The Chronicles of a Vampire Hunter (Book 1): Red Ashes

by Justin A. Moore

  “We're not all bad, you know.” Lily's voice whispered from his lips as his hand came crashing down.

  I jolted out of the nightmare, gasping for breath. I was immediately overwhelmed by the smell of bacon cooking. The kitchen door burst open and my uncle leaned into the living room, looking down his nose at me and grinning. “Mornin'! How do you take your eggs?”

  “Over medium.” I said as I recoiled from the sudden brightness emanating from him. The remnant of the dream already fading, but sweat had soaked my shirt through. If my uncle noticed, he didn’t say anything.

  “What, 'fraid of salmonella?” He jeered, “I figured you for a runny eggs kind of guy.”

  “It's not about the taste,” I said while climbing off the couch and stretching, the smell of my own breath making me wince. “It's about texture.”

  “Alright, it'll be done in a few, go wash up.”

  “Wash up?” I said, heading for the bathroom and feeling somewhat like a little kid. My bladder was uncomfortably full, and made climbing the stairs all the more awkward.

  I took a quick shower, brushing my teeth while washing the grime of yesterday from my body. I used body wash on my hair, for lack of shampoo. I thought about my nightmare, which I remembered in hazy detail. I decided to talk to my uncle about my nightmares; maybe he would have some kind of take on it. I stood in the shower for a half a minute and let the water course over me.

  “I'm a goddamn vampire hunter?” I asked myself aloud, still not able to fully come to terms with the way my entire view on reality had been turned upside down, nor how I had unflinchingly charged into this new life, with barely a protest. It just felt so… natural. I felt like I’d known it all along, like I was slipping back into something I’d done before I went into the military. I'd ask him about that as well, I decided as I turned off the water and grabbed my towel. I dried myself rapidly as my stomach gurgled and groaned. I tugged on my pants and ran down stairs while pulling a randomly selected (plain green, as it turned out) t-shirt over my head.

  Our breakfast was on the counter, and I could hear my uncle in the kitchen. I sat down at the stool and looked at the odd compilation of foods on my plate. There were the usual staples of sausage, eggs, and bacon. Toast was on a separate plate to the side. On both of our plates were fried mushrooms, tomatoes (which I hate) that were likewise fried, a pile of baked beans, and small black cakes that looked like spongy hockey pucks. I wasn't sure where to start, but my stomach snarled and threatened to chew its way out of my body if I didn't eat. My uncle came out into the living room carrying a colossal pitcher of orange juice and a coffee pot.

  “Alright buddy, go ahead and dig in.” My uncle sat down and filled my glass with orange juice, and an empty mug with steaming black coffee that fairly resembled crude oil as he poured it.

  “What's this, exactly?” I said, pointing at my plate. He looked, furrowed his brow, and then looked up at me.

  “That's an English breakfast, bud. You’ve never eaten sausage before?” He looked at me, his face a well-feigned mask of beatific concern.

  “You know damn well I've never had this.” I said, pointing with my knife directly at the spongy black disc on my plate. “What exactly is this?”

  “Black pudding; it's just another kind of sausage. Eat up, before your stomach crawls up your neck and throttles you.” He said as my stomach growled again, as if on cue. I watched him cut a piece of black pudding and soak it in his egg yolk before eating it. He appeared to genuinely enjoy it, and I followed suit.

  It was pretty good, and reminded me of cooked summer sausage. My stomach settled as I ate everything on my plate in silence. Once my plate was scraped clean, I set down my fork and looked my uncle. He was grinning, his plate also scraped clean, and a fresh cigar held between his teeth.

  “What exactly is black pudding?” I asked.

  “Sausage made from smoked pork, I think there's some fat and grain filler in there, and pig blood.”

  My stomach turned. “Pig blood?”

  He laughed and stood, taking our plates. “It's better than fast food. You can't imagine what they put in burgers. Seconds?”

  I looked at him in horror for a moment, but remarkably I was still hungry. I nodded.

  My uncle disappeared for a minute and then came back holding two more plates stacked with the previous breakfast items. I tore into it with hungry abandon equal to the first, and chewing on the final strip of bacon I finally felt satisfied. “Wow, I've never eaten so much in my life.”

