“There’s someone here to see you. Someone . . . Well, he’s very good-looking . . . ”
That meant nothing to the teacher. Knitting his brow for a moment, Mr. Meyer told Harna to send the visitor in. Looking at Lina, he said, “Well then, be careful on your way home. What, is there something else?”
“Not really. It’s just the weather’s so nice today.” Standing by the windows, which had been specially treated to block the blinding glare from the snow, the girl tried to think of some ploy to remain in the room.
“No more so than usual.”
“This room’s filthy. I could start tidying it up for you today.”
When Mr. Meyer’s expression became one of deepest concern, Lina thought, Damn! A tall figure came through the low doorway, though in doing so he was nearly forced to stoop.
Lina gave a gasp of wonder and caught an involuntary round of introductions while they were still deep in her throat. Watching her, the reason for her suspicious behavior and her scheme to linger became apparent to Mr. Meyer. Sending off Harna, who stood absentmindedly in the doorway, Mr. Meyer inquired if their guest was an acquaintance of Lina’s.
“I’m enjoying the hospitality of her home,” D said, as he stood by the wall. He was exactly the sort of visitor unwelcome by an educator entrusted with coeds. “I’m D. A Vampire Hunter. And I suppose you can guess from that what brings me here.”
Not surprisingly, Meyer’s warm, intellectual countenance stiffened. As he invited D to have a seat, the look in his eyes was one he might give to any envoy dispatched to lay bare the dark secret he’d long concealed in his heart.
“No thanks,” D said tersely, declining to take a seat. His manner was curt but not entirely disagreeable.
“Lina,” the teacher said urgently. What was set to begin was not a tale for a young girl to hear. Lina glanced imploringly at D, then, with a slightly sullen look, she left the room, displeased by D’s indifference.
As soon as the door shut, Mr. Meyer looked gravely at D. There was nobody else in the room.
“If you’re staying at Lina’s, then I guess you’ve heard all the particulars from the mayor. To be honest, there are a few things I’d like to know myself. Personally, if there’s some sort of connection between these recent events and what happened to us in the darkness-shrouded days of our youth, I want to be there when you find out who or what’s behind it all. That’s just the way I feel.”
Somehow D managed to parry his earnest tone.
“If you have any memory of what happened ten years ago, I’d like to hear it. I only know what the mayor told me.”
That he nodded without hesitation testified to the fact that Mr. Meyer’s hard expression was in fact without substance.
“I’m sorry to say it, but what you heard from the mayor is probably all there is to tell. One day ten years back we were all playing at the bottom of the hill. Lina said she wanted to pick flowers and make some garlands, and I remember Tajeel—that would be the boy who still hasn’t been found—being against the idea, saying it was no fun. In the end we boys had to give in—even at that age women just have this strength—and we set to our irksome task. Even I got a bunch and handed them to Lina, and then . . . ”
“What then?”
“I wandered off someplace else, picked a bunch more, and then turned around. That’s it. Next thing I knew it was two weeks later and we were halfway down the hill and headed for the bottom. You’re aware that every conceivable technique was used to try to restore that portion of our memories, aren’t you?”
“There’s something I’d like you to have a look at,” D said, changing his location for the first time. Approaching a sturdy-looking desk made of thick logs, he took a harpy-quill pen from a penholder fashioned out of a greater dragon’s fang. He also tore a page from the block of recycled notepaper.
“What is it?”
“Just something I have trouble with, too.” D’s expression didn’t change as he made two swift strokes with the pen, then thrust the stiff recycled sheet before the teacher’s eyes.
“What . . . what exactly is it?” Mr. Meyer turned to give D a dubious look.
“It’s nothing. Sorry about that.” D balled up the memo page on which he’d scribed a huge cross and tossed it in the trash. The barrel was also of greater dragon bone. A beast like that was sixty or more feet of unrivaled ferocity, but not a bit of bone or a single tendon went to waste when they fell into the human hands. In a small village like this, the greater dragons were seen more as a way for the villagers to earn their daily bread than as a threat to their lives.
