I had to see if the ruins of my home still remained. Even if it meant travelling on foot, dangerously close to a vampire’s town.
I reached the treeline. It was much like I remembered. When I was a boy, Themba would tell me scary stories about tokoloshes and other beasts hiding in the shadows. My mom would scold him and tell him that tokoloshes were respectable spirits and shouldn’t be feared.
Oh, how wrong and right they both were.
“Are you sure you want to proceed?” Graham asked, as a waft of a pungent smell hit us through the treeline, mingling with the far fresher smell of the rain.
By way of reply, I ducked under a branch and pushed the overgrown shrubs out of the way. I kept moving forward. The last time I had been here, I had been fleeing. At least, I had not returned before avenging my mother.
That did not make me feel any better about losing her.
I stopped at the periphery of a vast hole, carved haphazardly where my home had once stood. The source of the pungent smell was lying strewn across the pit. Trash, faeces, corpses. Some animal, some human. I didn’t think vampires considered there to be a difference.
“I’m sorry,” Graham said. He had become increasingly sentimental over the past week, but never like this. There had always been a hint of mockery. A bit of alienation. But now, he truly and sincerely seemed to be sympathising with me.
“Don’t be,” I replied in a whisper. “This was the last push I needed. I always knew there was no coming back, but this is what I needed. I’m going to make things right. One way or the other.”
“You know that this is a suicide mission, right?” Graham asked, a plea in his voice. “You can’t kill the Blood. You’ll be destroyed. Utterly. There is no shame in running away. Escape this land. Go west. Go north. Just…leave. Don’t throw your life away for pride.”
“It isn’t pride…”
At least, I didn’t think so.
There was no burning rubber or flesh, yet I still smelled it. I always smelled it. And it would never go away.
“I’ve lived in a haze, Graham…less than a dream. Since that day. It’s not me being an inkwenkwe that makes me feel less than a man. It’s that I don’t feel alive. Because Guy Mgebe died in the fires, alongside his mother. I’m just a ghost, living a half-life. I thought…I thought hunting vampires and monsters would bring some sort of meaning. I thought fighting for this land would make me feel. And maybe it did…for a short time. But there is something I left here. Something I have to get back. And if I don’t do this, I don’t think I deserve to live.”
Graham didn’t respond. The rain increased in intensity. Good, it would cover our movements.
Finally, I turned my back on the pit where my home once stood. I never returned.
***
“The Keep is completely locked down during the day,” Themba explained. He did not have the air of authority he once had, or the energy, but he was still a leader. I don’t think that’d ever change.
The remaining Mqanduli Marauders and Blood Hunters huddled around a map of Mqanduli, lit by a gas lamp. This ruined homestead had never experienced electricity, even when it had been inhabited.
“If we cannot access the Keep or the vampires during the day, then we attack at night, as we planned,” Silumko replied.
Planned wasn’t completely accurate. Fearing that the enemy would hear of our plans through a spy, we had not prepared a detailed plan. We only knew that we were to act tonight or tomorrow. That was all. The most an informant could do was warn the vampires of our meeting place. But we had a few lookouts surrounding the homestead who could give us warning if the vampires moved. Assuming the vampires didn’t cloak themselves in shadow, of course. But, when up against such alien and terrifying creatures, one had to take risks.
“The problem with night is that the vampires and ghouls then join the patrols. Only impi patrol the streets during the day,” Themba replied, as if the presence of only the largest and most professional armed forces in Southern Africa was a decent consolation.
“We can deal with ghouls, and we’re here to kill vampires,” I added, rubbing my chin before pointing at a point on the map.
“We still have some explosives left. At nine PM, the impi will change the guard. The area around the barracks here and here will be at their most chaotic, with the lightest watch. During that time, plant all the explosives across the barracks on the opposite edge of the Keep.”
Themba scratched his chin in thought. “A decoy, while you Blood Hunters sneak into the now opened Keep?”
