The Hunter and the Vampire

The Hunter and the Vampire

By:  Hazel Lowell  Completed
Language: English
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Callie Evans was trained to kill vampires. Now she's falling in love with one. As her town falls prey to a series of supernatural attacks, Callie and her family of hunters must uncover the vampire hidden in their midst - before it's too late. Drawn into a love triangle and struggling with her own morality, Callie has to fight to find herself again.

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116 Chapters
To fight is an honour. My Dads had always told me that, but, as I slammed the stake into her heart, it didn’t feel like one. In the absence of my birth parents, I’d been brought up by Daddy and Papa – later Dad and Paps – and I’d been raised to be a warrior. A fighter. A hunter. There was shattered glass all around us, and I could see my own image fragmented all around me, all across the bloodstained oak floorboards.  The grim line of my lips was hard and tight, but otherwise emotionless. That was the first lesson I’d had to learn: don’t give anything away, not even for a second. She was flailing, now, her body wilting around the entry point of the stake. I shoved it harder, adding an exit point to her back, and she cried out, her mouth twisting into an ugly snarl. Supernatural creatures can’t feel pain – that was lesson number two. It was probably a lie
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“What the hell happened to you?” Harper cried, rushing over to help me sit down. “I’m fine,” I sighed, waving a lazy hand through the air. My eye stung, but it was a relief to be home.  “You don’t look fine, Cals,” Harper muttered, gnawing at his bottom lip anxiously. His dark brown skin had a strange pallor to it, as though the blood had disappeared from his face.  I settled closer to him on the sofa, running my fingers across his short, textured hair. His dark eyes watched me worriedly, darting between the sharp line of the cut and my tired gaze. “You’re sweet,” I murmured, letting my head sink against the warm expanse of his chest.  My cheek brushed against the tight knit of his worn jumper, and I smiled to myself. He’d worn this same jumper on our first date, saying that he wanted me to see him at his worst, st
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I pulled up next to my Dads’ car, a huge, industrial-looking black off-roader. My tiny Renault Clio looked pathetic next to it, with a fat dent on the front bumper and mud splattered up its wheel arches, but it did what I needed it to, and got me where I needed to be. The sun was just cresting the horizon and I slipped out into the frosty morning air. My toes were going numb in my trainers, and I bounced up and down on the spot as I searched for the two familiar figures I was sure would be down by the lake. I slid my tote bag onto my shoulder, shutting the door behind me as quietly as I could. The first glint of morning sun reflected off the window, burning orange against the cool blue light of the dawn. I would’ve preferred to be wearing a rucksack or a utility belt, at the very least, but with my shift at the diner starting in a few hours it was easier, for a basic patrol like this, to come prepared for wha
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Careful not to disturb the body, we swung into action. My Dad pulled out an on-the-go first aid kit from his thigh pouch, and my Paps checked for a pulse while I hovered above her mouth, listening for any signs of breathing. Her hair was wet, straggly, plastered to her sallow face. Her cheekbones stuck out, gaunt, and there were ugly, deep-set bruises filling her eye sockets. I didn’t have a second to feel anything for her: no pity, no sadness, no repulsion. I had a job to do, and, as we worked to revive her, I did feel a tiny swell of pride at our quick response, and at our flawless teamwork. I squashed it down as soon as it arose; there was no time to feel pride, not when there was a life on the line. Her lips were blue. She started to shudder, my Dad slamming his hands onto her chest behind me. Her head bounced, rolling onto one side, and my eyes narrowed in on a large bite mark scraped across her exposed neck. It was dark
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The back of my neck prickled as I strode across the car park. The faded neon sign flashed once, and then emitted a drawn-out buzzing sound before half of the letters lit up in full. Ella’s Diner was open for business. I’d started working here when I was sixteen, desperate to save up so that I could travel and see the world. I’d wanted to hunt then, too, with a vicious burning in my chest. My Dads had only just told me about the world they inhabited, back then, a world utterly different to the one I’d thought I’d grown up in. They’d told me old folk tales growing up, scary stories with harsh morals that I’d assumed they’d enjoyed as nothing more than whimsy. They’d told me everything I needed to know, even as a child, filtering the information down into something palatable for a seven year old. And then I’d learnt the truth. My sleepy hometown didn’t seem q
