Blood Hunter: An Urban Fantasy Vampire Hunting Novel

by Nicholas Woode-Smith

  But nothing lasts forever.

  Chapter 8. Army of God

  Sifiso did not arrive one night.

  I didn’t fret. He had told me that he had to remain at base tonight for inspection. I wondered why he was to be inspected at such a peculiar time. It had been a month since I had begun living in the little shack. The first week or two, I had refused to leave. But, as days passed, I sometimes went hiking, collecting water. Sifiso brought me bottles of water, but it wasn’t enough. I collected wood and scrap that I found around the hills, and brought it back to the shack, repairing holes and turning the building into more of a home. It no longer leaked during storms. Sifiso had brought a small gas-lamp that he said would not be missed. My nights were no longer pitch black.

  On one of the Saturdays, Sifiso brought empty glass beer bottles and lined them up against a hill. He handed me his R1 and taught me how to shoot. The gun was heavy, and I was out of shape but, soon enough, I was hitting targets. I felt a bit guilty holding the weapon. I was still inkwenkwe. But these were just bottles. Perhaps, if I only needed to shoot bottles to defend my country, Mqanduli would still be around.

  I spent the night without Sifiso whittling. I had found an old assegai head on one of my walks and was using it to sharpen sticks. I wasn’t at all dexterous enough to make anything resembling art. But, a sharp stick was its own kind of art. My stomach wasn’t aching with hunger, despite Sifiso not bringing dinner. He had brought extra food during lunch. He had said that the mess hall had extra rations, but he was also a bad liar. He had forfeited his entire lunch knowing that he would not be able to deliver dinner.

  I tried to refuse the food. He was the one exercising and training all day. I was just wandering aimlessly around these hills. But, he insisted.

  I slept restfully, assured that my friend would return the following morning, as he had always done.

  And he did return. Yet, there was an unmistakable hollowness to his eyes. He didn’t smile as easily as before. Or at all.

  “Inspection didn’t go well?” I asked, genuine concern growing for my friend.

  Friend? Really. Friends with an impi…

  He shook his head, but then hesitated.

  “It went fine,” he said, passing me breakfast. I ate as he paced the small confines of the shack.

  I watched him, silently, as I ate.

  Finally, he sighed.

  “It’s fine. I’ll get used to it. They’re servants of the Emperor as well. They just…make my skin crawl.”

  “Who? What is it?”

  Sifiso looked surprised, but then realised he hadn’t given any context. He waved the comment aside, dismissing what he had just said.

  “It’s nothing. Just vampires. The Izingane Zegazi. The 131st and the entire battalion have been put under their command. The entire Transkei is apparently to be governed by them now. It’s worked in Ciskei, apparently. And, I’m sure the Emperor’s judgement isn’t faulty…”

  Sifiso’s words became muffled, as a ringing returned to my ears. I felt a blistering heat on me, remembering fire, petrol, rubber…

  “Guy!” Sifiso cried, as I heard the clatter of the metal bowl hit the floor, spilling its contents.

  I shook my head, before covering my face with my hands.

  Vampires. Here. Now. After all this time. Were they after me? Did that creature who murdered my mother change her mind?

  “Guy?” Sifiso insisted, grabbing my shoulders and shaking me.

  I looked at him and realised I was vibrating with fear.

  “What is it?” Sifiso asked, eyes filled with concern.

  “I ca…I can’t,” I stammered. “Not now. I have to go.”

  He grabbed my arm as I stood to leave.

  “Why? What is it?”

  I considered pulling my arm away from him. I had to run. To get away from this place. I had the cover of the sun for now. But, they would be back at night. I had to leave!

  But Sifiso was my friend.

  I collapsed back onto the stool.

  “The vampires…they destroyed my village…”

  Sifiso backed away, genuinely shocked. He let go of my wrist.

  “The impi too,” I continued. “They took everything from me. My mother. My home. My future. Themba and Wisdom are already dead, probably.”

  “I…I didn’t know,” Sifiso said.

