Hunter of the Damned

by Jennifer Martucci

  The two clash again. This time the bearded man strikes first, his hair billowing like a banner as he moves with the grace of a dancer and speed that is inhuman. Nicks appear on the beast, and the beast oozes a greasy substance. “Aeric,” the beast hisses. The name whispers through my brain, teasing at my memory. But I don’t have time to rack my brain. The battle is intense and at the moment, I think Aeric will win. Soon, though, the weapon has been stripped from Aeric and the beast latches onto him. Aeric resists, kicking and fighting until he breaks the grip temporarily. But in my periphery, a skeletal hand clutching a dagger lunges forth, driving the weapon between his shoulder blades. Aeric screams. Arching his back, he falls forward, right into the beasts clutches once again. The beast draws close to Aeric, lowering his face as his incisors leak a fluid that resembles acid. Aeric writhes and flails, but his energy is waning. He doesn’t have the strength to fend off what is about to happen. With a sick stomach, I watch in horror as the beast lowers his head and tears out his throat.

  “No!” I cry out. I feel his fangs, feel the sensation of fire raking down my skin until it’s punctured.

  “What’s wrong, Daniel? Are you okay?” Luke is at my side.

  “They killed him!” I shout. “Aeric is dead!”

  Aeric. The name roars through my brain on a sonic boom, and every bit of recognition I felt earlier gels. I know this man. He is close to me. A part of me. I don’t know how or why, just that he is.

  Rage overcomes me. I spring to my feet and grab a chair that sits in the foyer beside a small table. I launch it forward. It rockets through the air, crossing the living room and it shatters a large mirror over a fireplace. Glass rains down in dichroic shards. Anger and loss unlike any I’ve ever experienced blazes through me. I don’t know why it is, why I feel as I do. But I am a caged animal at the moment, pacing and simmering, ready to lash out.

  I’m about to reach for an oversized vase to launch, when Scarlett grabs me from behind. In what can only be termed as an embrace, she hugs me hard in an attempt to calm me. Surprisingly, it works. I feel the blood hammering through my veins slow.

  “Daniel, do you know why you’re so upset,” Luke asks as he approaches. He, too, is distraught. Scarlett releases me, and her absence is felt.

  “Yes, they killed Aeric, and the others,” I reply.

  “Do you know Aeric?” he asks.

  “I do. I just don’t know how,” I admit.

  “Danny, if you are Gideon, Aeric is your older brother. He was one of our greatest Hunters and helped you defeat Agares the last time he was here. He saved your life more times than can be counted.”

  I hear what Luke is saying. I understand his words. Deep in my marrow, they feel right. But I just can’t remember. Clarity eludes me.

  Closing my eyes, I rub them with the heels of my hands. I open them and allow my eyes to roam the room. I see the space where they fought. I see Aeric’s staff and blood staining the carpet. I walk over to the weapon and pick it up. Rolling it in my hand, it feels right. It feels fitting.

  Clutching it in my hand, another sensation overwhelms me. The being who drove the blade through Aeric’s back is near. “They are close,” I say. The ones who did this, they are close.” I search Luke and Scarlett’s face.

  “We can’t go after them if there was enough to take down Aeric and a dozen Hunters,” Luke says, and for the first time, I hear a note of worry in his tone.

  “We’ll have to have the element of surprise. This cannot go unanswered,” I say with such vehemence I swear the words resonate in my bones.

  “Daniel, we need to be prepared,” Scarlett says, her tawny eyes explore mine. But for the first time since meeting her, they are liquid gold.

  “No. We’re going now. They’re close and we can’t let them get away.” Luke and Scarlett study my face and quickly learn I can’t be swayed.

  After several moments, Luke asks, “Ok, Daniel. How close are they?”

  I reach out with all my senses. Each is heightened and prickles with awareness of the enemy. “They’re still in this town. I feel them.” I screw up my features, my upper lip curling in disgust. “We need to leave now.”

  Rolling her shoulders back and planting her fists firmly on her hips. “I’m against this. Just so you know.”

  Leveling a gaze her way, I do not flinch or blink when I reply, “I’m not really concerned with what you’re for or against.” My tone is calm but authoritative. I’m not sure what has come over me, where this confidence and command is coming from, only that I exude it. It comes to me as naturally as breathing.

  Scarlett does not challenge me further and Luke allows a slight smile to curve one side of his mouth. Both of them nod.

  “Let’s go,” I say and make my way out of the house. The murders of our people will be answered for. The Servants of the Underworld responsible will pay for what they’ve done. I will see to it myself.

  Chapter 8

  ̴ Daniel ̴

  Running through the foyer where the visions slammed into me with the force of a runaway freight train, I dash out the front door and into the driveway, not slowing until I reach Luke’s car. I open the driver’s side door, but instead of climbing into the back seat, I announce, “I’m driving.”

  Luke’s expression, grave as it is already, hardens further. “I don’t know,” he says and shakes his head slightly.

  “You don’t have time to decide and I don’t have time to describe to you where we’re going. Just get in.” I move the driver’s seat forward and gesture for him to enter without the option for further argument.

