Night 9

James woke up. He was cold, shaking, and naked. His head throbbed and his body ached. He felt a breeze and heard the faint rustling of leaves. He felt the freezing stones beneath his back and legs and felt dew resting on his frigid flesh. He fought his weighty eyelids open and saw nothing more than darkness. He felt so weak and tired. He was an empty husk, all his strength was gone. He struggled into a sitting position and wrapped his arms around his legs. He was shivering and his stomach was growling like a beast gone mad. His eyes adjusted and he could see the faint outlines of his confines. He was dirty from the grime that covered the unclean floor of the room. He looked around and saw that there was no door. He looked up, his neck straining and making him wince, to see that he had been dumped into a pit. The sides of it were sheer and smooth, despite the obvious weathering of age. He closed his eyes and shivered again.

He wondered why he had been left alive. He thought to himself that if he was alive then the others probably were, too. He hoped that Brick had gotten away and wondered how he could have. He wondered if Jessica was still alive. He felt a new pain, one that had receded and was now coming back stronger and in a strange way. He wanted to vomit.

He had no idea how long he sat in the shadows, his stomach growling, his muscles shivering violently. He only knew that it seemed like an eternity. He could not remember being so cold and so hungry for so long. He could see his flesh in the faint light; it was paler than it should have been. It was almost translucent. His body gave in and started to dry heave. Bile and spittle washed up, burning and irritating his throat. He stopped retching and went back to sitting and hugging his bare knees. He did not want to be close to anything because he knew that it would be colder and he did not want to move for fear of using what little life was left in him.

Time crawled by achingly. He wanted to cry out but clung to the hope that some form of salvation would come before he broke. He prayed to a God that had not heard his voice for years. He cursed New York and slandered the vampires. He would have screamed if it would not have cost him so much of his energy. He wanted to keep his resolve, but it was being worn away.

Then, his boxers, jeans and tee were dropped to him. They fluttered to the ground like paper litter. He moved to them slowly and began to dress. His body moved slowly, shivering as the currents of air drug out the last bit of heat from what little he had left. He felt his existence escaping like tendrils of mist in the night. He pulled on his shirt and thought that he could see that mist resting there in the pit with him.

He shrank away from it. He was breathing hard with the immense effort that such simple actions seemed to be taking. Then the mist thickened, swirling together, taking a shape. It was a woman, young and beautiful, standing there. Then the thickening fog took on a tone of white that was startling at first and the hair became golden and the eyes became blue. He was hallucinating.

“James, it is time for you to die.” The woman spoke with a voice that was soft, warm, sultry and seductive. He had to be suffering from delusions, seeing things before his last wits left him and his heart stopped.

“James, you still have purpose, but my Mistress must see your fear.” His eyes widened and pain shot through his head. The headache was too much and he began to dry heave again.

His body stopped convulsing and he trembled worse than ever before. “You will come with me, James, please.”

He looked up to her, “Who are you?”

“My name is Allison. You’ve met my friend several times. She doesn’t die easily.”

His lips peeled back in a silent snarl.

“Oh, you can’t hate her that much. I love her, she’s so tender and gentle, and her caress is second only to that of my mother. She tastes wonderful, umm, you should be so lucky to taste that, like the sweetest honey. Too bad, you’ll never get the chance.”

His voice came out raspy and little more than a whisper, “I’ll make her burn.”

“No you won’t, you’re too weak for that. My Mistress, my mother will ensure that until the instant your blood,” she giggled, “or at least what little of it that’s left, will course through my body. I hope you will enjoy being a part of me. God knows I’ll love it.” She licked her lips and glowed as if she were looking forward to spending the night with a dream lover.

He was racked by a feeling of despair. Those beautiful eyes were the eyes of death. He had been manipulated by them and he wanted freedom. It would be those creatures that freed him from his mortal coil unless some miracle happened. The vampire walked over to him and grabbed his shoulder. He felt her fingers tear into the flesh and lock under the bone. Then she began to scale the wall to the top of the pit like an insect, sticking with only a touch. He watched the floor fade into darkness and shadow below as his head dangled and he trembled against the pain. She hefted him onto the top and let go. She turned and licked the wound and it healed, it was quicker than the mummy’s touch.

“Get up. My Mistress wants to see you.”

James mustered all of his strength and stood. He felt a twist in his gut and thought that he was about to dry heave again, but he fought it off. His teeth ached in their sockets. He walked after the woman. He watched as suits of armor and draperies, swords, tartans, coats of arms, vases, gold, statues, jade, kimonos and countless other objects of antiquity passed by. He felt as though he were walking through a museum except for the lingering sense of some strange, eerie presence in the place. Somewhere between his near consciousness and his dizzying weakness, he thought the place seemed to be alive, writhing under his feet and whispering to his soul. Everything was tainted with blood and death, he could smell it, taste it, and he could almost see it. This was one of those places that makes a name for itself and lives in the nightmares of children for generations and haunts the weak moments of adulthood when the wisdom of innocence creeps up behind you and you realize for one instant that the monsters are still there. He wanted to be at a beach.

