LKH-AB: Happy Hunting Title: Happy Hunting Fandom: LKH: AB Spoilers: OB lkh_lashouts challenge: Kill Her Darlings Disclaimers: LKH owns the characters and world. The story is mine.
When I picked Peter up from the airport, he looked like any teenage boy travelling on his own for the first time: cocky, carefree, but with a hint of uncertainty. His chestnut hair, starting to curl at his collar, gleamed in the sunlight and an unwieldy duffel bag slumped at his feet. When he saw me pull up, his expression brightened considerably. 'Hey, Anita,' he smiled, offering his hand once he'd fastened his seatbelt.
I shook it, hoping I didn't seem standoffish: I hadn't fed the ardeur yet and I didn't want to molest a juvenile. 'So . . . Ted tells me you're quite the shot.'
'Edward,' he corrected. When I looked over at him, he shrugged. 'There's no more secrets. I know who he is and what he does. It doesn't matter. As long as he treats Mom and Becca and me well, that's what counts, right?' I nodded and returned my attention to the road. 'But yeah, I'm pretty good. Looking forward to more practice, though.'
'You'll like it at the cabin,' I assured him, leaving out the fact that it was technically on Pack land. If Edward found out I took his stepson hunting in Furryville, I'd never hear the end of it; he had enough problems with me fucking the monsters, let alone cohabiting with them.
'As long as there's stuff to shoot,' Peter replied, tilting his seat back, 'I'm happy anywhere.'
*
I looked over at my cell phone nervously. Micah was supposed to call me to arrange an ardeur-relief session, but so far, no word. Then, just as we got on the dirt road that led to the cabin, a sharp pop rang out and I screeched to a stop in a cloud of dark dust. 'There shouldn't be any other hunters. This is private land.'
'Felt like a tire blew out. I'll check,' Peter offered, jumping out before I could stop him. He walked around the car slowly; after he looked at the front driver's side tire, he rose with a grimace. 'Flat. I think we ran over a broken beer bottle or something, 'cause it looks like there's glass in it. Got a spare?' I started to unfasten my seatbelt, but he waved me back. 'I got it. Just pop the trunk.'
My men were slowly convincing me that chivalry could simply be good manners, not antiquated sexism, so I let Peter proceed. Besides, I didn't want to overexert myself and incite the ardeur when I had no one to sate it with. As I rolled down the window, I saw Peter set the old tire aside, cursing under his breath. 'What's wrong?'
He wiped his hands on his jeans and leaned in the window. 'Twenty grand.'
'What? There's no way a beer bottle could do that kind of damage to my car!'
'Twenty grand,' he repeated, dipping his hand down the back of his jacket and withdrawing a machete. 'They offered Edward a hundred, but he said he doesn't get out of bed for less than half a million anymore—so he suggested me, for a quarter of the price.' He pointed the silver blade at my eye and I stared back, utterly dumbfounded. 'He gets five thousand for the referral,' he added, stepping back slightly.
'Peter, don't—'
'Sorry, Anita. That's two years of college right there. Though I have to say, whoever's paying for this clearly overestimated you. I hope all my jobs won't be this easy, or I'll get lazy.'
The last thing I saw was a streak of silver, followed by a jet of my blood, dark with death.
* *
After stuffing his trophy in his duffel bag, Peter dumped the remains of the body in a ditch and torched in, careful to ensure that it burned thoroughly. The last thing he needed was to be stalked by a horny zombie. Then he made sure the fire was completely out. He didn't want to piss off Smokey the Bear either.
The cell phone at his hip trilled, the display showing Edward's private number—the one even Anita didn't know. 'Hey, Dad.'
'How's the hunting?'
'Not nearly enough of a challenge.'
'Did you cut off her head?'
'Yes—'
'And use holy water to—'
'Yes—'
'And the blade was silver with—'
'YES! I followed your fucking rules to a T!' Peter slowed his breathing, sat in the driver's seat, and drove back up the dirt road. 'I killed that stupid wereleopard so he couldn't call her. I strangled the stripper with his own hair. I even had to kill a werewolf that wandered in. But what's the deal? These people are fucking morons!'
'Be patient, Peter. You have to work your way up, like I did.'