The next class is the last one for the day—History of Hunters 101. I’m late because of staying behind to talk to Mentor Magnus, but the professor isn’t here. There aren’t too many seats available as this one is a mixed class with all kinds of students, not just witches.
I spy Logan, but he seems wrapped up in the girl next to him. Maybe she’s Synine, the lamia he has a crush on. Just in case I’m right, I opt to slide into one of the other empty seats.
A second later, Dalinda Ancientshield the elf sits next to me. She smiles but doesn't say anything. I don't mind. Sometimes, you don't have to talk a lot. Besides, sometimes, I feel as if I just reveal how ignorant I am about the magical world each time I open my mouth.
When the mentor finally arrives, I gape at him. He’s almost translucent, his skull and bones slightly visible through his flesh where his clothes aren’t hanging on him.
“Is he…” I swallow hard, hating how unnerved I am, but he looks so freaky.
“A ghost?” Dalinda nods.
“I am Blase,” the ghost says, his voice sounding as if from far away. “I am certain several of you are wondering why exactly a ghost would be teaching you all about the history of hunters, and there is a perfectly solid explanation for that. I may have died exactly fifteen hundred years ago, but all that means is that I have been on the Earth for fifteen hundred and eighteen years. I have witnessed the rise and fall of so many dynasties and countries, and I have witnessed the destruction of wars… and the might and tragedies caused by the evil paranormal entities we hunters aim to eliminate. Who is better to speak about the hunters than one who has watched them for such a long period of time?”
“I can’t imagine being on the earth for that long,” I murmur to Dalinda.
She shrugs.
“Do, ah, do elves live that long?” I ask.
“Unless killed, yes.”
I wince. “I bet elves kill the most evil paranormal beings by far.”
“More like the evil paranormal creatures tend to target the elves more than any other by far,” she mutters sadly.
“Oh,” I say faintly, unsure how to respond.
“Out of all of the different types of magical beings, elves are now the rarest,” she says, staring straight ahead. “Not all have as many as witches, vampires, and werewolves. Shifters abound, too. A lot of the others—elves, minotaurs, lamias, sirens, and so many others have been persecuted to the point of near extinction. As many teenagers from those groups come here. There isn't a separate school in the world for lamias or minotaurs, for example, not like there is for vampires and werewolves."
“I had no idea.”
“And ghosts, well, they can observe, but most can’t physically interact or touch anything on this plane. They’re between this world and the next.”
“The next? Meaning Heaven and Hell?”
Dalinda nods. "Angels and demons insist they're real places, and I don't see any reason to think they're both lying. Demons do tend to be evil, but even some of them aren't all bad. No one species is all evil or all good."
“So there’s no great beyond for elves to go to?”
“No. That’s a Hollywood construct.”
Without warning, Mentor Blase hovers in front of us. “Girls, am I boring you?”
“N-No,” I sputter.
“Then I suggest you start listening and stop talking. Two ears, one mouth and all that.”
Up close, he doesn’t smell at all, but I can see signs of age and wear and tear on his body and his bones. The ghost has been around for so very long, and time hasn’t been kind to him. There’s actually a crack down the side of his skull. Is that how he died? Or did he gain that after becoming a ghost? I know Dalinda said ghosts can’t interact with our world very much, but maybe our world can still interact with ghosts.
With a grunt, Mentor Blase turns aside and floats even higher into the air. “Humans have been capable of crimes including murder since humans first came into existence. Similarly, this is also the case for magical creatures. The very first evil paranormal creature… does anyone know who it was? Which creature?”
I, of course, have no idea. A demon? A grim reaper? Something else?
Logan and the lamia murmur back and forth, and then Logan says, “A zombie.”
“Yes, precisely. A zombie. Only the more evolved zombies maintain mental capabilities. The first zombies were mindless, murderous beings that killed anyone and anything, even other zombies. The second was a wendigo. Does anyone know anything about this being?”
“They like to eat flesh,” someone calls out.
"Indeed, they do." The mentor finally flies back toward the front of the classroom. "The wendigos smell like death. They look like death. If you think I am skin and bones, well, the wendigos truly are more skeletal than not. More often than not, their mouths are stained red from blood. A fully grown wendigo can consume over a dozen humans in a single day, every day. That is why we do our level best to kill them as young as possible."
“He doesn’t mean that we’ll be assigned to kill a baby wendigo, does he?” I whisper to Dalinda.
The elf shrugs and bites her lower lip.
That sounds barbaric, but then again, a dozen humans every day… That’s beyond excessive.
