I’ve been injured during hunts before, but nothing could compare to the pain this creature was inflicting on me. I couldn’t believe that I could hurt that bad, and then it got worse. Much worse. A sharp pain lanced through my arm and I jerked my head around to see the creature’s long black tongue sticking into the crook of my elbow. Sounds came forth, like sucking from a straw, and I felt my life slipping away as I was drained. I became weak and tingly until I focused on the powers inside me and felt my blood thicken as the power reached out to touch the creature.
I reached up and touched its face and it immediately shrieked so loud, it nearly ruptured my eardrums. It dropped me like a terrified bird, the ground knocking the breath form my lungs. I tried to focus on the feeling of wanting to kill this creature, but it was as if my entire body was filled with black treacle. I tried to sit up, but was too weak to move.
All I could do was lay there, my hand covering the spot where the creature’s tongue had been. It soared down towards me, ready to pounce again. I struggled to grip onto its arm and focus all the power into my fingertips. I was rewarded by screams that rang across the park and thrashing wings, but I kept my tight grip.
It flapped its wings harder, rising, lifting my body from the ground. I’m not a lightweight and as I watched as the skin on its arm started to dissolve, I looked down and saw that the ground was becoming more distant. I panicked and let go. As I hit the grass, I saw a red glow around the creature as its dark silhouette flew across the moon. My body quivered as I tried to stand and I would have collapsed had Yuji not appeared beside me, his face tight with worry.
“Ashley, I am so sorry!” He whispered forcefully, stroking my hair, “I did not see it properly before I sent you to kill it…I did not guess that such a creature would be out so far.”
I placed my hand to my forehead, “What is it?”
He visibly cringed in the moonlight. “I thought it was just a vampire, but it is more than that…it is an Aswang.”
“A what?”
“An Aswang,” He pronounced the word as ah-swung. “A vampire-like creature from the Philippines.”
“The Philippines? What is it doing here?”
His brows drew together in confusion and he shook his head.
I began to feel less dizzy, but my back felt like it was on fire—like something was being shoved out of my skin. I stood up out of Yuji’s grasp and picked up my blades, and just in time.
Its wings were flung open as the Aswang came at me again. My heart froze and my confidence drained away as I saw that its arm had returned with no mark of my having touched it.
I grabbed a tantō blade and threw…and missed. I had just enough time to throw the other and buried the blade in its cleavage, which was enough to make it flinch back. I focused all my power to flow through my body, that wonderful feeling consuming me, and leapt towards it, hands out, like I was the bird of prey about to strike.
But the throbbing pain in my back burst into molten agony, melting my spine and I collapsed into the ground. My fingers dug furrows into the soft grass as the pain turned everything white hot. Tears flowed down my face as I croaked for Yuji…
Time slowed and I felt every stitch of skin as it tore open, and what was inside of me was literally blown out of my body. I gasped for air as the pain was mixed with a strange wave of relief, but I still couldn’t move.
Before I could even collect my thoughts, the creature dug its sharp-clawed fingers into my sides and started to lift me up. As the ground shrank beneath me, I could see the remnants of my vest and bra below me and realised that I had just shredded them. Confusion overwhelmed me until I was flung through the air and toppled end over heel upon stone. I looked up to recognise that the Aswang had flown us to the top of a ruined tower that the town had named the Rook.
I stood as the creature took to the air once more, the flapping of its large wings loud enough to be heard throughout the moors. It flew quite close to the edge of the Rook and it looked like it was waiting for me to strike.
I was lost. If the creature had regrown its arm, it was going to take more than my death grip to beat it. As I watched, the creature circled, looking at me warily and as if it was mocking me at the same time. My head had begun to clear, and I noticed that the pain in my back was bearable again, but that something felt different.
Then something leathery brushed against my arm and I looked to see a large black wing stretching forth. I closed my eyes in shock, but also in pleasure as my wings extended to their full length, and a torrent of emotion threated to wash over me.
I heard the creature screech at me, and I snapped out of my shock in time for it to hit me. I went over the edge of the Rook, tumbled but then my wings caught the wind and I landed clumsily on the ground. I saw Yuji running towards me.
“What is happening to me?!” I half screamed, half collapsed and watched him come to me. He now wore an expression of fierce joy.
His smile unnerved me. “You have wings!”
“What?”
“Oh yes!” He said, “Beautiful, very beautiful wings! It is more than I could have ever hoped for… Do not be frightened! Just tap into your instincts as you always have!”
