Vampire Hunter D: Raiser of Gales

by Hideyuki Kikuchi

  “Four so far. All close to town. Time-wise, it’s always at night. The victims have all been disposed of.”

  Just then the mayor’s voice gave out on him. Surely the ghastly task of their disposal had come back to haunt his memory, for his hand and the drink it held trembled. After all, not every victim had been given a chance to turn into a vampire before they met their end.

  “Finding missing kids and putting ‘em down—this is a nasty bit of business to go through, with spring so close and all.”

  With a strident clang, the mayor slammed the steel goblet down on his desk. The contents splashed up, soaking his palm and the sleeve of his gown.

  “It’s by no means certain that Schmika’s boy Tajeel had a hand in this. There’s a very good chance one of the remaining Nobility has slipped in here, or a vampire victim run out of another village is prowling the area. I’d like you to explore those possibilities.”

  “Do you think there are Nobles who can walk with their victims in the light of day?”

  At this softly spoken query, the mayor clamped his lips shut. It was the very question he’d posed to D earlier. Suddenly, the mayor donned a perplexed expression and turned his eyes toward D’s waist. Though the sound was faint, he could’ve sworn he’d heard a strange voice laughing.

  “Sometime tomorrow, I need all the information you have on how the victims were attacked, their condition following it, and how they were handled,” D said without particular concern. His voice was callous, completely devoid of any emotion concerning the work he was about to undertake. Apparently, this Vampire Hunter knew no fear, even when confronted with a foe the likes of which the world had never known—demons who could walk in the light of day. With an entirely different kind of terror than he felt toward the Nobility, the mayor focused his gaze on the young man’s stunningly beautiful visage. “Also, I’d like to pay a visit to the three surviving abductees. If it’s any great distance, I’ll need a map to their homes.”

  “You won’t need a map,” a feminine voice cooed.

  The door swung open, and a smiling face like a veritable blossom drew the eyes of both men.

  Eyes that shone with curiosity returned D’s gaze, and she said, “Not the least bit surprised, are you? You knew I was standing out there listening in the whole time, I’m sure. I’ll tell you all you need to know. Lukas Meyer will be at the school. After classes I can take you to where Cuore lives. And you needn’t look far for the third. So, we meet again, D.”

  Farmer Belan’s daughter, now the mayor’s adopted child, made a slight curtsy to D.

  -

  “Say, are you sure this is okay?” Lina asked the next morning, gripping the reins to the two-horse buggy she drove toward the school.

  “Sure what’s okay?”

  “Going out like this first thing in the morning and all. Dhampirs don’t like the daytime, right, on account of having part Noble blood in them.”

  “Just full of weird tidbits, aren’t you?” D muttered, looking over the backs of the six-legged mutant-equines. If a telepath had been there, they might’ve caught a whisper of a grin deep in the recesses of his coldly shuttered but human consciousness.

  Inheriting characteristics of both their human and vampire parents, dhampirs were physiologically influenced by both parents in different respects.

  Humans slept by night and were awake by day, while the opposite was true for the Nobility. When the genes of the respective races came into conflict, it was generally the physiological traits of the Noble half—the vampire parent—that proved dominant. A dhampir’s body craved sleep by day, and wanted to be awake at night.

  However, just as a left-handed person could learn through practice to use either hand equally well, it was entirely possible for dhampirs to follow the tendencies of their human genes and live just as mortals did. And, while they might have nearly half the strength, sight, hearing, and other physical advantages of a true vampire, it was that adaptability that was their greatest asset. With that fifty percent, they had a measure of power within them no human being could hope to attain, allowing them to cross swords with the Nobility by day or night.

  Still, while it was true they could resist their fundamental biological urges, it was also undeniable that operating in daylight severely degraded a dhampir’s condition. Their biorhythms fell off sharply after midnight, reaching their nadir at noon. Direct sunlight could burn their skin to the point where even the gentlest breeze was pure agony, like needles being driven into each and every cell in their body. In some cases, their skin might even blister like a third-degree burn.

