Tainted Hunter (The Huntress Bane Book 1)

by Derek Shupert

  Dressed in full body riot gear, the men look upon us with curt expressions as the vehicle before ours enters the city. Wielding a rifle, that’s clutched tightly within his hands, the guard out in front of the others holds his hand in the air and stops us.

  He takes a moment, and looks over the vehicle with curious eyes. I think I know where this is leading. He recognizes the raiders’ transport.

  His pistol springs up from the side of his hip, and he trains the weapon in our direction as the two other guards follow suit. I remain calm and collected, as does Lucian.

  He cautiously moves toward the driver’s side of the buggy. His eyes narrow, and deadlock with mine as any nomads close by flee from the area.

  “Not exactly the reception I’m used to receiving,” Lucian mutters over at me.

  “Well, I imagine it’s because of this crap heap we are driving,” I reply while maintaining eye contact with the guard. “Black Fields doesn’t generally do business with raiders.”

  The guard’s body is riddled with tension. It’s evident by his stiff stance and the rigid posture of his arms. “Keep your hands where I can see them, and do not make any sudden movements.”

  He stares at me for a moment more before lowering his side arm down to his side. He relaxes his rigid stance and turns toward the other two guards. He motions with his hand for them to be at ease.

  The guard holsters his pistol. He looks over the buggy from front to back.

  “Not exactly the best choice of vehicles to use. You’re lucky we didn’t just open fire.”

  I pat the steering wheel with my hand.

  “Didn’t have a choice. We were in a bind and had to bail out of a touchy situation. We took it off a raider party that ransacked one of the outer colonies.”

  The guard glances out to the expansive wasteland with a troubling look in his eye.

  “Trouble just seems to gravitate to you, doesn’t it?”

  I nod. No denying it. “Seems to. Not sure how I got to be so lucky.”

  He brings his attention back to me. “Anything we need to be concerned with?”

  I glance to Lucian, who cuts his eyes over to the guard standing near me.

  “Looks like it. Heading to the council right now.”

  The guard lowers his head, diverting his gaze away from me briefly. “You know, the council is pissed about you leaving all of the time. They’re on the verge of ordering us to lock you up if you don’t adhere to their orders.”

  The news doesn’t surprise me.

  The council has been explicit about me leaving the city. Regardless if Preston has a good stock of my blood or not. What they fail to realize, or accept even, is that I am nobody’s prisoner. I agreed to help with finding a possible cure, but I didn’t agree to being confined and told what to do. I’ve had my time in such conditions, and I will not go back to it.

  “Guess they’ll just need to be pissed then. Wouldn’t work too well in their favor if they make such a call.”

  The guard snickers under his breath. “No doubt about that.”

  TWENTY TWO

  I’m glad they didn’t open fire. That would’ve been a bad way to end a shit day.

  Lucian his palms on the tops of his thighs. The guard standing near him and the other in front of the buggy, move off to the right.

  The guard to left steps back from the buggy. He twirls his fingers in the air and shouts, “Open it up!”

  The dense steel plate of the gate retracts.

  I fire up the buggy, which grumbles and sounds awful. I imagine it’s going to die at any moment once we get inside. We’ll ditch it and allow the city to do with it as they please.

  The guard nods and offers a warm half smile.

  I wink and place the buggy into gear.

  “So, that was... interesting,” Lucian says. “I don’t think I’ve ever really seen anyone gain access to the city so easily before. Especially while driving a raider rig.”

  “Yeah. It’s all part of my charm.”

  Lucian shrugs slightly as we get on the move. “That’s one way of putting it.”

  Crossing the threshold of the wastelands and into Black Fields, one would almost think they were being transported to another time and place.

  Nothing overly spectacular by any means, but when compared to the drudgery of the vampire infested lands, Black Fields is a far cry nicer than anything else.

  One of just a few modern cities that throw back to the days of old with tall buildings erected out of blood, sweat, and tears from the inhabitants, the city stands as a beacon of hope for humanity.

  Probably one of the reasons why Mathesis has set his eyes on the sprawling metropolis.

  The streets bustle with people, shuffling along the paved roads as they pass us by. The city accommodates a mixture of lower and upper classes. The residents move about conducting whatever business they must.

  It’s not hard to tell the difference between the two groups. The well to do have much nicer clothes that look clean and have few, if any, blemishes within the fabric. The less than fortunate have dingier rags that look as though they haven’t been washed for some time.

  Although the city is vast and takes up a good portion of real estate, there are only so many spots available for permanent residency. I’ve never given a second thought to trying to obtain one of the housing units within the mecca for myself.

  The idea of having such creature comforts and the security that the city offers is tempting, I’m just not overly fond of having an overseer meddle in my business whenever they feel like it. My relationship with the city is of mutual benefit. We’re striving for the same thing—the end of the vampires.

  The buggy lunges and grumbles a godawful groan. I pull the dying vehicle off to the side of the road and between two large buildings. I kill the engine. It vibrates briefly before completely falling silent.

  We disembark the now immobile ride. Lucian retrieves his rucksack from the back and heads to the rear of the buggy where I stand waiting.

