Section Two- The Hunter
He stood looking over the cliff. He was a man of medium height and weight, 5’10, 170 lbs. He had short brown hair and light brown eyes that were not attractive, or ugly. The kind of man that others looked at, and then immediately forgot about. But, that was exactly the appearance that he had tried to create. In the line of work that he was in, it was important to be forgotten and virtually invisible.
As the years had passed, and he grew older, unlike the others he had to grow older, he had taken several steps to ensure that his look was current and forgettable. Keeping his hair short was always in fashion and far too common to cause a person to do a double look. His complexion was clear, and he never wore facial hair. He kept his weight low, overweight people were easy to stare at, and he was all too happy to have stopped growing at 5’10, the average height of a white male.
He had learned from his father, the first lesson, to never stare at a person. Eye contact was all right, if necessary, but it was smart to never hold the eye contact. People that stared were suspicious and, once again, memorable. But, it was important not to immediately look away after eye contact had been established. For that, he had to learn to use a technique his father called “the impartial grin”.
The impartial grin was a sort of half smile that was completely forgettable. After eye contact has been established, he had been taught to smile slightly, not enough to expose any teeth, and then look away. It was very polite and usually ended the eye contact. Of course, these habits had destroyed his sex life, and that partially explained why he was currently standing over a cliff.
The idea to kill himself had festered into his brain about four years ago. He had been in Baltimore, investigating a “sighting”, when he had met a girl. She was the first girl in ten years to address him by his name, or the name that he had given her. His real name was Cole Bouchard but he told her that his name was Cameron Parks. Currently, his name was Jamie Dyer, but the girl, her name was Kristie, didn’t live long enough to hear his new name.
Upon arriving in Baltimore, Cole, then Cameron, went immediately to his contact at the local church. By this point in his career and life, all the churches looked the same and all the contacts seemed like the same person. Cole decided years ago to call the contacts father, regardless of their religious denomination, most were Catholic anyway, so it never became an issue. At this church, the contact told Cole that he had heard reports about several enemies gathering at a local club, seeking out the intoxicated and drug addicted. Even though these people were missed, the incidents surrounding their deaths seemed to lend itself heavily to a “drug or alcohol induced accident”. In other words, the vampires in Baltimore were having a field day with the locals, and feeding had been plentiful.
The local father, was an old and shaky arthritic who told Cole that three of his parish’s parents had lost their children and others were becoming worried.
“I understand that you are a man that I would like to call upon to rid my city of these demons”, was the exact words that the old man used. He placed a swollen and shaking hand on Cole’s shoulder as he spoke. Physical contact wasn’t a thing that he appreciated, but he felt it would be rude to shake off the old priest.
“I am a man that you would call. What club is most popular with the kids in this city?”
The old man reached under his robes and, hopefully, into a pant pocket, removing a folded band creased blue flyer. The flyer read, “The James Club”.
Cole left the church immediately; courtesy wasn’t a vampire hunter’s prerequisite. He went to the local hardware store and purchased a dozen pieces of spiked wooden poles. He told the curious clerk at the counter, who probably didn’t think a man, dressed in black fatigues was a carpenter, that he was helping his Dad build a fence and needed the posts. The clerk seemed to believe the story, and after the “impartial grin”, forgot all about Cole.
He had filled a jug with holy water, even though that really didn’t do shit at stopping any vampire more powerful than a thrall, but it was always good to have some. There was no reason to waste a stake on a thrall when a few drops of water burned their flesh. The vampires were attacking at night, so sunlight wouldn’t help. Direct sunlight over an extended period of time could kill a vampire, even a Lord, but any exposure weakened the demons. Cole went back to his hotel room to situate his weapons. Constant inventory checks were crucial to a hunter. Cole took no chances.
He stayed at a local and extremely trashy motel on the opposite side of the church. You never could be too careful with vampires and he was sure not to stay near the church. Some of the Lords were smart and would assume that a hunter would consult a church before his hunt. The chances of encountering a Lord were slim, but they were out there, and sometimes boredom drove them to accompany the thralls and lesser vampires on their feedings. Lords were extremely difficult to track and kill. If you were a lucky hunter, or unlucky, depending on your personal opinion, a Lord would hear of your hunts and come looking for you. That’s why the hunters are impossible to socialize with. The constant fear of attack makes them anti-social, and virtually a-sexual. Cole hadn’t had a woman in three years and was a little concerned that it didn’t bother him. Years of restless nights and constant moving had left Cole feeling like as much of an outsider as the vampires he hunted. Sometimes, the desire to quit was so strong, he almost decided to try. But, the constant reminder that kept him from quitting was that vampires would still attack people and very few people had the skills to stop them. Even fewer actually believed in them enough to accept their existence, let alone learn their weak spots to destroy them. Cole had learned how to hunt from his father, an old-school hunter. The most important lesson he learned was that once you became a hunter, the only true way to quit was suicide. It was only after death that you were safe from a vampire’s revenge.
