trip to the hospital and get Camille and Natasha checked out; Natasha nixed that idea as soon as it left his lips, saying that she would be healed by the time that they arrived, and also saying no on Camille’s behalf.

“And she would say no, as well,” Natasha said, in a reasonable tone, “Besides, what would we tell them? The mere thought of demon possession doesn’t really go over well with you humans.”

Alexander tried not to take offense at the tone she used, keeping his eyes on the road as the rain beat down on the hood of Camille’s car and swept down the highway.

“We can say that she got mugged,” Alexander said, trying to think of the most logical way to go about this. But, that was the problem with this whole thing: there were inconsistencies with the story. If someone decided to investigate…well then, they were screwed.

“How would we pay for it?” Natasha asked with a raised eyebrow, “As you know, being a hunter isn’t exactly lucrative, and doesn’t exactly come with a severance package. The best thing to do is go to the Bunker and have Doc look at her.”

“But what if it’s more than he can fix?” Alexander asked again, his voice laced with worry. He and Camille butt heads all the time, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t care for her.

“We’ll just have to see, don’t we?” Natasha said. Alexander had nothing left to say, and the two lapsed into silence.

It wasn’t long before they heard groaning from the back seat. There was a slight squeak as Camille shifted on the leather.

“I think she’s waking up,” Natasha commented.

Alexander took half a second to look back, as Camille’s hand clenched the back of the front seat, and then she raised herself up.

“Why is he driving my car?” besides a grunt and a hiss of pain, those were the words that roughly left her mouth.

“I think she might be okay,” Natasha said, with a smirk.

“There might be internal bleeding,” Alexander shot back.

“I asked, why is he driving my car?” she asked again. If it were any other situation, Alexander would’ve laughed out loud at the fact that, even though she was beat up and bloody, Camille was still more concerned about why Alexander was the one driving.

“We were ambushed,” Natasha answered, before Alexander could even form a sentence, “Honestly, I don’t remember much after going up and paying for our meal.”

“Do we know who they were?” Camille asked, and Alexander could hear the strain in her voice, as though every word she spoke was causing her pain.

“They were demons, and they were after me,” he said, heaving a heavy sigh.

“Why would they be after you?” Camille hissed through clenched teeth.

“As if I know,” Alexander snapped, defensively, “In the diner, the waitress--the older lady--said that their master would be so happy to get his hands on me.” He, intentionally, left out the fact that, somehow, he had taken them all out at once.

“I wonder why,” Natasha said.

“How far from the bunker are, we?” Camille asked.

“About half an hour,” Alexander replied.

“Drive faster,” she demanded. Alexander complied, and stepped on the gas.

Camille

“Ugh!” I groaned, as the cracking of my bones being realigned echoed throughout the infirmary. Turns out I just had a few broken ribs, a broken nose, cut lip--which would probably turn into a fat lip . No internal bleeding or damaged organs.

“We wouldn’t be doing this if you were more careful,” Doc said, condescendingly.

“Okay, so next time, I’ll ask the monsters to kick me lighter, not to tie my hands so tight,” I said, sarcastically.

“Even I know it would be too easy, if you could do that,” Doc replied, turning around. When he walked back to me, I noticed that he carried an ace bandage in one hand, “This is for your ribs. Would you like me to…” he trailed off and I caught sight of a faint color to his cheeks.

“No!” I said, quickly snatching the rolled-up bandage from his hand, “I’ve got this.” I swung my legs over the side of the metal bed and pushed myself up into a sitting position. The room around me spun and I put my hand on top of the bed, closing my eyes, tightly. When I opened them, the world had righted itself.

“What was that?” Doc asked, sitting on the bed and leaning towards me, taking out his small flashlight. He shined it in my eyes, and hummed to himself, “It seems as though you have a slight concussion.”

“And you didn’t catch that,” I said, sarcastically.

“Is she going to be okay?” Alexander asked.

