Prologue

I am Cera of Cainan, daughter of Cathan; or at least I was, once.

A long time ago, that was the title I went by. Now I am simply his daughter. Cathan clearly had nothing to do with my conception. You can see as much in my eyes, that is, mine and my true fathers. My eyes are bluer than the sea I grew up next to, as are his. But in the thousand years since my birth, I have never been capable of detaching myself from being the possession of my master, be that Cathan or the man I now call father.

That wouldn't stop me trying, however.

Seattle, Washington. October 1995.

I climbed the fire escape, my pursuers closing in behind me. My heavy black boots slid along the thin metal rods of the ladders and stairs. Icy water slid down the back of my neck, beneath the collar of my jacket. My breath was burning in my chest, the chill of the air slicing through my lungs with each hastened breath. I picked up the pace, reaching the roof before them, and running.

I started flat out along the roof towards the far side, where I knew I could jump to another building. I heard their footsteps gathering around me hard and fast but I kept pushing on, I would get as far away from them as I could, outrun them if I could. If not, I'd have to fight them, and though I was strong, I would lose.

I was close to the edge of the roof now, I ran just that little bit harder and leaped, aiming for the top of a takeaway restaurant. I suddenly felt a pulling from beneath me. I looked down to see black smoke wrapping around my body and pulling down.

My body hit the ground with a heavy thud, my leathers and jeans protecting me from the worst of it. Before I could think I was surrounded by them. It was over.

I was dragged back to my father, in a mansion not far from the city, where he lived out his years far from hell, far from hells authority, rather. My hands were bound in heavy iron cuffs, like those used to bring slaves to America in my younger years. I smelt my immortal flesh burning beneath them and saw my blistering flesh smoke around them. I was marched into the grand hall, where my father sat on his throne, surrounded by beautiful people lounging on chaise longues, dressed in the most succulent attire from across the centuries. They lay amongst and on top of one another, a haze of smoke surrounding them as it always did. They became one graceful, barely moving organism made of bodies, bodies of people stolen by demons, their eyes glazed black, and dead.

"My daughter, so you have returned." He commented calmly, looking up from his pleasures which surrounded him at all times.

"My Lord." I spat beneath my breath, my eyes directed only at his feet, for I dare not look higher. He looked at my capturs and waved them away, motioning for my chains to be taken away. They did as told.

"Come close, daughter." I began to walk towards him, cautiously. He reached out and clenched his fist, my guts suddenly knotted and tightened as he wrenched me towards him across the hall. He dropped me at the bottom of the steps to his throne.

"You disobeyed me, again, Cera. No matter how I try you do not fail to disappoint me." He spat the words as I tried to gather myself from the ground. He calmed himself.

"My daughter... I love you. But I cannot be seen to favour you." His voice snarled "You must be punished!" He exclaimed. The eternal hum of music and conversation in the great hall dimmed instantly.

"You do not understand that when you do this you betray me! I who saved you, who gave you the greatest gift a father can give his daughter, immortality! You will learn your place." He paused and smacked his lips. "You disobey me so openly. I should have you sent to serve in hell." He looked about himself, dishevelled and conflicted, his lips reared in a snarl.

"Perhaps service is what you need, daughter. Something to fill your time." I had gotten to my knees before him, but the pressure he was construing on my body forbade me from rising farther. He released me. My body fell against the steps and I took in a sharp breath.

I choked and spluttered, my insides in shock from release, my body broken against the shimmering black granite of the steps. He stared at me for a few moments in silence, then looked to some of his advisors who guarded him on either side at the edges of the room, no more than blackened figures in my eyes. He looked back to me.

"You can solve a problem for me, daughter. You will go to Athens, to see the coven there. They have been ungoverned for too long and have grown reckless. You will meet with the witches and make your intentions clear. Anyone who steps out of line will face my judgement, by your hands. Our secret is our bond and these spell casters are making too much noise. Get them under control, that is your task. You go tonight."

"Witches? Filthy..." I spat in hatred of the inferior beings I was being ordered to control.

"I said you will go tonight! Or I will have you locked in a cage for the rest of your miserable, immortal life, or until you learn to know your place and obey me!" He gathered himself. "Now go. Do not return to me unless you have results. Should you stray from the path I have set you on you will be brought back to face the judgement of my elders. I will not intervene on your behalf this time, daughter. Be warned. They will beg for your head."

So this was my fate, to control the witches of Athens, Ohio. It went on to become my title, The Hunter they all called me, for that is what I did. I hunted any witch who stepped outside the rules of practice. The rules were simple; be quiet, don't get caught, no news stories. All deaths or incidents as a result of witchcraft must appear natural. No trace must ever be found. That was it. If they broke the rules then I came for them, I would execute them on my fathers behalf and every few years my father demanded I return to report my dealings in person, though he received a message from one of his henchmen every time I performed an execution. I thought this was how I would live forever. My attempts to escape stopped in the almost certain fear that he would always catch me and drag me to his side. My work gave me some level of freedom, though I was still under his thumb, at his mercy. He was not the merciful type.

What else can you expect of a prince of hell?