I nodded. “Hopefully, the fledgling vampires will leave to investigate the explosions. I doubt Nkosi Igazi will leave his Keep. And, if he does, that’s even better. Drawing him out into the open will give us more angles of attack.”
Themba pointed at another section of the map, near the barracks.
“We need to make a concerted effort to lure them to the armoury. It’s the most strategically important target, following the Keep itself. If we can make them think that we’re attacking it, then the entire town’s defences will move.”
“And once we’re in the Keep?” Blessing asked. He looked exhausted. He had agreed to help, but not before pleading with us to reconsider. “None of us has ever killed a vampire lord. Not even Master. And some say Nkosi Igazi is a true vampire. Not some human turned monster. A beast from beyond the In Between.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I replied. “We have killed rift borne beasts before. True vamp or not, Nkosi Igazi must die.”
“Exactly right!” Anathi chimed in.
I smiled, feeling a bit envious that I could never have a life with her, but also happy that she had come. I’d make sure she lived. She had a life to go back to.
“I see no reason to delay,” Themba said, rolling up the map. “And no more reason to let the vampires react to our presence if they know we’re here.”
He raised his fist into the air.
“Amandla!” he yelled, and I saw the fires in my cousin’s eyes glow hot once again.
“Awethu!” we yelled back in unison, even the taciturn Silumko, who, for once in his life, smiled.
The path…it was almost complete.
Chapter 26. The Blood
Mqanduli was a depressing and surreal sight during the day, as humans marched like cattle between their warehouse lodgings and the identical grey blocks where they manufactured goods for the vampires. We weren’t exactly sure what. Themba suggested ammunition and weapons. I didn’t think it was anything that important. For the vampires, humans were cattle. Letting them out to work every day was the same as taking cows out to pasture. It was to give them the bare necessities of life…before snuffing it out.
But, as night fell and darkness consumed Mqanduli, the Keep’s metal shutters ascended. Its gate opened. And monsters emerged. Packs of skulking, bestial ghouls. They wore uniforms. Pale mockeries of the impi camo. Every one of them had a number on their back, in a different colour. There were reds, blues, yellows…but no oranges. The she-vamp had controlled the oranges. Hopefully, all her ghouls had gone rogue and perished in the sun.
The Blood Hunters, clothed in black, set forth into the gridded town. The darkness of the fields and wilderness covered our approach, even though any patrolling vampire would have seen us. They didn’t care about the dark. But no one had ever attacked Mqanduli. Why would the spoilt vamps patrol the dark outskirts of their domain when not even their impi and ghoul servants did?
We reached the periphery of the town and hugged tightly against the wall of a concrete monstrosity. It was two-stories high. Some of the buildings were as high as four. I confirmed that there were no windows. At all. But I heard the faint hum of a ventilation system on the roof of this building. At least my people could breathe. For all that was worth in a city under the thumb of bloodsuckers.
“How can they live like this?” Anathi whispered, glancing at me briefly. I saw pity in her eyes.
“They don’t,” I replied. We were still far enough a
way from any patrols, so could risk speaking. “They aren’t truly living.”
Anathi didn’t press as Silumko peeked around the corner. He gave the sign for the all-clear. We rushed around the corner, darting past bright white lights (for the benefit of the impi) and rushed to the opposite alley, where there was a patch of darkness between two identical concrete monstrosities.
We had considered splitting up, but we knew we needed as many of us as possible to handle the Keep. If we were caught in transit, it would be better if we all fought together to make a break for the Keep.
The crossroad between warehouses was clear as we passed, but we heard shouting and gut-wrenching crunches on the other side of our hiding spot. I edged towards the noise and risked a glance.
Two grey ghouls, covered in human blood, ripped a man apart. He was far too mutilated for me to recognise him. He gave one final cry for mercy before the one ghoul ripped his leg clean off. An impi with hollow eyes watched from nearby. Finally, the corpse was just a few mounds of bones and flesh. The remainder of the ghouls carried the rest off to consume later.
“Why?” Blessing asked, stunned.
