A Moonlit Night Saga: Episodes 1 - 4

by Adrianna White

  Emily sat down beside him, and held him gently. She looked him deeply in the eyes, and said, “We all feel that way, Tyler. Julia meant the world to all of us.”

  “Why her, though?” Tyler asked. “What did she ever do to anyone?”

  “…Because of me,” answered Emily, looking down to the floor in sadness. “Julia died, because I was too scared to stand up for myself.”

  “Don’t blame yourself, Emily,” said Tyler, bringing his hands down from his face. “Julia wouldn’t have wanted that.”

  “There’s something I’ve been too afraid to ask you,” said Tyler, rising to his feet. “What are you? What is a summoner exactly?”

  “I wish I knew the answer to that,” said Emily, with her hands caressing her brow. “All I know is that everyone wants me dead.”

  “Why don’t you just pack up and leave?” Tyler asked, picking up a bat beside the couch, which hadn’t left his side since the initial attack.

  “Where would I go? Should I go to college, and hope they don’t take down a hundred students on their way to me?” asked Emily, trembling violently. “I have nowhere to run! All I can do is wait until they come looking for me again! What kind of life is that?”

  This time it was Tyler who came to aid of the sobbing Emily. He put the bat down, and tried to comfort her, resting her head on his brawny shoulder. He rubbed her back comfortingly, and said, “C’mon now, Emily, don’t cry. Everything’s going to be fine. Didn’t you just finish telling me that?”

  Emily looked up towards Tyler, who was smiling at her. She playfully pushed him aside, and thanked him for cheering her up.

  “So I take it you’ve decided to stay home from school?” Tyler asked. “Well at least it will be comforting to know you’re close by, incase trouble comes crawling back.”

  Tyler walked in the kitchen, sat down, and grabbed the local newspaper.

  “It’s been awhile since I’ve read this thing,” said Tyler, thumbing through the sports section.

  “It’s been awhile since you’ve left the house,” Emily replied.

  “Wait…what’s this?” asked Tyler, flipping to the cover. “Oh my god, Emily; what the hell is going on?”

  “The attacks have been happening since Simeon died,” said Emily, sitting down across from him. “Innocent civilians have been found, torn apart in the woods. Their bodies were strewn about the forest, for everyone to find.”

  “What do you think it is?” asked Tyler, with his eyes wide open.

  “I don’t know,” Emily said. “But whatever it is, they’re trying to make a point—.”

  Noticing Emily’s somber expression, Tyler decided to change the subject. Smiling, he said, “Where’s Steven? I barely see him these days.”

  “I don’t know where he’s been going,” said Emily, standing up and grabbing a beer from the fridge. “But every night he strolls in the house, around three in the morning, stinking of booze and piss.”

  Chapter Three

  “I’ll have another,” said Steven, signaling to the bartender.

  The Midnight Riders was located at the edge of the town, a frequent destination for all the lowlifes and degenerates passing by. A sleazy bar, with gussied up meth addicts offering specials to any man foolish, or drunk, enough to pay for their services.

  From what Steven could see, at least a dozen men were packing heat, ready to open fire on anyone that tried to stop them. The perfect place, Steven thought, to wash away his sorrows.

  “I think you’ve had enough, Chief,” said the bartender, withholding the liquor bottle.

  “I’ll tell you when I’ve fucking had enough!” shouted Steven, slamming empty glass on the counter.

  The bartender gave him a puzzled look, leaned over, and said, “You better calm down, friend. Do you have a death wish?”

  Steven stared the bartender down, refusing to budge. The bartender was right, he thought, maybe he had a death wish after all.

  “You’ve got balls, kid,” the bartender grinned, handing the bottle over to Steven. “Here, have the whole thing.”

  Steven grabbed the bottle, brought it to his lips and took a swig. The liquor burned his throat, and he slammed the bottle to the counter. It was good to feel pain, he reflected, it was just good to feel anything at all.

