Blood Hunter: An Urban Fantasy Vampire Hunting Novel

by Nicholas Woode-Smith

  “The Children are tougher,” Themba agreed. “But together, the resistance and Blood Hunters can fight them. We must fight them!”

  Silence. Bongani stood up, wordlessly, followed by another Blood Hunter and Blessing. They began walking towards the exit of the cave mouth.

  Themba had given a great speech, I thought. But I saw sweat glisten on his forehead. He looked nervous as another hunter stood to leave.

  “I know how to get silver!” Themba suddenly blurted. The hunters stopped and turned.

  “I know that you are running out of silver. It’s why Silumko agreed to this meeting. I know that silver sales are heavily restricted. Illegal, practically. And I also know that you are all very bad at stealing.”

  Themba’s words stung, but they were true. The silver lining on my assegais were scraping off. Practically gone already after the inkanyamba.

  “The Empire is in financial distress,” Themba continued, calming as he regained the full attention of the circle. “Because of this, they’re doing a once off mega-shipment of silver to the State of Good Hope.”

  “But…they’re enemies,” a man in the circle stated, sceptically.

  “Money is money. And Hope City is a friend today and enemy tomorrow. The truck is going to be approaching the Three Point Line three days from now. I want your help.”

  “Are vampires guarding the trucks?” Silumko asked. I had forgotten he was there. Silumko had a presence when he wanted it but was practically invisible if he chose to not be noticed.

  “No, but…” Themba replied.

  “You’re undermanned,” Silumko finished his sentence.

  Themba nodded, embarrassed.

  Bongani clicked his tongue, irritably, and stormed off. Blessing glared at Themba and then looked at Silumko apologetically.

  “Thank you for the work you have done, master, but I won’t abandon the path that you put me on. I hunt vampires, not impi.”

  He left.

  Other Blood Hunters began standing to leave. Others fidgeted. Themba looked at me from across the room, his eyes pleading.

  Slowly, I nodded. And with it, a weight seemed to disappear from my back.

  “Excellent!” Anathi beamed, slapping me on the back. I hadn’t seen her edge closer. My cheeks warmed. “The impi brought the vampires to this land. It’s time we make them pay!”

  Other Blood Hunters didn’t look as convinced and turned to Silumko. Silently, we watched my mentor.

  “The path,” he said. “Is ever winding. Ever changing. Tradition and custom must stay if it serves us. If it does not, it must be abandoned.”

  Half our number left. Anathi, Silumko, Themba and I remained, alongside three others. Themba shook all our hands, one at a time. Silumko admitted he thought fewer of us would go for it.

  It all became a blur for me, as memories of my home resurfaced, and I remembered how I got here.

  Empire. Vampires. They were the same. And I had to crush them. Tradition or not. And, if my cousin had somehow lived, then what else was possible?

  Chapter 16. Tradition

  I wanted Themba to stay. To camp with me among the rocky hills like we had done as boys. But he had to return to his resistance cell. To tell them the good news. He promised to catch up soon.

  I still couldn’t believe it. Themba. Alive. And not just that. He had escaped the impi he had once admired. And was now fighting to free his…our…country.

  I didn’t know if I desired a free Transkei. Themba had always been the more political cousin. But I did know one thing. The Izingane Zegazi were here by imperial decree. And it was impi that sacked and burnt Mqanduli under their orders. The Empire were my enemies. Officially, now.

  Themba left promptly, hesitant to tell me who exactly had died. From his expression, I gathered too many. But he had survived. The faces from Mqanduli, friends and relatives, had become blurs over the years. But Themba had always been closest to me. It was enough that he had lived.

  I bid the Blood Hunters farewell and, as was customary, we went our separate ways, agreeing to meet with the rebels in a day.

  Blessing’s bike was missing. I couldn’t help but feel a sense of loss there. Blood Hunters did not have friends, and fellow hunters weren’t exactly comrades. But the path was lonely, and Blessing had provided company – for a short while at least.

  I rode my bike to a series of hillocks protected by boulders half an hour away from the hidden cave. There was plenty of kindling and some dried wood, so I treated myself to a small fire. Not even the most capricious impi would hassle a camper this far out in the sticks.