  “Downside of our power. All magic comes with a price. Our particular brand of power comes with a tax in calories. Could be worse, though. That's why I got the big ole' kitchen.”

  I shrugged and took a long drink of coffee. “Makes sense.”

  “Another downside is temptation. Real, heavy, scheming temptation that you’ll always have to fight. That power is always there, hoss. Eventually it becomes a fat-assed hammer, and every problem starts looking like a nail. Know what I mean?”

  “Sounds like our foreign policy.” I intoned with extra cynicism, evoking a chuckle from him. “What other kinds of magic are there?” I asked.

  He leaned back on his stool and thought for a moment. “Lots of different brands of magic, but I try not to concern myself with it. I ain't a wizard or anything. I know a bit of ritual magic, just in case someone calls up a demon or something.”

  I choked on my coffee. “A demon? A real demon?”

  “Oh yeah,” He replied. “Kind of comes with the territory. Don't worry; Thanatic vamps aren't big on magic. They have a hard time with it, as far as I know. Other bloodsuckers are, but we don't get many around here. Demons are just one more thing we occasionally have to deal with, but we can't really fight them as hunters. Leave that to witches and their like. Most we can do is stand in a pentagram and wait ‘til sunrise.”

  “So what if we encounter one in the field?” I asked.

  “Well, I'll wrestle it for a bit while you run away, then once you're clear I'll run too.” He said, matter-of-factly. “We'll just have to come here, and we'll stand on the rug. Once we're both in it, I'll activate it and we'll be untouchable.”

  I looked at the rug that covered the trap door to the cellar, and noticed a light pentacle woven into the darker fabric. “You going to show me how to activate it?” I asked.

  “Maybe later. We've got something bigger to focus on.”

  “Like what?”

  “Last night you got through the first step in harnessing your power. Now we've got to get you into fighting shape. Actually, I'll be honest, I'm pretty surprised you've got a grasp on it so quick.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, in four hundred years I've never seen any hunter get a grasp on his power in under a month. Took me about a year to get enough strength to do what you did last night.”

  “Is that why I was so tired?” I asked, feeling an odd mixture of pride and concern.

  “Yeah, though I say you got hit harder by it than most. My boys just took a nap and woke up and ate a big breakfast. That may be my fault, though. Once I saw you had a natural knack for controlling your power, I kinda rushed into the practical stuff. You aren’t ready, and your body is still changing—and will keep changing for the next few years.”

  I shrugged and took another drink of coffee, draining it. My uncle immediately grabbed a beer from under the bar and popped the cap on it, offering it to me. I accepted it gratefully, though I was still determined not to make drinking beer a morning habit. It struck me, though, that I had unconsciously given up smoking, despite the number of cigars my uncle smoked. That thought was blasted away by a shudder brought on by the memory of my dream edging its way into my mind.

  “I had a pretty crazy nightmare last night. Well, I’ve been having nightmares every night, but I figured I’d bring it up.” I said, taking a swig of my beer. My uncle raised an eyebrow at me.

  “Yeah?” he said. “What about?”

  “Just all the lives tha
t have been lost ever since my power woke up. I lost a lot of good marines—good friends. The vampire from last night was also in it. I guess I feel guilty that we just killed him like that, when he was begging. I'm not used to that.”

  “You never get used to it.” My uncle said, chewing his cigar vigorously. His jaw muscles worked hard for a moment before he spoke again. “You wouldn't be human if you didn't feel guilty when something begs for its life and you snuff it out anyway. I can't tell you that it gets better or easier, but I can tell you that it's not really a matter of moral debate. It's a matter of survival.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked. I was disturbed by how his words didn't reflect the cold manner in which he spoke them. I noticed his use of something instead of someone.

  “Think about it. If that vampire had you pinned down, and you were begging, is there any chance he'd let you go? Of course not. To them you're a cheeseburger with extra ketchup. Never trust a vamp, even when you'd think they'd have no reason to lie. If you let them go, they will kill someone other than you. Think of the thousands of people who disappear every year, and are never seen again. Every vamp you kill means a few less humans going missing. Take solace in that.”

  “What about Lily?” I asked.