  “Of course, you didn’t!” I hissed, feeling a rage replacing the fear. “An impi protects, right? Until he doesn’t. Until he helps the vampires kill every single one of us. We’re an excuse to you. Peace? You can’t bring peace with war. You didn’t bring peace to this land. You burnt it!”

  I regretted the words as soon as I finished speaking. Sifiso, for the first time, seemed younger than me, as he stood, shocked, in the corner of the minute room.

  “We’re here to help you,” he muttered, disbelieving.

  I shook my head. “It’s too late for that.”

  I lifted up the metal bowl and handed it to him. He accepted it, with a shaking hand, and disappeared out of the door.

  ***

  My gut told me to run. To get out of this place. But, as Sifiso fled my accusations, I was overcome with guilt. Impi had helped the vampires destroy Mqanduli. But Sifiso had helped me. Fed me. He’d taught me how to use his rifle.

  But why?

  What was his ulterior motive?

  Was it to win me over to the Empire?

  I didn’t think so. He truly believed that the Empire was good. He didn’t feel the need to convince me.

  He had never tried to manipulate me. He asked nothing of me.

  He gave me everything. And all I had done was yell at him.

  He did not return for lunch or that evening. I subsisted on rainwater.

  The following morning, he did not return. I considered leaving. I was tired after a sleepless night, listening for vampires or awaiting his arrival. But Sifiso was my friend. I could not leave before apologising to him.

  Lunch. He did not arrive.

  The sun grew dim, and I decided to give it one final night. I would leave in the morning. Go where? I did not know. West, to the Three Point Line. North, to the Magocracy. My homeland was now the property of bloodsuckers. There was nothing left for me in these green hills.

  I waited in the dark, as hope of Sifiso’s arrival grew dimmer. Finally, I sighed, and began moving the furniture and bits of the nightly barricade into place. When I heard bootsteps. I held my breath. Squelch, squelch, sque…stop.

  Knock. Knock.

  I didn’t speak. It probably wasn’t Sifiso. I had chased him away. Burnt him despite all he had done for me. If I remained silent, perhaps the impi or vampire would not feel the need to investigate…

  “Guy…it’s me.”

  Sifiso! He sounded…anxious. But also, excited.

  I opened the door.

  “I’m sorry!” I sputtered out, just as he said the same.

  I stopped, just as he did.

  “Can I come in?” he whispered, glancing furtively behind him.

  I made way and he entered. He turned off his flashlight as I turned on the gas-lamp.

  “I’m sorry,” I repeated. “You’ve helped me. And no matter what the Izingane Zegazi have done to me, it isn’t your fault. Maybe not the Empire’s fault either. I shouldn’t have said what I did.”

  Sifiso looked at the ground, looking sadder than I’d ever seen him before.

  “The vampires…” he said. “Had their reasons. I won’t try to justify them. But…they may not be your…our problem anymore.”

  “What? Why?”

  “The 131st is being moved north. We’re to prepare for an assault on the Magocracy. There’s been a treaty with the settlers, for now. That means…we’re no longer under the command of the vampires. We’re moving tomorrow.”

  I clenched my fists as my skin went cold. Sifiso was leaving. The vampires would leave too, but he was also leaving. My last friend…

  “The camp is looking for camp follower
s. As a Xhosa inkwenkwe, you won’t be expected to fight,” Sifiso continued. “Just to serve in the kitchens, help unload…menial stuff. But you’ll get three full meals a day. And you’ll be safe…”

  I was so shocked I had to sit down.

  “I…I could come with you?” I asked, dumbly.

  Sifiso, for the first time since I had accused him of the sins of his empire, smiled as he nodded.

  I shouldn’t feel excited to work in an impi camp. I should be ashamed of working for the men who had destroyed my life. But, as Sifiso had taught me – not all impi were bad.

  Three meals a day. A roof over my head. And I would not have to fight. I could survive…

  Knock. Knock.

  Two slow knocks, evenly spaced apart. Sifiso and I both stared at the door. We hadn’t heard anyone approach. Sifiso stood, carefully, and approached the door. Unconsciously, I backed into the far corner. Sifiso smiled at me, reassuringly, before opening the door.

  A man stood outside. His head was shaved, and he had some light stubble. He wore a black coat, with red Nguni patterns around the shoulders. His eyes were red.