“Have you been up the hill since?”
“No, not me. Nor have I discussed the incident with Lina.”
“One more thing. Cuore Jorshtern went mad. Is there anything unusual about you?”
Mr. Meyer forced a smile. “Perhaps my students could give you a more credible response to that. I believe myself to be an ordinary person, but, to be perfectly frank, I can’t prove I wasn’t at the scene of these recent crimes. I live alone, and it’s possible I’ve been slipping out at night without knowing it. Once the deed was done, I could’ve destroyed all evidence of my crime, then returned to being an average schoolteacher asleep in his bed till morning. I can’t say for sure that’s not the case. If Nobility who can walk in daylight really do exist, the victims of such a Noble would have the same physiological characteristics as the assailant—isn’t that so?”
D nodded.
When a human fell to the vampire’s baleful fangs and was transformed into a demon of the night, common sense dictated that by and large the victim would inherit the characteristic abilities of that Noble when they rose again. The victim of a Noble with the power to assume lupine form would likewise be able to take that feral quadruped shape at will; the Noble who could command certain savage beasts would gain a new servitor with a mastery of animals.
However, just as a newborn baby isn’t a carbon copy of one of its parents, there were certain obvious differences in the genetically linked powers. A victim couldn’t remain transformed for as long a duration as their master. In addition, while in that altered form physical attributes such as speed, strength, and regenerative ability would all be several ranks lower. These newly made vampires weren’t true Nobility, but rather they were little more than pale imitations.
As far as the people of the world were concerned, the most important thing about these pseudo-Nobles was that, whenever one was captured, they could be used to discern the full strength of the true threat—the real Noble. A hundred and fifty years earlier, an official named Summers Montague investigated several hundred cases while traveling across the Frontier. During his investigation, Montague divided the victims of the Nobility into different classes, and also left behind precise statistics relating to the powers of their masters. Another tome on the subject, Methods of Discerning Nobility Levels Via Victims and Defensive Countermeasures by Nobility scholar T. Fisher, was widely read and handed down by the Frontier people, despite the fact the Capital’s Revolutionary Government had banned the book.
However, the threat of the Nobility now assailing this small village would add an astonishing new page to humanity’s shared knowledge; or, rather, the threat was so grave, it would shake the most basic beliefs people held about the Nobility, undermining the sense of security that allowed people to go about their daily lives. Nobles who walked by day!
“I’m aware that Vampire Hunters have their own special techniques of identifying and classifying the Nobility. I’ll spare no effort to assist you. Ask what you like, or try what you will. You see, I still want to know happened up there on the hill, just as much as you do.”
There seemed no cause to suspect the sincerity of the young schoolteacher.
D’s left hand moved.
The teacher pulled away reflexively as the hand moved toward his brow. The movement was stopped when a knock sounded and a girl with golden tresses came in without waiting for a response. The tray the girl carried was simply a cross-
sectional slice of a tree trunk. A pair of metal cups sat on it.
“What’s all this? If you’ve finished cleaning up, go home.”
As if the dubious words from Mr. Meyer had flown right past her ears, the girl set the cups on the table, saying, “Here you go.” The profile she showed D was flushed carmine.
“I’d say your behavior as hostess leaves something to be desired,” Mr. Meyer said in a slightly discontented tone. “Why the blazes is there such a huge difference in what you poured us? I’ll have you know the money for the brew we have here at school comes out of my own pocket.”
D’s cup held more than three times as much drink as the teacher’s.
In this village where single-digit temperatures were commonplace in winter, there were no taboos about consuming alcohol during class.
“Umm, well, this was all there was,” the coed said, absorbing D in a series of fluttering glances of infatuation. “You’re a pretty heavy boozer, Mr. Meyer, and you’ve drunk our share on the side. And beside, we don’t hardly ever get visitors, so we all put our heads together to come up with a plan and I won the draw . . . What a handsome young man.”