  “There's no exception to that rule, and she's included. Vampires have to be invited into your house to come in, but even then I had to chain her up. There's a reason for that. I trust her in that she'll do what I say, and won't blatantly attack me or violate my hospitality. But I would be a fool to let her wander around my city for any extended period of time. Remember that my first encounter with her she tried to bleed me dry over the course of a week.”

  “Oh, so that whole 'Don't invite a vampire' thing is true?” I asked, somewhat sidetracked.

  “Sure is, but it's even better than you'd think. No force on heaven or earth could push a vampire into your house, and they have to be re-invited every time. Of course, they can always just burn your house down, but I live in a brick house and I'm a really badass vampire hunter, so...” He chuckled for a moment before frowning and blowing a plume of smoke at the ceiling. “But you never can trust a vampire. I've even teamed up with Lily a couple times, but I can't trust her too much; it's not worth the chance I’d be taking.”

  “Huh.” I said, unsure what to think. He had let Lily take a shower alone, and she had taken that moment to have a few words with me, but I’d have to assume he was close enough to intercede if she decided to have a snack.

  “Either way, we know where we're going now. We've got a lot of training to do and not a lot of time to do it in.” He said, crossing his arms and looking thoughtful. “How much do you know about hand to hand combat?”

  I grinned at him and popped my knuckles. “Not much.”

  He grinned right back at me and slapped his hands on the counter. “Let's head out back then, and see if I can't teach you a few things.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  The self-proclaimed “badass vampire hunter” Ignatius Magnus lay crumpled on the ground, breathing hard and sweating for the fifth time in a row. The ground in the large fenced-in dirt lot behind the shop was torn up in several places by our scuffles; the dust kicked up in small, scattered heaps. A spot of blood formed under his nose after the palm strike I'd just given him, and he winced and sat up, rubbing the back of his arm against his mouth.

  “Ugh.” He commented.

  I clapped the dust from my hands and reached down to help him up. He took me by the arm and pulled himself up to his feet.

  “And here I thought you'd teach me some things.” I said, grinning cruelly. “Second degree black belt in MCMAP.” That was the Marine Corps martial arts program. I was quite skilled, as many young and unruly corporals and privates had discovered.

  “Oh, I'm gonna, and I don't even need a fancy belt to do it.” My uncle said, rubbing the sweat from his head with a bandana before wrapping it around his head and making a “Woo-aah” sound.

  “Once more?” I inquired, adopting my stance. Knees bent, left leg and arm forward, right arm tucked in to protect my face.

  “I'll give you, say...” He crossed his arms over his chest and rubbed his chin in mock contemplation. “Ten percent, this time.”

  I quickly shrugged. “Bring it on.”

  My uncle ducked his head, brow furrowed, and took one stride forward.

  And disappeared.

  I had a brief moment to appreciate the beauty of the suddenly formed dust cloud and the rapid succession of whip-cracks that split the air before my feet left the ground and I sailed forward. I flew head over heels in a nauseating pinwheel that spun twice before my left shoulder made sliding contact with the packed earth, and the rest of my body followed it several yards almost to the fence. An instant later the pain hit me with all the power of a sledgehammer in my back, and a burning sting along my forearms. My shoulder throbbed horribly for a moment before all of the pain was gone in a rush of adrenaline and endorphins that made my hands quiver and teeth clench.

  I pushed myself up off the ground and looked back at my uncle, spitting grit from my mouth. He stood with every muscle in his body flexing visibly and slightly shaking, his right arm straight out with his hand curled into a fist—a classic pose from kung-fu movies.

  “Woooo...” My uncle declared, jerking his arm back and standing straight up before bowing to me from the hips. “Since I just whupped you, do I get your belt?” He asked before laughing loudly in great bursts that echoed back at us from the surrounding buildings.

  “Keep your shirt on, gramps.” I said, picking myself up. I brushed the dirt off of my clothes and adopted my stance again. He favored me with a chuckle and stood casually.

  “Make you a bet for this fight, hoss.” He said while producing a slightly bent cigar from his pocket and lighting it. “You knock this cigar out of my mouth, and I'll give up smoking for a year.”