The supply check at the hotel gave Cole confidence in tonight’s hunt. He had plenty of silver daggers and with the posts, carved down into sharp one-foot spears, he was fully prepared to battle. Crosses didn’t do anything to the vampires, but some would occasionally use the popular misconception to bait an inexperience hunter into coming to close. Cole had heard a story of a young hunter, supposedly the next great hunter, who had been on his third hunt. He had encountered a wily old Lord that squealed in pain and agony at the sight of the little iron cross. The Lord fell to his knees and acted like his intestines were on fire in his stomach. The young hunter approached with cockiness and stood over the Lord. He raised his stake and actually put his other hand on the Lord, to turn him over. The Lord grinned and, as quick as possible, he stood up and tore the arm that held the stake, right off the shoulder of the hunter. With one arm empty, and the other a bloody stump, the hunter was decapitated. That was the story that all the old-school hunters told the younger ones. It was designed to teach and to scare. It worked on both levels.
Cole slept on the uncomfortable motel bed until eleven, then woke, showered and went to the James Club. Inside the club, he made sure to look like he was drinking heavily and having a grand time. He ordered fifteen glasses of water, with no ice, and always slid the bartender a five-dollar bill with each glass. The bartender thought he was on ecstasy, but any vampires that were watching, hoping he would get drunk and go into the alley to vomit, would think that he was drinking straight vodka. They would think he was easy pickings and easier feeding. That was the only advantage he would need.
At around one a.m. Cole was quite certain that a young looking raver was a vampire and he was positive that the raver had been watching him. Cole ordered vodka, swallowing it whole to add to his drunken appearance. He shook from the awful taste, his reaction to drinking any alcohol, and clutched his stomach. He left the barstool, and went to the side door.
He passed a short and chubby blonde girl. She was dressed in black pants and a low cut blue shirt that showed her midriff and a fair amount of cleavage. She gave Cole a quick glance, and then resumed her dancing. Cole continued to look at her, but waited until he had lost her attention before he really stared. He was not interested in her, but he was interested in what she was wearing. She had dark tinted sunglasses on and a red glowing necklace. The necklace illuminated her face and more importantly, the glasses. In essence, the glasses were mirrors and Cole could see behind him when he looked at her.
From behind, he could see a tall black man approaching, trying to be careful and stay inconspicuous. The man was very skinny and, even though he was black, he looked pale. He had a slight limp, but that was probably a clever ploy to make him appear weak. When Cole stopped, pretending to be watching the girl, the black man stopped with him. He started to look around the club, but was certain to continually keep Cole as his reference return point. Cole walked towards the door and used his shoulder to push it open. He stumbled into the alley and bent over.
He stayed hunched over, his right side to the door, his left hand reaching into his jacket pocket, grabbing the stake, waiting for the predator to come out. The stake sat in his left hand felt sturdy and the familiar hunting "coolness” began to sweep over Cole. He never got nervous, but stayed cautious. He was the best hunter alive and he knew it was because he never underestimated the cunning and ferocity of the vampires.
The door opened slowly and the black man stood in the doorway. He closed the door behind him and looked at Cole. He stepped to the left, and tried to get a look at the hunched over drunk guy from behind. Cole could feel the predator’s overconfidence. Come on. Get close to me. I’m easy pickings. Just a drunk guy, throwing up in the alley. Get close. Attack me!
Cole felt the urge to whip around and bury the spike in the predator’s heart, but held it at bay. Normally, it was smart not to even think about attacking because the Lord’s could read your thoughts. They weren’t complete mind thieves, but they could hear enough for it to be dangerous. But, this predator was no Lord; he was barely above a thrall. Cole couldn’t really sense any vampire’s power in him, a stench that he usually could smell when they were close. This one is young, a new vampire. He isn’t grown and possibly as weak as a vampire could be. Cole tried to observe the predator’s movement, trying his best to foresee the method of attack. He figured that if he really was a new vampire, he would be full of pride and conceit at the feeling of power that he has discovered in himself. That was the vampire’s biggest weakness, pride. Their jealousy reaches phenomenal levels, but their pride was their strongest emotion. The vampires felt like they were superior to any and all humans. That was why hunters used themselves as bait.
The predator was smiling behind Cole’s back. He was waiting for the drunk to straighten up, and then he would attack. Cole didn’t want to disappoint. He stood up and clutched his stomach with his free hand, the other holding the stake at his chest. Cole could feel the predator’s breath on his neck. He whipped around and brought the stake to the attacker’s chest.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that the predator had a knife. A knife. Why does he have a weapon? Cole knocked the knife away easily and stood looking into the predator’s eyes, the stake pressing against the man’s chest. The man was definitely not a vampire. He was weak and dug addicted. A vampire would never have a weapon; it would be an insult to his or her pride. A true vampire felt that their whole body was a weapon. Cole continued to study this man’s features, as the stake was poking through the man’s shirt and a spot of blood was showing.
“Hey man, easy with that, I wasn’t gonna do nothin’. Honest.”