She led him into a room. It was a bedroom, the bed was canopied and the sheets were silk and the comforter was satin, all in red. The furniture was dark stained cherry with gold accents. The floor was covered with a thick blue rug and a woman sat at a dresser with a stand up mirror. She was brushing her hair with a brush that was centuries old and all the perfumes, combs, and baubles were easily as old. One coat of arms was displayed on a wall to his left and below it was a rapier with a gold guard. He recognized the style as French, but did not know why. He thought to himself that he was spending far too much time with these geezers.

The woman with the long blonde hair turned around. She had features that were so feline she looked inhuman and her eyes were green, a bright, piercing green. She was beautiful. She was wearing a silk night gown tied with a belt. She stood. She was tall for a woman, elegant, almost regal in her bearing. Her long slender neck seemed to draw attention down to her body. She was built by nature to impress. That was certain.

Allison kneeled before the woman and then looked up to her. She looked as though she hungered for the tall woman’s touch. The tall catlike woman caressed Allison’s face and bent and kissed her lips softly for but a second. Then she turned to James. “Good evening, James Dalton, vampire hunter. Anya was quite an exquisite meal. The taste of betrayal was immaculate. I’m certain you would have enjoyed it yourself.”

James grimaced at the thought. Then he was stricken with curiosity.

“Yes, Natalia is a good fighter, but I am the one who needs the blood. She is the daughter and I am the provider. It is through my life that they remain strong. She brought them to me. The professor was old, but strong, the age of a victim makes them like fine wine or a sharp cheese, you know. Now, I must say, there is one thing that I was saving for this particular situation. I believe her name is…”

Allison chirped in, “Jessica.” She sounded excited.

“Yes, Jessica, such a lovely name, don’t you think, James?” Her green eyes cut into his soul and her words pierced his heart. This time it was not a clumsy buffoon, it was an ancient who was trying to get off on cruelty and the fact that she was beating one of the best. She was playing for sport and she was playing to prove that she was the true huntress. He felt even weaker. He smelled something sweet and putrid on the air. He wondered what it was.

He wanted to kill her. He remembered how impossible it was to kill them and winced. He would give anything to see them all burn in hell for their sins. He could not remember the last time he had been so religious. He thought it might have been riding a wave and feeling the sun on his face, the spray at his back and the power under his board. Then, it had been a good thing that made him think God was real. All he could hope was that God was real in the moment of despair that he was trapped in right then.

“Oh yes, she’s waiting for us at the dinner table. I think we should go to meet her, don’t you, James?”

He glared.

“I just need to put on my dinner dress, so that I don’t have to worry about annoying stains. If you don’t mind?” She walked to a wardrobe and took out a dark red dress of a simple cut and pulled it on. It clung to her curves and contrasted perfectly with her pale flesh. She then painted her lips with the darkest red lipstick and amazingly, it matched her dress perfectly. “Now, let’s go, shall we.”

Allison smiled at him and took him by the hand. She acted like she was going to her high school prom all over again. Only this time it was fun to bring along mommy. He thought to himself that the two acted more like lovers than family. He figured the tall one was Ekatarina and that Natalia was the red head. He was even more convinced that his body should have already been dead.

He followed along like a mindless puppet. There were no chains, but he was as much a slave as if there was a whip and driver behind him. He was broken. He was at the bottom and he was a toy for his enemies. So many dead vampires and he never knew just how deadly they were. He had had no idea about the truly powerful masters of the night. He had only recently suspected that they would have their hands in everything, including his own life. He wanted the strings to be cut. He wanted that whether it meant he would live or die. He prayed for salvation, for the forgiving of his sins and transgressions and even asked that the killings of the many vampires be forgiven, if that was wrong as well. He screamed in his soul to heaven that the angels might hear him and the Son of God might have mercy on his soul, his nocturnal, bleeding, broken, twisted and maddened soul that no one other than a hunter or God Himself could understand. He pleaded with his maker for blessings as he walked to the table of the sweet angel of betrayal and deceit and temptation. He actually chuckled at the thought that the devil was a woman in a red dress.

He was so caught up in his prayers that he did not notice the halls that he walked. He did not see the grand oak table and the huge chairs and the ornate decorations that spoke of eras no one man could remember alone. But, he did smell the dead bodies. They were dressed in tuxedoes and seated at the table. Ekatarina went to the head of the table and Natalia sat to her right and the Asian woman sat at her left. Then, there were the men’s dead bodies and then Allison took a seat and across from her was Jessica, mindless, drooling, and dingy. Then, there were two more dead bodies and empty seats all the way to the foot of the table. Ekatarina gestured at the chair, “Please, take the seat of honor in my home, James.”