  My heart stopped.

  “Impi,” the vampire said, casually, but with the subtle hint of accusation. “What is this?”

  Sifiso locked his feet together and saluted.

  “Sir, this is one of my stops for my night patrol.”

  The vampire entered, without invitation. Unfortunately, it seemed not all myths were true.

  The vampire scanned the room, considering the splinters from my whittling, and the small wooden stools. Then, his eyes fell on me. I froze.

  “And it is?” the vampire asked, his stare unwavering. Did he ever blink?

  “He is a local boy. He is not an enemy. I feed him part of my rations.”

  The vampire approached me, and I felt the wall behind me, scratching at the decaying wood.

  Sifiso stepped in front of me. His fist was clenched, but he relaxed his posture.

  “Sir, he’s just an orphan. He doesn’t leave. He’s not a traitor or a spy.”

  Just an orphan.

  Sifiso was only a year older than me, I had discovered. But I was still the boy, and he the man.

  Surprisingly, the vampire laughed. It was a sick laugh, but not forced.

  “Impi, you shouldn’t be ashamed. What you do with your slave is none of my business. You don’t need to make excuses.”

  “He isn’t my slave!” Sifiso said, aghast.

  “Servant, then. It’s all the same. How much?”

  “How much what?”

  “I want to buy him.”

  Sifiso’s hand twitched. I felt a renewed shame, as I cowered behind my friend. I couldn’t see the vampire.

  “He…he isn’t for sale.”

  “Impi…don’t make me order you to relinquish the boy…”

  “I’m sorry…sir. But he’s not for sale.”

  Silence. A heavy, fevered silence. The vampire sighed. It sounded distinctly human.

  “Fine. A taste then. How much for a taste?”

  Sifiso stepped forward. The shadow he threw from the faint light of the gas lamp seemed to double in size and menace.

  “He. Isn’t. For. Sale...Sir.”

  I could smell the tension. It started to rain. The clatter of drops began to fall suddenly and heavily. One of the holes I had mended burst open once again and rain poured into the room.

  “A shame,” the vampire said, profoundly disappointed. “I tried to be civil…”

  He shoved past Sifiso as if nudging away a small child, before grabbing my arm. I tried to cry out, but no words escaped my mouth.

  The vampire stared at me hungrily with those blood red eyes. I could see clearly that he wasn’t going to settle for just a taste.

  Squelch.

  The vampire stopped. He let go of my arm. His eyes looked…shocked.

  The squelch hadn’t been from the mud outside.

  Sifiso backed away, pulling his bayonet from the vampire’s back. I caught a glimpse of his eyes. He couldn’t believe what he had just done.

  “Impi…” the vampire wheezed, not turning around. “Next time you seek to betray the Empire…make sure you aim for the head.”

  In a blur, the vampire had turned on Sifiso. My friend didn’t even have enough time to charge the bolt on his rifle. The vampire tackled him to the ground, bringing his arms back and raking at my friend with his claws.

  I tried to move. I tried to do something. But what could I do against such a beast? I was only inkwenkwe. And this was a monster.

  Sifiso screamed as his blood spread around him. The vampire stopped slashing and, with a sickening puncture, sank his fangs into Sifiso’s neck.

  He was draining him dry. Like Bhengani. Like the other impi. Like the people of Mqanduli.

  Sifiso stopped screaming. I could only hear the spluttering and suction of the vampire as he consumed his meal.

  Once again…vampires had taken everything from me. And I had done nothing.

  …

  No!

  My body heated up as I clenched my fist.

  I couldn’t stand by again. Not this time.

  Sifiso’s rifle and assegai bayonet lay by his side. But there was another assegai, just by my stool.

  A rage boiled inside of me. A pent-up anger that had been brewing since Mqanduli. Since watching the somagwaza’s brain spilled out onto the floor, since watching Themba disappear into the darkness. And since watching my mother burn…

  I dropped to the floor, lifting the old assegai, blade down like a knife. The vampire didn’t turn, as I voicelessly rushed him. He lifted his head from Sifiso’s neck.

