Malina paced back and forth nervously, glancing at the door to the apartment as she waited anxiously for her son to come home. Under normal circumstances, it would be foolish to worry about Mihail: he was a grown man whose NBA salary had paid for the apartment they now shared. He was over seven feet tall, and he was generally well-liked by the Angeleno public, barring a few maladjusted Clippers fans. Of course,  these were not normal circumstances: that became apparent after the Tremere assassin made an attempt on Mihail’s life.

Ever since the attack, Malina had taken off her normal job performing to ensure that their apartment remained warded against potential vampire attack. Any bloodsucker who entered the domicile would feel their powers begin to leave them. Here Mihail was safe, and while Malina wouldn’t try to confine her adult son to the house 24/7, she had requested that Mihail come home well before dark. [i]Am I being overbearing? Am I being the stereotypical overbearing immigrant mom?[/i] She poured a glass of wine from the old country, one which she had opened earlier that month to celebrate Mihail making the All-Rookie team. [i]No, these are vampires we are dealing with, the same ones that killed his father.[/i] She took a sip. [i]Damn these bloodsuckers, they are driving me to drink.[/i]

Malina’s eyes shot up as the door opened, and behind it, barefoot, was Mihail. He looked exhausted, slightly singed, and extremely agitated, but alive. Malina ran forth, at first appearing as though she was going to hug him. Instead, she took a different approach, her outstretched hands gesticulating angrily.

“Where have you been, mister?!” Malina proclaimed, berating her son in her native Vlax Romani language, “I have taken off work to ward this apartment, because I want to keep you safe, and you won’t even take the most basic measures to--”

Mihail tried to interject: “But mom--!”

“NO BUTS!” Malina spat back. She sent forth a deluge of telekinetic energy, causing the door to slam behind her son with a loud thud that startled him. “I can’t believe after I make this one simple request of you, for your own safety, to be home after dark, that you would--”

“MOM!” Mihail screamed this time, breaking through the frantic worried rant of his mother. “... Mom, they found me. The Baron’s people. They found me.”

Malina paused, looking at her singed, barefoot, panicked son. “... and they did this to you?!” She resumed her angry rant as abruptly as she had paused it: “Oh that bloodsoaked whore thinks she can get away with this, does she!? She thinks she can send her minions to fuck around with [i]my[/i] son!?” As she ranted and raved, Malina walked over to a cabinet just outside the kitchen and opened it, revealing a silver-tipped crossbow in a locked glass case. Taking the key from her pocket, she continued: “When I get my hands on that bloodsucking, water-wasting, two-bit succubus bitch I am going to put fifteen bolts in her chest and another ten right in her--”

“MOM! Please!” Mihail grabbed his mother by the shoulders, turned her around, and looked her in the eyes, “Please. Let me explain. They were trying to warn me... I am not what you need to worry about right now.”

Malina frowned, but put the key back in her pocket. “Mihail, it is my job to worry about you,” she said, “I am your mother. I will never not worry. Now please, tell me what is going on. Forgive me, I have been very restless since I took a leave from my job.”

Mihail sighed. “You might want to sit down for this. We can talk in the kitchen.”

The pair made their way to the well-equipped kitchen. Malina began to boil water for tea as Mihail retrieved two large mugs from the cupboard. “Nothing with caffeine,” Malina said, “I would like to be able to sleep after this.” Mihail settled on some chamomile to relax them, and placed a teabag in each mug.

As they sat at the dining table waiting for the water to boil, Mihail began to explain what he had been told: “Gehanna is coming. The apocalypse.”

Malina froze. For a moment, she said nothing, thoughts of the end-times echoing through her mind. These were interrupted by the sound of the whistling kettle. She signed, then stood up to turn off the heat and begin pouring the boiling water over the teabags. “It is as I feared, then,” Malina said solemnly, returning to the table and sitting back down. “It will begin in India, correct?”

Mihail was taken aback. “Yes, that is what they told me...” He paused. “How did you know?”