He was like a rag doll in the hands of a savage. He sat. His will was not quite broken, but he was at his limit, especially after seeing that Jessica was no more than a corpse with a heartbeat. If he had the fluids left, he would have cried. He was not a man of tears. He was falling into the depths of despair and was convinced by that time that even the Son of God had shunned him. His eyes were about to close, he hoped forever.

Ekatarina licked her lips. “You know, James, it is amazing how a vampire can take away the will of even the most stalwart individual. It doesn’t take much. Jessica was very strong only a few days ago and now she is broken and hollow. You are probably feeling weak yourself, aren’t you?”

A young woman with long, dark red hair brought out a T-bone steak, rare. It was on an oval plate with a huge potato and peas. Carrots lined the plate and a thick sauce coated the meat and potato. He could smell it. It was as if he could taste it. He was ravenous and he stared at the meat. “You need your strength. You should eat something before we go on. You’ll need to be fully aware to handle what is to come.”

Allison giggled. James thought about it and had to admit that he would only be able to get away if he had some energy. He took the knife and fork and began to eat. He was being watched by the vampires and he was ignoring the dead bodies to the best of his ability. It was a new situation, but he had learned to be adaptable. He ate every bite. His stomach growled and squished and twisted in pleasure at the food. He drank water and juice. He felt fattened, but he knew that only a small fraction of his strength would return in the near future. He would still have to be careful and calm.

The woman returned one last time to take away the plate and utensils. He hated having to play the game, but he was not about to rely on some freak of nature to save him. For all he knew, Kris might be in league with them. After all, Kris did have vampiric allies. Then there was the mummy, which was an unreliable friend, as well. He wanted the only thing he could trust, cold iron with a trigger. He wanted to know how to actually kill those creatures. He glared at the Asian woman. She smiled back.

“Well, I hope you enjoyed it, you didn’t take time to really appreciate it,” Ekatarina said.

“I think it served its purpose.”

“I hope so,” Ekatarina’s eyes lit up. They seemed to glow with an eerie light, like will o’ wisps through the mists of a swamp.

He felt his stomach settling. He had warmed up in the time it had taken him to eat and the shivering and stomach cramps were gone. The stiffness from the cold had melted away and he felt more aware. He was glad for the food. He could feel his strength, albeit very little, returning. He could use some real rest, in a relaxing spot, a warm bed. He could not think about such things. He had to focus because he still had a chance, and so did Jessica.

She had not moved the whole time he was there. She really was only a hollowed out husk. He felt rage building deep inside, but he had to control it. If he was not careful, Ekatarina would never give him that chance to get away. He knew that one as old as she would be meticulous to a fault. He just had to wait for her to make a mistake, to miss something obvious and then use it to his, and Jessica’s, advantage.

“Now, you see, I like challenges. I love not knowing whether or not I will succeed. It makes the modern nights more interesting to allows me to push myself. I hope you will be a challenge.” Ekatarina smiled toward Jessica.

The red haired woman came back to the table with a tray of wine glasses. She sat the tray down in front of Jessica and looked to James. Her dark brown eyes had the look of a frightened deer in the headlight of a freight train. James squinted his eyes as he noticed her longing for help. He felt himself wishing that Kris was on his way, too bad the kid was probably dead. She turned quickly and left the room.

“Allison, shall we pour the wine?” Ekatarina asked; her voice low and sultry.

Allison giggled as she stood up and walked over to Jessica. She bent down and nestled her face close to the dark hair and then caressed her cheek, trailed her fingertips along Jessica’s shoulder, down her arm and then slipped her fingers between Jessica’s. Allison turned her face into Jessica’s dark hair and took a long, deep breath. Then she kissed Jessica on the cheek. “Uhm, I think we shall.” Allison pulled up Jessica’s arm as she stepped around and took a glass. She placed the glass close to Jessica and then stretched her arm out so that Jessica’s wrist was over the glass. Allison’s eyes lit up as she punctured the brunette’s wrist and let her blood fill the wine glass. When the glass was filled, Allison licked the wound on Jessica’s wrist and it closed as though it had never been there.

Ekatarina looked at James, her eyes filled with devilish pleasure at watching the beautiful blonde bleed the brunette. “You look like a strong man, James, but what will it take to get you, the great vampire hunter, to drink blood? And not just any blood, but the very essence of the first woman you’ve been interested in for over a decade.”

James glared, “You can’t make me do that. No one could make me do that.” His voice was filled with cold rage and carefully bridled power.

Ekatarina laughed, “So strong for a mortal, but nothing compared to a six thousand year old spirit that can never die. If death cannot control me, what in hell makes you think that empty demands from bindings will change my desires?”

James was fighting everything in him. He had to wait it out.

Allison took the glass and set it in front of James. She smiled furtively and licked her lips. James trembled with rage.

Ekatarina stood up and walked around the table to James. She leaned down and whispered in his ear, “Drink.”