  The front door swung wide open, sending light beaming into the dimly lit bar. Steven looked over, and saw the silhouette of a man walk through the door. The man wore a Stetson, and long tan coat. Finally, someone even more out of place than he was. Steven smiled, taking another drink from the bottle.

  “You’re a long way from the range, cowboy,” said one of the bikers, which caused the entire bar to erupt into laughter.

  “Your hog, is it outside?” another biker asked. “Or did you get here by horse?”

  The man walked over to the counter, and took a seat beside Steven. He didn’t give his tormentors any satisfaction, and motioned for a drink. He looked at the bartender, and said, “I’ll have a whisky, neat please.”

  “What’s your name, stranger?” asked Steven, looking over to the mysterious man. “Where are you from?”

  “Well, my name is Samuel Anderson; and let’s just say I’m from a place very far away,” said Samuel, taking a sip of his drink.

  “Well if that’s not mysterious, I don’t know what is,” Steven grinned.

  “And what brings a man like you, into a shithole like this?” asked Samuel, looking Steven over.

  “I’m looking to wash away some pain,” said Steven, with a solemn look on his face.

  “…In a sea of vomit and blood, yeah, I know the pain,” said Samuel, patting Steven on the shoulder.

  The two continued to drink for awhile, sharing tales of pain and suffering. Steven caught the odd glimpse of the bikers, leering at the mysterious stranger; their devious expressions saying more than enough.

  “Hey, bartender,” said Samuel, calling him over from the other side of the counter. “Can I ask you some questions?”

  “You can ask,” the bartender replied. “But don’t expect much in the way of answers. We’re not exactly the most open kind of people.”

  “Fair enough,” said Samuel, nodding his head. “What do you know about the recent attacks?”

  “What are you, a cop?” asked the bartender, alerting every biker in the club to their conversation.

  “Do I look like a cop?” asked Samuel, pulling on his jacket. “I’m… a mercenary, looking for any leads on the killer. I don’t want any problems.”

  “Well it won’t be a problem,” said the bartender, polishing a glass. “I don’t have the information you’re looking for.”

  “What about any guys coming in here with bright red eyes?” Samuel inquired.

  This question piqued Steven’s interest, and he found himself listening intently to their conversation. The vile ghouls had not left his mind since he first encountered them one week ago; their blood red eyes piercing through his very existence, while they tried to tear apart his house, family, and everyone he’s ever cared for.

  “Bright red eyes?” the bartender asked, with a puzzled look.

  “Blood red pupils,” said Samuel, pointing to his eyes. “The kind that will light up a room shrouded in darkness—.”

  “Hey, partner,” said a biker, tapping Samuel on the shoulder. “Nice hat you got there. Mind if I give it a try?”

  The burly biker grabbed the Stetson from Samuel’s head. He placed it upon his own head, and danced around the room.

  “Look at me, everybody!” shouted the biker, as he pranced about the aisle’s, to a chorus of laughter. “I’m a fancy cowboy! And did I mention…I fancy cowboys!”

  Samuel slowly put his drink down, and lifted himself up from his seat. He turned around, and stared down the biker.

  “You got something you want to say?” asked the biker, staring back.

  Samuel looked towards Steven, and smiled devilishly, as if to say that he had everything under control.

  Without warn
ing, Samuel turned and struck the biker in the face. He was sent crashing to the floor, as the patrons at the bar went crazy.

  “Fight!” screamed one of the meth addicts, as they scrambled out of the way. “We’ve got a fight!”

  Chapter Four

  Samuel dodged one of his attackers, and sent another back with a boot to the sternum. Three other men joined the attack as they circled around him, waiting to make their pounce.

  He moved with grace and agility as he avoided the blows, and countered with his own. A fist sent one flying across the room, a kick sent another crashing out the front window, and a vicious head butt sent the last tumbling to the ground.

  “Who are you?” asked Steven, whispering under his breath.

  Samuel smirked, as the last of his aggressors fell to the floor. He looked towards the others, and taunted, “Well then, anyone else fancy themselves a cowboy?”

