Blaze Monroe and the Tattered Heart: A Supernatural Thriller (The Hunter Who Lost His Way Book 3)

by Alex Villavasso

  He needs medical attention…just like everyone else. A number of things can be wrong with him. I leave his cell and go to the final one only to see that it’s empty in all manners of the word…like the previous resident was disposed of. There’s no place to store drained blood, no IV’s, or anything else related to their practices except for the smell of blood and death.

  “Okay, it’s just you three,” I say as I walk back into the hall. “One guy is alive but unconscious. He’s in bad shape. You two’ll have to look out for him until I’m finished.” I alternate projecting my words to both sides of the hall. “Stick together. Stay safe. Aim for the head. It’s the safest bet. Understand?”

  “Yeah, I got it,” the old man answers for the rest of them.

  “Don’t trust anyone you see unless they’re with me.” I leave them shortly after that, ready to fight for both their and my survival.

  Chapter 11: Follow the Bodies

  “Get him!” A trio of vampires rush me in a choke point and I welcome their attempts to try and stop me. They actually make my life easier by coming to me. I unload my Beretta into a vampire and his body bobs from soaking up my spray of bullets. He drops to the floor while the others step over his corpse before I can finish him off. I backpedal as I switch my guns and begin to shoot from my other Beretta as I break out into a sprint, putting more space between me and the vamps hot on my trail. My shots fire wide, only two or three hitting their mark, but it’s enough to buy me the precious seconds that I need. I run to the end of the tunnel and take a sharp turn down another path, hidden from the vampire’s immediate view. I then switch to my shotgun and wait. A second later, the vampire in hot pursuit shows himself and I blast him at point-blank range, causing his body to slam against the cavern wall. I rise up as he tries to move and blast him a second time. This time, his body goes limp. I pivot to shoot the last vamp, but he manages to shove me just as I pull the trigger; a last-ditch effort to save himself from his failed attempt at biting me. The pellets from my shell burrow into the right half of his body, and I crash onto the hard, stone floor. The vampire keeps his footing, but he stumbles back, stunned. I reach for my shotgun and shoot him again from the ground, this time, catching him in the chest with the majority of my spray. The vampire falls back onto the floor and in an effort to save shells, I rush to mount him before he gets up. From there, I stab him repeatedly in the neck before ultimately finishing him with a dagger to the skull once he’s no longer able to put up a fight.

  I stand to my feet, my shotgun floating from its sling as I approach the first vampire I had shot. He’s not dead. In fact, he’s already begun to recover. I watch him struggle to crawl away as I move closer. I take his moment of weakness to reload one of my Berettas. I shoot him in the back of the head as I casually walk by.

  A few more vampires manage to show their faces as I progress through the infrastructure, but I take them all down. Whether by gun or by knife, I do what I have to do to clear out the abandoned mine. The night goes on, but eventually, I find the one I’ve been looking for the whole time. He sits on a throne-like chair, as if he were waiting for me this entire time. Comfortable. Even though I’m here to kill him.

  “Sergio…” I call out his name and a smile appears on his face revealing a set of fangs still damp with blood.

  “It’s never good fortune when a hunter speaks my name.” He smirks from his chair with a confident air about him. My thoughts of him being along the line of simpler vamps seem to look foolish considering how he’s carrying himself. “Don’t look shocked boy. You’re hardly the first. I’ve killed many of your kind, just as I’m sure you’ve killed mine.” Sergio takes a sip from a wine glass that rests on his throne. I can only assume it’s human blood. “This life does come with casualties, yes? The endless war between us; hunter and vampire. I’m sure the men and women who fought with you today suffered greatly for you to have this honor. A second birth. Servitude.”

  “No casualties,” I fire back. “Just me. And I’ll have to pass on that offer. I see how you treat your guests. Not a fan.” I scowl.

  I notice Sergio’s eyes widen slightly. I’d piqued his interest with my last statement. The blood on my dagger, my ragged breaths, the look in my eyes. I think he’s starting to put it all together.