“I’ll be fine,” I answered, before Doc could open his mouth.

“I think we should keep her for observation,” Doc said, looking at Alexander and completely ignoring me.

“No!” I said, loudly, “I can just go to bed in my room.”

“She’s going to need to be watched, for…how long ago did this happen?” Doc asked.

“Hello! I’m right here, I can hear every freaking word, you’re saying,” I said, again, loudly. I had a feeling that they were just being obstinate and ignoring me, for kicks. “Screw this.” I stood up, hobbled past them, and out of the infirmary.

I was halfway down the hall before my ribs started protesting. I put one hand against my side and the other against the wall, as I took short breaths, moving at a slower pace. When I reached the end of the hall I stopped, turning and leaning my back against the wall. I closed my eyes, catching my breath, again.

“Are you okay?” I opened my eyes to see Natasha looking down at me, concern in her eyes.

“Do I look ok?” I growled. I hadn’t meant to snap, but I was in pain and that sounded like a stupid question, in my book. Natasha rolled her eyes and stuck her hand out; I grabbed it and she pulled me up, pulling my arm around her neck, and holding most of my weight, as she guided me back to my room.

My bed creaked as I sat on it; I hissed, keeping a hand on my side, as I laid back down.

“Did Doc give you something to take?” Natasha asked, with raised eyebrows.

“Probably,” I groaned, rolling over and trying to find a comfortable position, “Doc and Alexander started talking about me, and I left.”

“So, did he do his examination?” she asked.

“Yes, and it’s concluded that I have a busted up face, a couple of broken ribs, and a concussion,” I said, in a monotone.

“And let me guess, Doc said you should stay overnight, for observation, you said no, and that’s when he and Alexander started talking about you,” Natasha said, cocking a hip against the desk chair.

“Hit the nail on the head,” I said, and then I blew out a breath.

“What are your restrictions?” She asked, “I’m assuming that Doc gave you restrictions, considering that he does every time he stitches you up.”

“She has to be careful for the next little while; we have to watch her and make sure that she has no side effects from her concussion, and absolutely no combat practice until her ribs heal,” Alexander’s voice floated in, from the doorway that he was leaning against, “You forgot this, by the way.” He tossed the rolled-up ace bandage to me and I caught it.

“Thanks,” I said. Silence fell over the three of us.

“I guess I’ll see you later,” Alexander said, and then he slid his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, turned, and walked away.

“You know, you ought to be nicer to him,” Natasha said, walking over to me. I groaned, as she helped me lift my shirt up, exposing the black and blue bruises that were splotched along my skin, “I know you don’t like him--”

“I never said I didn’t like him,” I cut her off, as I held one end of the bandage and she proceeded to wrap the other end around the middle of my torso, “I just think that, at times, he can be annoying and petulant."

“You should be patient with him,” Natasha said, as she pulled the bandage a bit, making sure that it was tight, “He was thrown into the Hunting life as unceremoniously as the rest of us.”

“I know,” I sighed and then winced.

“He saved our lives tonight,” she said.

“I know that, too,” I replied, “I would just like to know how.”

“So would I,” Natasha responded.

Putting an arm over my bandaged ribs, I stood up and hobbled over to the door, grasping the frame when I reached it.

“Where are you going?” Natasha asked.

“To see Piper, I have some questions to ask her,” I said, taking a deep breath and wincing, again.

“You’re unbelievable,” she shook her head, “You just got your ribs broken, I just bandaged them, and you’re already up and moving.”

“And?” I asked. I guess I expected some lecture on how I needed to listen to Doc and rest, not be up and moving for, at least, a few days. But I heard none of that; I just saw her sigh.

“Okay, let’s go then,” she said.

“I’m not saying that you have to come with me,” I responded.

“I know, but I don’t want you and your stubborn ass making another trip down to Doc because you don’t want to do what you’re told,” she replied, as we walked out of my room.

The walk down to Piper’s office took a bit longer than it normally would, because I had to stop and catch my breath a few times.

