Shame of the Huntress
Jon Callot
Carol Miller welcomed the sensations of the cold night air as it blew across her body. The light from the full moon fell across her one eye and a light breeze was blowing through her short, black hair when her skin began to tingle. Cold sank deep as she reached for her silver bowie knife, her nerves pinched as she watched the werewolf enter the clearing. The treetop she waited in swayed as the wind picked up.
Wretched thing, she thought, eye focused intently on the beast. The dull gleam of the blade reflected the moon as her grip tightened.
In that instant, Carol heard the familiar twang followed by the werewolf’s pain-stricken howl. Dave’s silver-tipped arrow would slow the beast, but not stop it. That job was hers and she wanted…no…she needed it. She moved in practiced haste, watching the thing shamble across the clearing. The sounds of its pain exhilarated her as she slid down the rope to the snow below.
Carol had honed her slender frame into a thing of speed and accuracy and as her knife dug into the creature’s neck, she felt it severing the head from the body. Muscle and bone parted and a shower of crimson erupted across the icy canvas at her feet. The coup de grace was hers.
Dave arrived a moment later as she wiped the blood from her blade and irreverently kicked the now-reverting werewolf’s headless body.
“Smooth,” Dave said.
Carol sheathed her knife, giving the body another swift kick. Creatures hiding in the shadows disgusted her—a trait shared between her and Dave. Their marriage now focused on hunting the things no one else would. Werewolves, vampires, the occasional rare beast, the quarry didn’t matter—they’d extinguish each and every vile creature regardless of what kind of filth it was.
“Wilbur Mallory, may you rest in peace,” Dave said in a somber tone.
Carol walked back to the tree and pulled down her doeskin pack using the rope from her earlier descent. She pulled on her wool coat now that the hunt was over and the cold numbed her. After the adrenaline wore off, the cold would penetrate her. When it did, the past had a tendency to follow.
Carol rubbed her face and squatted down at the base of the tree, not realizing the tears frozen on her cheek until she brushed them off. They weren’t shed for the headless thing on the ground. They were for her weakness and for the one that scarred her body and still lived a cursed life.
“The Mallory’s will be glad to know Wilbur is in a better place.”
“They’re all trash,” Carol said.
Dave brushed snow off of her hair. “Not all of them. Some are just unfortunate to get turned. You used to say that until…”
“Shut up!” She poked his chest. “We don’t talk about that.”
Dave put his hands up and stepped back.
Carol hiked in the direction of their cabin, holding a hand over her chest where her right breast used to be. As hard as she tried to forget, the more tormented her memories became.
Carol knew the risks involved in hunting the creatures of the night, one being that the fallen would attack them when they were most vulnerable. But no matter if it was a pack of werewolves or a coven of vampires, Carol and Dave always saw them coming.
Then they welcomed a daughter into the world and things changed.
While Dave hunted, Carol usually remained at home with eleven year-old Beth, a duty that seemed more difficult than pursuing quarry at times. However, Carol had a routine with her daughter that Dave envied and neither could deny the mother-daughter bond that existed between them. After dinner, Carol would bathe while Beth prepared the beds. Then they would read together until drifting off to sleep.
And so it was one night that Carol let her guard slip and a cunning vampire watched them without their knowing. It was easy to convince Beth to allow him into the cabin while Carol soaked, and when she emerged from the bathroom, three neatly dressed men held Beth in her kitchen.
Carol feigned tightening her towel and seized the fireplace poker in a flash. She swung overhead, but one of them moved faster. He knocked the poker back into the fire and shoved her against the stones, bearing his fangs close. She fought, pushing against him, but wasn’t able to budge him so much as an inch. He forced her roughly against the fireplace, shaking some of the stones and mortar loose and then smiled, allowing his fangs to extend further.
“I hear you and your husband hunt vampires. That’s quite a business.”
“Yeah, we kill fuckers like you.”
“I wonder,” he whispered in her ear. “What it would feel like to fuck a hunter like you?”
“You’ll be dead before any part of you touches me!” She struggled again to no avail.
He chuckled with the flickering light from the fireplace casting a ghastly appearance over his youthful face. “Give yourself to me freely, or…” He glanced to Beth. “You’ll watch her turn.”
A sour taste seeped into Carol’s mouth. “You lay a finger on her and I’ll…”
“You have my word as a gentleman,” He cut her off. “But if you try anything aggressive, my associates will take care of her rather quickly.”
Carol looked into her daughter’s eyes and could see she was under the vampire’s spell. Blood trickled down her neck from bite marks, the two other vamps licking at the droplets dribbling from the punctures.
“Do we have a deal?”
Carol choked the tears back as she nodded in agreement.
“Wonderful. My name is Slave—I always like to introduce myself before making love.” Slave chuckled as he removed her towel and forced her down. His bite stung her throat, but then immediately soothed.
Carol pretended it wasn’t happening, pretended the sounds coming out of her own mouth were not her own as he scraped into her skin with his claws. His tongue moved over the wounds, freeing the newly formed clots underneath. His mouth pressed against her as he lapped up trickles of her precious blood. His hands grabbed fistfuls of her flesh, marring the white skin.