  “You came here alone, you say? That’s quite the feat. So, it was you who killed the others. That’s how you found this place. Interesting. I’ll enjoy breaking you.”

  “Funny. I was thinking the same thing.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. Does the name Joel Ray mean anything to you? What about the Claumontes?”

  “Joel Ray. I’ve heard of him, but never once have I seen his face. It would have been a pleasure to strip his humanity away. His daughter is also one of notable skill. And now, you supposedly wish to join their ranks. I’m honestly offended that Joel didn’t deem me worthy of a personal visit. Where is old Joel, by the way?”

  “Better question: what do you know about Darius? I’m looking for him.”

  “Such a rude boy, you are,” the vampire scoffs from his seat. “To demand such information while trespassing in my domain is quite foolish. Why would I confide anything about a fellow vampire to a hunter?”

  I tighten my grip of the Beretta nestled in my hand. “If you do, I promise to make your death as painless as possible.” Sergio’s eyes slightly shift to my firearm, the vampire noticing even my most subtle movements.

  “Unfortunately, I can’t offer you the same promise. You’ll suffer for as long as I see fit.”

  “He has something I want,” I blurt over his hollow threats. He hasn’t made a move yet. There’s clearly something he wants from me, too. One of us should be dead by now, or at the very least, on our way out the door. A bargaining chip for Joel, maybe?

  “A vampire has something a hunter wants? And what might that something, be?”

  I weigh my options as the vampire waits for my response. I have Sergio right where I want him…and I will kill him, but it’s never a good idea to share too much of what you know. I don’t need him pulling a miraculous escape and making things harder for me. Him knowing about what I’m after can only complicate things if he makes it out of this.

  “It’s personal,” I spit back. “So, where is he?” I raise my handgun eye-level, perfectly trained at the vampire’s forehead. “I suggest you tell me everything you know. The only r—”

  A series of gunfire erupts behind me trailed by a chorus of hellish screams and I glance off to the side. Damn it. The hostages. I drop my guard for not even a second, but that was all that it took for him to get the upper hand.

  From my peripheral vision, I see Sergio raise his right hand and a muzzle flashes just before I fire my own.

  A bullet sinks into my side and I drop my knife as I stutter back right after my own clips his neck and another imbeds itself into his chest. I fall to one knee, pressing against my wound and shoot again while he covers his neck out of reflex. He fires, too, but the sizeable distance coupled with his injuries causes his aim to fail him. I dive just in case—the most I can do on such short notice.

  My bullet misses, but I’m quick to empty the rest of my magazine; anything to keep him from going on the offensive. The screams from behind me intensify as I dig into my coat and switch Berettas, my side singeing with the anguish that only a bullet can bring. I fire my second set of rounds, progressively pounding away at his chest until I manage to hit him with a kill shot—a bullet to the head. The cocky bastard could have killed me instantly if he wanted to, but he underestimated me…wanted to make me a servant. Torture and drain me like he did the others. It was a mistake to let me live.

  I shakily rise to my feet after grabbing my dagger and hobble to the fallen vampire whose body is now desecrated with my rounds, his mouth, agape and leaking blood as he stares at me with lifeless eyes. I plunge my knife through the top of his skull and twist, granting me insurance that the recently fed vampire won’t be making a miraculous recovery. I
t takes a considerable effort to pull the blade from the vampire’s corpse and my wounded side pays the price. I take a moment to gather myself and reload my handguns. The screaming I’d heard earlier, stopped, but I don’t know if it’s because the hostages killed whatever they were shooting, or got killed. Either way, I have to see things through despite how I feel.

  I make my way through the cavern, the surrounding silence amplifying my own grunts of discomfort. I’m bleeding.

  Even with the pressure I put on my wound, blood still manages to trickle between the outline of my hand and through my clothing. It’s bad news. Blood and vampires don’t mix when it comes to sleuthing around. A cold sweat begins to wash over my body and I notice it’s becoming harder to move—blood loss taking its toll.