  Too late. The assegai met resistance. The creature’s skull. I pulled it back, and before the vampire could react, I beat the blade down on him once again. And again, and again. The blade warped under every blow, and the vampire twitched. I hammered the spearhead deeper and deeper into the vampire’s skull.

  Until he no longer moved.

  With a final blow, I let go of the spearhead’s handle, and slumped backwards.

  The vampire didn’t move. Didn’t even twitch. I looked at my hands. They were red with blood. My own. I had chafed my hands over and over again on the old metal.

  I looked at the vampire. His expression was of pure shock, as blood dripped down from the hole in his forehead and eye socket.

  Aim for the head.

  I would have laughed, if I hadn’t been crying. Tears flowed from my eyes as I looked at my friend, lying prostate, his arms lax by his side.

  I should have acted sooner. It was too late now. It was always too late. It didn’t matter if I killed this creature. It had already won.

  I covered my face to stifle my sobs. As I heard a scuffing. I looked up, as Sifiso began to move.

  I smiled, standing up, before I noticed his eyes. Elation turned to horror, as Sifiso’s skin rapidly greyed and his eyes became a blood-red.

  “No…” I whispered. Not this. Not now. Not on top of everything else…

  Sifiso lunged towards me, hissing. I was frozen. I couldn’t bring myself to look for a weapon, or to even run. I couldn’t hurt my friend. Even now. Especially after how I had failed to save him.

  Sifiso plummeted to the ground, just in front of me, as a throwing spear protruded from his back. He cried out and turned towards the doorway. Another spear flew towards him and landed in his chest. He fell to the ground with a primal roar of pain, as I backed up into the corner.

  The ghoul Sifiso tried to lift himself up, as a bearded man with grey hair and black clothes entered. He withdrew one of the spears from Sifiso’s body, being rewarded with a pained growl. The gas-lamp glinted off the spear-tip. Silver.

  The man drove the spear deeper into Sifiso’s flesh, pinning him to the floor. In his other hand, he held a black machete, with a silver edge.

  It took two chops. Sifiso’s headless body twitched once. Then lay still.

  Silence. The man left Sifiso’s head, as he
revealed a cloth and began wiping down his blade. I didn’t move.

  The man’s black clothing was odd. He wore a multi-pocketed vest, like Sifiso and the other impi. His collar was thick, and shone silver. He was wrinkled. Old. Yet, he moved faster than anyone I had seen before. Excluding the vampires.

  The man sheathed the machete and then crouched, examining the vampire’s corpse. He looked at me. His eyes were…indescribable. They were brown. Normal. But…there was a depth there, a form of pain and wisdom that I could not fathom.

  “Did you kill the vampire?” the man asked, in Xhosa.

  I hesitated, but then nodded. Slowly.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, hastily.

  “Why?” the man asked, showing a small hint of confusion. But his demeanour did not change overall. This man was too old and too experienced to be particularly shocked by anything.

  “I am inkwenkwe,” I answered.

  “Did you kill the vampire for your country, inkwenkwe?” he asked, sternly.

  I shook my head.

  “Then why did you kill it?”

  Why? To save my friend? He was already dead. Because I didn’t act sooner. Because the vampire was going to turn on me afterwards? That had not crossed my mind.

  “I hate them,” I finally said. “All of them. They took everything from me. I want to kill them. Every last one.”

  The man stared at me, and I stared back, unblinking. I had felt fear this past month. Fear, shame, guilt. And exhaustion.

  I was tired of being frightened.

  I wanted to be angry. To let the rage fill me.

  “I don’t want to fear them anymore,” I added, almost whispering.

  The man stood and examined Sifiso’s R1. He checked the magazine and then slung it around his back. Sifiso didn’t need it anymore.

  “You wish to slay vampires? To hunt the Blood? To follow this path?”

  I nodded. No hesitation.

  “To hunt the Blood,” the man explained, “will put you beyond the society you once knew. To become umzingeli wegazi, you will no longer be a boy or a man. You will have to roam these lands for all times, seeking the Blood. You will spill much of it…if you aren’t drained of yours first. Do you truly wish to go down this path?”