  Ebbing biorhythms brought fatigue, nausea, thirst, and numbing exhaustion. Fewer than one in ten dhampirs could withstand the onslaught of midday without experiencing those tortures.

  “Still, it looks like you don’t have any problems at all. That’s no fun.” Lina pursed her lips, then quickly hauled back on the reins. The horses whinnied, and the braking board hanging from the bottom of the buggy gouged into the earth.

  “What’s wrong?” D asked, not sounding the least bit surprised.

  Lina pointed straight ahead. “It’s those jerks again. And Cuore’s with them. Yesterday was bad enough, but now what the hell are they up to?”

  Some thirty feet ahead, a group of seven men walked past a crumbling stone wall and turned the corner. Three of them, most notably Haig, Lina and D had met in the ruins the day before.

  A young man of seventeen or eighteen dressed in tattered rags walked ahead of the group as the others pushed and shoved him along. He was huge—over six feet tall and weighing more than two hundred pounds. His gaze completely vacant, he continued down the little path, pushed along by a man who barely came up to his shoulder.

  “Perfect timing. We were just going to see him. What’s down that way anyway?”

  “The remains of a pixie breeding facility. It hasn’t been used in ages, but rumor has it there’s still some dangerous things in there,” Lina said. “You don’t think those bastards would bring Cuore in there?”

  “Get to school.”

  By the time the last word reached Lina’s ears, D was headed for the narrow path, the hem of his coat fluttering out around him.

  As soon as he rounded the corner of the stone wall, the breeding facility buildings came into view. Although “buildings” wasn’t really the word for them. It appeared the owner had removed all the usable lumber and plastic joists, leaving nothing more than a few desperately listing, hole-riddled wooden shacks that were on the edge of collapse. The winter sun glinted whitely on this barren lot, which was surrounded by naked trees frosted with the last crusts of snow.

  The men slipped into one of the straighter structures. They seemed fairly confident that few people passed this way, as they never even looked back the way they’d come.

  Perhaps thirty seconds ticked by.

  Shouting exploded from within the building. There were screams. Lots of screams. And not simply the kinds of sounds you make when you encounter something that scares you. Startled, perhaps, by the ghastly cries, the branches of a tree that grew beside the building threw down their snowy covering. There was the cacophony of something enormous shattering to pieces.

  Just seconds after the reverberations died away, D entered the building.

  The screaming had ceased.

  D’s eyes took on the faintest tinge of red. The thick smell of blood had found its way to his nostrils.

  Every last man was laid out on the stone floor, convulsing in a puddle of their own blood. Aside from a few steel cages along one wall that evoked the building’s past as a pixie breeding facility, the vast interior was filled only with the stink of blood and cries of agony. For something that had been accomplished in the half minute the men had been inside with Cuore, the job was entirely too thorough. There could be no doubt that some sort of otherworldly force had completely run amuck.

  Two things caught D’s eye.

  One was Cuore’s massive frame, sprawled now in front of the
cages. The other was a gaping hole in the stone wall. Six feet or more in diameter, the jagged opening let the morning sunlight fall on the dark floor. Whatever had left the eight strapping men soaking in a sea of blood had gone out that way.

  Without sparing a glance to the other young men, D walked over to Cuore. Crouching gracefully, the Hunter said, “They call me D. What happened?”

  Muddy blue eyes were painfully slow to focus on D. His madness was no act. The boy’s right hand rose slowly and pointed to the fresh hole in the wall. His parched lips disgorged a tiny knot of words.

  “The blood . . . ”

  “What?”

  “ . . . The blood . . . Not me . . . ”

  Perhaps he was trying to lay the blame for this massive bloodshed.

  D’s left hand touched the young man’s sweaty brow.

  Cuore’s eyelids drooped closed.