  I settled by my tiny fire, contemplating the twisting path before me, and the old faces behind me, and slowly started to drift to sleep.

  Until a furry body with a toothy smirk blocked my vision.

  “I didn’t know you had a cousin! I thought you just spawned into this world. Brooding and moping, and perpetually failing with women.”

  Ah, yes. I still had the tokoloshe!

  “I have a family, demon. Unlike you,” I spat. The thought simultaneously filled me with sadness and regret, but also with palpable relief. Themba was alive!

  Surprisingly, Graham’s expression darkened. “Unfortunately, I do have a family.”

  I raised an eyebrow.

  “Where are they?” I asked, sincerely interested perhaps for the first time whenever speaking with Graham.

  Graham waved dismissively.

  “Unimportant.” A grin, that sent shivers down my spine, returned to his face. “What’s more important is that hot piece of ass in black.”

  “Her name is Anathi. Pay her some respect.”

  Graham chortled, revealing a hipflask that I suspected was not a fabrication and that one of the hunters would be missing. He took a gulp and sighed, satisfied.

  “The whole me lady shtick can only get you so far, bub. You gotta pounce on that ass. Slap it around a bit. Make her swoon.”

  I averted my gaze from the creature, sneering as if something smelled pungent. In fact, he did.

  Graham sighed and reappeared on my shoulder.

  “I can see your desire, Guy. You’re an open book. And that makes it fun to mock you, but it can also get boring when there’s nothing new to discover. You want the companionship of a lady. That lady, the one in the village, the bar maid back in New Ulundi, that one shepherd’s daughter…”

  “I get it. I’m a desperate fool grasping for what he cannot have.”

  Graham grinned, just slightly. In a way, it seemed more honest than his usual expression.

  “That was almost deliciously self-deprecating. But why? You’re a man. They’re women. Sure, a lot of them will reject you. That’s part of the game. Move on. There’s someone on this infernal rock who will fuck you.”

  “It’s not that…” I shook my head, regretting engaging with the demon. “It’s just that…ugh…I’m inkwenkwe. I’m not a man. Just an overgrown boy who’s already tearing up centuries of tradition by hunting the monsters who took everything from me.”

  “You’re inkwenkwe?” Graham asked, surprised but I could see he had figured it out already. Down by the river. “So, damn what?”

  “I cannot marry, bed a woman or fight. The last has some technicalities…but, when you seek technicalities in your beliefs, you don’t actually believe them. It’s like trying to bargain with God. I know I’m breaking tradition already…”

  “So, just circumcise yourself. Right now. I’ll help!”

  “No!” I blurted, thoughts of the little bastard holding a knife filling me with horror. I calmed myself as Graham took another chug. “It’s not that simple. I have to go through the proper rites, with the proper procedures…and I’m too old now. And the initiation takes too long. I’m a wanted man, even if the impi don’t actively hunt me. If I stay in one place for too long, I’ll lose my place on the path. I…”

  I shook my head, frustrated.

  Graham frowned but nodded slowly.

  “Why not just scrap
it altogether, then? You heard the old man. Tradition is a guide. It isn’t law. You should abandon it if it doesn’t work. And you said it yourself. You’ve been fighting all this time. Killed more monsters than most men ever will. You aren’t a boy anymore, Guy Mgebe. Not in any real sense of the word.”

  “I am in the eyes of my ancestors.”

  “Trust me, they really don’t care.”

  The fire cracked as Graham and I watched in silence.

  “It isn’t just that…” I finally added. “It’s about proving myself. I am Xhosa. That means something. Damned or not, I need to see this through. For myself, for Themba…for my mother.”

  I suspected Graham to argue. Instead, he nodded slowly, and continued to sip his stolen beverage in silence.

  Chapter 17. Rebellion

  We met up with the rebels by a little homestead near to the highway but obscured by rolling hills. Anathi, Silumko and the three other Blood Hunters filtered in slowly, but all arrived before the rebels.

  As was the way, we Blood Hunters spent these moments in relative silence. We had exchanged stories of our scars just yesterday. None of us had had the fortune or misfortune to gain new ones in the time that had passed.