James fought the suggestion.

Ekatarina stood, “It’s as if I didn’t say a word, amazing.” She leaned back down, “You can’t tell me that you never wondered what it would be like to taste the power of the monster, to look deeper into their demonic souls so that you can understand the thing that you hunt.”

He turned his head to look at her, “You can’t do it. You’re not strong enough.” He spat in her face.

She wiped the spittle away and walked back to her seat. Her feline features were calm, curious, she was waiting and he could tell that she was just biding her time before the real test. Her eyes seemed so intense. They were so beautiful, they sparkled. He could not look away. He had never seen eyes like those before. They were seeing inside him and they were a part of him. He would see them until the day he died. He could feel words in his mind, forming as if from a mist into something solid. It was a thought, full, and coherent. The whisper grew into a chant, the chant into something deeper, something that clawed away at his deepest desires, molding them. He was in her eyes as they were in him and now her voice was behind those words and he felt them like the soothing touch of a lover, caressing his desires and cajoling his darkest fantasies. Inside him, something was on fire, burning and boiling with a fierceness that he thought had died. He wanted so badly to make the feelings in his mind go away, but he was afraid. He did not want to obey the thoughts that were coursing through him. He hated it and at once he knew that the only way to make it go away would be to give in and do what she wanted.

He fought it. He struggled against it. He could feel the temptation growing. He knew he was stronger than most, he had to be to stay on his path, to fight the monster. The threat was always there, the chasm was always open wider and the pit darker when you spent your life staring into it. That was why he had to be stronger and now he was feeling the weakness in him. His strength of will was fading.

James ground his teeth and looked slightly over so that he could see Jessica. Her dark brown eyes seemed empty and cold. Her dark, smooth skin was limp and faded, almost sickly. Her long wavy hair was combed but hung lifeless, just as her head hung slightly to one side. Her shoulders were slumped and he could not see a noticeable heave of her chest to indicate breathing or heartbeat. Tears were forming from the effort it took to hold his eyes on her in that moment.

He felt thirsty. His mouth was dry. His stomach was aching for something refreshing, but his veins burned, they, too, were empty. He wanted to quench his thirst; he wanted to fill his belly and his heart, his aching, slowing heart. He had been drained. He needed to fulfill his needs. He felt the urge to take the glass just before he heard the word ‘drink’ in his mind in Ekatarina’s soft, sultry voice.

He looked to the wine glass and swallowed the lump in his throat that swelled up at the sight of the thick, cooling liquid. Its red tint was darkening. Allison touched his shoulder and he jumped. He looked into her eyes. “It tastes best warm. Really.”

James tensed, his teeth clashed and his eyes narrowed. Allison smiled warmly at him. He looked back to the glass and felt his mouth water. He wanted it. He wanted it bad, but he did not want to want it. He wanted to never think about the idea, but it was in him and he was finding it harder and harder to resist.

Ekatarina was focusing on his mind so hard that she had lost her playfulness. Her eyes were glazed with determination and her body was rigid with concentration. She was inside his head and it was taking everything she had to make him question himself. He was putting up a good fight. She dug deeper into him, reaching down to the animalistic instinct that still lives inside people, that thing that makes you jerk away from pain and figure out sex even if no one really tells you how it is done. She was groping around inside his mind and then she seemed to stop.

He felt his hand move without him. It was reaching out and he was trying to stop it but it just kept going. He watched in terror as his own hand betrayed him. His body was no longer his. That hand reached out to the glass and took it. His hand was so steady and deliberate and yet he was wanting it to stop. The hand started bringing the glass toward his face, to his lips. James could not believe that his own body was defying him. It had never happened before. He had heard of cases of what was called the ghost hand, where people would even strangle themselves to death. He thought that what was happening to himself was probably a far more likely explanation. He felt the glass on his lips despite the fact that his lips were parting without his will. He knew that he would drink. He dreaded it. It was wrong. No one should be able to do things like that, use parts of people without their consent. He tried to fight and yet his entire body seemed to be only something that he could view through a camera. He felt the thickness of the blood, the metallic taste, sharp and bitter on his tongue. He felt himself swallow, gulp after gulp. He felt the warmness going down his throat. He felt the sticky essence in his stomach, coating it like warm milk. His gag reflex shook him, yet she held the blood down. She could taste it on his tongue and he could see a slight smile on her features.

Ekatarina pulled out, her mind releasing his wasted and ravaged body. He was not accepting the blood he had just imbibed and started retching. He vomited on the table, some of it catching in the wine glass. The blood was in it, it was the most disgusting thing he had seen or smelled in a long time and he threw up again. His stomach kept twisting spasmodically and soon he was dry heaving over the table. He stopped and looked up at Ekatarina, tears gleaming in his eyes and spittle on his chin. He made a glance toward Jessica to see Allison kissing her neck and then looked back to Ekatarina. “There, you bitch, you fucking did it, you made me fucking do it, are you happy, are you?”

