Tainted Hunter (The Huntress Bane Book 1)

by Derek Shupert

  The footsteps continue toward me. I grip the handle as hard as I can, and turn around. The sudden movement sends my equilibrium crashing on its head. I lose my balance, and crumble to the dry earth.

  Laying there on the flat of my back, the silhouette of a man, in smirched rags, approaches me. I try to lift the kukri in defense, but the loss of blood, seeping from the wound, has zapped my strength. The weighted weapon remains on the ground. I struggle to get my feet back under me, but the earth won’t release me.

  He hovers over me like the grim reaper. The hood that’s over his head cloaks his face like a hollow pit of nothingness.

  I go to speak, but my words are lost. I don’t have the energy to form a single syllable. The world is spinning, and I can’t stop it from doing so. My eyes become heavy to the point that I can’t keep them open.

  The last image I see before blacking out is him reaching for me.

  THREE

  An endless nightmare.

  Every man, woman, and child. Dead at the hands and fangs of the vampires. Their bodies lay scattered over the dry, defunct earth. What blood the demons didn’t gorge themselves on has soaked in the ground.

  The planet is swollen with it.

  Every time I close my eyes, that’s all I see. Bathed in the unimaginable death and despair of so many, I suffer in my dreams just as I do in real life.

  But now, I have a fighting chance. The gaping wound on my stomach is gone. My swollen jaw, healed. The kukri twirls in my hand as Mathesis’s horde of undead surround me.

  They hiss and growl. Saliva drips from their red stained lips. The tips of their fangs beg to taste my flesh. Their numbers are too large to count. Still, I shall slay them all.

  A thunderous belt of utter disdain for the vile creatures booms from my mouth. I dare them to attack. They give in to their maddening hunger and advance. With a fist full of vengeance and a heart full of rage, we collide.

  “It’s ok. You’re safe.”

  A restrictive hand presses firmly on my shoulders, which snaps me out of my dream. Startled, I sit up. My hand frantically searches for the kukri, but finds no weapon nearby.

  “I’m not going to hurt you. Please, settle down.”

  His voice is strong, yet tender. His brown eyes look on me with kindness and concern. A scar runs at an angle from just under his right eye to the black stubble that coats his cheeks and square chin.

  He removes his hands from my shoulders and steps back. It takes me a moment to get my bearings. I rest my head against the rigid texture of the wall, and calm my breathing. The heels of my palms burrow into each eye to clear away the haze and grogginess that consumes them.

  I take in the periphery of the small, illuminated space. The sun’s strident rays blast in through the unboarded dingy windows to my left. The interior off-white walls of the structure have fist size holes that litter the drywall throughout, offering me hints of the dwelling’s layout.

  Nothing more than the pile of folded blankets that I’m resting on fills the room. My coat and kukri are placed on the floor to my left.

  “Where am I?”

  “You’re in my dwelling. I found you in the wastelands. You were near death.” He hands me a canteen. “Here. Drink this.”

  I’m hesitant, but the dryness that fills my lips and mouth spurs me to take the container none the less. I grab the brown canteen from him.

  “What’s inside?”

  “Water. You are pretty dehydrated.”

  I tilt my head back and gulp down the tepid liquid. I polish off the remaining water within a matter of seconds. My arm brushes across my lips as I hand the canteen back to him.

  “Thank you.”

  He offers a warm smile as he retrieves the empty container from me, and hangs it back on the wall to his left.

  “You’re welcome.” He extends his hand out to me. “I’m Lucian.”

  I reciprocate the gesture.

  “Amanda.”

  He shakes my hand twice before his eyes cut down to my forearm.

  I rip my hand away from his, and fold my arms across my chest. The bite marks, that are a painful reminder of a past life that I wish I could forget, still cover my arms.

  He doesn’t say anything, or inquire as to how and why I have them. He just nods.

  “Are you hungry? I don’t have much, but what I do have you are more than welcome to eat if you’d like.”