Carol’s body went limp. Her mind tried to run, tried to hide, but searing pain pulled it back, calling from her right breast.
Carol watched as Slave spit a large chunk off to the side. The nipple angling off the floor didn’t appear to be hers any longer. She covered herself to control the bleeding, but Slave pinned her arms down, licking in haste. The choke on her tears loosened and she soon realized she was sobbing.
“You should teach your daughter not to open the door to strangers,” he said, licking the tears off her cheek.
His claws glided over her legs, pushing them apart.
Carol managed a loud cry, but the moment her plea left her mouth, she felt him inside her. It burned into her flesh and her mind and her body convulsed in orgasm. Even though her body told her to enjoy it, her mind wouldn’t. The convulsions racked her over and over, contradicting the anguish and horror of her thoughts until she was certain it would never end. When it finally did, she was left alone on the floor.
Carol turned to the side, exhaling a sigh of anguish, holding herself. The huntress inside her crawled back after being forced away. The instant she felt it within her grasp again, an agonizing pain flooded inside of her forcing the huntress to cower back into the dark reaches of her heart. His claws had torn at her insides. Blood slicked her thighs. She was hurt badly.
She stared at him and the hunter inside of her wanted his death, but her shame craved her own death and the two sides fought. He towered over her, eying her body for a long moment and grimaced. He knelt down and took her hand.
“I’m sorry. This is not what I had in mind.” Slave’s expression changed, going somber. “I’ll spare you further suffering.”
She spit blood-tinged saliva in his face, unable to form words from her raw throat.
The hot point of the fireplace poker was the last thing she saw. It scorched the nerves and blood vessels and radiated a burning pain that clawed into the back of her skull. She writhed on the floor, but then froze and groaned in agony as he pulled it out. Consciousness fled
her and the last image her good eye held was of Slave approaching her daughter.
Words were never exchanged between Dave and Carol about the incident. None were needed and only the hunt mattered to Carol now, her body and mind focused on the sole purpose of killing. But the werewolf’s death, just as all of the others, was unable to bring any peace to her aching heart. It only reminded her that she should have died or been turned that night. She hated that she survived. She felt broken still.
Later, at home, Carol picked at the rabbit and potatoes Dave had prepared. The crispy skin and burnt flesh reminded her of her own body. It had taken her a full year to recover from her wounds and another three to retrain her body with her missing eye. From then on it had just been one job after another. Jobs that kept her from her enemy—from him.
“I want Slave,” she said.
He looked up at her with his large brown eyes. “Can you handle it?”
She nodded.
“Bullshit.”
“Will you help me?”
He held up his finger. “After we talk about what happened that night.”
“No.”
“Then find him yourself.” He chewed on a rabbit leg as he rocked in his chair back and forth. “I remember when I used to sooth Beth in this chair.”
“Don’t ta-”
“You haven’t talked about it since it happened,” he cut her off. “How do think it makes me feel to have you almost killed and my daughter swept away?” His voice cracked.
“You don’t get to say that!” She hurled her plate of food against the wall. “You weren’t there! You didn’t have to look into our little girl’s eyes!”
With a heavy sigh, Dave stood. Silence aired between them as the fire crackled within the dimly lit cabin. Carol eyed the rabbit leg at her husband’s feet, knowing she lost more than just her right eye or the ability to have another child that night. She could tell that Dave knew as well and was suffering just as much as she was.
“Why talk about it?” She asked, breaking the tension.
He met her eyes. “Because I found him.”
Her ears peaked up.
“The old mansion on Devil’s Cliff. It’ll take us three days to get there.”
“Are you sure?”
Dave placed his fingertips in his mouth and nodded his head. “He has a large coven now. Larger than anything we’ve faced before.” He clenched a fist and turned his head to her. “You know the recent surge of jobs we’ve taken to eliminate vampires for the townsfolk?”
“He set us up, didn’t he?”
“Yeah. Slave spread the rumors about the other vampires. We took out his competition and gave him the power he has now. Our neighbors paid us, but Slave pulled all the strings.”
“What about Beth?”
Dave’s expression turned grave. “Only rumors. Some say that she’s been turned, others say she’s a prisoner.”
“How long have you known about this?”
“For a little while, almost a week.”
Carol slapped him across the face. “How dare you?” She took another swipe at him, but he caught her hand.
“You weren’t ready. I still don’t think you are.” He embraced her. “But I want that fucker as bad as you do—I want to fire an arrow straight into his black heart.”
Carol felt Dave’s warm hand on her chin.
“We’re out of time, but we can’t be hasty. Especially you.” His eyes watered. “Are you up to this?”
“I have to be. I don’t have a choice.”
They hiked as the sun crested from the east. She squinted, trying to allow her eye to adjust to the new light when Dave stopped. Peering around his bulky shoulder, Carol saw a man laid naked against a rotted tree.
She crept behind Dave as he shuffled closer to the man. She tapped his shoulder and pointed down to tracks of a large animal pressed into the snow. Four toes with four claw marks spanned larger than her foot and leading straight to the man. Footprints of other men paralleled alongside the tracks. Carol pressed her mouth to Dave’s ear.
“A trap?” Carol whispered.
