By the age of twenty-three, I thought maybe things would have settled down for me. Nope. There I was fighting a goat man in the middle of the night, in the woods, for stalking a couple of humans. Yes, I said goat man. Mythological creatures were real, and this guy was really creepy. You’d think he would be an embarrassment to the cryptid kind, but he was well over six feet tall and more beast than man. He towered over me and had an insanely muscular build with dark coarse hair that covered almost every inch of his body. His large horns protruded from his goatlike head, with which horns he’d tried several times to skewer me.

I jumped out of his path when he charged me once more, his clawed fingers outstretched. The goat man managed to catch my black T-shirt with his disgusting nails, shredding the material and catching part of my stomach. I glanced down. “Ouch! You bitch, you tore my favorite shirt!”

 I lunged at him and punched him in the snout. He let out a squeal and stumbled backward, gripping his wounded face. I took that moment of weakness and unsheathed my angel blade—which, in appearance, was more like a platinum ice pick than a dagger—and I stabbed him in his chest. The noise he let loose was ear-piercing. I pulled my blade from him and ran a few feet back to get away from the sound. The goat man’s body shook unnaturally. After a moment, he imploded, leaving no trace he was ever there.

I wiped the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand and put my angel blade safely back into its holster at my hip. That was the only thing I owned that was once my mother’s, who happened to be an angel. Unfortunately, she’d conceived me with a demon, which was frowned upon in Heaven and Hell. Go figure. I wasn’t allowed to stay with her after I was born, so she handed me over to a family of cryptid hunters who were not at all bothered by the fact that I had both angelic and demonic blood running through my veins.

I started weaving through the trees and headed back to my car. I didn’t need a flashlight to see in the dark. That made remaining undetected when I was out hunting easier. Aside from having enhanced night vision, and being faster than a human, there wasn’t much more I could do. Cryptids tended to stay put during their years of taunting and stalking the human race. I had to give some of them a little credit—not all cryptids were horrible, soul sucking creatures. Some were more benevolent and just wanted to be left alone. Like Bigfoot. He hid in the woods, avoiding the limelight, but unfortunately, he’d been caught on camera multiple times.

Now I’d never personally encountered bigfoot, but I happened to know others who had, and most would admit they didn’t wreak havoc on the weak unless disturbed. I’d traveled far and wide to hunt all types of creatures that were more troublesome and caused greater grief and fear. Since there were so few of us hunters left, some of us had to pick up the slack. The government assisted. They knew what we did. Everything was very hush-hush, and we received reimbursement for any travel and lodging expenses, as well as a decent paycheck.

We were sent to take care of the problematic creatures of this world before too many people went missing and word spread to the greater population. Sure, there were the normal fuzzy videos and pictures that showed them, but still, there were skeptics.

I stomped up the dirt-covered hill in my boots and reached my car, sliding into the driver's seat. I pulled up my damaged shirt to take a peek at my side where the goat man had gouged me. The wound was already healing, but it would probably take until at least tomorrow to completely close. I released my shirt and started my car.

I had just pulled onto the dark, empty road when my phone buzzed in the cup holder. I answered it, putting the call on speaker.

“What's up?” 

“Nova, where are you? You went MIA,” my adoptive mother replied.

“I got a heads-up on a cryptid and took care of it.”

“Okay, well, you could’ve taken your sister with you for backup.” Good thing I wasn’t face to face with my mom—the expression on my face would’ve spoken volumes.

Tiffany was a great sister, but not so great of a hunter. I could deal with hunting with my parents since they had years of experience, but I felt Tiff was a liability when she was with me. I didn’t voice that to my mom. Instead, I said, “I’ll tell her next time.” Telling her and inviting her were two different things. 

“All right. Well, let me know when you make it home.”

“I’ll text you when I get there.”

We hung up, and I drove a while longer to my little house and pulled into the driveway. Making my way to the front door, I heard a low rustling noise. I cocked my head to the side and listened.

“Nova.” A deep accented voice. I turned to see Adalrik, a garden gnome, standing between two bushes. I’d picked him up in Germany a few years before on a hunting trip. He’d been shunned by his fellow gnomes for some indiscretion he never wanted to talk about. Although his bushy beard was prominent on his small face, I’d given him children’s clothes that I altered to fit him better. He preferred to remain barefoot even though I’d given him several pairs of shoes.

“Hey, Rik, what’s going on?” I crouched down to get to his level.

“I was worried about you.”

“Worried? Why? You know I’m always in and out at all hours.”