I did, letting the power fill me as I stood up and retrieved my blades. I then turned to the circling Aswang, and I knew what to do.
Instinct launched me into the air and I soared high and fast toward the creature I meant to kill. The Aswang had the same idea for it was quickly on me in mid-air, digging its talons into my flesh. I swiftly buried one knife into its breast, above the ugly shell, watching as its blood flowed freely. It screamed at me, and I tired to hide my face, but its rotting breath made me retch.
It gripped onto my hair and flew forward until we collided into the wall of the Rook. I lost my senses for a moment and my loosened enough that the knives dropped away to the ground. It took everything I had to concentrate on getting my wings to pump urgently before I fell. I had lost the knives, but I stayed in the air, and I called on my death touch to fill my hands as I sought out and found the creature.
The red aura surrounded it again, the brightest glow coming from the ugly shell. Within seconds, the wound from my blade was gone as if it had never happened.
I screamed in defiance and frustration, but then it clicked: the shell was the source of its regeneration. I swooped down and grabbed one of my tantō blades, angled sharply up and flew fast at the creature, ready to strike. It waved its hands frantically in front of its chest to defend against my fury, and whilst it was in mid-block, I fake lunged and then flicked the blade over to sever the cord from its neck.
Shell in hand, I flew away from the beast. I could feel it as it followed me, and just before it could strike, I swerved, ready to grasp my prey. The creature dug its claws into my neck but I was close enough to unleash the power that had been building in me all night. I grabbed hold of both of the creature’s arms. Instantly, its skin started to dissolve, the stench of rotting flesh pungent in the air. It shrieked in pain and its grip on me loosened. I moved my hands around its neck and tightened my grip, watching as my fingers sank into its skin, melting the flesh away.
It continued to disintegrate in earnest now, and as I squeezed, my hands grew hot. Blood gushed out from the gaping wounds, covering my hands, arms and torso as the creature continued to scream out, thrashing at me.
At long last, I grabbed hold of its wild hair and pulled its head away from its dissolving neck, decapitating it, and I let out a wild cry. Letting both head and torso drop to the ground then, I watched as they bounced into the dirt and dissolved into rotten offal.
I didn’t move for a few minutes then, hovering, half expecting the creature to rise again. But finally the muscles in my back started to shake, causing me to topple to the ground, and land roughly on my side. The night was still as I lay, feeling drained. I lay until I heard the footsteps behind me and I felt a hand stroke my hair.
“You did it, sweetheart…” I heard Yuji say. His palm rested on m
y spine, making my body tingle, “Be still. This is going to hurt.”
That was his biggest understatement ever. His hand became hot against my skin and then it was as if molten-red pokers were being shoved through my back again. I gritted my teeth, trying not to scream. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, it was gone. He helped me sit up as he took off his jacket and wrapped it around my naked torso.
“What did you just do?” I asked.
“Just helped push your wings back in. It will take practice to do it on your own, but I will teach you.”
I looked at him, into those beautiful dark eyes. I wondered if all Japanese gods had eyes like him.
“Jesus,” I muttered, biting my lip, “This is getting to be a bit too much, Yuji. I’m scared—first it was my eyes and my hair, and now I have wings…”
“You knew you were changed when you came back from the dead. You know you are no longer completely human and the more you tap into your powers, the more Shinigami-like you will become, both on the inside and out.” He took on a wistful tone, “you looked so beautiful up there.”
I huddled up, pressing my knees against my chest. I stared at the where the corpse had left a massive splatter of blood before glancing at my own bloodstained hands. Now that the rush of the chase was gone, I realised what had happened throughout the long night. I had become seduced into a frenzy of bloodlust. My other hunts had been so much less; they had never felt so wonderful, and that thought scared me more than anything.
“I am surprised you were able to kill that creature so easily,” Yuji said.
I scoffed, “You call that easy?”
“I can tell you though that it is not an easy thing to kill, and that you did it in style.”
He held me tighter and clasped my hand gently into his. His other hand stroked my upper arm. I knew he was deliberately stroking over my death mark. I knew that the next time I looked into the mirror, it would be darker and more defined than it had ever been, but right then I was tired, and I did not care. I closed my eyes and felt the warmth of Yuji, the cool of the night, and the welcoming darkness that seemed to welcome me more and more. I enjoyed the peace of the moment and let it last.
But after a while, when I did finally feel strong enough to return home, I let the horror of what happened to me slowly replay through my mind. And when I was alone, I finally forced myself to look at my arm.