Ekatarina looked almost as wasted as he did. She had struggled against the mind of a mortal that she could have killed without nearly the effort. She was tired and yet her eyes gleamed with pleasure, a real, pure ecstasy that he could see, almost smell in her. “No, not yet, you have five more glasses to drink.”

“Never.”

“Oh, I think so. You see, if you don’t drink up, she ends up as dead as I am. What do you think, now?”

“No.”

She rolled her eyes. “You aren’t even going to try to stave off her impending doom? How very base and inhumane for such a mighty warrior, such a noble huntsman. You disappoint.”

He stood, his feet still bound to the chair. He had not noticed the bindings. The chair was bolted to the floor. He was going nowhere and the vampires knew it.

“Useless, we’re too smart for that. Jessica, give yourself to Ally.” Ekatarina said it with the soft guidance of a mother.

Jessica stood and pushed everything off of the table and onto the ground. Then she crawled onto the table and laid down on her back. Her hair was sprawled out like a halo around her head. Allison crawled on the table once Jessica was lying prone and bent to kiss Jessica’s full lips.

James struggled against the metal around his ankles again, “You can’t do that, that’s rape, and it’s wrong.”

Ekatarina laughed lightly, “Rape, whatever do you mean, rape. I’m a vampire. Sex is meaningless as a corpse. You see, Jessica is going to be Ally’s daughter. I guess that’ll make us family. I can’t wait.”

James fought and wrestled against the chains around his feet and as he did he heard Jessica moan in ecstasy as Allison’s fangs sank into her tanned flesh. Blood pooled on the table, running freely from the wounds. Allison sucked at the blood and the sounds of her swallowing made James blind with rage. His ankles were bleeding and he did not notice. Ekatarina smiled, her eyes gleamed and she felt the wondrous warmth of genuine entertainment. It would be a night she could remember for eternity.

Kris woke up. He felt tired and weak but he could sleep no more. He stood up and pulled on his tennis shoes and shirt. He looked at his coat, the katana, the old, ornate Ithaca shotgun and the other tools of his trade and shrugged. He did not want to be a vampire hunter that night. He walked out of the room, down the stairs and passed Brick on the way out.

“Hey, where ya going?”

“I have to think, alone.”

“Are you sure you’ll be alright, I mean…”

“I’ll be fine.” He stepped out and shut the door behind him.

He walked down the street in the early night. Hundreds of people walked by and past, heading to hundreds of different destinations and a few were out for the same reason as Kris. They needed to think. He saw the thousands of faces. He saw their thoughts written in the way they walked. They were concerned with food and getting a few drinks. They wanted to get back to their wives and husbands or were feeling guilty for being late or unfaithful. There were people who were running off to get high and others that had to go to work, some were going to work paranoid that their bosses might figure out they already were high. He wondered if any one of them could even fathom what was running through his mind. He laughed.

He watched groups of people and saw people walking into restaurants and stores. He wondered if there had ever been a chance for a simple life of ignorance for him. He wanted to be like them. He wanted to go to dinner and not worry about some creature trying to kill someone. He wanted to not have to worry about his friends. He wondered if his memories, the ones that were coming back to him, were truly his. He had second thoughts about how good he really was. For all he knew he was writing a death warrant for every person walking down that street and on Water Street and in Brooklyn, some man in Queens was waiting for Kris’ next move to see if he had a job or a life in the morning. He wondered if Kahmir was his guardian angel or the demon that could kill one of its own without blinking an eye, then he began to realize that it was about survival and he was being used for Kahmir’s survival. He wanted to be normal and not worry about such things.

He took a turn and saw a woman walking with a baby stroller and he stopped to watch her pass. She glared at him. He noticed but he still took in the sight. He pursed his lips. New life, free form, ready to be created in the way of the world. It would be pure and innocent for a few seconds and then the darkness that it would fear would become the place where it would do things so no one could see. It would learn that the world was easier if you did not accept consequences, it would learn that life was crap with a few little highs along the way unless you took every chance to feel good. Despite all the things that society will teach it, it will always be more pure than the things he knew existed. He was alone in his knowledge, now. He would be the only thing that he could rely on and he had none of the real answers.

He knew that Domitius had brought Ekatarina to New York. He knew that zombies and ghouls were on the streets. He knew that Domitius had wanted a New York where vampires ruled and people were slaves. He knew that Kahmir was ancient and knew a great deal, even about him. He knew that he seemed to have friends in Tyler and Arthur who were both vampires. He knew that James had lost allies. He knew that James was a good hunter. He knew that there were many vampires in the city and he knew who many of those were. He also knew that many of the vampires feared him. He also knew that his memories were fractured, tampered with and that even strange powers could not bring them back, unless Kunzul was working with Kahmir on a level he had not suspected. He knew that the only ally that he really had was Brick and that he was facing an enemy that had beaten him once. For all he knew, everything was a lie and he was about to attempt a futile battle against Ekatarina. Maybe everything was a lie, a dream, maybe he was still sitting in that room in the Arthur Ulbrik Hospital tied up and he had become delirious. Maybe he was imagining the whole thing and Jessica would come back in the morning and ask him more questions about his vampire nonsense.