“He violated curfew,” I replied, and then continued on my way. The hunters followed. We didn’t say another word.
We dodged patrols of impi and ghouls, getting as close to the Keep as we could. But, as we came closer and closer, the number of ghouls and impi became thicker. We got caught in an alleyway, hiding behind some unloaded crates, as we were hemmed in by ghouls and impi that fortunately did not acknowledge us.
I checked my watch. The minute hand was edging closer and closer. Tick. Tick. Tick. The hour hand moved completely, followed instantly by an explosion.
The patrollers we could see stopped and stared in the direction of the boom. I could smell gasoline and burning. Themba had really outdone himself again.
The ghouls sniffed the air, like dogs, and were visibly startled as another explosion wracked the previously quiet night.
“It’s coming from the armoury!” an impi shouted. In response, the soldiers started bolting towards the explosions, ghouls in tow.
“Qamata, rifts, gods and ancestors…protect him,” I whispered under my breath. I hadn’t been religious. But there was a time to invoke the more than magical and, if it meant that Themba would survive this, then I would marry the Pope.
With the streets clear, we proceeded. With the soldiers gone, the streets seemed eerie. If not for a crowd of people, neatly lined up outside a closed metal shutter outside a warehouse.
I stopped, suddenly. I knew those faces.
Without thinking, I bolted towards the crowd. They didn’t show any sign of fright or surprise as I gripped one of them by the shoulders.
“Uncle!” I cried. “It’s me - Guy.”
His eyes were fogged over. He showed no recognition. A spell?
“The impi are distracted!” I insisted. “You can escape. Now. Go!”
No one moved.
Shocked, I took a step back.
It wasn’t magic. I knew that much. But neither was my uncle truly in there. I tried to address my cousins, neighbours…no response. Not even a flicker of emotion.
They had had the life sapped out of them. They were broken.
I felt a tight grip on my shoulder, pulling me back.
“Are you mad?” Blessing hissed. I didn’t argue, as he pulled me back into the shadow of the warehouses.
More explosions echoed in the distance and I heard gunfire. I hoped Themba and the Marauders were not overcommitting. The goal here wasn’t to kill impi.
We didn’t approach the Keep from the front but, instead, scaled the hill on the side. Like the warehouses, there were no windows. But, there were ventilation holes. Older vampires didn’t need to breathe, but fledglings and human servants weren’t so invulnerable.
Silumko took the lead, shouldering a shotgun slung around his shoulders and carrying a silver tipped spear in his left hand. He checked around the corner of the sheer Keep wall, towards the front entrance.
He signed: “Two vampires.”
We could handle that. But we didn’t want to cause a commotion until we were inside the Keep. The longer it took for them to engage us fully, the closer we could get to Nkosi Igazi.
Anathi stepped forward. Instinctively, I gripped her arm. She smiled, faintly, and whispered into my ear.
“I don’t plan to die, Mgebe. I’ll see you out west.”
I let go and watched as she rounded the hill and approached the entrance from the front. The vampires stepped forward. They had been young when they were turned. And probably were only fledglings. They showed no visible mutation besides red eyes.
“I heard,” Anathi announced, clanging two machetes together. “That vampires are legendary killers. But all I see here are two wannabe goths pissing away the evening.”
The vampires hissed and charged her, probably forgetting about their firearms. Anathi laughed as she ran, the vampires in pursuit.
“She will live,” Silumko said, as he rounded the corner. It didn’t sound like a wish. He truly believed it.
The way was now clear. And the Keep doors were wide open. I muttered the chants that Silumko had taught me. I heard Blessing do the same. Perhaps, it would be the last time we muttered these pseudo-prayers. The path was nearing its end. One way or the other.
As we entered, I immediately smelled two things. Bleach, and decay. The former was probably meant to hide the latter. It was not doing a good job.
The interior of the Keep was an odd blend of medieval Gothic aesthetic and modern minimalism. The floor was a barely smoothed cobble, with only a few sconces carrying flaming torches of all things. Yet, the walls were plastered white, and hung with artefacts. I recognised an initiation blanket, like the one I still wore to cover my backpack. It was dark and tattered after so many years.
