My name is Hunter.

My name is my trade.

I don’t mean to sound like a Sin City narrator or anything.
I just want to get all the perfunctory introductory business out of the way.

So:

I’m Hunter.

I’m sixteen.
No, really.
No, really.
I always have to confirm this multiple times for people. It gets old.
(Unlike me! ( Bah-dum-bum-TISH. Thank you, I’m here all week.))

I hail from a small town in England. Doesn’t matter exactly where, ‘cause they’re all the same in the end.

Both my parents are dead, so that means I’m basically Batman.

These days, I live in an abandoned mansion deep in the countryside, way off the grid, safe from evil things.

The evil things are my day job.

Because, you see, all those dark creatures from the darkest recesses of your dark imagination that you embellish with the sci-fi and fantasy section of your favourite bookstore (imagining, for a second, that bookstores still exist, of course)?

Yep, well, most of them are real.

And I’m the one that has to fight them…