He shrugged his shoulders, nocking an arrow.
Carol searched the trees and mounds of snow for any movement. A winter hare popped up, its ears fanned out toward her, but it ran off in the opposite direction after seeing the naked man. Carol didn’t blame the poor thing—she could feel it too. A dense evil emanated from him. She circled around the tree.
Dave nudged the man with his foot, and then drew back his arrow.
The man jerked. “What the hell?” he said.
“Get up, wolf,” Dave said.
“Wait a minute! Who-”
Carol’s blade slipped up under his chin, her eye intense.
Wretched thing, she thought.
Dave let his arrow down so Carol pressed in harder.
“I don’t even know how I got here,” the man said.
Dave chuckled. “Bullshit.” He pointed to the tracks, “He’s yours.” Dave said to her, walking away.
Carol smiled.
The man’s chin stretched higher. “Okay—they left me here.”
She eased some pressure off, but kept the blade close.
“Start talking wolf.” Dave plucked the man in the forehead. “Try our patience again and you’re dead. Who left you here?”
The man cleared his throat. “Slave. And a few of his coven.”
Adrenaline dumped into Carol’s blood. She replaced her knife with her hand, seizing his throat.
“Where is he?” She asked, hearing the man wheeze.
Dave spoke in a deadpan voice. “The lady asked you a question. She won’t ask twice…”
“The mansion on Devil’s Cliff,” the man coughed.
“Slave is smart—he wouldn’t just leave a piece of garbage out here unless it had a purpose,” Dave said.
The man looked to Carol. “He told me to give a message to the one-eyed woman.”
Carol reached for him, but Dave kept her at bay.
“Slave says, ‘I’m sorry.’”
Carol tripped Dave into the snow and found her hands around the man’s throat. “Sorry! He’s sorry!” Frenzied, she slammed the man’s head into the rotting tree, causing the wood to break off. She flipped him onto the snow, cutting off his airway. “I’m going to kill you!”
The man’s face began to turn cyanotic, but he managed to squeak out. “There’s…more…”
Carol released her grip just enough to allow him to breathe. “Talk!” She yelled.
“Slave said.” The man coughed, “she’s still not turned.”
Carol’s arms dropped to her sides. Her hands shook, she’d given up hope that her daughter was still human or even alive. The fact there was hope gave her a newfound strength.
“But he also said,” The man coughed, “to forget about her and move on with your life. Don’t come after him.”
Carol felt something inside her snap on hearing those words. Her hands moved on their own accord; the knife went up and before she realized it, the man’s sternum gushed blood. The blade cut upward and her hand swiveled to sever the bone and tissue through his neck. As more blood ejected out onto the snow, she shoved his body against the tree. She repeatedly jammed her knife in and out his flesh. Tears mixed with blood and snow as Dave pulled her away.
Two days later, Carol took in the sight of the mansion on Devil’s Cliff. Standing three or four stories high, multiple gables peaked; columned porches and engraved wood matched the rustic surroundings. Glass windows shined and walkways were cleared of snow. In the center, a large tree stood.
“I’m going alone,” Dave said.
“I’m coming with you,” she said.
“No. After what you did to the wolf…I don’t want you losing it.”
She pulled her coat tight.
“If what he said about Beth is true,” he continued. “We need to get her out before we start staking vamps.”
Carol could see the determination in Dave’s eyes. Sh
e knew his levelheadedness with a plan, setting traps, ambushes and rescues. Whatever he did always worked. Her heart ached because this plan touched too close, but she knew that if anyone could pull something like this off, her husband could. She decided to go with it and not to fight him.
“Please don’t do anything rash.” He pressed his warm lips against hers. “If anything happens, leave and contact my brother. He’ll know what to do.”
Carol watched her husband sprint to the large tree. He went from the tree, to the shrub, to the building. He pushed on windows. When one of the side doors opened, he faced her and gestured for her to wait. He slipped inside and a sour taste hit her tongue.
She waited. For an hour she waited as the sun began to set, but Dave didn’t come out. Lights began to illuminate the windows as the mansion came to life. Ten men dressed in black suits walked out onto the grounds from the door Dave entered through. They ran to the front and began shoveling snow from the walkways while one opened the front door. A man wearing a purple cloak escorted a young woman out of the mansion and into the winter garden. When the woman bent over and grabbed something from the ground, Carol felt a familiar twinge.
Carol had taken a hundred walks through the woods with her daughter and Beth would reach down and examine clovers and insects during the summer and play with the snow during the winter. The woman that bent over now moved in the exact same way. Carol’s throat closed, pushing bile down as the woman took the arm of the man and they returned to the house.
Was that Beth?! I have to know, she thought inching forward. She wanted to follow, but held back remembering what Dave said. The sound of a twig snapped behind her and an arm was suddenly wrapped around her neck.
“What do we have here?” the voice said.
Carol replied by flipping the ill-experienced vampire and jamming her silver bowie into his chest in the same movement. She covered his mouth until the body turned to ash. Every fiber in her body told her to listen to Dave.
Run away, the voice of reason shouted.
Use Enough Gun (Legends of the Monster Hunter Book 3) Page 4