He turned a corner. He had not realized that he had started walking again. He saw more people; they were of all the races of the world. He started thinking about the last few nights and how ridiculous it all was. Vampires, mummies, ghouls, zombies; it had to have been a hallucination. That woman, Ekatarina was just a figment of his imagination. He would find out that he was really a financial consultant or steel worker when Jessica came tomorrow. She was not in the hands of some sadistic vampire who wanted to rule the city. She was asleep in her apartment in the city, dreaming of a two story country house with two boys to occupy the tire swings in the back yard.

He stopped at a street crossing and a car honked as it nosed its way through the people that were crossing despite the ‘Don’t Walk’ sign that was glowing across the street. He looked at the sleek Lincoln Towncar and noticed the white haired man in it. He would give anything to worry about something as simple as getting somewhere quickly, but yet again, his own mental health was in question.

He kept walking and watching. He saw countless faces as he went, constantly pondering his existence. He could not move past the fact that it may all be in his mind and that if it was not, that he might have been a pawn on the wrong side all this time. Finally, he came to water. He stopped. He listened to the waves lapping at the land. He wanted to know who he really was. He wanted to know if he could have been normal.

People avoided him. They could feel the loneliness and the despair and so they went around. No one likes loneliness and no one wants to associate with it. His eyes were unfocused and his ears could hear little other than his own thoughts. He wondered about Mary Jane. He wanted to know if she had been real or if she was just a figment designed by Kahmir or by himself. He had no idea how long he stared into the dark waves.

A voice broke his thoughts. “You don’t seem to have made it very far, friend.” The voice was deep, strong and proud, and familiar. He turned and saw nothing behind him from where the voice should have been coming from.

“What?”

“You have gone nowhere and still you search for the man you are. I think it is time you stop waiting and take a look deep inside yourself.” He knew the voice. It was different somehow. Then he saw something, a waver in the dark, a light maybe, if it were brighter. Then there was a chill in the air as something passed, but nothing was there. Kris could feel a presence.

He looked around and then stopped. He closed his eyes. There was something there, it was alive, but the warmth that he should have felt was cold, bitter cold. He faced the chill and opened his eyes. There was something there, it was a white mist. It began to move away from him. He began to follow. The mist grew thicker and then swirled together. The cold intensified. Then he could see a man in the mist, faintly at first. The skin was dark and he was tall and had a regal bearing. The mist broke as the man, African, wearing a long western style duster and carrying a traditional African knife, stepped forward.

Kris could see the man’s features and knew that it was a younger, stronger version of the southern man he had seen in the subway. Only he was not the least bit southern. His voice was that of a powerful African warrior. He was taller, yet there was still that knowledge and intelligence in his black eyes. Kris could see that the man was still the same, yet he had become older and more Americanized until eventually he was the shoe shine man in the subway.

“You are a warrior, it is in your blood and it is in the way you walk. Your steps are quiet and strong. Your path, even the winding one you take tonight, is deliberate. You are confused. I can see it in your eyes. You are still looking for yourself, yet you listen too much to those that do not know who you are.” The man stopped and turned to Kris. “Why don’t you tell me who you really are?”

Kris looked into those dark eyes. They were looking into him, through him. He felt like the man knew what he was thinking. “You’re the one taking an interest in me; maybe I should be asking the questions.”

The man’s eyebrow rose. “I was a hunter like you. I wandered my homelands killing the bloodsucking beasts that roamed near my village. Then I was brought to America. I escaped slavery and picked up my trade on the frontier. I fought many of the vampires but killed only a few. When I grew older, I returned to the south and then ventured north. The south and the west had turned me into a country man and my rugged life made things in the city easy. Now, who are you?” He turned and started walking again.

“I am Kristian Alexander Blades-Bane. What else do you need to know?”

“What do you need to know? Look into your own memories. Relive your life and do not fear what you may see. Only you know who you are. Tell me. Maybe you will be able to.”

“I can’t remember. There was a girl, and a little town. I don’t know.”

“You don’t know. I don’t believe that.”

“I’m telling you, I can’t fucking remember.”

“What was her name, what was the town?”

“Mary Jane and… and… I don’t know. I can’t remember.” Kris was squinting, trying to remember.

“The monsters are coming, she is coming and you don’t know who you are. That is not an honorable way to die, warrior. You must remember. I cannot touch your world for long. I cannot help you, but you can help yourself.”

“I’m telling you, not even Jessica could help me. How am I supposed to remember?”

“Where is she now?”

Kris stopped, watching the man walk on. He knew where she was, he did not know if she was okay.

