“Be my guest.”
“Take it easy in the cave. Don’t destroy anything priceless.”
Shufah raised a single eyebrow.
Rian flashed a tiny, embarrassed smile. It made him somehow even more handsome. “I have a thing for ancient artifacts.”
“That’s good,” Shufah said, “cause you’re looking at one.” She leapt over the side before Rian could respond, but she could still hear him laughing halfway down.
Victor waited for Shufah at the bottom of the steep slope. His hood was back, his face turned to the wind. He had the look of a long-time prisoner set free at last. For the briefest moment, he actually seemed happy.
“Remember your word,” Victor said, his back still to her. “I get to add the Hunters to my collection.”
“And you remember, no killing the Watchtower vampires. They’re coming back with us.”
“What if they don’t want to come back?”
“Then it’s up to you to convince them it’s in their best interest.”
Victor smiled, then walked off in the cave's direction.
The sky was clear. Not a cloud in any direction. An extra spattering of stars seemed to occupy the sky, and Shufah couldn’t remember the last time she had seen so many. The moon cast more than enough light to navigate by. Less than ten miles from the landing zone, they descended into a steep sloping valley, more a scar than a crack in the earth.
Shufah followed Victor through the valley, her eyes fixed on the ridges thirty feet overhead. If they were going to be ambushed, it’d be here.
Victor continued at a slow, measured pace, seemingly unfazed by the potential doom that could descend upon them. Shufah, however, found the hike emotionally daunting, and expelled a sigh of relief as they finally exited the valley, stepping out now into a more open (but not at all flat) land.
“Thought the Hunters were up top watching us, did you?” Victor laughed, her fear an amusement to him. “Guess it was good that I went first. Take the hit so you could run away.”
“You know I wouldn’t run, Victor. I’d stay and fight.”
“We’ll see soon enough.”
That was the end of their conversation, which was fine by her. The part of Shufah’s mind capable of dealing with the bipolar nature of the Monster/Victor had been swallowed in a cloud of red—the part that dealt swift, brutal death. So, it was probably for the best that she and Victor not talk.
They trudged another five plus miles of desolate Sahara Desert, the forever shifting sand trying its best to swallow them. Soon, they came to a grouping of black sandstone monoliths that looked like a set of jagged, diseased teeth. A small, worn foot trail zig-zagged its way through the smaller teeth, leading to a much larger, more tightly packed grouping.
According to the aerial photos Rian had shown Shufah in the Blackhawk, this trail would lead them out of the sandstone monoliths, and back out into the Sahara sand. A second, much larger grouping of sandstone structures was nestled three miles to the southeast. Nestled near the center of this grouping, they would find the barricaded cave.
Shufah and Victor followed the foot trail into the jagged black teeth. The constant wind that swept across the desert, blowing grit into their eyes and mouths, ceased as they passed inside the jutting stones. The structures weren’t large enough or grouped so tight as to block the wind. It was almost as if the winds were afraid to enter.
A knot of panic gripped Shufah’s stomach. Something was wrong here.
Victor felt it too. His pace slowed, his strides shortened, and he began peering into every cross path they came to, like a man crossing the street in heavy traffic.
Motion to their right. Just a quick blur.
Shufah jumped to face the movement, but it was already gone. Her heart raced. Her flesh prickled with painful anticipation.
“Victor,” she whispered. “We’re not alone.”
Victor stood motionless. He could’ve been just another jutting piece of sandstone if not for his slow, steady breathing. “We haven’t been for a while now.”
“A Hunter?”
He let out a short, dry laugh. “Do you know anything else that moves so fast? He’s circling us. Looking for a way to get the upper hand.”
Shufah was older than Victor by a few thousand years. Though their battle in the cemetery could be called a draw, she was blood hardened (especially after the blood ring) and would’ve beaten him had they not been interrupted. That being said, the Monster had far more experience killing Hunters than she ever would. Like it or not, he was the expert here.
“What should we do?”
