Graveslinger

by Darren Compton

  The greener Texas got, the more Fiya’s demeanor improved. Soon she brought up a question Rutger dreaded: “Why didn’t we just fly here?”

  “I hate flying.”

  And he hated how airport security still has trouble waving through anyone of the Order of the Immortuos Venandi, despite its government clearance. Things had gotten dicier post-9/11. Even if he did get through, they still somehow lost his gear. Every. Damn. Time.

  He wasn’t a big fan of heights either, but that was low on the rung of reasons he hated flying. Besides, he loved long road trips, which surpassed flying any day of the week: getting to see the landscapes, the cities, watching the culture change, passing from one area to another. He didn’t get to see all of that together just by flying. If he needed to be somewhere quick, then he would fly, but otherwise, he’d stick to being behind the wheel.

  When they first received the news of the hunt in Texas, it was under the impression that a Chupacabra was in the area, as cattle were found with flesh wounds where the blood wouldn’t clot. Since Chupacabras aren’t a high priority, that gave them plenty of time to drive there, taking the scenic desert route.

  During their drive, however, they received updated notices that attacks on humans in a nearby small town had similar wounds; several people were reported missing. The job became hot the moment they crossed the Texas border. Rutger made good time and miles, aiming to get there well before sundown. It looked like Fiya’s first big hunt would be bigger than a Chupacabra: That night, they would be hunting a goddamn vampire.

  “Do you think you can handle this?” he asked her.

  “Hell, yeah!”

  He grinned. “Okay, these are much stronger than what we were originally going after, so don’t be afraid to let me know if you want to back out.”

  The Order of the Immortuos Venandi was able to identify the nest of the attacker to three old farmhouses outside of the small town. The first two were so dilapidated that they weren’t worth investigating, so they were on their way to the third house.

  The Jeep wasn’t pristine-clean in the first place, and the powder from the dry, dirt road made things worse. The road they followed wouldn’t be found on any printed maps: an old private road cutting through acres of overgrown and unattended farmland. Thick and tangly Texas thorn-brush woods could be seen in the distance on the other side of the farmland. A fence of old, rusted barbed wire strung lined the sides of the road, with posts that were rotting away. The area was possibly used for cattle, but not for a long time.

  The glacier-blue sky burned into a bright fiery dusk. They didn’t figure it would take this long to find the third house, but Rutger estimated they still had a half-hour before the sun was officially down, giving them plenty of time to slay a blood-sucking fiend.

  It had been several years since Fiya had been in Texas, and she was happy to go back, working as Rutger’s sidekick. His superiors hated the idea. Having someone so young being initiated made them squirm, but they let him take on a protege. They made sure he knew that if anything happened to her, he would be held accountable; he signed legal documents stating so. They also refused to forge a blade for her until she’d proven herself a capable hunter and ready for the sacred initiation.

  Over the past few years, she’d tagged along with him on hunts, but she’d been left behind at motel rooms or hotels. While he did the dirty work, she spent her time studying undead lore and staying out of danger. Just last year, she finally got to join Rutger on an extermination of ghouls, although she had to observe at a distance, carrying equipment, like a squire for a knight. Now, he believed she was ready to step up and get her hands dirty, too, and had been looking forward to the hunt. For her liking, practicing in gyms, backyards, and dojos, while studying books had nothing on doing things first-hand.

  She sported round wire sunglasses, like the kind John Lennon had worn, with her dark brown hair pulled back in a ponytail and a black baseball cap on, with the bill facing forward; the correct way, as her elders always harped. She felt like a miniature Linda Hamilton. The Pantera shirt had been swapped out for a simple Metallica Kill ’Em All t-shirt, which Rutger found appropriate.

  There was a gate at the end of the road. Two waist-high doors of flimsy sheet-metal strip-framed rotting wood. One gate door lay off its hinges, lopsided on the ground, limp, while still chained to the other door, like a child throwing a tantrum, and the parent tried to drag it away by one arm. The Jeep rolled right over it, putting enough tension on the old chain to grind into the rotting wood but not enough to break it.