  “Are you heading off to speak with the council now?” Lucian inquires.

  I nod.

  “They need to be informed of what’s transpiring beyond these walls.”

  “Do you want me to tag along?” he inquires.

  I shake my head. I think I can handle it. Besides, the council won’t allow him within their chambers.

  “That’s all right. I can handle it.”

  Lucian nods in agreement.

  “When you’re done meeting with them, did you want to meet up a bit later? I’d be interested in hearing what the plan is.”

  “Yeah. Might be a while, though. I’ve got some other matters to tend to as well,” I reply.

  “No worries. I’ll be around the markets for most of the day after I get my bullets made. See what sort of things I need to trade for or buy.” Lucian lifts the hood back up over his head, concealing his face within the depths of the tattered and worn leather covering. “Good luck with the council. Try not to pummel them if they don’t cooperate with you.”

  “I’ll try not to.”

  “I imagine if anyone can convince them, it’ll be you.” He winks at me from the depths of the hood.

  “Hopefully, I won’t have to resort to physical violence,” I reply with a half-smile.

  Lucian chuckles.

  “I doubt that would bother you much.”

  He’s partially right. I don’t mind violence. It’s a part of life, and me now—a primal instinct that has been seared into my brain. But still, I hope to be diplomatic and speak rationally with the council, if they’ll listen.

  “I’ll catch up with you later.”

  Lucian walks off toward the sidewalk. He merges into the bustling stream of people, and disappears from my sight.

  I tilt my head back slightly and glance up at the sky. Even though it’s still early in the day, there is much work that needs tending to before the sun falls, and the creatures of the night crawl out of whatever nook or tomb they are slumbering i
n.

  I lift the collar of the dense leather jacket I’m wearing past my jaw. I shove my hands into both pockets, and walk out into the streets of Black Fields.

  My head stays tilted forward, eyes hidden from the passersby as I thread my toned frame in and out of the people going about their business. I have nothing to hide, but I’m not an overly outgoing person that mingles within large crowds.

  When I come to Black Fields, it’s generally for trade, or to meet up with Preston.

  I think he eats, sleeps, and breathes the vampires. Ever since I first met him, and he discovered what I was, he has been more than willing to help me make sense of it all. To say he’s overenthusiastic about the prospect of what I am would be an understatement.

  He couldn’t wait to get started on drawing my blood and testing it. Afterall, I’m the only one walking around with the demon’s venom pumping through my body, but yet, I haven’t changed. A fascinating imbroglio, he’d say with eyes wide.

  The council was made aware of my condition, and it took some convincing, but Preston managed to ease their troubled minds and assure them that I posed no risk. Most importantly, they believe there might be a possible cure hidden within the mixture of my blood that could ward off the effects of a vampire’s bite.

  Tests have been run, here and out in the wastelands, with unfavorable results. Still, Preston remains hopeful, and promises the council that it isn’t a waste of time or resources.

  I can only imagine that if they ever grow bored of him wanting to save the human race, I’ll be banished from stepping foot inside the city walls or worse.

  I’ve seen so much of the inner workings of the city, and the intimate knowledge I have could pose a threat if the cure ends up being an ultimate failure. The council’s tolerance only stretches so far, afterall.

  Fortunately, for the good people of Black Fields, well, most of them, I’m not doing it for the council. I’m doing all of this for them.

  I continue on my way to Coalition Tower which is set in the northeast sector of the city. Street after street is lined with vendors selling various foods and other valuables—everything from fresh fruit, grown from within the city, to swords and knives. Firearms are hard to come by.

  The city generally reserves such armament for the guards, who patrol the day’s trading with rifles laced across their chests. Faces void of any sort of pleasant demeanor, the guards watch and observe to make sure the rules are followed, and no shady dealings happen.

  They still go down, unnoticed to the untrained eye, but the ones caught are thrown out of the city, blacklisted forever, and forbidden from entering the city again.

  The humbled and yet persistent vendors vie for my attention. Numerous dialectics and ethnicities battle for anything of value that I might have, or for me to purchase what they’re selling. They point to their tables, offering me their best ten second sales pitch before I slip away.

  I don’t entertain any of them. Making eye contact only fuels their persistence, and creates a frenzy that is hard to escape.

  Only a half block to go before the constant drum of salesmen cease. The vendors have specified areas within the city that they are allowed to set up shop and conduct business. Most of this happens in the lower income areas.

  The squalors.

  Although not filthy and unpleasant as the word describes, that’s how the elite views their fellow man. Thus, why they have set up the boundaries to keep the two from melding. People can go where they please within Black Fields, but they try to keep the trading in a contained area. Easier for maintaining control, or so they say.

  I hang a left, past the last vendor and guard, and continue on down the sidewalk. The barrage of voices pounding my ears falls to a distant mutter then shortly dies off, giving me a reprieve to formulate my plan of attack with the council.

  Who am I kidding? There is no methodical angle that I’m going to work with the powers that have domain over the city. That’s not my style anyway.

  It is what it is. Hopefully, they’ll see it that way. The lives of everyone here, and what we’re working toward, is on the line.