  Many of them seemed to fancy themselves a cowboy, as at least a dozen more bikers stood up, and begun walking towards Samuel.

  “C’mon guys,” said Samuel, backing away from the group of angry bikers. “One at a time, please.”

  They closed in on him, from every possible angle. He looked around the room, figuring out his next course of action.

  Two of the bikers rushed Samuel, which he sidestepped, allowing them to collide with each other. He used the commotion to leap forward with a jab, sending another biker to the floor.

  Steven watched on, in amazement, as Samuel made quick work out of the roughnecks. Then, in the corner of his eye, he noticed one of the bikers grab a pool cue from the rack.

  “Hey!” shouted Steven, grabbing the biker by the shoulder and spinning him around. “I don’t think so!”

  He struck the biker in the face, fully expecting him to fall to the floor; after all, Samuel made it look so easy. The biker, instead, gave Steven a blank, expressionless look.

  “Oh, boy,” smirked the biker, wiping the blood from his lip. “You’re on the wrong side of town, kid.”

  The biker charged Steven, sending him smashing into the wall. He pinned Steven against the wall, while he pounded Steven repeatedly in the stomach. Steven tried to escape the biker’s clutches, but couldn’t evade him as he wrapped his hands around Steven’s neck.

  “Ah, you big, dumb oaf!” shouted Steven, barely managing to choke the words out as the biker’s hands closed in around his esophagus.

  Steven could feel his energy fade, as he desperately tried claw his way free.

  Suddenly, a beer bottled smashed against the back of the biker’s head. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, and he went down like a sack of potatoes.

  Steven looked up, seeing Samuel smiled back at him. The moment didn’t last long, as the rest of the bikers closed in on the two of them.

  Samuel moved with cat-like speed and ferocity as he knocked the bikers down one by one. With each one he knocked down, another would take his place. He was in over his head, and knew there would be no end to this encounter without bloodshed.

  Samuel continued to subdue his attackers, when he heard a metallic click from behind him; a sound that was unmistakable to the well trained Samuel.

  “You think you’re real tough, don’t you?” asked the bartender, brandishing a silver pistol. “Let’s see just how tough you really are…”

  Samuel slowly walked towards the bartender, daring him to pull the trigger. He smiled, inching closer, and said, “If you plan on shooting me, you better do it right now.”

  The bartender paused for a moment. The sweat beaded down his face as he contemplated the ramifications of firing on the unarmed man.

  “Too late,” said Samuel, reaching into his duster, and before the bartender could react, used his concealed blade to slice down on the gun.

  The bartender stared back blankly at Samuel, as he held the gun, which was now no more than a handle and trigger.

  The rest of the room was equally as bewildered, unable to comprehend what had just happened.

  Samuel used this opportunity to fling back his coat, revealing a small cache of weaponry. He pulled out a large desert eagle, looked the bartender in the eyes, and said, “Mine’s bigger.”

  Grasping the pistol tightly, Samuel held the rest of the bikers at bay. He knew they were all packing heat as well, but figured, after his display of skill, that the rest of them would be less than willing to be the next one to draw their weapon.

  “Get away from him!” shouted Samuel, pointing his gun toward Steven. “Back up, nice and slow.”

  The bikers dropped Steven, who they had pinned up to the wall. He was beaten and bloodied, but still alive. He coughed up some blood as he smacked against the cold concrete floor.

  “Here’s what’s going to happen,” said Samuel, walking over to Steven. “I’m taking my friend out of here, and if any of you tries to stop me, I’ll have the rest of my team come in here and open fire.”

  Samuel grabbed Steven by the shoulder, and carried him past the rows of angry bikers. They all eyed him down as he passed by, exiting through the front door.

  “T—thank you,” stuttered Steven, unable to raise his head as the blood poured down onto the gravel parking lot. “There’s more…of you?”

  “Not really, but don’t tell them that,” said Samuel, looking back towards the bar. “Which one is your car?”

  “The…red one,” choked Steven, reaching into his pockets and grabbing his keys.