It was hard to read those stitched-together eyes, but she thought she read a sort of tainted bliss.
“We don’t know if the Hunter is alone or if there are more stalking us. For now, I think you should stick to the path. Let the Hunter come to you.”
Victor turned, stepped off the path, and made for a grouping of smaller stones to their left.
“Wait,” Shufah whispered as loudly as she dared. “I thought you said to stay on the path.”
“You. Not me. Someone has to be the bait.”
Victor vanished behind the smaller stones, which were not much taller than he was. Shufah stood looking after him for longer than was necessary.
Shufah had battled many Hunters over the centuries—both mentally and physically—and she had always come out on top. But now, she stood petrified, unable to move forward or backward.
Perhaps it was this place. The jutting black stones seemed akin to totems. Monuments signifying a single solemn warning. This was a place of thin reality, where doorways could open, not to other worlds, but the darkness between worlds, sucking you down to your doom.
Shufah shook herself. The strain of this mission weighed heavily on her, bending her mind to the point of breaking. Standing here, overtaken with phantom fears, would only get her killed.
She took a single step forward. It was difficult, like her foot was made of lead. The next step was easier. By the third step, her irrational fears began fading like a dream upon waking.
More blurs of movement flashed to her left, then again to her right. The sound of pebbles shifting and rocks tumbling haunted her steps. Oh, she was being stalked all right. And the Hunter wanted her to know it. He was taunting her, teasing her anxiety, relishing her fear.
Shufah could face any Hunter toe to toe, but she was at a clear disadvantage here. The Hunter knew the terrain, and he used that to his favor. Shufah was walking down a killing chute.
The worn path curved left, then again to the right, both times bypassing larger stone structures. Shufah was sure the attack would be here. The Hunter would crush her with a large boulder, or rain fire down upon her.
But nothing happened, and all she could do was keep walking.
Shufah wondered if Victor had found the Hunter and was slowly having his way with him. That thought brought a smile to her face, but it died with the next thought.
There were multiple Hunters here. One Hunter alone couldn’t guard the Watchtower augurs. Even if there was only one augur, there would be at least two Hunters taking turns. Otherwise, the augur might flee when the Hunter went out to feed.
What if Victor hadn’t encountered one Hunter, but two or even three? The Monster had taken out entire teams of Hunters before, but the Monster was dozing, leaving only Victor.
No. She wouldn’t allow herself to drift down that path. If Victor had encountered trouble, she’d know it. The whole Sahara Desert would probably know it.
The path straightened out in the last thirty yards. Shufah could see the shifting sands once again, and beyond that, in the far distance, the next island of black sandstone teeth.
Shufah made it halfway to the exit before a strong telekinetic force blew her off her feet. It hit her like the fist of an invisible god, bringing instant, blinding pain from her crown to her toes.
She flew backward ten feet, but the telekinetic force caught her and carried her another fifteen, pinning
her upside down against one of the sandstone teeth.
A dark shape emerged atop the last sandstone tooth. He stood with his Hunter’s duster pulled tight around his chest, and the hood up to conceal his face. He leapt down, falling the twenty feet with practiced ease, then strolled toward her with the bravado of a man who thinks he has won the world.
The Hunter stopped far enough away that, should Shufah happen to be a pyromancer or another telekinetic, he would have room enough to dodge an attack.
He glared at her, a smug little smirk planted on his narrow face. She didn’t recognize this Hunter and guessed he probably hadn’t been a Hunter very long. Less than a century, most likely. That explained why he didn’t seem to know who she was.
If he had, he probably would’ve crushed the life out of her without a second thought.
He spoke to her in various languages, though he seemed most comfortable with Spanish. She suspected he was from somewhere in Central or South America. Honduras, most likely.
Shufah understood each language, but feigned ignorance to all of them except English. She wanted him to take her for a young vampire, naïve to the wide world, maybe even a bit on the stupid side.
“Why are you here?” he asked, his Hispanic accent crisp.
