2. Happy Birthday

Chapter two

Happy Birthday

Katarina

D edicating your life to someone can be a beautiful thing.

When it's in the name of love, or romance, or whatever other mushy bullshit people feel.

Dedicating it to stalking, hunting, and one day killing a person... well, I still think it's beautiful, but maybe that's just me.

Now, when I say that my whole life has been dedicated to this purpose, I mean it. It's a job that has been passed down my family line for the past fifteen generations. Granted, it's not just one monster we hunt. We've all taken down our fair share of the creatures that go bump in the night in the name of protecting our human brethren. After all, you can't have your entire life and those of your descendants, based solely on chasing a proverbial ghost.

Do I believe the headless rider is still out there? Yes.

Do I believe they are an actual ghost? No.

To top it off, my father passed away two months ago, my mother died giving birth to me, and I have no siblings. Add in the fact that I am thirty-one today with no prospective mates in my sights and... well, I am the last of my line. Which means I have no choice. It all comes down to me.

No pressure or anything.

Scowling down at my map, I scrub my hands through my hair again, making the short white tufts stand on edge. Yes, white. The hair on my head is as pale as the hair on... well, the rest of my body, which only serves to accentuate my pale skin. And like most people who are blessed with albinism, my eyes are such a pale blue shade that they more resemble a light grey, with a menacing outline of red that I like to joke to my friends is my own bloodthirsty nature shining through.

You know... if I had friends.

Listen, I'm not trying to have a pity party here, but it's been months since I got laid, I'm running in circles with my search, and today is my birthday dammit. I just want something, anything, to go right for me today.

Sighing heavily, I flop back down into my oversized desk chair and sink into the little comfort it provides. Relaxing a little feels nice. Hmm.. maybe I should just practice some self-love and take the night off. It's not healthy to just never do anything for me, right? I could call that spa I like and maybe spend the day there. Oh, and maybe if that one cutie is working, we could come back to my place after and...

And what, Rina?

And what ?

My imagination sputters and stops. It feels like all month I have had no drive at all. I find myself getting the tiniest bit excited and then like a popped balloon, the feelings leave me feeling deflated. I'm only thirty-one, surely this isn't some female version of erectile dysfunction... right?

My brain begins to buzz and whirr as the panic attack rears its ugly head. I haven't had one since I was a teenager in boarding school, but I still remember what it feels like enough to know that's what this is. I just can't seem to remember what the fuck I am supposed to do about it.

Hold my breath?

Wait, no. That's not right.

Concentrated breaths. Yes. In and out.

My vision transitions from blurry chaos to slow pulsing scenes, and I feel myself starting to calm down.

Wow, if my anxiety is that high, maybe I really do need a me day, and what better time than my birthday, right? Still... I give the map the side-eye. I know it's pointless, but it's as if I just can't help myself. I snatch the dagger from my boot and give my finger a quick prick. A tiny bead of blood forms as I sheath my blade again and let the crimson drop splash silently onto the lines and angles that form various locations around my current city of residence. Just like every other time, nothing happens. With a quick wipe of a tissue, I clean the droplet and toss it in the trash, before heading to my bedroom to change into comfy clothes.

Dad and I moved around a lot my entire life. In fact, I am not even really certain where I was born. Regardless, when I was driving through this small town a few weeks ago, something pulled at me. It could have just been that the entire town seemed to embrace my favorite holiday with open arms and decked every street and alley with all of the decorations they possibly could, but something deep inside made me think it was more.

Shedding one of my many black leather one-piece suits—my traditional hunting garb that is usually accompanied by a cowl to conceal my face—I stand naked in my closet and contemplate my options. I could go for nice slacks and a blouse, make myself look all sophisticated, and head down to the spa. But my heart really isn't in it for all the flirting. Another option could be jeans and a tee, then head over to the movie theater. I could watch the new horror flick and pig out on buttery popcorn and sweets. But then that also means leaving the house, and really... I just want to become a vegetable.

Walking over to my tiny dresser, I pull out a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, then head out to the kitchen and snag a take-out menu from the drawer. Once my lo mein, pot stickers, and some spicy chicken something or other are ordered, I make a nest with my couch pillows and snag the remote. It doesn't take long before I am elbow deep in my favorite comfort foods and laughing my ass off as some dumb bitch on my big screen goes to check out the noise she heard from inside her house. Doesn't she know that is the number one thing you just don't do?

I stop with noodles halfway to my mouth and think. What would I do in her situation?

The actress screams again as a knife plunges into her half-exposed breasts.

Who am I kidding? I would definitely be the one stabbing.

I would never be dumb enough to get myself into that situation otherwise.