  “What did you see in the castle?” D’s voice sounded totally unaffected by the carnage surrounding them. He didn’t even ask who was responsible for this bloodbath.

  However, could even his left hand pull the truth from the mind of a madman?

  A certain amount of “will” seemed to sprout up in Cuore’s disjointed expression.

  The boy’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, preparing to spill a few words.

  “What did you see?” D asked once again. As he posed the question, he reached over his shoulder with his right hand and turned.

  The half-dead men were rising to their feet from the floor.

  “Possessed, eh?” D’s gaze skimmed along the men’s feet. The gangly shadows stretching from their boots weren’t those of any human. The silhouette of the body was oddly reminiscent of a caterpillar, while the wiry, thin arms and legs were a grotesque mismatch for the torso. Those were pixie shadows!

  A single evil pixie who’d been kept here must have escaped and remained hidden somewhere in the factory all this time. Unlike the vast majority of the artificially created beasts the Nobility had sown across the earth, most varieties of pixies were exceptionally amiable. But other varieties, based on goblins, pookas, and imps from ancient pre-holocaust Ireland, kept the people of the Frontier terrified with their sheer savagery. The redcap variety of pookas lopped off travelers’ heads with the ax they were born holding, then used their victims’ blood to dye the headgear that gave them their name. Few of these creatures possessed the ability to manipulate half-dead humans, but with proper handling they could help make otherwise untamable unicorns clear vast tracts of land, or they could boost the uranium pellet production of Grimm hens from one lump every three days to three lumps a day. In light of this, some of the more impoverished villages on the Frontier were willing to assume the risks of breeding these sorts of creatures. The blood-spattered and still unconscious men were being animated by an individual of the most atrocious species.

  The shadow held an ax in its hands.

  Smoothly, the weapon rose.

  The men each raised a pair of empty hands over their heads.

  As the nonexistent axes whirred through the space D’s head had occupied, the Hunter leapt to the side of the room with Cuore cradled in his arms.

  With mechanical steps, the shadow’s marionettes went after him.

  Unseen blades sank into the wall and dented the roof of an iron cage. Cutting only thin air, one of the men fell face first and set off a shower of sparks a yard ahead of him.

  This was a battle for control of the shadows.

  A stream of silvery light splashed up from D’s back, then mowed straight ahead at the invisible ax one of the unconscious men raised against him.

  There was no jarring contact, but a breeze skimmed by D’s cheek and something imbedded in the wall.

  These weapons weren’t just invisible, they were nonexistent. But deadly nonetheless.

  Three howling swings closed on the Hunter, all from different directions. The blades clashed together, but D and Cuore flew above the shower of sparks that resulted.

  Twin streaks of white light coursed toward the floor.

  The men went rigid and clutched their wrists. Thud after thud rang out in what sounded like one great weight after another hitting the floor. Actually, it was the men dropping their weapons.

  Having sheathed his longsword, D headed over to one of the men who’d collapsed in a spray of blood.

  Going down on one knee by the man’s side, he asked, “Can you hear me?”

  As the man’s feeble gaze filled with the sight of D, his eyes snapped wide open. The fallen man was none other than Haig.

  “Dirty bastard . . . How the hell did you . . . ?”

  His pitiful voice, which hardly matched his rough face, ground to a halt when he noticed something on the floor.

  Now pinned to the stone floor by two stark needles, the unearthly shadow stretching from Haig’s feet was rapidly fading from view. Stranger still, it wasn’t just the twice-pierced shadow that was affected. The shadows of the other men contorted and writhed in the throes of intense pain. And yet the movements of all remained perfectly synchronized!

  It must’ve taken incredible skill to hurl those needles from midair and nail the shadow precisely through the wrist and heart, but it seemed doubtful someone like Haig could ever truly grasp the amount of focus D needed to perfect such a technique.

  Because, amazingly, the needles stuck in the stone were made of wood.

  Soon enough, the disquieting shadows vanished and those of the men returned.

