Demon Deathchase

by Hideyuki Kikuchi

  “Where was your daughter attacked?” D asked.

  “In a vacant house over by the park. Didn’t find anything there when we checked it out, though. It’s not far from the house we have for you, either.”

  D asked for the location, and the mayor gave it to him.

  Then D went outside. The wind had died down. Only its whistling remained. There must’ve been a device somewhere in town for projecting a shield over the entire structure. The town’s defenses against the harsh forces of nature were indeed perfect. Blue light made the Hunter stand out starkly as he went down the street. The shadow he cast on the ground was faint. That was a dhampir’s lot. There was no sign of the living in the residential sector. For the tranquil hours of night, people became like breathing corpses.

  Up ahead, the Hunter could see a tiny point of light. A bit of warmth beckoning to the dawn’s first light. A hospital. D walked past it without saying a word. He didn’t seem to be looking at the signs that marked each street. His pace was like the wind.

  After about twenty minutes he was out of the residential section, and he stopped just as the trees of the park came into view. To his right was a row of half-cylindrical buildings—one of them was his destination. That’s where young Laura had been attacked. The mayor had told him all of the buildings were vacant. At first, that’d only been true for the building in question, but, after the incident involving Laura, the families living nearby had requested other quarters and moved out. Dilapidation was already creeping up on the structures.

  The house on the end was the only one shut tight by poles and locks. The fact that it’d been sealed with heavy poles instead of ordinary planks made it clear how panicked the people were. And there were five locks on the door—all electronic.

  D reached for the locks. The pendant at his breast gave off a blue light, and, at the mere touch of his pale fingertips, the locks dropped to his feet. Soon his fingers closed on the poles, which had been fixed in a gigantic X. The poles of unmilled wood were over eight inches in diameter and had been riveted in place. D’s hand wouldn’t wrap even halfway around one. It didn’t look like there’d be any way for him to get a good grip on them. But his fingertips sank into the bark. His left hand tore both poles free with one tug.

  Pushing his way past a door that’d lost its paint in the same crisscrossing shape, D headed inside. A stench pervaded the place. It was the kind of stink that called to mind colors—colors beyond counting. And each of them painted its own repulsive image. As if something ominous beyond telling was drifting through the dilapidated house.

  Though the windows were all boarded up, D casually advanced down the dark hallway, coming to the room where they’d found Laura. As the mayor had said, they’d performed an exhaustive search, and anything that wasn’t nailed down had been taken out of the room. There were no tables, chairs, or doors here. D’s unconcerned eyes moved ever so slightly as he stood in the center of the room.

  He stepped out into the hall without making a sound. At the end of another hall that ran perpendicular to the first he could see the door to the next room. A shadow tumbled through the doorway. It was like a stain of indeterminate shape. Its contours shifted like seaweed underwater, and the center of it eddied. Then it stood up. A pair of legs were visible. A head and torso were vaguely discernible. It was a human wrapped in some kind of protective membrane. What on earth was it doing here?

  D advanced slowly.

  The stain didn’t move. Its hands and feet changed shape from one moment to the next, yet their respective functions remained clear.

  “What are you?” D asked softly. Though his tone was quiet, it had a ring to it that made it clear his questions weren’t to be left unanswered, much less ignored. “What are you doing here? Answer me.”

  Swaying all the while, the stain charged at him. It was a narrow hallway. D had no way of avoiding it. His right hand went for the longsword on his back—and dead ahead of him, his foe waved its arm. A black disk zipped off toward D’s face.

  Narrowly ducking his head, D drew his longsword. Seeming to have some special insight into the situation, the Hunter didn’t use his unsheathed weapon to parry the disk, but slashed with the blade from ground to sky. His foe had already halted its charge, and now a terrific white light flashed through its crotch. From the bottom up, his foe was bisected. And yet, aside from a slight ripple that ran through its whole body, the shifting shadow was unchanged. An indescribable sound echoed behind it. Regardless, D advanced.

