Hunter: Cursed

The scorching Fiji sun beat down, making the white sand almost too bright to look at. I groaned, dropping the heavy air tank onto the sand with a thud that echoed in the oppressive quiet. Logan, ever the patient one, sighed from beside me.

"Do you even know what you’re doing?"

I shot him a glare, already fumbling with my flippers. "Ask one more time and I’ll turn you into shark bait."

He just shook his head, a familiar exasperated look on his face. Diving, it turned out, was a lot harder than snorkeling. And honestly, the whole reason we were out here—hunting mermaids—felt absurd. They were fish, right? Not exactly a Hunter's typical quarry. My body ached, a constant reminder of how far I was from healed, and my brain felt like it was on permanent vacation. Being brought back from the brink of death by some stupid god wasn't as glamorous as you'd think.