  “You make it sound so easy.” I said, knowing exactly how he managed to move that quickly. He had somehow changed the normal upward force your legs are used to producing into power-augmented horizontal movement; I just had to figure out how to do it too without launching myself into the air. I reached for the power in me and instantly felt a warm tingle of static over my body, rendering my hurts numb.

  “There you go, that's the stuff. God damn but you’re getting the hang of this fast.” He blew a plume of smoke at me and red light smoldered under his skin. The light was always there, but through our conversations and fights my mind had begun to block it out. It was like the noise of airplanes or passing trains; there, but I didn’t really notice it unless I looked for it. I'd completely forgotten the red brilliance that shone from him the first time I saw his power. I looked at my extended right arm, and my golden aura was somewhat brighter than his. I smiled.

  “Twenty percent this time, you're still at a handicap.” He said as he popped his neck, his hands behind his back. “Ready when you are.”

  I took a breath and then kicked at the ground with my feet, angling it so I wouldn’t go launching into the air, and tore a good chunk of turf up with the force of it. I shot past him, skidding and trying to stop before I crunched audibly into the back of the shop. His laughter echoed from behind me. I beat my fist against the wall in frustration, and to my surprise several of the bricks cracked.

  “Easy kiddo, easy! I don't got insurance!” He shouted between laughs. I turned back and took two strides and jumped hard into the air. I instantly shot fifteen feet up and flailed briefly in surprise before I got control of myself. At least I got the trajectory right, I thought, and in classic kung-fu movie style, tucked my left leg under my right leg and sailed towards him.

  My foot hit the ground hard, sending vibrations through my body and putting a good half inch deep boot print into the ground. My uncle had sidestepped me with infuriatingly little effort. I quickly got over the jolt and followed the kick with several jabs from my left hand. Each time he was just barely beyond my reach. I lunged forward with a hook that c
racked on the air as I threw it, both surprising me and enraging me because once again he ducked it with ease. I saw his right hand shoot out of his pocket for a moment and blur as he open-hand slapped me twice on the stomach. Hot stinging pain burned my skin and I looked down to make sure I wasn't bleeding, but I appeared fine. I looked back at him.

  “C'mon bud, you can do better.” He jeered, stepping away from me a few steps and puffing on his cigar casually. I snarled and my vision blurred as I dug deep, reaching desperately inside myself for more power. I wanted to win, damnit. A moment passed and I felt a wellspring of strength flood my body from deep, deep down. A sort of pressure formed in all of my senses as if I was looking too hard, or taking too deep a breath. I looked at my arm and short beams of white light arced from my aura. There was no word for the sensation, almost a pleasant burning sensation on my skin, though inside I felt full to bursting in a very literal sense, and yet I felt suddenly and oddly peaceful. And cocky. My uncle raised an eyebrow.

  “What's this then? Turning up the gas? Well, I won't up the stakes. Let's see what you've got.” He seemed to take me a bit more seriously though, and looked at me thoughtfully through the haze of smoke from his cigar.

  I lunged forward, testing my strength, and time seemed to slow down. The single stride propelled me forward at amazing speed, and my uncle barely dodged the flying knee I'd aimed at his face. I planted my feet instantly and spun around with my leg raised in a kick, but he had already ducked and reached up as my leg swung over his head and grabbed it. He fingers dug into my calf like they were made out of rebar, and I saw him wink at me before I felt myself flying into the air again, but it was different this time. He had jumped and dragged me aloft with him.

  I kicked and flailed as I felt myself swing around twice. I felt the pressure of his hand leave my leg and knew instinctively that I was sailing rapidly towards the ground. I contorted wildly in the air as I fell, and miraculously, I landed on my feet. I felt the ground buckle as my heels dug in and the inertia bore my body down on my legs, forcing my knees onto the ground as well, but I'd managed to land unharmed. Instantly it occurred to me that he would be falling much slower than me, and I looked up. He was a good fifteen feet off the ground. I launched myself at him and I saw his eyes widen in surprise as I threw a mid-air punch that connected with his stomach. The force of the impact stopped me dead in the air and sent tingling pain up my arm through my shoulder into my back. I felt myself falling as he flew up and away from me, and the cigar fell out of his mouth.