1st Five Pages April Workshop - Palmer Rev 2

Name: Kyra Palmer
Genre: YA Urban Fantasy
Title: Hunting Legends

PITCH:

No one survives looking Azrielle Grave in the eye. The
sixteen-year-old heart-stopping assassin is a unique monster hybrid
able to shift between cockatrice and human form. With the supernatural
world in danger of extinction, she goes undercover in war-ravaged New
York to sabotage an elite squad of teenage monster hunters.

Seventeen-year-old Raid Ameen knows firsthand that winning the war
against monsters didn’t make mankind safe. Captain of his school’s
monster hunting squad, he’s a master at stalking the things that go
bump in the night. He already has his hands full keeping secrets from
his squad, but then the new girl arrives. Distracted from his
trigger-happy-life, he has no idea he’s falling hard for the girl of
his nightmares.

Azrielle’s directive: stop the rising body count. But when she uses
the captain’s attraction to her against him, it backfires as she
realizes her feelings for him aren’t pretend. Failure to finish her
task will mark her as a traitor and she’ll be executed. If Raid
discovers her secret, she’ll be in his crosshairs too. Azrielle must
complete her mission before everything falls apart and leave no
witnesses behind, even if putting a bullet in the captain’s heart
shatters her own.


FIRST FIVE PAGES:

Fastest way to a guy’s heart is a bullet between the third and fourth
rib. Knife works too, but it’s slower, messier, and requires close
range. I don’t need either to be lethal on sight.

The Venator squad, now dead on the ground in front of me, just learned
why. Their tactical gear and assassin steel made no difference.
Phantoms of their dying heartbeats echo inside me like a gnawing ache
in my chest. It leaves a bitter aftertaste in my mouth of blood and
ash. They didn’t go quietly. Fog hangs low like lost souls wandering
the deserted streets of the French Quarter ruins. Humans know better
than to hunt the supernatural in our own territory. The Dead Zone
originated here and belongs to Legends, “monsters” like me.

Valravns circle overhead, cawing, fifteen-foot raven wings casting
wraith-like shadows. Their skull faces gleam white in the moonlight,
eye sockets empty, beaks sharp enough to cut stone. The undead birds
won’t descend until the bodies are cold. I crouch beside the nearest
corpse and set off the distress signal clipped to the vest. A red
light blinks, the homing beacon activated. Now I won’t have to track
down the second squad, they’ll come to me.

Within ten minutes, I spot them creeping down the road toward my trap.
They’re dressed head-to-toe in black to blend with the dark like
predators, but my night vision goggles light them up like neon-green
prey. If they see me, they’re dead, which is my intention and my
orders.

“Final target sighted,” I whisper in my comm to my partner.

“Azrielle, wait to engage,” Knox says, smooth voice filtering through
the comm’s static. Even when he isn’t using his encantado charm,
there’s something about the way he speaks that compels a desire to
obey. Not sure if it’s an encantado thing or a Knox thing.

I crouch to wait behind the husk of a toppled red and yellow streetcar
at the intersection of Canal and Bourbon Street. Jagged metal curls
away from the vehicle’s side as if something clawed its way out.
Debris, grime, and overgrown foliage cover the evidence of violence
from ten years ago when the birthplace of jazz was silenced. When our
worlds bled together without warning and people realized the myths and
stories are true. When Legends became reality.

Humans say they won the “war” that followed. They merely survived
better, but we’re not extinct yet. I fight because I’ve never had any
other choice. But after tonight I’m out. This is my last mission. I
eliminate the two squads foolish enough to invade this forsaken
metropolis and my service debt—or rather my dead father’s—will be
fulfilled. Drop a few more bodies and I’m done. Free. No more Shade
and their self-righteous crusade of honorable intentions that lead
straight to the graveyard. Tomorrow I’ll fly far away where no one can
use me again. Preferably somewhere cold. Maybe northern Greenland. I
wish I could convince my partner to quit too.

