To sixteen-year-old Kendra her chastity was everything. It had been ground into her since she was a child that her purity was her only value.

Her mother died in childbirth, her father was in the wind, at least that’s the story the council had told Kendra. She wasn’t a fool. An old voodoo priestess, who it was said trained with Marie LaVeau, quietly nurtured her gift of sight. Part of her wanted to say it was ridiculous but in her line of work, she knew it was possible.  

Every night she took an hour out of her hunting to learn from Madame DeVoux. Her watcher was an arrogant man. He watched as others trained her to fight. He watched her go to school every day. All he did was watch…and read. He seemed a ghost in her life, living on the edge of reality. Madame DeVoux said he was afraid of her. He was afraid of her destiny. She knew what her destiny was and she knew who would fulfill it. She, this slayer, was not afraid.

Once a month she would enter St. Louis Cemetery No. 2 at about three a.m. with a sack of offerings; including rum, a new hairbrush, scissors, toenail clippers, bread, fruit, three pieces of silver, a pack of cigarettes, and a lighter. She entered, turned right and walked 50 feet to the tomb of Marie LeVeau, the real tomb. On a small piece of brick she knocked three times, turned around three times, made three crosses, drank from the rum, made her offering, and but never made a request. Kendra was not a believer she simply wanted to pay tribute and honor her ancestor.  

            Taking one last look around the bare cabin, she stepped out into the sunlit world that was Santiago, a tiny town outside New Orleans. She would never understand why her watcher chose this Godless place to call home. She had watched humans commit atrocities while she hunting demons. She wasn’t sure who the real monsters were anymore. She was leaving Santiago and all its painful memories behind. Without a backwards glance, she climbed into the old taxi clutching her birth certificate in her hand.