  “I’m hurting . . . Damn, it hurts! Hurry up, call the doctor . . . please . . . ”

  “When you’ve answered my question.” D’s tone conjured images of ice. Not surprising, as he was dealing with the same guys who’d already tried to gang-rape an innocent girl. “What happened after you got Cuore in here?”

  “I don’t know . . . We was thinking one of them’s to blame . . . so we planned on taking ‘em one by one, smacking ‘em around a little to see if we was right . . . and then . . . ”

  The light in Haig’s eyes rapidly dimmed.

  “And then what?”

  “How the hell should I know . . . ? Get me a doctor . . . quick . . . As soon as we got in here and had ‘em surrounded . . . all I could see was blood red . . . like something was hiding in there . . . ”

  The last word out of Haig’s mouth became a leaden rasp of breath that rolled across the ground. He wasn’t dead. Just unconscious, as the rest of them were as well. Though thin trails of fresh blood leaked from their ears, noses, and mouths, their condition was quite bizarre, given they showed no signs of external injuries.

  D turned around.

  Cuore stood groggily in the doorway, but much further outside there was the sound of numerous footsteps getting closer. Either Lina or one of the villagers who had seen the Youth Brigade with Cuore must have summoned the law. Apparently the bullying these young men did was far from appreciated in these parts.

  D glanced at Cuore, then quickly spun to face the hole blown through the wall.

  “What’s wrong? Aren’t you gonna keep grilling him? You’ll never get to the bottom of this mess if you’re afraid of stepping on the sheriff’s toes,” chided a voice from nowhere in particular.

  The voice didn’t faze D in the least. He and his black coat melted into the morning sun.

  -

  THE ONE WHO GETS TO LEAVE

  CHAPTER 2

  -

  “Lina, you have something on your mind?”

  Sensing the ring of suspicion underlying his mild tone, Lina hurriedly turned her attention to the teacher before her. His youthful, gentle face wore a smile. Who would have believed a boy that disappeared into the ruins of a Noble’s castle for a fortnight would grow up to be such a man?

  “I called you into the teachers’ room because you’ve been staring off into space all day long, and then you go and pull the same thing in here—what the heck’s going on? We haven’t got the official word yet, but the exam board from the Capital will be here in less than a week
.”

  Along with Lina, he was one of the three children who’d returned safely after the four of them had disappeared—Lukas Meyer. Following in his father’s footsteps, he worked as a teacher for the Department of Higher Education in the village. He was Lina’s homeroom teacher, though there was actually only one class in the department of higher education and less than fifty students in that.

  “It’s, uh, nothing . . . really.” Lina pawed at her hair and worked at concealing the blood rising in her face. Wild horses couldn’t drag out of her the fact she’d taken a fancy to a certain man.

  “I certainly hope so,” Mr. Meyer said with a nod as he held his hands over the decrepit atomic heater whining before them. Suddenly, both his tone and the look in his eyes became grave. “You mustn’t forget the responsibility you bear,” he said.

  His earnest pitch left Lina in reverent silence.

  “You’re the hope of the village. When winter’s over, you’ve got to take your chance to leave. We’re all pulling for you, you know.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “So, the test itself shouldn’t be a problem, but have you decided what it is you’ll study at the academy in the Capital?” Mr. Meyer’s tone had changed. He knew the answer, and though it was a field he’d helped choose, he asked as if not wanting to know.

  Lina made no reply.

  “Mathematics, wasn’t it?” He uttered the words like an admonishment.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “That’s fine. You can’t allow yourself to be distracted before the day of the exam. Better you just focus on the future,” the teacher said cheerily. Lina smiled as well. There was a knock at the door. Her classmate, Harna, came in.

  “What is it?”

  The girl’s face was flushed crimson, and her eyes were glazed with dreams. Mr. Meyer rose instinctively from his chair of hardwood and hides. For some reason, Lina snapped to attention.