  Beyond the gate sat a two-story, Victorian-inspired farmhouse. Its white paint with forest-green trim mostly had peeled away long ago, exposing a dull umber of wood. From the front, a hole in the mansard roof was visible, like something had caved it in from above. There were two floors, though the hole exposed the attic that could pass for a third floor if someone were to refurbish the hell out of the place. There was a towering foyer with a balcony, reminding Fiya of the Psycho house at Universal Studios (she hadn’t seen the movie yet, but had been to the attraction). Fiya loved old creepy houses like this, especially ones she could explore.

  Rutger parked a few yards from the front porch, which had so many dowels missing from the railing that it looked like the smile of a swamp-yodeling hillbilly. The skirtings under the porch looked to have been kicked in by either kids or animals.

  He wore a plain green army jacket, cargo pants with steel-toe boots, and an Alice In Chains t-shirt featuring a three-legged dog. When he closed his door, he walked to the back of the Jeep.

  Fiya followed, leaving her door open. “Close the door,” he said, noticing. It would be terrible getting stuck out there if the battery would go dead because the open door left on the interior lights. She did as she was told and closed the door.

  At that sound of her door clicking shut, Rutger pulled a carry-on size suitcase from the Jeep’s back and opened it, but the contents weren’t clothes or travel items. Instead, the inside featured wrist guards and a chainmail collar piece, which he promptly put on. He had a second set inside that he handed to Fiya, and she put them on, trying her hardest to mimic Rutger. Her collar was a little looser on her than how Rutger’s fit on him, and he put his finger in her collar to test just how much room there was. “It’ll still work. You’ll grow into it.”

  He placed a black canvas wallet sealed with a zipper in his inner jacket pocket, and then removed an eight-inch-thick sheet of black foam from the suitcase and revealed a new layer with weaponry. The first thing he grabbed was a bandolier with thick loops, and in those loops were wooden stakes, about an inch and a half in diameter and a foot in length. The points were not hastily carved, as Rutger personally ground them down with his belt sander until they were perfectly smooth. There were six stakes and a rubber mallet on the bandolier, which he handed to Fiya. She strapped it on while Rutger grabbed a flask with a crucifix engraved on it. He stuffed it into his jacket pocket, along with a few glow-sticks.

  The last thing in the suitcase was a little glass bottle of garlic oil, which he splashed on his hands and then rubbed around the lobes of his ears and upper neck, as if he were getting ready for a hot date. He made Fiya do the same thing. As she did that, he reached again into the Jeep, grabbing a pair of well-worn motorcycle gloves with built-in hard knuckles. He did not yet have a set for Fiya, but he planned on it, once he could find some in her size.

  When they were done suiting up, he reached for his axe and then closed the rear door. He knelt to Fiya and pointed at her as he spoke. “Stay behind and stay close to me at all times. Keep alert, but don’t get spooked at everything. Proceed quietly with caution. Okay?”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  Rutger smiled and patted her on the shoulder. “Might want to leave the sunglasses in the Jeep, kiddo. You won’t need them in there.”

  She took them off as instructed, and as they approached the house, she tossed them through her open window into her seat.

  An old cow
-patty smell lingered in the air. Fiya didn’t realize she missed it and wasn’t sure why.

  Fiya stayed right behind Rutger as he crept up the steps. Each one creaked and croaked with him but softened under her much lighter weight as she followed.

  He reached the door and expected something much fancier than a basic doorknob and deadlock, but that was exactly what was there. He guessed the previous owners must have replaced the door hardware at some point and just didn’t give a rat’s ass if it matched the aesthetics. It appeared out of place with the rest of the architecture, probably the cheapest thing available at K-Mart.

  Rutger held up his hand, signaling her to stop moving, as he put his ear against the door. He listened for a moment as his eyes rolled at Fiya. Their stares remained locked as he listened, and then he shook his head.

  He tested the doorknob. It wasn’t locked. He pushed forward gently until realizing the deadbolt was in place.