“I don’t know,” Shufah said, allowing her voice to quiver with fright. “I was traveling with my friends. We were supposed to go on one of those safari tours, but the night before, I met this strange man. I can’t really remember what happened next, but I think he bit me.”
“The man that bit you was a vampire,” the Hunter said very matter-of-factly. “He drank your blood. Did you drink his?”
“No.” Shufah tried to sound revolted. “I think I fell asleep. I had a dream I died. When I woke up here in the desert, I was like this. What’s happening to me?”
“Born of the bite, eh?” The Hunter looked at her with disdain. “I’d be delighted to help you. Tell me, can you make fire? Move things with your mind? Can you hear the thoughts of others?”
Shufah looked at him as if he were joking. “Of course not. Can you?”
He shook his head as if this were the dumbest thing he had ever heard. “How do you think you’re hanging there? It’s a pity you don’t have any usable powers. You’re exquisite. I’m sure the Stewards would’ve found you worthy. But the Stewards no longer exist, and I can’t afford to have anyone know we’re here.” His eyes went from bored to shrewd. “Before I kill you, why don’t you tell me where your large friend went and save me the trouble of tracking him down?”
Shufah allowed the facade of weakness to fall from her face. Her eyes went cold, causing the Hunter to flinch in shock. “His name is Victor. You no doubt know him as the Monster. The hunter of Hunters. And he’s standing right behind you.”
The Hunter spun so quickly that his heavy leather duster fanned out like a dancer’s skirt. Victor stood mere inches away, his hands laced together over his head, the fury of the Monster once again burning in his eyes.
Victor brought his fists down with amazing speed, hitting the Hunter atop his left shoulder, near the clavicle. The force of the impact not only drove the Hunter to his knees but snapped him backward at the base of his spine.
The Hunter’s telekinetic hold on Shufah broke, and she dropped to the ground, landing face to face with the injured Hunter.
The Hunter’s eyes bulged, his mouth worked like a fish who had been pulled from the water and cast upon the bank. A series of wheezing groans escaped him, but if he had any words left in him, they were squashed when Victor dropped a heavy knee upon his chest, cracking his sternum.
“Leave,” Victor said to Shufah. “The Monster is coming. It’s no longer safe for you.”
Shufah didn’t need to be told twice. She hopped to her feet, skirting around the folded Hunter, and followed the dwindling foot trail back out into the Sahara sands.
The wind pushed against her like a warning. Sand filled her mouth and poked her eyes, yet she didn’t slow her vampiric pace. Halfway to the next set of black stone teeth, she turned and looked back.
The Hunter was going to die. Perhaps he was already dead. And when vampires died (outside of being burned) they released savage spores. How many Hunters had Victor killed over the years? How many savages? More than seemed possible. Yet, in all that time, through all those deaths, he had somehow escaped being infected. Every time.
Shufah watched the black spires with agitated expectation. Could the Monster conjure fire? Is that how he avoided contamination? Or was Victor somehow immune to the savage infection?
A dark mass zoomed up and out of the city of stone, flying high into the air. The speed and trajectory sent it hurtling a thousand yards in the opposite direction. Just as its travel peaked and descended, the mass exploded in a thick cloud.
Shufah watched as the cloud—dark black on a less black sky—dispersed like a swarm of gnats, and was carried away, mixed with the floating sand by the wind.
That doesn’t prove he’s not immune, Shufah thought. That doesn’t prove a thing.
She waited for Victor, and when he caught up to her, she wasn’t a bit surprised to see that he now had an extra pair of ears hanging below his original pair.
“The cave is in the next city of stones,” Shufah reminded Victor. “The Watchtower—”
“Are not to be harmed,” he interrupted. “I heard you the first time.” He turned his head from side to side, giving her a better view of the new ears. A small yet demented smile touched his face.
“Did you just make a joke, Victor?”
He didn’t answer. Just turned and started for the next grouping of towering stones.