“She cannot help you now, can she?

“She was taken by Ekatarina.”

“You know your enemy and yet you do not know yourself. You are only half of what you can be against her. The mists in your mind must clear before you face the foe. She can defeat you. She knows how. She is ready for you.”

“How can I…”

“Look into yourself and find who you are.”

Kris ran to catch up. He felt like a child. Then he stopped and the whole world seemed to disappear. He was standing in a mist. He was not in the city. He was in nothingness, if such a thing existed. He thought it was his imagination again. Then the warrior stepped out from the mist. His dark skin contrasted with the pale white mist and yet was still pale in its own way. Kris felt the cold from the man intensify. Water was beading on his flesh and his clothes began to feel damp.

“Clear the mist, Kristian. Remember.”

He closed his eyes and tried to remember and there was nothing. He bit his lip. He tried to think. There was darkness when he shut his eyes. All he could seem to think of was Ekatarina. She seemed to be there as if she were real. He shuddered and opened his eyes. The black man shook his head in disappointment.

Kris tried again. He stopped focusing and let the darkness seep in. He saw his past, he saw Mary Jane. He could see her, she was not just an image but a living person that had had a personality and somehow impressed him. He was remembering. It was different this time, he could feel the emotions and sense the way things had been. It was not a series of words inside his head or pain and hurt. Neither Kahmir nor Kunzul had been able to dredge up the sheer power that his own mind gave to Mary Jane. She was beautiful.

He remembered being in school with her in a small Illinois town called Elston. He had been born there to Lindsey Blade and Eric Baines. His mother did not want to give up her name because she was the last Blade in her grandfather’s line and Eric did not have a problem with it. Kris had always been made fun of for the name and it had irritated him. He was always more open minded than most and quiet. He read a great deal and still had a few good friends. He had always sat right behind Mary Jane Bates in class. He had liked her from the first grade and well into high school and she had never known.

He was sitting behind her in class when she started talking about Bradley Mires, a kid from out of town that she was spending her nights with. He had to listen to all the neat things they did together as Mary Jane poured her ‘heart’ out to Tabitha Gangsby, her best friend and the best looking blonde in Elston. He remembered how much he did not want to hear about the size of Brad’s penis and what he could do with his tongue. He did not want to know what it was like when he was doing her doggy style in his Chevelle. He remembered not wanting to know about how good he was with his hands and his fingers especially. She almost chirped at that.

He remembered putting up with that for weeks before meeting the guy at a high school football game. He remembered seeing the dark hair and eyes, the beard that was growing in and he remembered the guy being built like a brick wall. He wanted to kill the guy. He remembered seeing him kiss Mary Jane behind a building by accident and seeing the blood on his lips when he glared at him with those glowing eyes. He remembered wanting to believe it was not true and that what he saw was a product of his own imagination. He remembered the time when Bradley confronted him about it and tried to make him forget and got frustrated when it did not work.

He remembered watching Mary Jane and her friends like a hawk for weeks. He remembered trying to convince Mary Jane to go out with someone else. He remembered Mary Jane getting pissed at him and then despising him. All he wanted was to protect her. He also knew that without knowing what he suspected, she would have to hate him. That was how it worked; you were either the man or nothing. He would not stop though. He would find a way to get Bradley out of his town.

His chance came one night when Mary Jane’s parents left town to go to Chicago for a couple of days and she was going to have her girlfriends over for a party. He heard of all the nice little things they would do. Personally, he thought they were asking for trouble, especially with Bradley around. He decided to drop in and pay a very quiet and stealthy visit just to make sure things were okay.

He went to Mary Jane’s house that night and watched for hours. After waiting at a distance, he decided to take a closer look and felt a bit like a peeping tom. He went to a tall oak by a window and began to climb. He remembered being so much louder than he wanted to be. He remembered climbing up and finding out that he was looking into Mary Jane’s room. He remembered seeing two of the girls in the room alone giggling and talking with each other. He remembered deciding to get lost before being seen and turning around into the bright red eyes and long white fangs of something he thought only existed in books and boogey man tales.

He fell almost twenty feet to the ground below, catching a few branches by the gut and back on the way down. He hit with a firm, painful thud and remembered thinking he had managed to kill himself. Then the thing that was Bradley pounced. He saw the figure leap from branch to branch and then onto him, thinking in awe that it was almost graceful the way the thing moved. Bradley bit into his flesh and then pulled out immediately. Bradley was wailing in pain, a sound that no mortal could have ever managed. Then Bradley clawed into Kris’ chest with searing talons and ripped down his torso. This, too, seemed to hurt Bradley and another wail of pain was sent into the night.