“We could always go back,” Natasha suggested.

“No,” I said, adamantly, “I’m not dragging my ass all the way back to my room, just to make the same trip tomorrow. I have questions, and they can’t wait.” I stood up, as straight as I could, and I knocked on the wooden door, lightly, before pushing it open.

Instead of seeing Piper looking through files, which was the first thing that I usually saw when I opened the door, I saw a young woman putting files in one of the cabinets.

“The hell are you?” I asked. It wasn’t that I was trying to be rude, I didn’t know this woman and I didn’t have any idea as to why she was in Piper’s office when Piper, herself, was obviously absent. The part of my brain that said that this woman probably had a good reason to be there, had flown the coop.

“Hi, I’m Serena,” she said, walking over, with a bright smile and her hand outstretched.

“This is Camille, and I’m Natasha,” Natasha said, making introductions when I failed to.

“Nice to meet you,” Serena said, brightly, hugging the small stack of files that she had, to her chest.

“Where’s Piper?” I asked.

“She went to the library, she should be back any minute,” Serena responded, keeping her smile in place.

“Uh huh,” I said, as I sat down in one of the wooden chairs on the other side of Piper’s desk. Soon enough, just as Serena said, Piper walked through the door of her office, her arms full of books, which she set them on the edge of her desk.

“Hey guys,” she said, “Camille, shouldn’t you be resting? I heard that you have a broken rib or two.”

“Well, I have questions,” I said, resting my elbows on the armrests of the chair and putting the tips of my fingers together.

“It could’ve waited until you were rested enough to walk to the office without running out of breath,” Piper answered.

“That’s what I said,” Natasha threw in, from where she leaned against the wall.

“This can’t,” I said, and I winced as I shifted forward. I was about to start in, when I remembered that it wasn’t just the three of us in the room. I saw Piper’s eyes dart up.

“Serena, could you make sure that the kitchen’s fully stocked?” she asked. It was a menial task that any idiot could see that we wanted to talk in private; luckily no one had to ask twice, and the door closed, a minute later.

“First of all, who is that?” I asked, nodding towards the closed door.

“I needed some help, and Serena volunteered,” Piper shrugged.

“Is she another Hunter? I’ve never seen her, before,” I said.

“Contrary to whatever you believe, there are other Hunters in the Bunker,” Natasha said, smartly.

"Screw you, very much," I replied.

“We recruited her two weeks ago,” Piper said, cutting Natasha off as she was about to say something else, and going to the filing cabinet, opening it, and pulling out a thin manila folder, “We caught up with her, when she was hunting a werewolf outside Indiana. She was nearly killed in the process.” She handed the folder to me and I opened it.

Inside were a few snapshots, incident reports, case clippings, and the most recent photo of her, which looked as though it was from high school.

“How old is she?” I asked.

“Eighteen, she graduated high school last month,” Piper said, sadly.

“What’s her back story?” Natasha asked, sitting in the chair next to me and looking over my shoulder at the file.

“Her parents and little brother went on camping trip. Serena stayed behind; a couple of days later, she got a call from the police. Her parents and her brother had all been killed in their sleep,” Piper explained, and then I found the article about the “freak” bear attack.

“Why do they think it was a bear?” I asked, as I read over the article for a second time.

“The wounds, for one thing,” Piper said, “They were slashed across their chests, and the claw marks seem a bit small for a brown bear or a black bear.”

“Maybe it was a cub?” I said.

“That’s what I thought too, until I read that each person had a bruise on their opposite shoulder, like they were being forcefully held down,” Piper responded. That’s when I made it to the autopsy photos. There was a thick stack, but they were labeled so that they were separated into whose autopsy it was.