  I balance my weight against the terrain as I continue to press on, backtracking to where I found the hostages. I make it there as quickly as I can, but even at my quickest, I realize that I’m far too late.

  The cavern floor is slick with blood leading to cells where I first found bodies. Each of the cell doors are open—not a good sign. I silence my steps as I approach the first cell, the woman’s, and hear someone crying. I peer behind the opened gate and see the origin of the sound. It’s the old man—his face bloody and crouched over the woman and another vampire. Both of them are lifeless and surrounded by crumpled IV bags that were once filled with blood.

  “I…didn’t mean to. I…I was just so hungry. I couldn’t—you got to help me." The old man raises up and I back away, my gun now pointing directly at his forehead. His eyes gravitate to my wound and the fresh blood flowing between my fingers. A freshly turned vamp’s thirst for blood is something to be feared. When hunger’s a factor, anything’s possible. Plus, he’s already had a taste of human blood. It’s the best thing ever to him now, and I’m conveniently leaking it right in front of him.

  “Get back!” I yell as I jut my gun forward and continue to put distance between ourselves.

  “My family…can you please…I didn’t want to. I can control it,” he claims though his fangs are clearly visible. “You have to trust me.”

  “Back! Stay where you are.” The old man ignores my command and slowly makes his way out of the cell. I stumble back, further aggravating my injury, and his eyes widen at the revelation of my weakening state.

  “…Is my family okay?”

  “Stay back!” I hobble backwards, my gun still trained on him, though my vision slightly blurs.

  “I just want to see my family again… One last time. Then I’ll go.”

  “Back!” He moves towards me with outstretched arms. “Don’t come any closer! Damn it, listen!” I jut my gun forward.

  “My wife. I—”

  His words cut short from my bullet lodging itself into his brain, killing him instantly. The old man’s body limply falls to the floor, his eyes, open and hollow.

  The remnants of the shot echo throughout the hall and I lean against the cavern wall to catch my breath. He’d turned…I couldn’t let him see his family again. I wouldn’t have lived if I did, but he could have told me how to find them to make sure they got some kind of closure. I could have done that for him, easily.

  After a short-lived break, I stand up straight and continue my journey to the outer limits of the mine. As much as I need to rest, I can’t afford to stay in here any longer than I have to. My aim’s on a fast track to hell and just moving around is taking more energy than I can manage. I’m finished if another vampire finds me.

  I slough through the mine, my consciousness waning with every step. I’ve lost too much blood.

  With the end in sight, I stumble out of the mine, daylight not far behind. I just need to put as much distance between me and this place as possible. It’s a simple strategy, but my body’s nearing its limit.

  My legs buckle under my weight, and I collapse to the ground about fifty feet from the mine. Come on, Blaze. Get up. Psyching myself up doesn’t work. I’m far past the realm of mind over matter. I prop my body up on my arm—the one not pressed against my wound—and crawl forward until I make it to the base of the nearest tree. I then position myself against it with my gun facing the entrance to the mine.

  I remove my hand from my wound and examine the site of my injury. It wasn’t a clean shot…it nicked me through the side of my lower torso towards the start of my ribcage. An inch or so higher and I wouldn’t have lasted as long as I have. Not that that’s saying much.

  My vision flutters, so I slightly tap my head against the base of the tree for energy. It doesn’t work so I press against my wound hard enough to cause me to yelp. The quick burst of pain feeds a shot of adrenaline into my system, but once the pain fades, I can feel my body slowing once more.

  I reach for my phone and dial up the one person who can help me. Patrick, the coroner.

  The phone rings on speaker, but I watch in dismay as he fails to answer while I bleed against the base of a tree. The inner portion of my arm’s slick with blood near my elbow; a haphazard attempt to slow down the bleeding while I make use of my hand. I’m prompted to leave a voicemail, but I end the call, my body weak and my eyelids heavy. As dark as the world is, it manages to somehow get darker. My thoughts come slow as my breaths lag. Time becomes irrelevant and I slip into the darkness, no longer able to resist its tug on my heart.

  And I was so close to sunrise.