Kris kicked the screaming demon off with both feet and looked down to his tattered shirt and saw the blood that was leaking out. He could still feel the bruises from the tree limbs and wanted the pain to stop. He remembered hearing the door to the house slam open and the rambling chatter of five frightened and impractical girls as he ran at Bradley. He remembered hearing Mary Jane call out in fear for Bradley’s life. He remembered the rage that it had incited in him and he remembered pummeling Bradley. He remembered kicking the bigger, stronger thing as it lay on the ground. He remembered the blood that poured out of Bradley’s face and how he thought that no amount would ever make up for the disgusting feeding habits of the bastard creature before him. He remembered grabbing a broken tree limb and Mary Jane catching his arm. He remembered yanking so hard that Mary Jane was tossed in front of him as the broken limb bit into Bradley’s chest and sank with a sick sucking noise into heart and lung and he remembered the looks on their faces, all their faces. Mary Jane stared at him in horror and disbelief, the corpse stared up with a sick grin that said it had still won the night and then Kris pulled the shaft of wood out and Bradley sat up, that sick grin widening. He remembered Mary Jane squealing into the night with fright and her friends running back into the house. Only Mary Jane had seen him hack Bradley’s head off with a chunk of splintered wood.

He remembered the ambulances and fire trucks. He remembered the police asking him questions and he remembered the straight jacket and the chatter about vampire cults and punks who dressed all in black and then he had been carted off to an institution similar to the one he had spent several recent nights in, not remembering that he was a real hunter, made by his decision long before any other hand reached into his life.

He remembered that he had met Kahmir in the institution and then was trained to fight and Kahmir tried to turn him into a vampire but it was impossible for some reason. He remembered that while he was locked away with the strange thing in the shadows that Mary Jane had gone missing, but he did not find out until he was released. She was never found. He remembered learning that vampires had trouble using their powers and dark gifts against him. He remembered that even Kahmir could not affect him. He truly was different from the rest of humanity and Kahmir had decided to use that marked trait.

Then, Kris realized who he was and what he was. He was his own man. He had lost his memory so that he would be free of the ties that were built when he was young and impressionable. He had found out that he was independent if he so chose. He would be. He would never let anyone tie him down again. He would find a way to set things right in his city. He would make certain that this Ekatarina walked her last night on his watch, even if he died ensuring it. His eyes became cold and focused, the blue in them changing hue to fit his icy life. He was a hunter, a wolf who would prowl the night and he would not prey on the weak, but strike down those that thought they were the top of the food chain. He would make them all remember death, fear death. He would make his name echo in the ears of the immortal as the threat of eternity seared in the minds of mortals. He would make them afraid. He would put the fear into the hearts of those who craved fear in others. He would make them bleed and die. He would go into the darkness and fight the demon, and he would die doing it.

The man seemed to appear in front of him. Buildings faded in from the mist. His hair and clothes were soaked and then it was a hot summer night in New York. He was standing there alone. He had his answers. He had a job to do and a plan to devise. He started walking back to the warehouse.

He saw all those people, their countless faces. He could see more. He knew things by the way they walked and the way they held their hands and clenched their packs and purses. He could see the things in their eyes that they wanted to hide. He could see the darkness in them and the good in them. It was different; his instincts seemed to be perfect. He felt more certain of himself and his judgments. He could smell things and hear things and be sure of where they were and, in some cases, what they were. He was a hunter again.

His trip back to the warehouse was quick. He bypassed as much as he could to save time. His mind was rolling and reeling with ideas and then it hit him. It was a name that most vampires in the city respected and a good number feared; Octavia. It was the same conclusion he had come to earlier and that made him trust the idea even more.

He opened the door and stared at the cool steel, the handguns, and the vehicles. He knew what was about to happen and he would need Brick’s help even more than he had thought. He remembered going to see Octavia before. She was not only in control of the crime in the city; she was the root of all of it. She owned the Italian families, the Russian Mafioso, had part of the Yakuza and Triads under her sway, literally created most of the small street gangs and even the cops were in her sphere of influence. She had the manpower to fight a war and win. She also had the power to sway the vampires of New York, especially if Domitius were dead.

Brick poked his head out from behind a stack of cardboard boxes that were doubtlessly filled with some kind of weaponry or something that would be turned into weaponry. “Hey, you alright, you look…different.”

“We have to take care of Domitius. It won’t be easy and I’d like to do it before dawn.”

“Uh, that’s great, but have you checked your watch lately? It’s like three thirty, almost four. That doesn’t leave a lot of time.”

“We could hit his place tomorrow, but we still have to prepare for Octavia. She won’t be nearly as easy if she decides to fight us.” He sat down and took a long breath.

Brick started working again. He had a lot that he wanted to finish before they went to get Domitius. He had a smile on his face. He was going to go hunting with one of the best, an all original enigma of the night. He chuckled to himself as he worked. He stopped for a few seconds after Kris went up to his room. He said to himself, “Kristian Alexander Blades-Bane, vampire hunter extraordinaire. Hell yeah, what a name, what a fucking kick ass job title, hah, if the world could only know.”

Next Chapter: The End