Cole continued to study the man, contemplating whether or not he should kill him, anyway. This man preyed on the drunk and helpless that sought temporary refuge in the night air. He, because of his drug addiction, sought to exploit people in their weakest and most vulnerable moment. If Cole let this guy go, he would probably swear that he would never do it again. He would swear to go straight and get himself cleaned up. Cole knew the addiction; it’s the same for the vampires. They were always cunning, always trying to keep an advantage. If they realized they had encountered a hunter and were about to die, they would swear that they had never fed before and would never try it again. It was obviously a lie. They had to feed. They had no choice in that. If they didn’t feed, they would die.
If I let him go, he’ll be back tomorrow night. He will tell me now that he is done, but the sincerity in that will wear off and the habit and dependency will take over. I should kill him.
Cole finally looked at the man and saw a tear fall from his eye.
“Are you gonna be here tomorrow night?”
The man started to cry more heavily and shake. He was either very frightened of Cole, or he needed a fix.
“No man, I ain’t gonna be here no more. I seen the light. I’m goin’ straight after this. Swear it.”
Cole pressed the stake against the man’s chest and felt the tip pop into his skin. The man let out a small squeal, and urinated on himself. Cole stepped back and looked at the man. If I kill him, I am no better than the vampire’s that murder humans. This man is a piece of shit, but at least he is human shit.
“I’m going to be here tomorrow night. Are you?”
The man started to shake his head furiously in the negative. Cole pushed him back with the stake and waved him away. The man ran off into the alley and out into the street. Cole stood alone in the long dark alley and cursed himself for not seeing that the man was an ordinary thief and nothing more. He put the stake back into his jacket and went to the door. He stopped with his hand resting on the doorframe. He heard a noise. Deeper into the alley, he could hear commotion. He closed his eyes, and listened. He heard a light whimper and clothing ripping. It sounded like someone was being attacked. Cole ran down into the dark alley, stake in hand, concentration in his eyes.
The alley was longer that he had originally thought. He felt like he had been running for longer than he would have needed. He wondered if his mind was playing tricks on him. It just seemed like there would be no way he would have heard a person’s struggles from that far of a distance. Am I becoming like the vampires, or am I losing my mind?
Most of the hunter’s, usually the best of the best, didn’t meet their end through a vampire. Usually, they went insane. The pressure of having to constantly watch their back and the knowledge that they would never have a moment’s peace couldn’t allow it weighed heavily on their minds. Sometimes, it was too much and they went crazy. Ironically, the bullets they found after the suicides, were silver tipped. It was like they believed that they could only be killed like the vampire’s they hunted.
The alley had almost reached its end, but Cole could see the commotion. A young girl was laying on the ground, shirt torn open, breasts exposed. A man stood over her, ready to pounce. She was tall and exceptionally pretty. Although her eyes were wide with fear and wet with tears, Cole could see that they were extraordinarily beautiful eyes. Her eyes were light blue, the color of the ocean’s shore. Her hair was red, with enough shades of dark orange for it to look like fire. She had perfect teeth and supple lips. As Cole studied her face, he felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time. He felt lust. He never knew his type of girl, until now. His type of woman, was this type.
But, even the intense feelings of lust couldn’t deter Cole from his mission. A man was about to attack her, or, since she was already half naked and on the ground, he was about to finish her off. Cole didn’t know if the man was a vampire, but, as he raised the stake and prepared to turn the attacker around, he found that one thought cleared all the confusion from his mind. This man may or not be a vampire, but if he is human, than he is a rapist. A stake through the heart will kill a human the same way it kills a vampire. Either way, he dies!
Cole approached the man from behind and tried to get a good look at him. He was short, but thick all around. He had short brown hair and was wearing a tight black shirt and khaki pants. Basically, he looked like very single guy inside the club.
Cole whistled and the attacker turned around. Cole grabbed him by the right shoulder, using his momentum to put the man’s chest directly in front of the stake. The man’s eyes grew wider as he realized that the stake was going to be buried in his chest and he would be powerless to stop it. The eyes were red and evil. He was a vampire.
Cole’s eyes burned with hatred for the vampire. He buried the stake in his chest and pushed it deep. Cole pushed the demon to the ground and saw smoke escaping through the sides of the hole. The smoke drifted off in light tendrils and the man started to shake on the alley pavement. The man was definitely a vampire, and now, he was definitely going to die. He convulsed on the ground as his red eyes began to bleed the final sign of a vampire’s death.
In a moment, the smoke caught into a large fire and the vampire burned whole. Vampire’s never left a trace after their death. In five minutes, all that would be left of the nightmarish creature would be a pile of dust to blow away in the breeze.
Cole looked at the girl lying on the concrete. She had passed out, but he hadn’t noticed. Cole took his coat off and bundled the girl inside of it. He usually left the victim in the place they were, hoping they would never speak a word of the events, but he didn’t think it would be safe to leave beautiful, half-naked women in an alley, unconscious. Cole also thought he would have to check her to make sure that she hadn’t been bitten. Is that the only reason you want to take her with you? Cole picked her off the ground and ran through the alley to his car.
Luckily, the club was full and there wasn’t anybody on the street. Cole had parked around the back, hoping that if he had to make a quick exit, he wouldn’t run into many people. He didn’t.
He lay the girl in the back seat and hopped in the car. In a moment, he drove off.
©2003 StoriesByEmail.com
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