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I heard Grace gasp beside me, but I couldn’t draw my eyes away from him to check on her. The coffee jug felt too hard against my palm, and I realised distantly that I was gripping onto it with all my strength.“I don’t recognise you,” I said, a little playfully, something flirtatious slipping into my tone. I’d not heard that quality in my own voice in years, not since before I’d met Harper. “You aren’t from around here?” I asked.He laid down his paper, leaning forward and propping his head up on his hands. His face could have been chiselled from white marble, smooth and sleek beneath his tousled almost-black hair. I let my gaze wander up his face slowly, taking in the elegant, arrogant curve of his sensual upper lip, the hard, sharp lines of his jaw, the faint brush of stubble covering his cheeks and chin, and the perfectly straight line of his nose. But it was his eyes that made something deep within me tremble. They were bright blue at their centre, ringing his wide and open pupils
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“Hey, Cals, I’m in here,” Harper called. Steam pooled out of the open kitchen door, blasting heat and the smell of rosemary and butternut squash through to the hallway. It was a warm and comforting scent, hearty soup and freshly baked bread, and I felt the tension in my shoulders drop. I was home. “Hi,” I shouted back, shrugging off my coat and hanging it up next to his on the hook, black faux-leather next to a worn corduroy jacket with a sherpa lining. It felt so wonderfully ordinary, to come home to a hot meal after a day at work. “How was your day?” He yelled, over the sound of running water and something bubbling on the stove. I unlaced my converse and toed them off in the hallway, kicking them to the side of the doormat, and slipped through the house into the kitchen.  “It’s just improved drastically,” I grinned, shutting the door behind me, wary and w
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I smoothed down the front of my blouse. It was neat and crisp, freshly ironed, but I needed something to do with my hands. I tucked my necklace under my collar, only to pull it out again moments later. It wasn’t like me to feel this nervous, this pressured. Then again, I hadn’t been feeling much like myself lately at all.I was stood on the high street, dithering outside the coffee shop. Waypavers, the wooden sign creaked overhead, swinging blithely to-and-fro in the cold breeze. To meet here had been my suggestion – it was my favourite coffee shop, after all, it had made sense to recommend it – but now, standing by the doorway, peering in, I regretted saying we should meet here.The writhing pit my stomach churned again, its vigour increasing with each passing second. I was early, albeit not by much, and I was beginning to wonder if agreeing to meet Cyrus had been a good idea, after all.Then I heard quiet, confident footsteps behind me. I wanted to turn, to ogle, but I made myself fa
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I couldn’t help but feel worried about seeing Harper as we sat down together, tucked into a cosy nook at the far end of the coffee shop. There was a towering lamp beside us, casting strange shadows across Cyrus’s face. He’d carried our drinks over, and I got the feeling that he enjoyed playing the part of the gentleman. Whether he truly was or not was another question entirely, and one that I doubted I’d find the answer to today. “So, Callie,” he said, taking a small, careful sip from his white mug. His teeth chinked against the ceramic, and he winced before putting it back down. Then he turned the full force of his bright-blue gaze on me, and I felt a tremble in the pit of my stomach. He was handsome; it was undeniable, a fact. “Yes?” I squeaked, and berated myself for it immediately.  He smiled, and the fluttering in my core only increased. &ldqu
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“It doesn’t make any sense,” I said, cracking my knuckles. I needed something to do with my hands.  My Paps shrugged, and then gave me a friendly nudge with his elbow. “Think about it, Cals. She could’ve talked.” “So you think they just took her?” I frowned, digging the toe of my boot against the floorboards. We were gathered in one of our favourite meeting spots – the town hall. Most of the time we hired it for training sessions, under the guise of martial arts lessons or dance practice, but it was also a useful meeting place for important discussions. If it was something small, we’d squeeze into one of our houses, but Bethan’s disappearance called for something a little bigger. All of the Seafall District hunters were present, hovering around the edge of the room and waiting for the meeting to officially start. Beau, a lean blac
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