  Eventually, Themba arrived, wearing a casual t-shirt and jeans. He had worn mostly traditional wear back in Mqanduli. It was odd to see this comparatively western attire on him.

  He parked his pickup and approached the group of black-clad hunters with a wide grin on his face. I was glad that he hadn’t lost that expression. From the passenger seat, Wisdom emerged.

  I took a step forward, unable to stop myself from grinning. But Wisdom did not smile back. He nodded severely and made a beeline into the building.

  “You hunters really stand out!” Themba said, eyeing Wisdom with a hint of sadness, but maintaining a jovial tone. “But, don’t worry. We expect you to. Even impi let Blood Hunters go about their business. We’re betting on them continuing with that.”

  “We’re here to fight vampires,” Silumko said, sounding half-bored, half-severe. “Not be your spies in the daylight.”

  Themba nodded. “Of course! And there will be plenty vampire slaying…after we get you your silver.”

  Silumko nodded and Anathi beamed. Themba led us into the building but stopped me at the back.

  He was no longer smiling.

  “Wisdom is a changed man, Guy. So are all the others.”

  “So am I,” I said.

  He eyed me up and down and smiled. Sadly.

  “Yes, I guess you are.”

  The homestead was a front. From the outside, it seemed a simple small house backed up against a hill. But the others had already passed through a secret entrance, leading into a cement wall facility with fluorescent lighting. It made me think of a James Bond villain’s hideout.

  “The old government had a secret facility here,” Themba explained, as I saw some old warning signs in Afrikaans. “Some Goldfield buddies let us know about it and even gave us the keys. Funny how that goes, hey? Our oppressors yesterday become our friends today.”

  The hallway opened into a well-lit and large planning room, equipped with a war table, maps, whiteboard and many dour faces.

  I recognised many of those faces. From Mqanduli. They should have filled me with happiness. But they looked at me and my weapons with disdain. I saw accusation in their eyes.

  “Welcome to the Mqanduli Marauders,” Themba said, presenting the group. “You know most of them. Some new faces are other recruits who joined us when we escaped. Oh yeah, you don’t know what happened. We were conscripted as impi. The sergeant hadn’t been lying about that. Took us far away from the vampires. They trained us, took us on a few operations into Goldfield. That’s how I got my contacts. Eventually, they trusted us enough to let us loose as a full company.”

  Themba stared into the distance and I saw a fire in his eyes.

  “But we hadn’t forgotten about Mqanduli. What they did to us. We killed our impi commander, sacked the base of whatever we could, and tracked down the resistance.”

  He grinned, but there was no joy in it. There was pain in that grin.

  “They didn’t know what they had done. They didn’t turn us into their dutiful servants. They trained us. Armed us. And now we’re going to make them pay.”

  As if on cue, the group took seats or stood. Themba went to the front of the room by the whiteboard and began sketching a plan. I spotted the Blood Hunters standing in the far corner, away from the Marauders. Torn, I hesitated, and was caught by the entrance, between the two parts of my life. Themba began.

  “Tomorrow, we commence Operation Windfall. The Marauders know the plan, but now that we have extra support, we need to brief the Blood Hunters and factor them into the plan…”

  “Why is he here?” Wisdom suddenly asked, glaring at me.

  Themba looked shocked and then sighed. “Because he’s a Blood Hunter, and I’m about to get to how they fit in…”

  “He’s not one of us, Themba. He didn’t go through what we had to. He got to escape. Thanks to you. But worse than all that…he’s inkwenkwe.”

  Themba stared at Wisdom, for just a few moments. His expression was a storm cloud.

  “And you aren’t? Just because you lack a foreskin doesn’t mean you’re a man, comrade.” His tone dripped a venom that I had never expected from my cousin. Wisdom winced.

  “Besides,” Themba continued, turning back to the whiteboard. “He’s a Blood Hunter, a skilled soldier. Trained to kill vampires. Vampires that rule this region under the Zulu Emperor, I might add.”

