Chapter Seven: The First Hunt
The wind off Lake Michigan cut through Jeremy's jacket like a blade.
Chicago unfolded beneath the elevated tracks in layers of steel and shadow, neon lights bleeding into rain-slicked streets. It was nothing like Mystic Falls. Back home, danger hid behind white fences and friendly smiles. In Chicago, it breathed openly, prowling through alleyways and crowds alike.
John pulled the car to the curb and cut the engine.
"So," Jeremy said as he took in the city through the windshield, "you really have a vampire hunter organization here?"
John snorted softly as he stepped out. "Organization's too clean a word. It's more like a bounty network. Hunters take contracts—vampires, werewolves, even witches sometimes."
Jeremy followed him, shutting the door. "What if a hunter fails? If the vampire survives, won't they come looking for revenge? What if they target the hunters as a group?"
John leaned against the car, eyes sweeping the street before answering. "There's a treaty. Vampire factions and hunter circles don't move against each other as organizations. Individuals hunt individuals. Break that balance, and it turns into a war nobody survives."
Jeremy absorbed that. "So those missions about wiping out entire factions…?"
"Death wishes," John said flatly. "Individuals can accept them but it is a suicide mission. They get posted. Nobody smart accepts them."
Jeremy nodded. "And proof? How do you confirm a kill?"
"Pictures. Sometimes bodies," John replied. "Send it to whoever posted the job."
"And anyone can claim a mission?"
"You need registration to claim," John said as they started walking. "Posting doesn't require it."
"Why didn't you register me?"
John glanced at him. "You need two confirmed vampire kills first."
Jeremy exhaled slowly.
John stopped beneath the rumble of passing trains. "That's enough talking. Time to understand the city."
---
"Rule one," John said, adjusting his coat as they moved onto the sidewalk, "Chicago doesn't belong to us."
Jeremy looked around. Music thumped from clubs. Laughter spilled onto sidewalks. Cars streamed past like arteries pumping life—and blood—through the city.
"And it belongs to vampires?" Jeremy asked.
"Parts of it," John replied. "Enough that you assume every shadow is watching you."
They walked—not like tourists, not like hunters advertising themselves.
John's gaze never stopped moving, tracking reflections in windows, mirrors, puddles. Jeremy noticed it now—the constant vigilance, the tension that never left his uncle's shoulders.
"You feel it yet?" John asked quietly.
Jeremy swallowed. "Like eyes on my back."
John nodded. "Good. That means you're gonna survive."
---
They slipped into an alley beneath the 'L' tracks. The air smelled of rain and oil, the brick walls washed in sickly yellow light from a flickering streetlamp.
John handed Jeremy a rolled bundle. "Open it."
Jeremy did.
Wooden stakes, smooth and balanced. A compact crossbow. Glass capsules filled with vervain pellets.
"This isn't training gear," Jeremy said.
"No," John replied. "It's what keeps you breathing."
He stepped closer, voice dropping. "Chicago vampires hunt in groups. They erase mistakes. And if they catch a hunter learning?" He tapped Jeremy's chest. "They don't turn you. They bury you."
"Are we hunting now?" Jeremy asked confused.
"Yes"
Jeremy tightened his grip around a stake. "So where's our target?"
John nodded down the alley. "That one."
A man stood at the far end, phone in hand. Too still. No breath in the cold air.
Jeremy's system map already marked him as a vampire—but he said nothing.
"How do you know?" Jeremy asked.
"He hasn't blinked in thirty seconds."
The man looked up.
And smiled.
---
"Run," John said calmly.
Jeremy ran.
Footsteps exploded behind them, too fast, too light. They cut between dumpsters, splashing through puddles.
"Left!" John shouted.
Jeremy turned just as the vampire dropped from above.
John fired.
The bolt slammed into the creature's shoulder, spinning it back.
"Heart—now!"
Jeremy moved.
His hands shook, but memory took over—the angle, the drive, the force.
He lunged.
The stake pierced flesh.
The vampire froze mid-scream, its body hardening into stone.
Silence.
Jeremy staggered, staring at the petrified corpse.
"I—"
"Breathe," John snapped, gripping his shoulder.
Jeremy obeyed.
---
Another vampire dropped from a fire escape.
John struck first, driving his stake into its stomach—not killing it.
He looked at Jeremy.
Jeremy understood.
He stepped forward and finished it.
"That," John said, "is lesson two."
Jeremy wiped sweat from his face. "Which is?"
"Never assume there's only one."
John pulled out his phone and took pictures.
Sirens wailed.
They were already moving.
---
Minutes later, they stood on a rooftop overlooking the city.
Chicago stretched endlessly—alive, hostile, uncaring.
"I killed them," Jeremy said quietly.
"Yes," John replied.
Jeremy waited.
"And you didn't hesitate," John added.
That mattered.
"If you learn here," John continued, "Mystic Falls will never own you."
Jeremy nodded.
"Why didn't we burn the body?" Jeremy asked curious.
"The sun will finish it once it hits them" John replied calmly
"What about the humans? What if they see the body before sunrise and they call the
Police" Jeremy asked
"The police knows about the supernatural so they will keep quiet."
---
Daylight never truly reached Chicago.
Even at noon, shadows clung to alley mouths. Jeremy followed John through a warehouse district near the river.
"Day two," John said. "Surviving doesn't mean safe."
Jeremy hadn't slept. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw stone faces. He hadn't even have time to upgrade his stats.
"You killed a scout," John said. "Chicago doesn't have loners."
"So they'll come looking."
"They already are."
---
Across the street, three figures exited a club—too synchronized.
"The Northside Syndicate," John murmured. "Old blood."
"And the others?"
"Dock Runners. Violent."
"And who did we anger?"
"Both."
---
That night, it went wrong.
Four vampires came after them while they were hunting another vampire. One from above, another from behind tackling John. Two standing far away.
John went down.
Jeremy reacted.
He fired—Absolute Hit guiding the bolt. It hit the vampire in the chest but not deep enough,Not the heart. He tackled the other vampire into a wall.
"Heart," John rasped.
Jeremy struck.
Stone.
The one he shot lunged—young, terrified.
"Please—"
Jeremy hesitated.
Then he saw blood.
He finished it.
The remaining two fled.
Jeremy checked his map. Retreating—for now.
He collapsed, shaking.
"I crossed a line," he whispered.
John sat beside him. "There's no going back."
---
On a distant rooftop, the woman in red watched them disappear.
"So," she murmured, smiling, "John is back in the city."
Her smile sharpened.
"Send word." She said softly" The hunt begins."