There was once again nowhere to hide in the open desert. No way to mask their approach. At least if it had been a moonless night, that might have afforded them some cover, but the bone-white light spilling down upon the desert made even their shadows stand out upon the darkened sand.
Shufah touched Victor’s arm just before they left the sea of sand for the second stone island. He flinched as if her touch unnerved him and glanced down at her. “There’s no way of telling how many Hunters are here. One for sure. Probably more. Going down into that cave might not be strategically wise. How would the Monster handle this?”
“The cave is no good. They know the layout. We don’t. So, let’s level the playing field. Call them out. Meet face to face.”
“That could be dangerous, too. What if there are a dozen Hunters hiding down in that hole?”
Victor shrugged. “We came to spill blood. Did you think you could escape this? If there is one Hunter, we’ll win quickly. If there are more, our victory will take a bit longer. It’s as simple as that.”
“How can you be so sure?” She wasn’t being sarcastic or glib. It was an honest question.
“Because I can see it no other way. Don’t despair, Shufah. Even in a tribe of killers, there is good and evil. And the good will always win in the long run. And we are the good. Never doubt it.”
Shufah could see now why other vampires followed the Monster with such fervency. There was a sage wisdom to his madness. A simplicity that brought faith. And faith, no matter how misguided, moved mountains.
They passed into the stone teeth, leaving the wind to their backs. This group of spires rose higher than the last cluster, blotting out the moon and most of the stars, blanketing them in heavy shadows. They followed the worn foot trail in silence, even holding their breaths.
Shufah’s heart pounded on the inside of her breastbone to the point of hurting. She kept shooting her gaze left to right as they crossed each stone tooth, up and behind as they passed it by. Victor, however, kept his eyes fixed forward, and seemed almost bored by this whole affair.
They continued until, at last, they came upon a nearly perfect circular hole in the stone floor. There were barricades positioned around the entrance, each connected by a bright red strip of caution tape. Off to the side stood a temporary post with a sign atop written in Arabic listing the various r
easons (all very dangerous) why a human should not enter the cave.
Victor stepped forward, pushing the barricades aside. The Monster—Shufah could see in his eyes that was who now held control—cupped his hands around the sides of his mouth. “Come forth, all ye Hunters. Stand true and meet us face to face.”
“That was subtle,” Shufah said.
He looked at her as if he barely recognized her. “Subtlety is a weakness.”
Shufah ignored this, turning her attention instead to the cave. A spiral staircase, carved from the stone, descended into the darkness. There came no answer to the Monster’s challenge, and she had just begun to wonder if they had abandoned the cave when two hooded figures came into view.
The Monster stepped backward, not out of fear, but to allow his enemies a chance to make the surface without fear of an attack. The Monster apparently preferred a fair fight.
The Hunters finished their ascent and now stood on the opposite side of the cave entrance from Shufah and the Monster. The Hunters were large, hulking men. They reminded Shufah of Taos, except they were as ugly as he was handsome, both with long, stringy gray hair. They pulled their hoods back, and it was then that Shufah realized the men were identical twins.
The twins looked at her for only the briefest of moments, as though she weren’t worthy of their time. The bogey-man of the vampire world had stolen their attention.
“We’re here for the Watchtower,” Shufah said, her voice steady despite the trepidation in her heart. “Give them over and we’ll let you flee.”
The Monster tensed at the thought of letting the Hunters go, but he didn’t speak against it. Some of Victor must still be awake.
“We can’t let you have them,” said Twin A, “even if we wanted to.”
“If we give up the Watchtower, we’ll die,” said Twin B. “If we face you in battle, at least we have a chance.”
The Monster laughed at this concept, but it caused a brief twinge of pity in Shufah’s heart.
She kept her face stern. “If you’re stalling, hoping that your friend will arrive to help, don’t. We killed him already.”
“Balto wasn’t our friend,” Twin B said.
The Savage Vampire (The Perpetual Creatures Saga Book 5) Page 23