  Reluctantly, he nods then says, “Scarlett, hop in back. I’ll take the passenger seat.” Luke dashes to the passenger side of the car and Scarlett mumbles something I can’t hear as she brushes past me and slides into the back seat. The faint scent of roses trails in her wake, and even though we’re headed straight for the enemy, I am oddly comforted by the smell.

  Slipping behind the steering wheel, I turn the key in the ignition and shift the car into gear. Stomping down on the gas pedal, the engine responds with a roar, the tires kicking up rocks and gravel as I tear down the driveway and out onto the roadway.

  Anger flows through my veins, heating my blood like molten lava and diffusing through my chest. Heart thundering, I depress the accelerator, testing the vehicle further as I travel at a speed far faster than what has been set as safe and whipping around turns. Consciously, I do not know where I’m going. I do not have an address for the destination or an image in my mind of the location, only that I’m headed in the right direction.

  Skidding around a turn so fast that the tires screech in protest, Scarlett shouts, “Slow down! You’re gonna get us killed!” and for the first time, I hear fear in her voice.

  “Don’t crash my car!” Luke chimes in.

  The absurdity of Luke’s comment causes me to gnash my molars so hard the enamel threatens to splinter, even though I know that in the grand scheme of things Luke couldn’t care less about his car. Cars are irrelevant at the moment. More than a half dozen of our people were slain, one among them was connected to me in an inexplicable way, and their deaths will be avenged.

  Darkened silhouettes, blacker than the night itself, rush at me as I guide the car along winding roads that snake into the heart of town, to where the murderous beast waits. I have no idea how much time has passed but am certain at least fifteen minutes have gone by when I turn off onto a road lined with buildings. Commercial in nature, the neighborhood is plagued by litter. Yellowed newspapers roll and tumble, propelled by a breeze that can’t be gauged by the sway of trees for there aren’t any. Broken windows stare like sightless eyes, vacant and haunting as they stand sentinel, watching over an area that pulses with a palpable blend of corruption and evil.

  Fog shrouds the moon and laps at the roadways with serpentine tongues, and dilapidated structures seem to sag under the weight of it as if it were wet snow. My eyes rove the street in front of me, the pull similar to being caug
ht in a magnetic field. I allow myself to be drawn, to be towed by an invisible line toward a building at the end of the road. A water tower looms to the left of it. Rusted and looking as though a strong wind could topple it, it hovers over a parking lot. The lot is empty yet the pull is so intense I half expect the beast I saw in my vision to manifest from the fog itself.

  “You think this is the place?” Scarlett asks from the back seat.

  Turning in his seat slightly, Luke studies my face. “You’re sure, Daniel?” His words are a statement tinged with the slightest hint of a question.

  I set my jaw and lock eyes with him. “They’re here. The scum that murdered your friend and the others are here.”

  “Your brother and the others,” Luke corrects.

  I quirk a brow at him.

  “Daniel, if you are Gideon, as I strongly suspect you are, then Aeric was your brother.” Luke’s tone is soft but his words are firm. The gravity of them touches upon receptors in my brain, ones that tingle with awareness that he is right, that what I felt at the house was and is true. I part my lips to tell him what I experienced earlier, but Scarlett’s voice stops me dead in my tracks.

  “I still don’t think this kid is Gideon,” she says as she scoots to the middle of the back seat. “And I don’t think we should be following him blindly.” I turn to face her, though I could do without seeing the scowl she wears. She splays her hands. “Look where we are? If the Servants of the Underworld who murdered our people are here, where the heck are they hiding?” She leans forward and squints, peering out the windshield exaggeratedly. “I don’t see them. Do you?” Her tone is both biting and condescending. She looks to Luke for support. He doesn’t say anything right away, but concern furrows his brow.

  Reluctantly, he admits, “I don’t sense their presence.” He seems almost embarrassed by his words, by the fact that he’s expressing doubt.

  “They’re here, trust me,” I say with so much resolve and confidence that any further discussion is silenced. I shift the car into park and get out slowly, my eyes sweeping the perimeter. Without waiting for Luke or Scarlett, I move toward the building that sits to the right of the water tower. Grass grows between cracks in the concrete, and tall, hostile looking weeds nearly touch the first floor windows. A metal door stands among them. I try the handle and find it’s locked. Pulse drilling in my throat, a sense of urgency burgeons. Without wasting a moment, I rush to the rear of the building and try each door I come across. Behind me, I hear the soft swish of grass and sense both Luke and Scarlett before I see either of them in my periphery. Luke is armed with his daggers and Scarlett with her sword. I have Aeric’s staff in hand, and together, the three of us stay close to the building as we search for an entry point. Bricks painted a shade of white that’s been ravaged by time and the elements, peels in spots, and metal doors are rusted and dented. Fog curls around corners, stealthy and lingering like a stalker. But nothing that surrounds me commands my attention. My senses warn that what waits beyond the doors is far more nefarious in form than the scenery.