“That’s enough of your rubbish.” Mr. Meyer rose with a look of disgust and herded the young lady toward the exit. Just as he pulled the door open, an avalanche of girls thumped to the floor, and the teacher’s eyes nearly shot out of his head.
“What’s the meaning of this? Your rudeness amazes me. The lot of you’d better get out right this minute. And tomorrow, it’s thirty strokes with the strap for the leader of this little ring!”
“Make it forty for all we care,” said one. “Please let us talk with him, too. We want to hear about the world outside, about the Capital.”
“No fair, Mr. Meyer,” another protested. “You being in here all alone with this gorgeous hunk of man—there’s something awful suspicious about that.”
“He— hey, don’t talk crazy!” Not surprisingly, the normally calm and composed Mr. Meyer lost his head. After all, he was still young. Ordering them to get out, the teacher shut the door in the face of the far-from-cooperative coeds, who were still clamoring as politely as they could for an autograph from D, at the very least.
The teacher mopped his brow and returned to his seat, but his eyes were calmly chuckling despite everything. “I’m sorry you had to see that ugly bit of business. I hope you don’t take offense.”
Strangely, D gave a shake of his head. The Hunter’s mind was something rarely made manifest. Not only that, but even the eerie aura of a dhampir that usually emanated from every inch of him seemed to have waned.
Mr. Meyer was apparently sensitive enough to detect this change, and his tone became infused with familiarity. “You see, it’s pretty rare that a traveler calls on our village. Apparently there’s something wrong with the weather controller in this sector; spring and summer are fine, but as soon as fall comes the snow flies. And on account of that I don’t suppose there’s been a visitor—well, a trader or other traveler—that’s stayed more than a couple days any given winter. For girls getting to that age, this village is really a pretty harsh place.”
“Not just here,” D said softly, even as he admired the azure sky beyond the window panes. “It’s like that in every little village. But spring will be here soon.”
“Yes, spring will come, but they won’t leave.”
For the first time, D noticed what a gravely dark gaze the young teacher had.
Frontier villages were tiny and poor. Even the smallest shift in population could be disastrous. The life of wringing crops from the nearly depleted soil, and fending off monstrosities that lay in wait with hungry eyes fixed on human prey, required the strength of every available person, right down to the last reasoning child. The Revolutionary Government in the Capital made reclamation of the Frontier a major item on its agenda; prohibiting any movements of population pending word from the government was an appropriate measure. So, in addition to the snow, another barrier, invisible to all eyes, shut off the wintry village.
“Here’s an idea,” the teacher said, watching D with new resolve. “If you have some free time while you’re in town— ”
“I’ve got other work.” The Hunter’s reply was icy cold. “I’ll finish this as quickly as possible, and leave the village as soon as I’m done. That’s all there is to it.”
Mr. Meyer said simply, “I see,” then drained the contents of his cup. He didn’t appear in the least bit resentful. Because teachers were very rarely permitted to move, many of them gave themselves up to alcohol and hallucinogens to escape the despair of the future and the coldness of the present. But, even with the difficulties of the profession, Mr. Meyer was a truly grand individual. “I was asking too much, I know. But before you investigate me, there’s one thing I’d like to ask of you.”
“What’s that?”
“Could you please just leave Lina out of this?”
“She’s one of the children who came back, too.”
“She’s going places.”
D’s brow crinkled ever so slightly. This, too, was rather uncommon. As if to draw him in further, the teacher went on. “I’m sure you’re probably aware of the system whereby once a year the government singles out the most promising child from a given village in that Frontier sector for instruction in the Capital’s educational system. This year our village has been selected. I dare say it may never happen again. The whole place was in such a state you’d think the carnival had come to town. After months of skill tests, Lina was the unanimous choice.”
“I see.”
“We’re just a poor little village struggling to survive, but she’s a shining star rising for the Capital. Rumor has it the government might even be planning to launch one of those galactic energy propulsion ships to another planet. If she’s picked for something like that, she might well become a star in every sense of the word. Imagine . . . a girl from a village locked in long, dark winter for half the year and graced by the sun for a scant spring and summer might travel to the stars. Can you understand how proud that would make us, what a boost it would be?”
