Hunter Age Novels & Stories

“Of course, I don’t. And Dad told me not to talk to strangers.” “I’m not a stranger, Hunter. I’m your friend.” I smiled, “My name is Blue.” “That’s a strange name. How old are you?” “I’m one eighty-five. What about you?” Hunter was shocked to hear that, and it took him a while to recover. “You’d be my great-great-great-great grandma. I’m…I’m…well, five and a half.” “In human years, I must be around eighteen,” I explained. I don’t know why I was offended because he said I could be his grandmother. “I’m not that old.”

What in the ever loving hell was happening? Hunters were human damn it. At most, they lived to be a few years past hundred but by then they were nothing but skin and bones. Now, just like the damn seven sisters, Stravos has beaten mortality. He was now over two hundred years old and leader of the hunters now it appears.

I asked, and they shook their heads. "We need to find him. The vampires have been hit bad already. All the blood banks have been destroyed. We have been working double-time, hunting and killing vampires that cross the line and hunt humans for food. We can't keep it up because John Hunter is beginning to retaliate." Kevin Palm, another top hunter, complained. We agreed to find out where the hunters were hiding and if truly Giles was the one leading them. I had trouble believing this because the man was in his sixties by now, but we knew what that bloodline was capable of. Anything was possible.

They followed the old man to their room where a timer ticked down: one hour. Hunter finally let go of her hand and started pacing. "Mind telling me your name?" Chloe asked, breaking the silence. "What?" He stopped, glancing at her. She was pale, her light brown hair framing dark green eyes. Young, beautiful. "How old are you?" "Nineteen. Forever, I guess," she said with a nervous laugh. He let out a dry chuckle. "Hunter. He paused. I’ve got a reason to live." "What’s that?"

Akihiko was shocked on seeing the kid speak that way to the man in front of him and he says- “Kids aren’t supposed to talk to elders that way! Shame on you! And what kind of parent are you, letting your child talk like that?” They both start laughing on hearing him say that and the man says- “He isn’t my kid… He’s just a brat who works with me.” “Even though I look like this, in reality I am 25 years old. I’m just letting you know. “Oh, right. Before all of that, I had to introduce ourselves. We both are part of the Hunter community and we specialize in hunting creatures from stories.”

he grumbles as Pax and I exchange a look. “Hunter, you're 18. You still have plenty of time to find your mate … if anyone should be getting antsy, it’s grandpa Pax here,” I gesture as Pax flips me off. “I’m 8 years older than you, Jaden … I’d hardly say I’m past my prime,” he smooths his hands down his toned chest in emphasis.

"Calm down, man. What am I supposed to? He's fine. But he knows this. I'm just stating facts." He growled at me and I flagged him off, turning back around to Hugh. "Pay him no mind. He'll be alright." Hugh smirked. "Thank you for the compliment." I smiled. "I get confused with wolves and y'alls genes. You feel older, and you have this mature look about you, but I can never tell." He chuckled. "Yes, I am older. I'll be 52 this year." Sighed out. "Freaking wolf genes. I swear if I don't age like y'all, we fighting."

This woman had my face, my exact features. I looked up sharply. "That's impossible." The Hunter remained silent as my pulse continued to hammer. I looked back at the drawing, at the woman who looked exactly like me. A terrible realization crawled into my mind. My voice came out as barely a whisper. "How old is this?" For the first time since meeting him, the Hunter's expression seemed genuinely troubled. When he answered, his voice was quiet, "Approximately six hundred and twelve years."

This wasn’t my problem at hand but it was intriguing and I wanted to help the little man. “Can you talk your wolf? Like the little voice in your head?” I asked him. We should start by asking the wolf why he didn’t want to share his memories. “My wolf is dumb!” Hunter deadpanned. It made me laugh. “I doubt that, maybe you’d never tried.” Hunter looked down worriedly. “It’s either that or he’s fifty because that’s what he sounds like. An old man speaking to me, is what I hear.” My smile fell down. There was no way an eight year old's wolf was fifty or had a voice of a fifty?

Hunter is a friend of mine. We’ve known each other since high school and we went to the same college together and majored in the same field. But he’s not family. Nor is he part of my world, as much as he wants to be. Anytime he sees a glimpse, he goes wild with excitement. When we were in high school, I once showed him the gun my father had given me after my first kill. He grabbed it out of my hands, pulled the trigger, and almost shot a maid who happened to walk by. That was the last time I ever gave him a firearm. But to please him, from time to time, I let him in on the Mafia world just so he can stop constantly bugging me. So, I say, “Yes.” His eyes widen and he leans in, clearly wanting