Chapter 13 Kit
KIT
The summons came in the middle of the afternoon.
A message from Guild headquarters. Senior Hunter Grayson requests your presence. Immediate.
That was never a good sign.
The Guild’s upper floors always smelled the same. Old stone, burned sage, and something metallic underneath, like blood that had been cleaned up but never really gone.
The walls were lined with portraits of hunters long dead, all wearing that same grim, dutiful expression that said we did our job even if it killed us.
I wondered if one day they’d hang my face up there too. The thought made my stomach twist.
Grayson’s office was at the far end of the corridor, door cracked open just enough for the faint hum of conversation to spill through. I knocked once.
“Enter,” came his voice.
He was seated behind his desk, the kind of man who’d been born with a permanent scowl. Silver at his temples now, but his eyes were sharp, always watching. He didn’t waste time on pleasantries.
“Kit.” He gestured to the chair opposite. “Sit.”
I did, leaning back just enough to seem casual. It was an old habit. Look relaxed, act unbothered, never show the cracks.
Grayson folded his hands. “The Elders have been watching your recent assignments,” he said.
I raised an eyebrow. “Spying on me, you mean?”
He didn’t smile. “They’re impressed. You’ve completed every mission in the past month without incident. No damage reports. No civilian casualties.”
“Low-risk missions,” I said dryly. “Poltergeist hoaxes, haunted sheds. Even I can’t screw up a barn.”
“Even so.” His tone hardened. “You’ve been stable. Focused. For once.”
There was the sting. I’d been waiting for it.
He continued, “The Elders are considering reinstating you for proper assignments again. You’d be working alongside other senior hunters. You’d have access to higher-tier targets.”
I looked him dead in the eye. “No.”
His brows lifted. “Excuse me?”
“I said no,” I repeated, slower this time. “I’m fine where I am.”
“Fine,” Grayson echoed, voice clipped. “You were one of the youngest hunters ever cleared for field work. You’ve fought impressive monsters and you want to rot doing grunt jobs?”
I shrugged. “Less chance of dying,” I told him.
His eyes narrowed. “You don’t get to choose comfort, Kit. Not after what you’ve—” He caught himself before saying what you’ve cost us.
“I don’t have it anymore,” I said quietly. “The instinct. The edge. Whatever you want to call it. I’d only slow the others down.”
For a long moment, the only sound was the tick of the clock on the wall.
Grayson exhaled through his nose. “If that’s truly how you feel, I’ll report it to the Elders. But they won’t understand. They’ll think you’re wasting potential.”
“They already do,” I said.
He looked at me for a long time, eyes softer than I expected.
“You know,” Grayson said finally, “I’m disappointed.”
I almost laughed. “You and everyone else,” I told him.
“We worked together a few times,” Grayson reminded me. “You had something rare. I thought you’d make a difference.”
I didn’t answer. Because what could I say? I don’t care about anyone’s disappointment anymore. Not yours, not the Elders’, not even my own.
He dismissed me with a curt nod. I stood, gave the faintest salute, and walked out before the silence swallowed me whole.
By the time I stepped out of the Guild compound, dusk had fallen.
Normally, I’d head straight to the Black Dog, but lately the urge wasn’t there. The taste of alcohol didn’t fill the same hollow space it used to.
I passed by the entrance anyway. Music drifted out, something slow and grimy. A few hunters were laughing by the door, half-drunk, one of them nursing a bruised jaw.
The sight used to make me ache for that kind of oblivion. Tonight, I just kept walking. Instead, I found myself thinking about Simon.
The way his voice softened when he said my name. The way his eyes, too bright and too strange, still managed to look gentle when he smiled.
I’d spent years chasing monsters, cutting down anything that looked remotely unnatural. Now, the only thing that made my pulse steady was a vampire hiding in a crumbling house on the outskirts of town.
The irony wasn’t lost on me.
I shoved my hands in my pockets and made my way to the butcher’s. The bell above the door jingled as I entered, the sharp scent of raw meat flooding the air.
The guy behind the counter didn’t even flinch when I asked for a few containers of animal blood. Hunters came in for all kinds of strange requests. He probably assumed I was tracking a ghoul.
“Back in a sec,” he muttered, vanishing into the storage room.
While I waited, I caught sight of my reflection in the refrigerated glass. I looked tired. Hollow-eyed. The kind of man who didn’t know which side of the line he belonged to anymore.
The butcher returned, handed me the bag, and I paid without a word. On the walk to Simon’s house, the city fell away behind me, swallowed by trees and mist.
I took the long route. The forest trail was quiet except for the crunch of leaves underfoot and the occasional hoot of an owl.
I knew every twist of this path now. Could walk it blindfolded. Part of me wondered what the hell I was doing. Why I kept coming back. Because it felt right, whispered something traitorous inside me.
When the house came into view, my chest tightened. The old place looked almost peaceful tonight. Light flickering from the upstairs window, smoke curling lazily from the chimney.
He’d started keeping the fire lit again. That stupid, stubborn spark of humanity he clung to, it killed me and comforted me all at once.
I climbed the steps quietly, balancing the paper bag in one hand, and knocked.
The door opened almost immediately. Simon stood there, barefoot, shirt rumpled, eyes brighter than usual in the dim light. For a second, I forgot how to breathe.
“Hey,” he said softly, voice like velvet scraping over stone.
“Hey yourself.” I lifted the bag a little. “Got your dinner.”
A hint of color touched his cheeks. “You didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to,” I said. “Besides, the butcher’s starting to think I have a weird pet.”
That earned me a small laugh, the sound curling low in my stomach.
Simon stepped aside, letting me in. The warmth of the fire hit first, followed by that faint, almost electric scent that was uniquely him. Not quite human and not entirely monster, but something in between.
The world outside didn’t exist anymore. Not the Guild. Not Grayson. Not the disappointment gnawing at my chest. Just the two of us in that fragile quiet.
He took the bag, brushing his fingers against mine as he did. A spark leapt between us.
I swallowed. “Long day,” I muttered.
“Guild business?” Simon asked.
“Yeah.” I sank into the chair by the fire. “They offered me my old life back.”
He turned, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “And?”
“I told them no.”
A faint smile ghosted across his lips. “You really are terrible at following orders.”
“Guess so,” I answered.
He crouched in front of the fire, feeding it another log. The flames threw gold and red over his skin, softening every edge. My throat tightened.
“You know,” Simon said, glancing at me over his shoulder, “you could’ve said yes. Gone back to all that. Why didn’t you?”
I didn’t answer right away. Because how could I tell him the truth? That I’d stopped wanting the life that made sense the moment I met him.
“Didn’t feel right,” I said finally.
Simon studied me, eyes dark and unreadable. “You’ve changed, Kit.”
“You think so?” I asked him.
Silence stretched, heavy but not uncomfortable.
He rose to his feet, crossing to me. I looked up, and for a heartbeat, the air between us shifted, something quiet, dangerous, and inevitable.
I thought about all the things I shouldn’t want. About how fragile this happiness was, how temporary. But when he smiled, soft and uncertain, I found myself smiling back.
Maybe this wouldn’t last. Maybe the Guild would find out. Maybe his sire’s monsters would come again.
But tonight wasn’t about maybe. Tonight was about this. His warmth, his laughter, and the unspoken promise that for now, we still had time.
Even knowing how fleeting it was, I couldn’t bring myself to walk away.