  “He will bring bad luck upon us. He breaks the traditions even now by bearing those weapons. We can’t risk the gods and ancestors looking disfavourably upon us!” a distant cousin of mine, whose name escaped me, piped up.

  Before Themba could respond, Graham burst into existence in the middle of the war-table, startling everyone but the Blood Hunters. Wisdom fell backwards on his chair.

  “Foolish mortals!” Graham mocked. “You stupidly cling to old ways that mean nothing in reality.”

  “Tokoloshe!” one of the rebels yelled.

  “Yes, very astute of you. Frankly, I half-expected you to be unable to string a coherent sentence together.”

  Wisdom and some other rebels looked towards the hunters and even me.

  “Kill it!”

  I shrugged.

  “He’s harmless,” Silumko grunted. “Just ignore him.”

  “I won’t be ignored while you superstitious insects reject a real warrior from your cause!” Graham yelled. “Do you know what this so-called inkwenkwe has gone through? What he has slain?”

  “Against custom!” Wisdom yelled back, finally realising Graham wasn’t going to bite his head off.

  “Your customs can go lie in my shit-hole!”

  Pandemonium erupted, with the rebels exchanging obscenities with the tokoloshe, Themba attempting to regain control, and the Blood Hunters impassively watching the chaos unfold.

  Fists were raised, but no one took a move to fight the mythical little dwarf as he insulted their entire heritage.

  Parts of what Graham said offended me. But, an even greater part made me feel something new for my usually intolerable travelling companion. He was standing up for me. And that meant something. Even if the manner in which he was doing so was less than appropriate.

  Themba gave up trying to bring peace to the room and slumped down in a chair, massaging the bridge of his nose.

  Graham wouldn’t relent. He never did. And, for some reason, he felt he needed to defend me.

  “Enough!” I shouted, startling even the Blood Hunters. Graham and the rebels turned towards me, stunned.

  “I will help,” I said, quieter now. “But I won’t kill any impis. Will that be fine?”

  A few of my erstwhile kin nodded, reluctantly. Some grumbled. Graham took a seat on a shelf, panted and took a long drink of someone’s bottle of scotch.

  “Well,” Themba said, relieved. “If
that’s sorted, we can begin…”

  ***

  The plan had holes. All plans did. But it was solid enough that even Silumko gave it his nod of approval. He wasn’t physically fit enough (surprisingly) to participate, so he would be providing a supporting role.

  None of the old Mqanduli crew apologised or even greeted me as they left after the meeting was done. Wisdom gave me a glance but looked away. There was scorn and guilt in his eyes.

  We had changed. But I hadn’t realised by how much.

  Themba waited. Graham didn’t make any effort to move from his final perch atop the whiteboard, where he sulked. The rebels had slowly realised that ignoring the demon was the best way to deal with him. Graham didn’t like that at all.

  Finally, Themba and I were alone. Graham didn’t count.

  Throughout the meeting, Themba had been poised. Powerful. Even when he was exasperatingly trying to bring order to the chaos, he had the unflinching resolve of a leader.

  But now, alone, his smile wilted. His eyes became tired. He stared at me from across the room. We didn’t speak. I didn’t know what to say.

  “I’m sorry,” Themba finally said, and it carried a weight as if he’d been burdened with those words for a lifetime. “I’m sorry that I didn’t find you. That I abandoned you.”

  I shook my head. “You did what you felt was right. And, in the end, perhaps it was. I lived. I live. And for not finding me. This land may be small, yet so large.”

  “You’re a Blood Hunter,” he said, with a hint of shame. Not at my vocation, but that he had pushed me towards it.

  I shrugged. “It is only natural. The Blood took away everything from us. It is right that I seek to slay them.”

  I saw something die in Themba’s eyes. An image of a younger Guy. I didn’t mourn that younger self any more than I missed the experience of having breakfast a day prior. That Guy was gone. I was what remained.

  “Not everything,” he said, and stared wistfully into the distance. We were contained by four concrete walls, but I saw the rolling hills in his eyes.

  “We still have the land. And each other.” He looked back to me. “I love this land, cousin. With all my heart. And to see it fly its own flag, to not be drained by vampires or stepped on by impi…that is all I ever wanted.”