Sometimes I really hate it when I’m right.
H. L. Yates was born in Bury, Greater Manchester and grew up in the neighbor town of Radcliffe where she still resides, switching her time from her job in retail, writing stories and plotting to become Queen of the Universe. From 2006–2008, she wrote many fan fiction stories, mostly that relate to non-canon pairing of Remus Lupin and Sirius Black. These stories are still read and she cannot go through a week without getting reviews for her fiction. You can read her fan fiction here: www.fanfiction.net/-ladyremus1983
For years, she has tried to bring her love of mythology into her writing and The Longest Night is the second short story in her Ashley Ryan series. She is currently working on her first novel in the Ashley Ryan series as well as working on more monster hunter stories.
Afterword
Brian P. Easton
If you’re a Monster Hunter you’re not long for this world.
Every man owes God a death, and whether you’re a Hasid mystic, a latter-day Knight Templar or the British Royal Occultist, you’ll have to pony up sooner than most.
You’re in the trenches of a war you never had the slightest chance of winning, but like most warriors you’ve probably envisioned yourself going out with a bang. Boots on. Guns blazing. It’s the finest swansong the trade has to offer, and the best you can hope for.
But, the cost of doing business is liable to get you before the monsters do, and you’re almost as likely to end up a statistic; another accident on the expressway on some random Thursday evening. No one will know where you were going in such a hurry or what you were pursuing, but by the time they cut your body from the wreckage, whatever it was will be long gone.
You aren’t likely to make the obits either; a major coronary somewhere in the boondocks, a cerebral aneurysm. Too many cigarettes, too much liquor, not enough sleep—name your poison. There’s only so long you can ride the ragged edge before it chutes you into the abyss, where your remains will go unnoticed by everything but the bugs.
Of course, the pursuit of ghoulies, ghosties and long-legged beasties comes with occupational hazards far worse than death and I suppose that’s why so many decide to ‘opt out’ early—an alternative that never leaves the table this line of work.
With that in mind it’s fair to say that Monster Hunters aren’t overly concerned about their nominal life expectancy—most warriors aren’t—but there are darker aspects to the Hunt than the mortality rate of its Hunters. Themes such as torture, madness and damnation have played crucial roles in my Autobiography of a Werewolf Hunter series.
I wanted to write a different kind of werewolf story, one told from a mortal man’s real-world perspective. I had a vision for a character named Sylvester James, and the events that would turn a misguided orphan into a borderline psychotic. To test the effects of relentless pain and reckless hatred on the human psyche I stared down the paradigm of redemptive violence through the eyes of a vengeance-obsessed anti-hero. The end-product was a carnivorous world of septic wounds and dirty secrets, a place where hatred is intractable, virtue is irrelevant, and no one gets out in one piece.
But as dark a Hunter as Sylvester is, the monsters he faces are more terrible still. My werewolves have been called, “the most vicious, unsympathetic, horrific depiction ever created,” and the Beast’s depravity makes Sylvester heroic by comparison; a far cry from monsters that sparkle or gratuitously take off their shirts. This isn’t a playground, it’s a battlefield; the insipid and inane need not apply.
The trilogy’s final installment, The Lineage will take Sylvester across entire continents in search of a single elusive werewolf, and he’ll be shown things he’ll be worse off for seeing. His Reydosnin Dog Soldier tradecraft will be pushed to its limit as he carries his feud into the very lair of the Beast, and his brassbound resolve will be put to the fire as he unravels the sordid truth of his own lineage. He’ll come face to face with horrors he never imagined, each of them intrinsically linked to the Wolf he once called mother.
Use Enough Gun marks the end of another trilogy, and many of these hunters are no better off than mine.
Many thanks to Editor Miles Boothe for allowing me to be part of these anthologies. The Legends of the Monster Hunter series has been a lot of fun, and we’ve met some memorable hunters and horrifying monsters along the way. Big props to all contributing authors for enriching Monster Hunting lore for generations to come and furthering the good fight against things that go bump in the night.
Brian P. Easton
Autobiography of a Werewolf Hunter and its sequel Heart of Scars were finalists in the 2003 and 2008 Independent Publisher Awards and subsequently published by Permuted Press in 2010–2011.
You can find Brian P. Easton at www.werewolfhunter.com and on Facebook, where he posts regular updates and interacts with readers.
Use Enough Gun (Legends of the Monster Hunter Book 3) Page 40