The valravns drift lower.

Careful not to touch the streetcar, I stand up. Knox is taking too long.

“Can I move in?” I whisper through my comm. “The Venators are covering
ground fast. I need to do something before they go after the
valravns.”

“I’m not done yet,” he grunts, words choppy like he’s out of breath.

My fingers drum on my leg, knees bouncing. I can’t signal the valravns
to flee nor count on their help. They might even attack me if they
think I’m after their meat. Like many Legends, they don’t understand
the threat of humans and need Shade’s protection. Humans can work
together. They have armies, hospitals, and governments. Law and order.
We don’t. No one’s ever survived telling a dragon what to do.

The valravns hover closer, cawing softer. The Venators notice, raising
their guns higher.

“Knox, if I don’t intervene, they’ll start shooting.”

“So stall the Venators.” His smirk is audible.

“Seriously?” I hiss, so not amused. “If this is so you can flirt with
a nymph again—”

“I wish that were the problem.”

Concern drowns my irritation. “Do you need me?”

“No, hold your position. I found a rougarou who isn’t interested in leaving.”

“You found a what?”

He sighs as if I should know every one of the thousands of different
types of Legends. “A rougarou, they’re like werewolves. He keeps
growling at me. I don’t think he trusts my human form, but I can’t
shift here.” He pauses, tone darker. “He’s a toddler. Bet he was
bitten recently.”

And abandoned once his parents realized he wasn’t human anymore. My
teeth grind. I’m surprised he’s alive. Maybe they tried to kill him
and failed. Like my mother did to me.

“Can’t you charm him to follow you?” I edge out from my cover of the streetcar.

“Tried. He’s scared and starving. Instinct is overriding my control of
his mind. We can’t risk him smelling blood and getting drawn into the
fight. He won’t be able to resist the impulse.”

I hate playing decoy, but Knox needs time. “Get him to the patrol boat.”

“Edon. I’m calling him Edon.”

Of course Knox named him. Fists curled, I grit my teeth to restrain
myself from bringing up old arguments. Defending Legends is his core
identity. It’s noble, admirable, and stupid. He’ll die for it one day.
“Fine. Get Edon to safety. If you hear screaming, don’t worry, it’s
me.”

I switch on music through my other earpiece just loud enough to help
me detach. So I can pretend not to feel. Death is never peaceful.

The cawing stops. Time’s up.

Running across the street, I scream like I’m being chased and hurtle
over the low ledge of a blown out window display, hunker down, and
wait. The concrete floor is charred black save for the silhouettes of
four people. One is a child. I scoot away from the small handprint.
Boots pounding on asphalt warn me of the Venators’ approach. Two of
them with weapons pointed at me enter my field of view. Not the whole
squad like I wanted. I’ll have to make more noise to lure in the rest.

“Identify yourself,” one says. He smells of fresh blood that isn’t
human, which means there was a Legend nearby we failed to save. The
guilt smothers me worse than the humidity.

“Samantha Winchester,” I lie, standing slowly with my hands up.

“She’s young. High school unit?” says the other to his partner. With
their facial features obscured by helmets and masks, the pair look
identical.

“We’re too far out in the Dead Zone for that. What are you doing
here?” asks the first.

“I lost my sister, Deana,” I let my voice crack. “We got separated
hunting a cockatrice.”

“We’re on the move,” Knox says in my comm. “I’m carrying him. He’s
unconscious. Try not to spill any blood or he might wake.”

Good. Playing with the kill first is dangerous. I’d rather finish them quick.

The second makes the mistake of removing his mask and coming too
close. “If you saw a cockatrice, you’d be dead.” He gestures for me to
show my face.

“I’m immune.” I comply, remove my mask, and look straight at him.

Breath dies on his lips before he can react and pull the trigger. The
rifle clatters to the asphalt. He stills, eyes glazing over. His heart
stops mid-beat like a sucker punch to my chest as my gaze kills him.
The body hits the ground.