“I am a diviner, Mihail, I can literally see the future,” Malina said matter-of-factly, “And statistically speaking, it was a 1-in-7 chance it would’ve been India even if I didn’t. Social unrest caused by bloodsuckers is nothing new, but the things I saw... the scale of it...” Malina looked into the distance, as though she was reliving her visions once again, then shuddered. “It may be the end of us all, Mihail, and those who do not perish at the hands of the supernatural tyrants will be made into ghouls, blood-chattel and slaves.”

Mihail drank deeply of his tea, consuming almost half the cup, and sighed. “So what do we do? Is there a safehouse we can hide in?”

Malina shook her head. “I have tried to protect you from this for long enough, Mihail. But it has become inescapable.”

“What do you mean?”

“Mihail,” Malina said, placing her hand on her son’s, “Surely you have noticed by now, that you are capable of things you did not previously think possible. From what you have told me, you are resistant to blood magic. Your clothes are singed, I presume from something you did, as vampires are not fans of fire...” Malina glanced down at Mihail’s cup of tea. “... and you just drank a considerable amount of near-boiling liquid without burning yourself.” She smiled. “Most people have to wait for the tea to cool off.”

Mihail looked down at the now half-empty glass. He had not even noticed, but now that it was brought to his attention, although he felt the heat, it did not harm him.

“The technique is called Firewalk. Your father, he was the same way.” Malina smiled as she began to reminisce, “He would sometimes drink boiling water straight from the kettle, just to show off for me.” She shook her head, the smile disappearing from her face. “It was hard sometimes, watching him obsess over the Hunt. But in his dedication, Grigore found purpose. Sword and sorcery ran through his veins, and it runs through yours as well.”

“I just want to play basketball,” Mihail muttered.

“And Grigore wanted to be an artist; we’ve got three of his paintings in the living room,” Malina retorted, “Grigore did not become a hunter because he wanted to, but because the supernatural became inescapable. As long as supernatural creatures exist, they will try to exert their influence on humanity.” Malina, sufficiently satisfied that her own tea had cooled off, took a sip, then continued her spiel. “Some see the Call to Hunt as a curse. Your grandfather Iacob [i]despised[/i] it. He felt as though his life had been taken from him, and though he performed his duty diligently, it slowly destroyed him inside.”

“And?” Mihail snapped back, “This is supposed to make me feel [i]better[/i] about receiving the Call?”

“Let your mother finish, Mihail,” Malina retorted, “It was not the hunt itself that destroyed your grandfather. Iacob focused only on what the hunt had taken from him. He rejected his own passions and grew cold and distant from your grandmother and father. And he did not live long enough to meet you.” Malina looked down at her hands for a moment, her eyes lingering on her simple silver wedding ring. “But your father? He was a man who loved life. I could not bring every painting with me, much as I would have liked to, but Grigore used the Hunt to inspire him. Many of his paintings are based on his internal struggles, the losses and triumphs he felt along his journey to become one of the greatest vampire hunters to ever live. He was a good painter before he received the Call. After, though? He was brilliant.”

“Tell me, Mihail...” she continued, “Have you played any basketball since you first heard the Call?”

Mihail nodded.

“And you are better at it now,” Malina concluded, “Your mind is clear. Your hand is steady. You do not realize it yet, but these are things your subconscious has done to prepare you for the Hunt.”

Mihail was puzzled. "Yes, you are right. But how is basketball skill related to hunting vampires?”

Malina shook her head. “Being called to the Hunt does not make you better at basketball. Your father was almost as tall as you, and he was terrible at it. What it does, well...” Malina thought hard about how to explain this, “Hunters are physically outclassed by vampires in almost every way: strength, speed, endurance. But, like a mage, the Call of the Hunt has attuned you to the supernatural world. You can see the little bits of magic which you could not see before, and tug at the strings of fate to bend the world to your liking. In time, you will learn to create fire with your hands, summon up physical abilities that rival vampires, and cut through hardened monster flesh with any common blade. And as you practice this, you will become stronger. Perhaps someday, you may even surpass your fath--.”

