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said. Even then, I assumed I had misunderstood her.
    "Excuse me. What did you say?"
    But the old woman ignored me and hobbled away, back between the bushes. I took a few steps toward her.
    “What did you say about my father?” I said, my voice coming out louder and more demanding than I intended.
    The old woman stopped and turned back in my direction. A smile spread across her face. "I said you’re just like him. Kind hearted. And impatient. Both things that proved to be the end of him. You’d best be careful they’re not the end of you.”
    I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. I had never met anyone who had known my father except Aunt Sophie, let alone someone who claimed to have an idea about how he had died. I rushed to catch up to her.
    "Wait. You knew my father?"
    "Of course," said the old woman. “How else could I know you were like him? You’re not daft, are you, child?”
    "Please, I want to talk to you," I said, jogging to catch up to her. We had cleared the rows of bushes that lined the street and had entered the woods. "Can you stop for a second?"
    "Can't stop,” the old woman said. “When you stop, they can find you. You really don't know anything, do you?"
    "Anything about what?" I asked.
    Finally, the old woman stopped and turned to me. She looked up into my face, her penetrating eyes squinting and measuring me up.
    “About being a monster hunter, of course,” she said.
    I stared back at her, caught off guard. She searched my face but whatever she was looking for must not have been there, because she stepped a bit closer and asked, “You are Jack Templar, are you not?”
    “No,” I said. “My name is Jack Smith.”
    The old woman laughed. “Smith! How utterly unoriginal.” She leaned down and stared into my eyes. “No, you are the son of Sir Henry David Templar, Third Earl of the Carderon, Fifth Level Hunter, Leader of the Black Guard, Protector of the Light and quite possibly the last in the Templar bloodline.”
    I felt my stomach sink as all the hope that had been building inside of me drained. This old woman didn’t know my father. Protector of the Light? Leader of the Black Guard? Templar bloodline? Give me a break. She was just some crazy loon. I felt so stupid to have believed her at all.
    “So, you don’t believe me,” the old woman purred, her voice changing, the tremble giving way to a stronger, more confident voice. “You will soon enough. You must remember that everything is not as it seems.”
    The old woman stood up straight, the stiffness gone from her movements. She pulled at the dress and it came off effortlessly, revealing an athletic body dressed in a tightfitting bodysuit of soft leather. In various sheaths and pockets were swords, daggers and throwing knives.
    She pulled off the wig that she was wearing and long brown hair fell down past her shoulders. Finally, she pulled small pits of plastic attached to her face as part of her disguise and rubbed the make-up off.
    In less than a minute, the old woman was gone, replaced by a young girl only a few years older than myself. Bright green eyes, smooth, tan skin, and, I don’t mind saying it, a very pretty face. No, it was more than that. I’ll just throw it out there. She was smoking hot.
    I know what you’re thinking. And you’re right. It was totally awesome.
    The transformation was so complete that the only way to tell that this was the same person was from her missing left hand. Only the wooden hook was now replaced by a nasty-looking metal hook with a sharp point.
    “As you can see,” the girl said, “many things which you believe to be impossible are actually quite possible .”
    “Who are you?”
    The girl placed a closed fist across her chest as if in a salute. “My name is Eva. I am a third degree hunter of the Black Guard. Sorry about the theatrics. I just wanted to see what kind of person you were.”
    “Yeah? Well, I’m kind of wondering the same thing about you. What’s with the