  A slight breeze stirs, carrying on it the stench of the streets along with a sound similar to the rustling movement of bat wings or an untethered flag in the distance. Around the back of the structure, I feel along the wall, and as I do, I find a sliding door. Solid and made of steel, I clip my chin to Luke for him to help me try it. I lean my staff against the wall and wrap my fingers around the outer lip of it. Luke sheathes his blades and does the same. Together, we lean back and put all our weight into pulling the door open. Our effort is met with resistance at first, but before long, we overpower it and it creaks and grinds on its track, opening enough to let us step over the threshold.

  Once inside, we are consumed by pitch darkness. Disorienting at first, my heart rate hitches. I take several deep breaths as my vision acclimates, and when it does, I realize we are in an empty warehouse. Overhead, exposed rafters loom like the spindly legs of a spider, perched and waiting to strike. Concrete floors are strewn with debris. I step around empty buckets and boxes, carefully trying to keep my footing. The place appears to have been abandoned for quite some time. However, the sound of an incessant drip echoes through the space, a fact that is unnerving as my eyes wander left then right.

  Luke and Scarlett are a few paces behind me as we tread carefully toward the center of the room. With each step I take, dark energy pounds against me like a current. I wade through it, feeling it seep into my pores and throb in time with my pulse. Scanning the surroundings for even the slightest motion, I hold my breath. I’m about to turn to Luke and tell him what I’m experiencing when a loud slamming sound to our rear jolts me. I spin and see that the sliding door we entered through has been shut.

  “Oh no,” Scarlett breathes as we race to the door and attempt to pull it open. On the other side the scrape and rattle of chains can be heard, try as we may, the door refuses to budge. “It’s locked. It’s locked from outside.” Scarlett’s voice is a breathless whisper that snags as soon as the sound of sinister laughter echoes. It fills the empty warehouse, bouncing off walls and resonating in my bones. “What’ve you done?” I feel the press of her eyes upon me. The clink and clatter of metal meeting metal rings out followed by a furious hiss. Inky forms, darker than the pitch dark of the warehouse, move out of concealment. From every corner they appear. A quick count reveals fifteen, Servants of the Underworld whose presence fills me with disgust and rage. “You idiot!” Scarlett says, though there’s more pain than malice in the two words.

  “Why do you say that?” I ask as the laughter grows louder.

  “You led us into a trap. It’s what they wanted.” Her lips purse and she levels me with a look that’s pure venom. “You just cost us our lives.” She grinds out her final sentence through clenched teeth.

  “I don’t see it that way, Scarlett,” I tell her, my voice low and gravelly.

  “What? What’re you talking about?” Her eyes are frantic as they search mine.

  “You think we’re trapped in here with them,” I say as my grip on my weapon tightens and the need for revenge mounts. “But the way I see it is they’re trapped in here with us.” I flash her a smile and raise both eyebrows.

  Gold eyes lock on mine, and a knowing look washes over her features. Without thinking, I plant a small kiss on her cheek then whip around. Pure anger and the need for vengeance burns through my blood. I release a war cry then dart forward toward the forms in the darkness. Three advance and as soon as they’re within reach, I swing my bladed staff in a wide arc, opening one at his throat before ramming it forward and driving it into the heart of another. I twirl the staff like a baton with the skill and expertise of one who’s handled it for decades not minutes and swipe my arm to the side. When I do, the razor-sharp tip slices nicks the beast closest to me just below his chin and a geyser of blood sprays. Unearthly howls swirl around them as their corporeal forms are rendered to dust. I don’t look on this time as I have in the past. Fear no longer hinders me. Confusion no longer plagues me. I’m propelled by the need to attack, the need to avenge the deaths of fellow Hunters.

  More charge me. Only one touches me as I wield my staff. A fist connects with my jaw and all I can see is a halo of stars. Pain flares and throbs through my skull and for a moment, I’m disoriented. Quickly, however, I regain my composure, as well as my footing. Raw rage thunders a harsh melody in my skull and adrenaline is thick on my tongue. I begin swinging anew. I spin and lunge, impaling Servants of the Underworld before they’re close enough to strike me. Within seconds, I’ve bested eight, their lifeless forms little more than heaps awaiting reaping by the forces that claim their kind.

  In my periphery, I see Luke and Scarlett battle two apiece. Scarlett swings her sword with the grace of a dancer but the deadliness of the most skilled assassin while Luke maneuvers his daggers so quickly and fiercely they are little more than a blur to me.

  Only three remain. They watch me, their eyes swirling vortexes of malevolence that widen when they’re
suddenly bathed in pale light. The light radiates from me. I feel it, feel the glow emanating from my eyes. They gleam like liquid mercury in flame, a silver so brilliant it’s blinding. The beasts’ faces drop. They startle then turn to run.

  “Oh there’s no running away!” My voice rumbles like thunder. I cock my arm and hurl my staff through the air like a missile and it burrows into the back of a beast built like a centaur. He lurches forward and falls to the floor. Without wasting a moment, I race forward, chasing the remaining two and do not slow as I retrieve my staff. The beasts are fast, but I’m faster. I gain on them with ease. I dive forward, slamming them into the wall just beside the locked sliding door without relinquishing my grip on my weapon. They smash into it with a loud thud before they fall facedown to the ground. Both roll onto their back and their eyes go round when they watch me approach. “Please,” one begs.