  Chapter 12: Closing Call

  The buzz of my phone snaps me from my coma and I instantly raise my Beretta in front of me. I was at death’s door.

  Still am.

  The morning rays of the sun shine through the canopy of trees surrounding me, but the leaves from the lower levels do well to hide it. I put the phone on speaker and adjust the volume, not wanting to aggravate my wound any more than I have to by moving. I got lucky. It wasn’t a direct hit and it still almost took me out. “Hello?”

  “Hello? Agent Rivers? It’s Patrick. I missed a call from you about an hour or so ago. I saw the time of the call and I wasn’t sure if you needed me or if it was an accident. Sorry I slept through it. Is everything okay?”

  “Fine,” I force out through clenched teeth. “Everything’s fine. I have it all sorted out.” Calling Patrick was a desperate move, one I wouldn’t have made unless I felt the absolute need. He said he wanted to be more involved, and he had his chance. He just happened to have slept through it.

  “I needed some information, but I’m fine now. I got it.”

  “Long night? I can hear it in your voice.”

  “Something like that. Is it that obvious?” I roll my eyes as I adjust myself against the tree. A sharp pain resonates from my wound, and I twist my neck to let out a grunt.

  “Well, you know what they say: waking up before seven should be illegal.” Patrick chuckles on the other end of the phone while I adjust myself for comfort. “Sorry again for missing your call. Hope everything works out for you. If you need anything else, you know how to get in touch.”

  “That I do. Bye.” The phone clicks and I huff into the air, mentally prepping for what’s to come. I killed all of them, and then some. There was at least eight of them, not including the humans who were recently turned or the vamps I found before I got here. I had my doubts, but that’s the only reason I have as to why I’m still alive. I’m only a light jog from the mine’s entrance. Any vamp coming to or from it would have easily seen me or picked up on my blood.

  I press my upper back against the base of the tree I’m against for leverage as I stand to my feet. The gunshot wound isn’t the only thing that’s slowing me down. Now that the adrenaline’s worn off, I notice pains that I haven’t felt before. Bruises. Fighting vampires all night usually isn’t without consequence. Turns out I was shot a second time, too. The side of my right thigh. It was just a glance… A flesh wound that was barely enough to rip the fabric of my jeans.

  I hobble through the forest, using the environment to my advantage as much as possible. It’d be just my luck to survive a horde of vampires o
nly to be snuffed out by some crazy humans strung out on drugs.

  I eventually make it to my car, but not without suffering. I place my shotgun into the trunk and keep everything else on me, in case I need it. I’m a hunter…and I’m extremely vulnerable right now. I’ve also made enemies—and not all of them hate the sun.

  I arrive at the motel with no problems. My biggest concern was walking upright and covering my blood stains to avoid the suspicion of wondering eyes from afar. Once I make it inside, I immediately go to the bathroom to tend to my wound. I strip off my shirt and sit on the edge of the tub, near the sink. From there, I grab the first aid kit I left on the counter and set it beside me. Peroxide’s the first thing I need. The wound doesn’t look infected but slumming it in an abandoned mine and taking an injury-induced nap in the middle of a forest doesn’t sound like the most sanitary of choices. I rather not chance it and pay for it later. Of course, hospitals are something we never do for obvious reasons.

  I’d have to answer questions, there’d be a trail, and I’d have eyes on me.

  I undo the cap on the bottle of peroxide and pour it over my wound. I grit my teeth at the stinging sensation as the liquid foams up and runs into the tub, carrying excess blood into the drain. As the wound sizzles from the chemical reaction, I space my breathing and focus on what else needs to be done. Stitches. I need stiches. After I finish cleaning my wound, I stand and transfer my first-aid kit back to the counter of the sink. I then prep my sewing needle and thread for the procedure. Getting hurt isn’t anything new but stabbing into yourself to help you heal quicker will never get boring. It’s like that one final ounce of hell before you can put it all behind you. I always try to muscle through it whenever they’re necessary…or at least have Sailor do it if she could.