  Without making a sound, the shadow backed against the wall behind it. It certainly seemed just like a real shadow, because its clearly three-dimensional form abruptly lost its depth and became perfectly flat before being completely and silently absorbed by the wall. D stood before the wall without saying a word. The gray surface of the tensile plastic was glowing faintly. That was the aftereffect of molecular intangibility—the ability to pass through walls without resistance. The process of altering cellular atomic-structure and passing through the molecules of some barrier caused subtle changes in radioactive isotopes. That same ability had probably allowed the shadow to evade the blow from D’s sword.

  Doing an about-face, D ran his eyes across either side of the hallway. The disk had vanished. There were no signs it’d hit anything, either.

  D pushed open the same door the shadow had come from. It appeared to be a laboratory that’d been sealed in faint darkness. The walls were covered with all sorts of medicines, and the lab table bolted to the floor was covered with burn marks and was heavily discolored by stains. He noticed signs that some sort of mechanical device had been removed.

  D came to a halt in the center of the room. There were shields over the windows. What kind of experiments had been performed here in the darkness, sealed away from the light? There was something extremely tragic about the place.

  This was where the intruder had come from. Had it been living in here? Or had it slipped in before D arrived, searching for something? Probably the latter. In which case, it would be relatively easy to discover who it was. Five hundred people lived in this town. Finding the intruder among that many people wouldn’t be impossible.

  D went outside. There was something in this house. But he couldn’t put his finger on what exactly it was. The sunlight gracing the world grew whiter. D came to a halt at the door. A black cloud was moving down the street. A mass of people. A mob. It almost looked like every person in town was there. The intense hostility and fear in their eyes made it quite plain they were fully aware of D’s true nature.

  D calmly made his way to the street. A black wall of a man suddenly loomed before him. He must’ve been about six foot eight and weighed around three hundred and thirty pounds. The giant had pectorals so wide and thick they looked like scales off a greater fire dragon. Leaving about three feet between them, D looked up at the man.

  “Hey—you’re a dhampir, ain’t you?” The giant’s deep voice was soaked with vermilion menace.

  D didn’t answer him.

  Something flowed across the man’s features like water. A frightened hue. He’d looked into D’s eyes. It was another ten seconds or so before he managed to squeeze out another word. “Seeing where the mayor called you to his house, there ain’t much we can do about you. But this here’s a town for clean-living folk. We don’t want no Noble half-breed hanging around, okay?”

  The heads of those around him moved in unison. Nodding their agreement. There were men and women there, and even children.

  “There’s Nobility here. Or someone who serves them,” D said softly. “The next family attacked might be yours.”

  “If it comes to that, we’ll take care of it ourselves,” said the giant. “We don’t need no help from the Nobility’s side.”

  Nodding faintly, D took a step. That alone was enough to part the fearful crowd. The giant and the others moved back like the outgoing tide.

  “Wait just a damn minute!” Embarrassed perhaps to be afraid, the giant unleashed a tone that had a fier
ceness born of hysteria to it. “I’m gonna pound the shit out of you now, buster.”

  While he said this, the giant slipped on a pair of black leather gloves. The backs of them looked like plain leather, but the palms were covered with thin, flexible metal fibers. When the giant smacked his hands together, it set off clusters of purple sparks that stretched out like coral branches. People backed away speechless. Electromagnetic gloves like these were used by huntsmen. The highest setting on them was fifty thousand volts. Capable of killing a mid-sized fire dragon, they were lethal weapons to be sure.

  “What are you, scumbag—half human? Or is it a third?” the giant sneered. “Whatever the hell it is, you’re just lucky you’re sort of like us. Now say your prayers that the only part of you I burn to a crisp is your filthy Noble blood.” Purple sparks dyed his rampaging self-confidence a grotesque hue.

  D started to walk away, completely oblivious. The giant ran at him, right hand raised and ready for action. D’s movements and his expression were unchanged. Like shadows that’d never known the light.

  A sharp glint of light burned through the air. The giant shook his hand in pain. Sparks leapt wildly from his palm, and then a slim scalpel fell to the ground.

  “What the hell are you doing?!” The giant’s enraged outburst went past D and straight on down the street. Coming toward them with determined strides, his lab coat crisp and white, was none other than Dr. Tsurugi. “Oh, it’s you, Doc,” the big man said. “What the hell are you trying to do?” Though he tried his best to sound threatening, there was no doubt the giant had the recognizable threat of the physician’s scalpel-throwing to thank for the slight tremble to his voice.