  The black canvas wallet appeared from Rutger’s inner jacket pocket, and he unzipped it, revealing several special lock picks. He took one out, compared it to the keyhole for the deadbolt, and then put it back. Then he compared the next pick, double-checked, and then put it in the keyhole. There was a second part of the picks that he used for the lower portion of the keyhole, and he twisted them around. He felt the bolt roll back with a click. Then he put the picks back into the wallet, and the wallet back into his jacket. He tested the door, and it opened without a squeak.

  He entered the dark house, and Fiya followed.

  The foyer, much like the rest of the house, was dark, brooding, and dusty. No clutter of furniture in the foyer, but a pair of old boots sat near the door with strings of cobwebbing bonding them to the floor and walls. What little light that was left from the sky spilled through the windows, providing enough light for the moment. An old rug, with so much dirt and dust on it that the pattern was no longer discernible, sprawled on the floor. In front of them, a staircase led up to the second floor.

  To their left was the den, and the dining room to the right, with a whole table of place settings still intact, collecting dust. There were chairs, some knocked over, and some still parked at the table but didn’t appear to be the complete set. Cobwebs dangled like old party streamers, dancing in wind that didn’t seem to exist. The parlor had some coffee and end tables, and two old couches with leather that had dried and split long ago, the stuffing and springs burst out.

  There was a cabinet filled with porcelain dolls. Rutger had not seen one of those in more than a decade, but Fiya only showed a passing interest. Since the cabinet was closed, they could see the dolls were still clean, with minimal cobwebs and dust inside. He wondered how valuable they could be but reminded himself they were not there to be hunting treasure. They needed to keep their focus.

  What they hunted in this large house slept, most likely somewhere underground, safe from daylight. They knew when the sunlight completely melted away, it would soon wake.

  Next, an opening led back into the hall connected to the foyer with an entrance leading to the kitchen. Rutger peeked through the threshold into the kitchen, spotting a door that likely led to the dining room on the other side of the house, and then spotted a backdoor with a piece of cardboard taped over the large window.

  Instead of exploring the kitchen, he decided to go through the opening into the rear side of the hall-foyer, then spotted what he was looking for: another door, hidden behind the staircase, leading to more stairs that only could possibly go down. Unless it were a closet.

  Fiya closely followed beside him and slid one of the stakes out from the bandoleer, holding it like a dagger. Her eyes shifted from one shadow in a corner to another, expecting something to come out at them.

  Rutger held his breath and then glanced at Fiya. She looked at him with a stoic face, proving to him that not only was she ready but that even the thought of backing out wasn’t running through her mind. She was ready to slay.

  When he let out his breath, he pressed down on the latch handle and opened the door, revealing a rickety staircase leading down into darkness. He expected it, because if it were a closet, it meant they had to keep searching the house, killing more time they didn’t have.

  Rutger went a quarter of the way down the steps before he could no longer see anything and then reached into his pocket for one of the glow-sticks. He snapped it and tossed it down the stairs. It illuminated more than a typical toy glow-stick as objects were visible within 10 feet or so around it. Although it didn’t light up the entire basement, it was a start. The dust was thicker down below, floating aimlessly in the air like little particles in murky water.

  There should have been light down there already because they saw windows at the base of the house when they approached the front door. But something had covered them with black paint.

  They reached the bottom of the stairs, and they stood near the middle of the lime-green glow. The smell of nasty, rotten musk permeated the basement, which couldn't be mistaken for anything other than decaying flesh.

  They could see stacks of wood, 2” x 4” studs under a tarp, and an old bicycle, probably too rusted to be usable again. Bare cement covered the entire basement floor, littered with dirt and sawdust.

  Rutger didn’t pick up the glow-stick at the base of the stairs but instead grabbed another, snapped it, and tossed it to where he assumed was the rear of the house, behind the staircase. It bounced off a foundation wall, illuminating with an orange glow.