The father seemed to have the worst of it; slashed from chest to waist, and then the skin was nearly shredded off of his legs. The mother had bad wounds across her chest, back, and right side, as though she had been protecting her child, which, let’s face it, was what probably happened. I didn’t even look at the photos of the child; my stomach was already turning, and I didn’t need to see the fileted skin of a young child. But Piper was right: on both the front, left shoulders of the mother and father, there were purple bruises, like someone--or something--had pressed the heel of their hand into the skin, quite forcefully.

“Yeah, I don’t think a bear did this,” I stated the obvious, passing the folder to Natasha, so that she could get a better look, “They look as though whatever attacked them wasn’t going to stop, by any means.”

“That’s what Serena thought too,” Piper replied, “She did her homework, spent ten months tracking the thing, and came upon a pack of werewolves; The wolf that killed her family was a member of the pack, and she was able to kill him, she also managed to kill the pack, but it nearly cost her life.”

“So, you’ve got her doing clerical work?” I asked. It didn't make any sense to me why someone would make one monster kill and then call it quits; maybe I was just the odd-one-out.

“Yeah, because that’s what she asked to do. Serena didn’t want to be out in the field, and she didn’t feel safe being in the world, when she knows what lurks behind the shadows,” Piper responded.

There was my answer.

I knew, without a doubt, that it was the end of the conversation, “Anyway, can you tell me what happened tonight?”

“I went to pay for our meal, and, just as the waitress ran the card through, I was hit on the back of the head, and incapacitated,” Natasha started.

“And when she didn’t come out to the car, I went to go see what was going on. The front doors were locked, so I went in through a side door; I found the cook dead--like he had been dead for a few days--and then, just as I was about to take a shot, I was grabbed and dragged into the dining room,” I explained, “Natasha was chained up with silver chains and she had a stone between her teeth.”

“So, you were ambushed?” Piper asked.

“Apparently,” I sighed and winced at the pain that the simple movement brought to my mid section.

“Did they say anything? Like what they wanted?” Piper probed.

“They went on and on about Alexander and the fact that they wanted him,” I said.

“Did they say what they wanted him for?”

“No, all the waitress said was that he was a source of great power, and they wanted to see him at his full potential,” I explained.

“Now, I have to wonder what they mean,” Piper whispered. We fell silent for a second, and I could almost see the gears turning in her head, as she tried to make sense of what she had just heard. Finally, I couldn't wait any longer; the question I'd been dying to ask, since I came into consciousness, was burning a hole through me.

“I don’t know,” I shook my head, “Have you ever heard of a demon named Mazereck?”

“The name sounds familiar, but I’m not sure I recall it, significantly, why?” Piper asked, her eyes sliding to me.

“Because, right before I was knocked out, the waitress said, ‘Mazereck sends his regards’,” I reiterated. I could almost still smell the nasty sulfur smell that had emanated from the demon-possessed- waitress as she got in my face. The nasty smile that had curled over her lip as she said the words, right before I was plunged into darkness.

“I’m not sure,” Piper said, quietly. In all honesty, it sounded as though she was speaking more to herself than to me, “You might need to go down to the archives for something like that. Maybe another Hunter came across a demon named Mazereck, before. And, maybe we need to dig a little deeper into Alexander, and figure out what his story is.”

“Can I just ask, why didn’t this come up before we took him on as a charge?” I asked, curiously. Usually, Piper was really good about getting us all the information, she never let us go in without any idea of what we were getting into.

There is a first time for everything, though.

“All the info I got was that he was a kid that needed to be protected; my source didn’t elaborate,” Piper said, speaking, as she walked to the filing cabinet. She pulled out another manila folder and brought it over to her desk. Her lips were moving, as she silently read over whatever was inside the folder, “Alright, I have another task for you guys, if you’re up for it.” Piper looked pointedly at me.

“Yeah,” I said, quickly. Broken ribs or not, there was no way that I was staying in my room for an elongated period of time.

“Alright, you don’t have to go right away, but you guys are going to Ohio,” Piper said.

“What’s in Ohio?” Natasha asked.

“That’s where Alexander’s story begins.”