  Coming to a stop in front of thecrowd, Dr. Tsurugi said sharply, “Would you knock it off? This man is a guest of the mayor. Instead of trying to chase him off, you should be working with him to find the Nobility. Mr. Berg!” An elderly man, older than anyone one else there, seemed shaken by the physician’s call. “You were right here—why didn’t you put a stop to this? If we lose our Hunter, it stands to reason the Nobility will remain at large. As you’ll recall, all our searches have ended in failure.”

  “I, er . . . yeah, I thought so, too. It’s just . . . ” Berg stammered ashamedly, “well, if he was a regular Hunter it’d be one thing. But him being a dhampir and all, I knew they wouldn’t go for it. You know, the women and children been scared stiff since they heard the rumors he was here.”

  “And they can get by with just a good scare—a Noble will do far worse to them, I assure you,” Dr. Tsurugi said grimly.

  “B . . . but, Doc,” a middle-aged woman cradling a baby stammered, “they say dhampirs do it, too. I hear when they’re thirsty, they drink the blood of people they’re working for . . . ”

  “Damned if that ain’t the truth,” the giant bellowed. “See, it ain’t like we got no grounds for complaining. The whole damn town may be on the move, but information still gets in. Y’all remember what happened in Peamond, right?”

  That was the name of a village where half the townsfolk had died of blood loss in a single night. Descending from the Nobility, dhampirs had a will of iron, but on occasion their spirit could succumb to the sweet siren call of blood. The man who’d been hired in Peamond found the black bonds of blood he’d tried so long to keep in check stirred anew by the beauty of the mayor’s daughter, and then the Hunter himself became one of those he hunted. Before the inhabitants of the village got together and held him down long enough to drive a stake through his heart, the toll of victims had reached twenty-four.

  “That’s the grandfather of all exceptions.” There was no vacillation whatsoever in Dr. Tsurugi’s tone. “I happen to have the latest statistics. The proportion of dhampirs who’ve caused that sort of tragedy while on the job is no more than one twenty thousandth of a percent.”

  “And what proof do we have that this ain’t gonna be one of those cases?!” the giant shouted. “We sure as hell don’t wanna wind up that fucking one twenty thousandth of a percent. Ain’t that right, folks?”

  A number of voices rose in agreement.

  “Come to think of it, Doc, you ain’t from around here, neither. What’s the story? You covering for him because you outsiders gotta stick together or something? I bet that’s it—the two of you dirty dogs been in cahoots all along, ain’t you?!”

  All expression faded from Dr. Tsurugi’s face. He stepped forward, saying, “You wanna do this with those gloves on? Or are you gonna take them off?”

  The giant face twisted. And formed a smile. “Oh, this’ll be good,” he said, switching off the gloves and pulling them from his hands. From the expression on his face, you’d think he was the luckiest man on earth. The way the physician had nailed him with a scalpel earlier was pretty impressive, but aside from that he was only about five foot eight and tipped the scales at around a hundred and thirty-five pounds. The giant had strangled a bear before, so, when it came down to bare-knuckle brawling, he was supremely confident in his powerful arms.

  “You sure you wanna do that, Conroy?” Berg asked, hustling in front of the giant to stop him. “What do you reckon they’ll do to you if you bust up our doctor? You won’t get no slap on the wrist, that’s for damn sure!”

  “So what—they’ll give me a few lashes and shock me a couple of times? Hell, I’m used to it. Tell you what—I’ll leave the doc’s head and hands in one piece when I bust him up.” Roughly shoving Berg out of the way, the giant stepped forward.

  As the young physician also took a step forward, D called out from behind him, “Why don’t you call it quits? This started out as my fight, after all.”

  “Well, it’s mine now, so I’ll thank you to just stand back and watch.”

  The air whistled. It could’ve been Conroy letting out his breath, or the whine of his punch ripping through the wind. Dr. Tsurugi jumped to the side to dodge a right hook as big and hard as a rock. As if the breeze from the punch had whisked him away. The young physician had both hands up in front of his chest in lightly clenched fists. How many of the people there noticed the calluses covering his knuckles, though? Narrowly avoiding the uppercut the giant threw as his second punch, Dr. Tsurugi let his left hand race into action. The path it traveled was a straight line.