  From the mere mention of food, my stomach rumbles. It’s been longer than I can remember since I ate last.

  “Whatever you can spare, I’d be grateful to take.”

  He smiles.

  “Excellent. I’ll be right back.”

  He disappears from the drab room, and cuts to his right. His heavy footsteps play off the wooden floor as each board creaks from the weight of his bulk.

  I sling the blankets off, scoot to the edge of the makeshift bed, and slowly stand up. The room spins, causing me to brace my hand against the wall to keep myself from falling to the floor.

  My head dangles in front of me. My shirt is stained red with the blood that poured from the gash across my stomach. The claw marks remain in the tattered fabric.

  I lift up my shirt and put eyes on the white gauze that is wrapped around my mid-section. The cotton is soaked with blood. It appears to be dry. I didn’t notice it at first, but the soreness is all but gone as well. No discomfort lingers in the area.

  My fingers probe the wound for any tenderness. There is no pain. I grab the end of the gauze and unwrap the afflicted area.

  What the hell?

  Much to my surprise, the skin has already healed. All that remains to indicate that I had sustained an injury is a scar and the tint of red that lingers on my flesh.

  How long have I been out?

  Lucian enters the room with a plank of wood. The smell of warm food draws my attention his way. A black bowl and a slice of bread fill my hungry eyes.

  “I tended to the wound on your-”

  His eyes cut toward my stomach.

  His mouth drops open as I lower my shirt back down.

  I don’t feel like discussing the matter. It’s not something that I want to dive into at the moment.

  “How long was I out for?”

  He stands there, motionless with the plank of wood steady in his hands. It takes him a moment, but he finally answers.

  “You’ve been out for a couple of days.” He goes to speak once more, but holds his tongue. I imagine he has more questions than I’m willing to answer. “I’ve got some stew here and bread.”

  “Smells good. Can’t remember the last time I had a hot meal.”

  Lucian brings the plank of wood over to me. I slide down the wall’s surface and rest on my bottom. I cross my legs and take the food from him.

  “I’ll let you eat in peace.”

  He turns to leave.

  “You can stay if you’d like? I wouldn’t mind the company.”

  He half smiles, lowers to the ground, and rests his forearms on his bent knees.

  The steam from the bowl of stew drifts into the air. The scent of the broth and other ingredients permeates my nose. I ladle the torrid liquid from the bowl with the wooden spoon, and bring it to my lips. I gently blow to cool it down before tasting the stew.

  It’s flavorful compared to what I normally eat. Spices are a rare commodity in this day and age. Most foods are bland, and lack any sort of life.

  “I hope you like it,” Lucian says as he watches me drown the spoon in the broth. “I don’t cook for too many people nowadays.”

  I down my second mouthful and nod. I lay the spoon on the plank and grab the bread. I dip it into the broth and consume the saturated end.

  “It’s good. Haven’t had a meal this tasty in some time.” I swallow the food and continue eating. “I normally eat whatever animal is unlucky enough to cross my path. I don’t much worry about sprucing it up with anything. Just eat and go.”

  He nods in agreement.

  “I am generally the s
ame way. My last visit to Black Fields, I managed to barter with a vendor there for some spices. Cost me some trinkets, that I’d been holding onto, and some vampire teeth. More so the fangs. You’d be surprised what people will pay or trade for those things. I think they use them on necklaces and such. A weird fad, but who am I to judge.”

  My face crinkles in confusion. The notion of anyone wanting to sport the fangs of the vampires is lost on me. Considering all of the death and destruction they have caused; I wouldn’t want to keep anything around that would remind me of that.

  “That is strange. Haven’t heard of that before. I sure as hell don’t get the allure of it, but to each their own, I guess. How’d you get them?”

  Lucian smirks and winks. “Carefully.” His eyes cut to the left, over to the kukri. “Nice blade. Looks as though you have been putting it to good use.”