“The first siren to ever sing her song of sweet merciful death lured over one hundred paranormal hunters to their deaths before she was captured. Then, she managed to escape by using her silver tongue yet again despite precautions. She managed to slay another fifty before she was killed on the spot.”
I shudder. That sounds more like an execution, but surely the hunters had proof that she had been responsible for all of those deaths. I can hardly even think about how many had died at her hands, err, tongue.
And there were more. Unfortunately, an evil witch was what sparked the Salem witch trials, and a banshee possessing a man was the reason for the assassination of Abraham Lincoln.
My mind was swimming. Already this was far too much information for me to process, but the ghostly mentor kept on talking.
"The first hunter sought to kill the first paranormal killers—the zombies. That hunter was none other than Alene, who was the first ever paranormal being in the entire world. Some say that each kill stole a bit of her soul away, but what more could she do? The zombies were mindless and willing to kill anyone and everyone in their way, whether human or the crop of magical beings that the world was then producing. Each person a zombie kills, human or magical, all come back as more zombies, which greatly complicated matters. Killing them all proved a bit troublesome, but by then, with the rise of magical beings meant there were both good and evil ones, including the aforementioned wendigos."
I rub my forehead, trying to piece everything together from the previous class and this one. Leaning over toward Dalinda, I ask, “What about Alene’s son? Estus? Was he good or evil?”
The air around us grows cold, and goosebumps erupt on my skin. I glance up to see the mentor hovering near us again. Seriously? No one else is talking during his class?
“Care to share your fascinating conversation with the entire class? No? Do not worry. I heard everything. You asked about Alene’s son Estus, if he was good or evil. Yes, he flooded the Earth, but not everyone can control their powers from the start, and Estus, like his siblings, like his mother, were incredibly powerful, far more than most living magical beings.”
“So… he wasn’t evil?” I ask.
“No, he was not. He was one of the best hunters the world ever saw. Because of him, the world had been rid of zombies for a time… until some well-meaning necromancers attempted to use their powers, and it backfired. The magical art of necromancy is not easily mastered, and the chances of that magic cooperating is very small. As if nature understands this, most necromancers also possess a second degree of magic.”
Interesting. I find all of this so very fascinating.
“What determines what kind of magic a person has?” I ask. “What causes a magical person to be a witch or a vampire or any of them? Was a ghost a magical person who died under a spell to come back? Or—”
“I am glad you are so eager to learn,” Mentor Blase says dryly, “however, none of that has anything to do with hunters, which is the focus of this course, is it not?”
“Um, yes. I’m sorry.” I bite my lower lip but can’t help myself. “Why are you the mentor for this course? Were you one of the greatest hunters ever? Can a ghost hunt?”
The thin flap of skin covering his nose wavers slightly as if he would have flared his nostrils if he could have. “One does not have to be a hunter to be a mentor, to be a professor. One merely has to be learned. The thing is that this school very much wishes for you all to succeed. The rise in the number of evil paranormal creatures is astonishing and growing every day. We need more hunters. That said, not all of you will elevate to that rank despite our training. Why? Well, I will be frank. Your third year will not be easy, and some of you will die.”
I stiffen. No doubt they don’t include that tidbit in any brochures for the academy.
“Some of you will possess the necessary skills but lack the dedication and the drive. Those of you will transfer to one of the other magical academies out there, ones suited more for your kind.”
The more I’m learning about hunting and those we need to hunt… the more alarming and real this all seems. Learning how to ride and fly creatures… wielding weapons and becoming one with my fists, punches, and kicks… mastering whichever branch of magic I have within me just so I can bring down evil beings… it’s all so very terrifying. There has to be an academy for witches that only teaches you magic without the added layer of becoming a hunter.
“Some of you will find that your mind and temperament better suits you to turn around and give back to the academy by way of becoming a mentor or even increasing your level of learning enough to become a master in any one disciple. To answer your question, no, I was never a hunter. I was a student here with every intention of becoming one of the very best hunters ever. Instead, I was killed during my third year. I came back as a ghost because my work is not yet finished. Some ghosts are created through spells or even curses, but work unfulfilled can create ghosts as well. If I cannot be a hunter myself, I can help to train other potential hunters. Learning about previous hunters, why we need them, how they hunted, all of that can help prevent you from sharing my fate.”
With that, the bell rings, but no one moves. Mentor Blase blinks out of existence here, but the coldness remains.
The world has become far more interesting and fascinating since Logan the werewolf came to see me, but it’s also that much more dangerous and deadly.