  To Conroy, it looked like everything past the physician’s wrist had vanished. He felt three quick impacts on his solar plexus. The first two punches he took in stride, but the third one did the trick. He tried to exhale, but his wind caught in his throat. The physician’s blows had a power behind them one would never imagine from his unassuming frame.

  A bolt of beige lightning shot out at the giant’s wobbling legs. No one there had ever seen such footwork. The physician’s leg limned an elegant arc that struck the back of Conroy’s knee, and the giant flopped to the ground with an earthshaking thud. Straight, thrusting punches from the waist and circular kicks—there’d been no hesitation in the chain of mysterious attacks, and how powerful they were soon became apparent as Conroy quickly started to get back up. As soon as the giant tried to put any weight on his left knee, he howled in pain and fell on his side.

  “Probably won’t be able to stand for the rest of the day,” the young physician said, looking around at the chalk-white faces of the people as if nothing had happened. “Just goes to show it doesn’t pay to go around whipping up mobs. All of you move along now. Back to your homes.”

  “Yeah, but, Doc,” a man with a long, gourd-shaped face said as he pointed to Conroy, “who’s gonna see to his wounds?”

  “I’ll have a look at him,” Dr. Tsurugi said with resignation. “Bring him by the hospital some time. Just don’t do it for about three days or so. Looks like it’ll take him that long to cool down. But from here on out, there’s a damn good chance I’ll refuse to treat anyone who raises a hand to the Hunter here, so keep that in mind. Okay, move along now.” After he’d seen to it that the people dispersed and Conroy had been carried away, Dr. Tsurugi turned to face D.

  “That’
s a remarkable skill you have,” the Hunter said. “I recall seeing it in the East a long time ago. What is it?”

  “It’s called karate. My grandfather taught it to me. But I’m surprised you’d put up with so much provocation.”

  “I didn’t have to. You put an end to it. Maybe you did it to keep me from having to hurt any of the locals . . . Whatever the reason, you helped me out.”

  “No, I didn’t.” There was mysterious light in the physician’s eyes as he shook his head. While you couldn’t really call it amity, it wasn’t hostility or enmity, either. You might call it a kind of tenacity.

  And then D asked him, “Have we met somewhere before?”

  “No, never,” the physician said, shaking his head. “As I told you, I’m a circuit doctor. In my rounds out on the Frontier, I’ve heard quite a few stories about you.”

  The physician looked like he had more to say, but D interrupted him, asking, “Who used to live in that abandoned house?”

  The physician’s eyes went wide. “You mean to tell me you didn’t know before you went in? The house belongs to Lori Knight—the girl you rescued.”

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Hideyuki Kikuchi was born in Chiba, Japan in 1949. He attended the prestigious Aoyama University and wrote his first novel Demon City Shinjuku in 1982. Over the past two decades, Kikuchi has authored numerous horror novels, and is one of Japan’s leading horror masters, writing novels in the tradition of occidental horror authors like Fritz Leiber, Robert Bloch, H. P. Lovecraft, and Stephen King. As of 2004, there were seventeen novels in his hugely popular ongoing Vampire Hunter D series. Many live action and anime movies of the 1980s and 1990s have been based on Kikuchi’s novels.

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  ABOUT THE IllUSTRATOR

  Yoshitaka Amano was born in Shizuoka, Japan. He is well known as a manga and anime artist and is the famed designer for the Final Fantasy game series. Amano took part in designing characters for many of Tatsunoko Productions’ greatest cartoons, including Gatchaman (released in the U.S. as G-Force and Battle of the Planets). Amano became a freelancer at the age of thirty and has collaborated with numerous writers, creating nearly twenty illustrated books that have sold millions of copies. Since the late 1990s Amano has worked with several American comics publishers, including DC Comics on the illustrated Sandman novel Sandman: The Dream Hunters with Neil Gaiman and Elektra and Wolverine: The Redeemer with best-selling author Greg Rucka.