The white walls were almost immaculate but, as we moved further into the Keep, I saw specks of red, where overly hungry vamps could not wait to have a meal in a more appropriate setting. Cocktails of cleaning supplies could be smelled in these places.
We delved deeper into the Keep, rising when we found stairs. There were no signs. But it wasn’t a labyrinth. There was reason to this structure. It was evil, dripping with malice and oppression, but it made sense. And a king always lived in the penthouse. So, we rose.
As we had expected, most of the vamps had probably left the Keep earlier in the night. We hadn’t seen any more after Anathi had lured them away.
I hoped she’d survive.
We passed an open doorway, where the walls were painted bloodred. The reason was clear. The centre of the room held a feasting table and, atop it, were the naked and emaciated bodies of a man and a woman.
We didn’t dwell on this scene, but Blessing was growing visibly nervous. His hands shook on his handgun and I could smell his sweat.
Silumko, on the other hand, seemed completely at home. As if he had been born to walk these halls. Not as a vampire, but as their hunter. But, the old man had always walked with seemingly endless confidence. Never arrogance. Silumko knew the world. Knew the hunt. And he had walked this path before it was even a path.
I felt a small bit of regret that I had not learnt more about the man who had trained me. Perhaps, if we lived, I would ask more about him. And, this time, I would insist on answers.
Silumko pulled me back, just before a crowd of grey ghouls carrying rifles ran past us. Ghouls were bestial but could be trained to use guns by their masters. The ghouls didn’t spot us in this side hallway as they rushed to fulfil their master’s request. Probably to reinforce the armoury. I hoped Themba and the others had gotten out.
The seemingly endless tide of ghouls ended and, as the sound of their hisses and footfalls ceased, I stepped forward.
The wind was taken out of me as a figure tackled me to the ground. I saw a flash of red eyes and the white of fangs before the shaft of Silumko’s spear went through the vamp’s head. The silver coating the
blade caused the vampire’s flesh to smoke.
Metal rung on metal as another hissing vampire engaged Blessing, who deflected a knife with his own. I stood and saw two more vampires coming this way.
Silumko blasted the knife-wielding vampire with his shotgun, downing the vamp with silver buckshot, before stepping in between us and the pair of vamps.
“Go!” he yelled, spittle flying. “Find him! Kill him!”
He turned to fire. We didn’t look back as we ran. More vampires appeared out of side-rooms, summoned by the gunshots and yelling. Carrying two pistols, I made snap shots, hitting the vamps in the heads and chests. Smoke rose from the bullet holes. Even if fledglings, the shots probably wouldn’t kill them. But, it would stun them long enough for us to fulfil our main mission.
We found a stairwell and scaled it. Bullets hit the ceiling above us as vampires below opened fire. I didn’t stop to fight back, instead jumping through the doorway, allowing Blessing to slam a thick wooden door behind us. He barred it, then panted.
“We’re close,” he said. “Just a bit further.”
We couldn’t be sure, but we had been ascending for quite some time. Nkosi Igazi had to be close. I could practically feel his malice.
The vamps on the other side of the door hammered at it. The door vibrated but I heard the clanging of metal underneath. Armoured doors with wooden outer layers. Good for a last-ditch defence. Or for dividing the defenders.
I changed my magazines and gave Blessing a look. He was still panting. His eyes were hollow. I didn’t realise how exhausted and pained he really was. But he had come this far despite that.
“Let’s go, brother,” I said, giving him a smile. He almost smiled back but frowned. Another thud and the door started to buckle. A ram. Manned by vampires. The door wouldn’t last long.
“I’ll cover this door,” Blessing said. “Keep going!”
This wasn’t ideal. But we had expected this. I thought it would be Silumko who confronted Nkosi Igazi. Not me. But, in a way, this was fitting.
Blood Hunter: An Urban Fantasy Vampire Hunting Novel Page 18