  “Good,” said Samuel, taking the keys from Steven. “I’ll drive.”

  Chapter Five

  Emily and Tyler were sitting in the living room, when the door came swinging open.

  “What happened?” asked Emily, rising to her feet as Samuel carried in a battered Steven. “Oh my god, is he okay?”

  Tyler ran to Steven’s aid, and together, they helped Steven to the couch.

  “A bar fight,” said Samuel, taking off his hat. “He’s pretty roughed up, but he’ll be okay. You just need to give him some time.”

  “E—Emily,” stuttered Steven, slowly raising his head.

  He could barely see out his left eye, and the right was swollen shut; looking up to Emily, he said, “Red eyes…he knows about the red eyes.”

  With those words, Steven lowered his head, and drifted out of consciousness.

  Emily pulled back, in shock, and turned towards the dark figure standing across from Steven.

  “What does he mean? Just who the hell are you?” injected Tyler, grabbing his bat from beside the couch. “We’re going to need some answers.”

  “Put the bat down, Tyler!” shouted Emily, grabbing hold of the bat. “This man may very well have saved my brother’s life…your best friend’s life.”

  “I seem to have stumbled upon a touchy subject,” said Samuel, holding out his hands in submission. “I meant no harm, I promise you that.”

  “I’m sorry, it’s just…we know about the monsters, disguising themselves as humans behind those red eyes,” said Emily, placing the bat in the corner of the room. “How do you know about the red eyes?”

  “Their kind is dangerous,” Samuel said. “I’m here to make sure they don’t hurt anyone.”

  “Now, if I may ask, how did you come to hear about them?” Samuel asked.

  “T—they attacked our house last week,” stuttered Emily, remembering in vivid detail, the events of that horrifying night.

  “They attacked your house?” inquired Samuel, his interest piqued. “How did you survive? Forgive my boldness, but these particular monsters rarely leave their victims alive.”

  “We…had help,” said Emily, thinking back to the gallant vampire, Alexander Franson, whom had almost given his life to rescue them. “A vampire saved our lives.”

  “A vampire, you say?” Samuel asked, taken aback. “…Just who are you?”

  Emily paused for a moment, deciding it best to conceal the true nature of the matter. Emily felt like she could trust him, but had been burned once before, and was not about to make that mistake a
gain.

  She sat down on the couch beside her brother, and gently wiped the blood from his face. Emily looked back to Samuel, and said, “I’m no one special. I saw something I wasn’t supposed to, and it almost destroyed my entire family. If it wasn’t for Xander’s help, none of us would be here right now.”

  “Well I guess there’s always time for a first,” Samuel said. “I’ve never heard of a vampire saving anyone, out of the goodness of their heart.”

  “Xander is different,” said Emily, still unsure if she could trust the handsome vampire. “He has a heart, I’ve seen it.”

  “Well…sometimes our hearts can lead us to terrible choices,” said Samuel, with a grim look on his face.

  “I don’t understand,” Emily said. “What do you mean?”

  “You’ve heard the reports about the dead bodies?” Samuel asked. “I believe that your vampire, Xander, is the reason behind the attacks.”

  Emily listened, in shock, as Samuel described the manner in which the bodies had been displayed.

  “You can’t possibly believe that he is responsible for this?” Emily asked, rising to her feet in protest.

  “Vampires are a race led by passion and emotion,” Samuel said. “If Xander had any reason to be upset, it is possible that he could rip apart an entire village overnight.”

  This caught Emily off guard, and for the first time, believed that Samuel may have been telling her the truth.

  Xander had left under less than ideal circumstances, and Emily tried her best to put the thoughts out of her mind, but everything seemed to always to come back to her. She had been the one to send Xander away, alone and angry. If people were dead, most likely she was to blame.

  “I know it may be hard to believe,” Samuel said, pausing to collect his thoughts. “…But Xander is a cancer on this small town, and needs to be put down.”

  Samuel turned, and walked to the front window. Looking out to the night sky, he asked, “Emily, could I be so bold, as to ask you for a favor?”