“If the selected child makes such a contribution, the village is due remuneration of some sort. That much I understand.” Saying this, D fixed his eyes on Mr. Meyer’s face. “Do you think you serve the best interest of the village, too?”
As Mr. Meyer’s proper countenance hardened at this unanticipated query, a ghastly aura gushed from every inch of D.
“Huh?!” Frozen by what seemed a brutal assault on his deepest psyche, the teacher followed D’s gaze, caught by the sight of a pupil rushing for the gate to the school, which was visible from the window. Beads of sweat clung to the boy’s face. His hands were stained scarlet.
The teacher understood in an instant.
When he rose to follow D, who had already slipped through the doorway, he heard a bizarre, hoarse voice say, “Put on hold again? It’s just one interruption after another today.”
-
A dozen minutes later, Mr. Meyer was scampering through the woods. There was neither sight nor sound of D, who’d gone before him.
The well-drained road was dry and bare but for the occasional chunk of remaining snow, so the Hunter’s running was unhindered and his speed was superhuman. Entrusting the blood-smeared youth to one of the elementary schoolteachers who’d joined him out on the school grounds, Mr. Meyer had gone after D. Having left the building ahead of the teacher, the Hunter had raced off after exchanging a few words with the boy. At that point he’d been less than ten feet away. Even the wind itself is afraid to stand in the way of this gorgeous youth, the teacher thought.
Here and there, bloodstains dotted the black road. These had dripped from the hands of the boy. He was the son of a huntsman who lived in the woods not far from the edge of town. Fooling with a homemade crossbow on his way home from school, he’d accidentally shot a quarrel into a thicket. He found it soon enough, and with it something else. The next thing he knew he was at the gates of
the school, he said. He didn’t know when he’d managed to get blood all over his hands. He was just a boy of nine.
Mr. Meyer could see the thicket ahead. Crimson snow sat on the boughs. Finding a narrow break, Mr. Meyer forced his way through.
His legs froze.
Before he knew it, his whole being was being hammered by an aura lurid to the extreme, awakening a primeval fear in each and every one of his cells. Though his mind demanded he move forward, his body rebelled. Man was not an animal of unified spirit and flesh.
Roughly ten feet ahead of him stood D.
And another six feet beyond the Hunter lay a corpse, face down and clad in red fur. He couldn’t see the face, but from the long, ponytailed hair he knew it was a woman. There was nothing else, and no one else, to be seen.
Despite that, the teacher got the distinct impression that the body itself emanated the unnerving sense of evil that was crushing him like a vise. He wondered if D, too, had fallen victim to it. But no . . .
D had already unsheathed his longsword. The pose he took, with the tip of his blade low enough to prick the end of his right foot, was so unnatural it could hardly be called a fighting stance. But by extension, it suggested that whatever tact he took next was going to be positively unearthly.
And then the teacher noticed something that made joy buoy up in his withered heart. While the malicious aura was eddying all about D, it hadn’t so much as touched the Hunter.
He wasn’t the least bit afraid of it!
The evil aura over the girl moved. It pounced!
D flew through the air, too. He was the veritable image of a graceful hawk, chiseled in all its majesty in the chill air.
The teacher saw only a silver flash.
Space and time twisted—at least that was the way it felt.
Something slipped by the teacher’s side, burst through part of the thicket, and vanished. Mr. Meyer ran toward D, who had landed by the girl’s side. The spell was now broken, and only an air of cold tranquility spread through the area. They could even hear the chirping of birds again.
Going down on one knee beside the girl, D took her pulse. His expressionless face didn’t so much as glance off to where the thing, whatever it was, had fled. And his sword was in its scabbard. The teacher felt like he was looking at an entirely different form of life. Though the youth was gorgeous enough to make even another man like Meyer swoon, the Hunter seemed even more fearfully unsettling than the thing with its aura of malevolence had been.
Vampire Hunter D: Raiser of Gales Page 4
