The Hunted Read Online Free PDF

around five thousand inductees.
    None of it would have been necessary if it weren’t for one coven of vampires back in 1713 that persisted on plaguing a small village in central Romania.
    Too many people went missing, too many people wound up dead.
    Needless to say, the villagers were not about to take the assault lying down. They sought out information via the old texts, from campfire stories, and by travelling to other villages that were rife with the superstitions surrounding the practice of witchcraft.
    The dark arts banishment was sweeping across Europe at the time, encouraging the burning of innocents at the stake for any suspected acts of witchcraft. But for each of those people that were trialled and found guilty of legitimately practicing different forms of witchcraft ways, were found by the villagers to smuggle them to safety.
    In exchange for their freedom, the villagers asked to be trained in all manner of magical defence and attack. It came easily to some, but not to others; the villagers’ descendants later learned that magic was inherent, unlocked only if it was predisposed of by the blood.
    As the power of the villagers’ magic grew, so did the Vampires’ fear, and what resulted from that fear—the Vân â tors. The details of their creation were a little sketchy. The Protectors had never really been too forthcoming with the information they’d given me. Somewhere in the backs of their minds some probably thought I was always going to be the enemy and too much information would be dangerous.
    My adoptive parents and my adoptive brother were the closest thing to a loving family I had ever had and I owed them everything for taking me in. I didn’t really want to put them in an awkward position by asking too many questions because, if it weren’t for them, then I might have been destroyed at birth.
    Again, that was another area of my life that was a little sketchy.
    Each member of the IMI was more than a little reluctant to discuss my origins, and unrelenting questions had constantly burned at the back of my mind. I was hoping that the older and more resourceful I got, the more they would realise that putting off those vital answers would be more tiresome then just telling me the truth. I only wanted to know the reason that I existed in the first place, and just exactly who my real parents were.
    I shook my head and willed myself to concentrate harder. No time for reminiscing or game playing. There were some big bad wolves just around the corner of this container and no hunky woodsman with an axe to chop them all up.
    I stared at the metallic surface. The Vân â tors were still engrossed in their kill. I could quite easily see the both of them in the reflection of the knife.
    I peered closer, my eyes narrowing slightly as I tried to make out just exactly what it was that their bodies were slumped so possessively over.
    I clutched a hand to my mouth to prevent any sound from escaping and took another cursory glance at the image reflected in the blade. There was so much blood and torn flesh that it was almost impossible to decipher just exactly what the remains belonged to. I probably wouldn’t have recognised it as human at all if it hadn’t have been for the torn uniform, flash-light, and hat that was strewn across the ground to the left of the body. It was probably the night patrolman.
    My instincts kicked in and I weighed up all of my options, assessing the situation from every angle and trying to work out the best approach.
    From what I could tell by the way both of the wolves draped themselves across the carcass, one of them was higher up in the pack hierarchy than the other. The one on the left seemed to pick at the extremities as he fed, glancing back at the other one before he took another portion of flesh. The one on the right, however, draped his body across the carcass, claiming the bigger portion. The low growling in the back of his throat indicated that he didn’t appreciate the other wolf