  I glance to the blade, and the blood of the demons that still resides on the weapon.

  “It has tasted more than its fair share of vamps. That’s for certain.”

  He nods.

  “So, you’re a vampire hunter, then?”

  “I don’t know what I am. Some call me a slayer. Some call me a hunter. Others call me names that I’d rather not say. I’m just trying to survive, is all.” I take in another mouthful of bread that is soaked with the stew. I chew it up and swallow it. I savor the flavor that remains in my mouth. “The people I was with were slain by the demons. They tracked us through the wastelands. We ended up at some house where the demons converged and killed them all.”

  He points to my mid-section.

  “Is that how you got that wound?”

  “It is.”

  I place the plank of wood off to my left. My stomach feels content at the moment. The rumbling and discord that it was suffering has been extinguished for the time being.

  “I’m curious about something. I don’t see too many folks out in the open after sunset just meandering about. That’s normally a death sentence.”

  “Well, that’s the best time to hunt for food. That’s when most of the animals come out. It isn’t as hot,” Lucian responds.

  “Do you not worry about the vampires attacking you?” I inquire.

  Lucian looks over his shoulder to the window that has the full brunt of the sun shining through its grime-coated glass.

  “Not anymore. Don’t get me wrong. I try to minimize my time out after dark, and avoid them, but sometimes, it can’t be helped. If I come across any demons then, so be it. I promise you, though, they’ll regret it.”

  Lucian’s face is stern, and void of any sort of emotion. He runs his hand through his hair and diverts his gaze from me.

  I’ve seen that look more times than I’d like to admit.

  Loss.

  Sadness.

  Regret even.

  A buffet of emotions that regardless of how many times you try and force it down, it refuses to obey.

  I don’t press the matter any further.

  Lucian clears his throat. “Anyway. What about you? Do you frequent the darkness, or were you unlucky enough to have been forced to flee in the night?”

  “I generally avoid it if I can, but if I have to travel at night, I will.” I respond. “I’m not afraid of the vampires. Not anymore. If they have my back against the wall, I’ll fight my way through them.”

  Lucian nods in agreement. His eyes divert down to the half empty bowl of stew. “Would you like for me to refresh that stew for you? Whatever doesn’t get eaten will just get tossed out.”

  I hold up my hand and shake my head.

  “I’m good. Thank you. What I had filled me up.”

  Lucian stands up. He takes the plank of wood from the folded-up blankets on the floor. He leaves the room and heads to the right. I catch snapshots of his body trailing down the hall through the holes in the wall.

  I climb off the blankets, slowly. The dizziness that had been plaguing me has waned. I’m not back to one hundred percent entirely, but I’m not as weak as I was.

  Still, the accelerated healing of the injury Mathesis inflicted upon me festers in the back of my mind. Granted, since escaping his clutches, and releasing my body from being his blood bag, this is the first instance where I had an injury that healed this quickly.

  Was there something more to what he mentioned during our fight? Did having his venom inside me not only mutate my body in some special way to possibly counteract their disease, but was it also making me more like them?

  Accelerated healing.

  Faster reflexes.

  Heightened sense of my surroundings.

  I’m not overly sure that using disease accurately describes what the vampires have, but considering what they pass on is nothing short of a virus that attacks and mutates the body, it sounds good.

  The thought of becoming a demon of the night has worried me for some time, but I try not dwell on it too much. Drinking blood from people certainly turns my stomach inside out. That’s not a life that I long for. Screw immortality if I have to resort to such things. I’ll find a way to end it before I fully turn into one of those blood suckers.

  I take it slow and easy, trying not to move any faster than is needed. I grab my coat and slip it on. I scoop up the kukri and secure it in its sheath on my leg.

  The sun’s warmth, filtering in through the window, splashes on my face. I stand there for a moment and soak in its rays. Just one of the many reasons I enjoy the daylight so much. I prefer the warm, comforting radiance of the sun over the dark, cool night air that has more of a bite to it—among the other things that lurk within the deepest, darkest nooks of this now defunct world.