“I do not want to be a hunter, mother!” Mihail interrupted angrily, “I don’t... I don’t have...”

“You do not have a choice, my sweet Mihail,” Malina replied, frowning, “I brought you to this country so that you might elude the Hunt, which has killed so many of your kin. But if what you say is true, and Gehanna truly is coming, you have a duty to prepare in whatever way you can. Not just for you...” Malina looked out at the scene of LA at nighttime, “But the good people of this city, and the world.”

Malina continued: “The Hunt is not senseless bloodshed, sweet Mihail. It is resistance. Humans have lived under the Great Tyranny for thousands of years, where supernatural beings control our destiny and lives to benefit themselves. Many of us are blissfully ignorant of this fact, but it changes nothing. They start bloody wars, pit brother against brother, quite literally prey upon our most desperate, and then discard us when we are no longer of use to them.” From her belt, Malina removed a silvered dagger and placed it on the table. Its hilt was carved in the likeness of a three-headed dragon, its necks intertwining to create a grip. “This blade has liberated two-dozen blood-chattel. The crossbow in the cupboard freed a town by killing the bloodsucker controlling its mayor. My sacred wards have dispatched several who attempted to infiltrate my family’s domicile, even before I met your father.”

“What’s your point, mother?” Mihail asked impatiently.

“My point is, Mihail,” Malina snapped back, “That there are many, many people who suffer under the supernatural tyranny. Under normal circumstances, I would say to you that you have a duty to fight back against the vampires. I would say that you need not give up your life’s passions, and tell you all about great basketball players who hunted vampires as they travelled from city to city. But these are not normal circumstances.” Malina drank deeply of her tea. “What I will say instead is that without learning to hunt, you are far, far more likely to die. If there are supernatural abominations roaming the streets in large numbers, if the antediluvians raise armies of monsters and undead to enslave the mortal realm, and you do not know how to fight back against them, you will be washed away in a tide of panic and blood, like millions of others. There is nowhere on this Earth to run. So we must fight.”

Mihail and Malina sat in silence for a minute, sipping tea slowly as they steeped in the harsh truths of the situation. Finally, Mihail broke the silence: “... I know. Everything you said is true. And as much as I hate to admit it, killing that vampire... it felt good. Like I wasn't just a bystander anymore. That I was doing something [i]right[/i]. That’s why I want you to train me. As much as you can, in the short time we have.”

Malina shook her head. “Mages and hunters are very similar, but not the same. I can teach you some of the old masters’ techniques, but a Hunter must either learn from another hunter, or from experience. Associating with the Inquisition risks drawing the ire of the Baron, so they are not an option.”

“Does the Baron have any hunters in her service?” Mihail asked, “Her minions, they seemed almost... [i]happy[/i] that I had killed the assassin. And they warned me about the apocalypse to come. They said that the Baron was using her resources to save the city, and implied she was on the side of humans, rather than Kindered.”

Malina seemed shocked by the question and the assertions that followed. “... the Baron is an interesting creature,” she mused, “She is not human, but allegedly, she has a warmth to her that other bloodsuckers do not. She has every interest in stopping Gehenna, or at least limiting its effects. The rise of the antediluvians are a threat to her wellbeing and power as well. But be forewarned,” she said sternly, “She is still a powerful vampire. She may work to preserve order in the city, but only because she knows that her kind cannot live without our blood. She is ultimately a creature seeking self-gratification, whose foul mimicries of life give the appearance of an altruist. And she is quite possibly our only hope.”

Mihail nodded. [i]Harsh, but perhaps correct.[/i] Mihail took out his cellphone and began to dial the number of the Lakers’ Assistant General Manager. “Then I should see her for myself.”

[i]“Hello? Yes, sorry to call you this late. I know you were going to call me, but I figured I’d speed things along. I want to meet with the Baron...”[/i]