  There were more piles of wood, but this time, there were four large whiskey barrels against the foundation wall, and they caught Rutger’s attention. He considered checking them when they were done. That could be a lot of whiskey going to waste. But then, would he really want whiskey that’s been sharing the same space with a vampire? He immediately rejected the thought.

  A long crate was stashed under the staircase but was difficult to see. Rutger motioned towards it, and Fiya prepared the rubber mallet in her other hand. They moved with practiced stealth toward the crate, which they soon could see was a cheap casket made of pine planks. Rutger placed a finger to his lips, even though he knew Fiya already excelled at keeping quiet.

  There was a sliver of an opening that was thin enough for Rutger to prop the blade of the axe and use it like a crowbar. The lid wasn’t nailed shut, so it fell aside with ease, stirring up a dust cloud. They had to wait for the dust to settle before they could examine the coffin, and when they did, Fiya was ready to do just what she had practiced on gelatin ballistics dummies: ram the stake into the chest and hammer away with the mallet.

  Just as she was ready to plunge into the heart, she gasped. There was nothing in the casket but dirt and dry yellow grass in the coffin. Rutger remained silent but was equally shocked. He was ready to throw the casket aside but didn’t want the girl picking up any of his raging habits.

  Instead, he gripped the edge of the coffin and squeezed, almost hard enough to snap the weak pine.

  Fiya turned to him, her eyes huge, wondering what to do next, when she saw something tall and lithe, standing near Rutger. Seeing the shadow sent a cold jolt of fear, electrifying the hairs on the back of her neck and arms. Rutger saw her eyes twitch away from his and immediately turned, preparing to bury his axe into something.

  It stood, risen out of one of the whiskey barrels, and the orange glow only kissed its shape. It gave a low hiss before lunging forward. Its long fingers with overgrown dirty fingernails reached toward Fiya. Rutger swung his axe, missing its limbs, and it recoiled.

  It hissed, “Trespassers! I’m standing my ground!”

  “Wrong state, leech,” Rutger replied, swinging again, missing, but the thing couldn’t dodge Rutger’s elbow that followed. His elbow smashed into its jaws, and it lost its balance, falling out of the whiskey barrel. Rutger’s elbow throbbed. “And I’m sure you don’t even own this property, squatter.”

  It rolled on the ground, away from the orange glow, crouched, and then leaped at Rutger. Rutger tried to knock it
off its course, but it tackled him, tumbling closer to the orange light.

  With the handle of his axe, he managed to hold off the vampire from biting him, as he lay on his back, as if he were bench pressing the thing.

  It had fangs ─ twice as long as normal human teeth ─ protruding from the lateral incisors. Its canines were longer, too, though shorter than its primary fangs. They could cut like razors, and its saliva would numb the victim from any pain, which would prevent the wound from clotting until it was cleaned; an excellent way to keep the blood flowing to feed. Most victims wouldn’t even be aware they’ve been bitten. Some even found the numbing sensation arousing.

  Dark maroon veins lined the frame of its pale face like a roadmap. Its hair thinned but long and dangled like the cobwebs.

  It snarled at Rutger, drooling on his axe, and Rutger knew he couldn’t hold the thing for much longer.

  With a quick jerk, Rutger head-butted the vampire, crunching its nose.

  It rolled off Rutger, clutching its face, and knocking over another one of the whiskey barrels. Nothing was in the barrel, much to Rutger’s disappointment.

  “Fiya, NOW!”

  Still at the casket, Fiya hesitated for a brief second, then burst toward the vampire, aiming the stake right for its heart. It knocked the mallet from her hand, breaking her momentum.

  She stared dumbly at the mallet on the floor, far out of her reach.

  Rutger’s heart skipped as he rushed to stand back up. The vampire took advantage of her surprise and swooped in, gliding through the shadows. As she turned her attention back, it was on her, preparing to bite the trapezius muscle just below the neck guard, but it stopped. Fiya froze because everything happened so fast, she didn’t have time to react and then noticed how close it came to piercing her skin.

  It heaved and then gagged.

  Its hideous breath fumed over her as she realized it was reacting to the garlic oil they splashed on before entering.