  TWENTY THREE

  Coalition Tower is one of the more secured structures within Black Fields. Heavily fortified to protect the council, the sprawling complex is outfitted with numerous guards who patrol the outer grounds and inner workings of the building.

  I make my way up the stairs and through the set of hefty steel doors. They’re open during the day, for any business that needs attending, and sealed at night.

  I stop just shy of the checkpoint, where a handful of armed guys stand at attention. I know the drill. It’s my least favorite part of coming here. I detest having anyone’s hands glide over my body. It makes my skin crawl, and my nerves rattle. Reminds me of when Mathesis would run his cold, dead fingers over my flesh before he’d feed on me. The thought sends a wave of angst fluttering through my system.

  I suck in a gulp of air. Relax and deal with it. Shouldn’t take but a moment. I can handle that.

  The guard motions with his black padded glove to move forward. I do as requested until he halts me by making a fist.

  “You know the drill. Weapons?”

  He’s succinct.

  I nod.

  No one enters this place with a weapon on them, not even me. The guards know who I am, but protocol for Coalition Tower is strict, regardless of who you are.

  I reach down and remove the kukri from its sheath. I carefully hand it to him. He takes the weapon by the handle and hands it off to another guard, who stows it away in a secured steel storage to my right.

  He motions with his hands for me to assume the position. I raise my arms up and out to my side. I spread my legs evenly apart as he takes a step forward.

  He bends down and starts at my left ankle. He pats me up my leg and down the other. He checks around my waist and up past my breast. I can only bite my lip from wanting to snap his arm like a twig and break his neck. I know he’s just doing his job, but the pressure from his hands triggers an uneasy feeling that washes over me.

  He finishes up and steps back.

  “You’re clear for entry.”

  I nod as my arms lower.

  The guard steps off to my left and allows me to pass.

  I feel naked without the kukri. It’s an extension of my own flesh. I’ve had the weapon for as long as I can remember. It’s has been with me through every sort of tight space and near-death experience that I can recall. I know I’ll get it back. It just puts me on edge knowing that it isn’t on me.

  I make my way across the sprawling lobby to the staircase. One thing about Coalition Tower is the clean-cut outline and cleanliness of the building.

  The floors are shiny and free of any dirt or grime as my boots squeak across the lobby. There’s no trash littering the grounds and any carpeted areas have been cleaned.

  Not immaculate by any stretch, but given the state of everything else in the wastelands and the city itself, it is sure a cut above the rest.

  Preston and the council are located on the upper floor of the structure. I think it’s the fifth floor. I can never remember. I just beat the stairs until I hit the familiar hall that lets me know I have arrived.

  I race up flight after flight, passing by people in a mad dash. My boots hit the landing of the uppermost section of the facility. Cameras mounted in the corners of the ceiling twist and turn, focusing in my direction.

  I make a beeline down the wide corridor toward the council’s main chambers.

  “Amanda? I was expecting you a couple of days ago. Did you run into trouble?”

  A familiar voice captures my attention to my left. Preston shuffles out of the room and approaches me with worried eyes. His clothes are wrinkled, the black strands of his hair in disarray. He grips the rims of his glasses and adjusts them properly on the bridge of his nose.

  I turn to face him.

  “I need to speak with the council. I have dire news that they must hear,” I say.

>   His eyes widen farther, if that’s even possible.

  “Is it the vampires?”

  I affirm with a nod.

  “Yes, but there’s more.”

  Preston rubs his chin. He glances to his left down the hall in the direction of the council’s chambers.

  “Oh no. That doesn’t sound good. Not at all,” he retorts. He looks back towards where the council’s chambers are once more. “We’ll just have to interrupt their meeting. I hate doing that, especially now. They have been dealing with some civil unrest within the city. That, and they keep inquiring as to how the research and testing is going on your blood. They’re also upset about you leaving all of the time.”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  “I have explained your leaving the city is for us to test the serum and have assured them that we have more samples of your blood in storage to work with. Speaking of which, how did the last batch fair? Were you able to use it? Did it help counter the demon’s venom and reverse the effects of their bite?”

  My hand rests on his shoulder.

  “We can discuss that later. For now, I must see the council. This cannot wait any longer. The fate of Black Fields hangs in the balance.”

  His eyes divert off to the right. His teeth nibble at his lip as his fingers rap against his lips. Even though he agreed that the council needs to hear what I have to say, he is still a bit gun shy on interrupting their session. Preston doesn’t have an overly aggressive personality, and it shows.

  “I need your help. They will listen to you. Right now, it’s imperative that we speak to them.”

  Preston nods, and leads me down the hall. He stops at a set of large wooden doors, and pulls at his white collar as a shiver of nervousness overtakes his trembling hand.

  My hand pats him on the shoulder as I offer a reassuring nod.

  He makes a fist and sternly pounds his knuckles against the wood twice then reaches down and grabs the brass handle. He presses down the lever and pushes the door forward. The hinges squeal as the subtle voices of men engaged in conversation escape out into the hall.

  “Yes. What is it?” a voice booms from the chambers.