  Lucian’s footsteps are heavy and flat as he comes back. He’s not quiet in the least. Guess it’s a good thing the vampires don’t consider him livestock.

  I stand near the window, and close my eyes as he enters the room.

  “Is everything ok?” he asks.

  I take in a deep gulp of air, and hold it for a moment. I release any pent-up angst through my nose and mouth.

  “Everything is fine.”

  Lucian leans against the chipped wood of the door jamb and folds his arms across his chest.

  “Where will you go now?”

  “Black Fields to start. There’s a man there that I need to see,” I say.

  Lucian stands up straight. He pushes away from the wall.

  “I actually need to head that way as well. I’m running low on supplies, and could stand to hit the market. I try to go when the traders first show up—best time to get first dibs on their goods. Ammo and weapons generally go fast.”

  My brow slightly lifts in curiosity.

  “Ammo?”

  Lucian nods.

  “Yeah. To deal with any raiders and the vampires.”

  “I’ve never heard of anyone using ammo on the vamps. Seems like a waste.”

  Lucian shakes his head.

  “Regular ammunition, yes. I try to get that as well, but I primarily seek out a special kind. There aren’t too many traders that deal in it because of how hard it is to produce. That, and most folks can’t afford what it’s worth.” Lucian motions for me to follow him. “Here. Let me show you.”

  He steps back into the hall, and I follow. He heads down the drab corridor to the open living space that is adjacent to the cramped kitchen.

  A musty, old smell fills my nose, and merges with the dying scent of the stew and bread. He bends down next to a dingy light blue rocking chair and rummages through his pack.

  I take in the jejune space of both the kitchen and living area. Both are mostly void of any sort of comforts. Not that those are the norm anymore.

  In the middle of the kitchen, is a kerosene stove with a black pot resting on its base. The wind from outside exploits the fragmented wood, and creates a low hissing sound that squeezes through the rotting boards.

  The windows in this section of the house are positioned in such a way that the sun doesn’t hit them directly. Shadows drape over the defunct sp
ace like a dark veil. Looking about, I don’t spot any other blankets or a bed that he would’ve slept on. Did he allow me to rest where he would normally sleep?

  “Here we go.”

  Lucian pulls free a black pistol from his faded red rucksack. He ejects the magazine, and pulls free one of the rounds. He tosses it to me.

  I skim over the brass casing, and notice a cross has been etched on the base.

  “So, some drunk trader carved a cross on the casing.” I toss the round back to Lucian. “Not sure I’d risk my life with that falsehood. If I had a choice between that pistol and my kukri, this bad boy would win every time.”

  I pat the sheath that’s attached to my leg.

  Lucian loads the round back into the magazine.

  “You’re not a believer then I take it?”

  He slaps the magazine into place, and secures it back into the back of his pants.

  “I believe in what is known to be fact. If I chop a vampire’s head off, I know for a fact they’re dead. Can’t say that with a bullet.” Lucian nods in agreement. Hard to dispute that. “Besides, how sure are you that each one of those bullets has been blessed by an actual real deal holy man? I know there are plenty that “claim” to be doing the good Lord’s work, but not all folks are honest now.”

  Lucian contorts his face in such a manner that it seems as though I have slighted him by my brash and honest response. He brushes it off with a shrug.

  “No offense. Just my view on the matter. Since the world has gone to shit, it’s hard to believe that there’s a higher deity looking out for us mere mortals, is all. The war with the vampires seems a little one-sided. It’s us against them. That’s it.”

  Lucian dismisses my attempt at an apology with a wave of his hand.

  “No apologies needed. Faith in this day and age is highly subjective. I believe in what I see as well. Those rounds with the cross etched on them, they are tried and true. I’ve used them before. They worked instantly and without fault. Anything other than a head shot wounds them severely. Pop them between the eyes, they go down, and don’t get back up.”