Rancor: Vampyre Hunter (Rancor Chronicles)

by James McCann

  “I’m a whole lot less blonde now.”

  “Any news on Betty? Rumor is, she’s disappeared.”

  Alix felt a vise grip her mind. It was closing down her thoughts. “Who?”

  Kim laughed. “You’re joking, right?”

  “No. Who’s Betty?”

  A loud rumble, as though a chained dragon were awaiting escape, stole the girls’ attention. Falling silent, they saw Rellik arrive. As he pulled up beside the five-liter, the two drivers glared at one another briefly. Shay smiled. Rellik hid his emotions behind dark sunglasses. Both revved their engines to show they’d be first to reach the one-mile marker. Fred climbed out of the ’Cuda and looked at Alix, who winked at him.

  “I wonder if it bothers Rellik,” she whispered.

  “Huh?” said Kim.

  “Oh, sorry. I was talking to myself. I just wondered if it bothered Rellik that so many people want him to lose.”

  “Are you kidding? He’s not thinking about that. Check out the way he’s staring at you.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  Alix glanced at Rellik. Kim was right. He was looking at her. She wondered why, and watched Fred walk to the chalk line.

  Holding a fluorescent green cloth high above his head, Fred stood between the two cars. The tension intensified. The crowd hushed. The cool wind died. Fred dropped the cloth, bracing himself as the two vehicles sped by and the immense crowd followed. Only Alix and Kim stayed behind.

  “Are you coming?” Kim shouted.

  Alix turned and saw Fred sauntering toward her. She shook her head.

  “Okay, I’ll see you later,” Kim said, running to catch the crowd.

  Alix wondered why, after all the time he had spent helping Rellik, Fred would lag behind. Did he worry that Shay had spent an equal amount of time fixing up his Mustang? What was so important about winning this race, anyway?

  Even more curious was how he had become such good friends with Rellik in such a short time. She filled her lungs with the cool night air as she waited for him to catch up, pausing only to take in the breathtaking sight of the Northern Lights.

  Rellik thanked Fate for this second chance to beat Shay, but he also prayed that Destiny’s intent was not to mock him. He could have sworn that, over the pounding feet from the stampeding crowd, he could hear Lucifer laugh. He wondered what he would do, should he lose this fight.

  Rancor had fought hard, but when the battle was finished it was he who lay helpless on the ground. He had suffered a brutal beating, and was now the one in the merchant’s debt. They had already agreed to the stakes for the battle, though he could not see what chance he had to win. Every time he’d tried to clout or grapple, Shay would turn himself into fog. And those teeth! They were the Devil’s own.

  Could he leave Ariana with such a demon?

  But what was he, if not a demon, too? No blow outside his heart would end his life. More than once he had shapeshifted into the wulf. So, what difference did he possess to make him unlike the vampyre?

  Rellik listened to Shay shift gears as they neared the finish line. The Mustang still had one gear left to go, but Rellik had already shifted into his highest gear. He wondered when Shay would shift again, but more so he wondered what that vamp had done to modify his car.

  He heard the ’Stang shift. The two immortals met each other’s gaze–and Shay broke ahead by two full car lengths. Rellik looked at his unused toggle-switch. He hoped his tinkering had been enough. He flicked it. Nothing happened.

  Then, in a sudden burst of flames, the dragon broke free from its chains, tore the highway with streaks of fire from the exhaust pipes, and roared to win by three full car lengths. As it did, it mocked Shay by spitting dust into the air.

  Rellik screeched to a halt, nearly flipping his ’Cuda, and threw open the door. He stepped out and stretched his arms wide, every muscle on them taut. He smiled, glad that his jaw was tight from winning this time, rather than losing. The metallic-red Mustang GT sped by, and as it disappeared against the horizon, Rellik watched after it. He yelled victory so loud that the earth shuddered.

  Suddenly he felt a presence in his mind. He opened his eyes, concentrated and knew Pyre was near. Pyre always came when it was most inopportune.

  Rellik looked upon the Northern Lights, wishing he could have waited for Fred to share his victory. But he had to hide his ’Cuda, and hope that Shay led Pyre away. When he looked from the heavens to the Earth below, he saw the mad rush of students nearing him. He climbed back into his car. He cared nothing for their respect. All that mattered was that he had mocked his enemy. The prize was his, not the vamp’s.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Rellik wondered what he was to do now that he had won. He walked through the iron gate, past the gazebo, and stood at the foot of the stairs beneath his loft. He glanced at Alexandria’s window, comforted that it was dark.

  A sigh escaped him that was carried away by a howling gust, yet was not loud enough to mask another creak from the metal gate. He paused, then ascended a stair, stopped, and wondered if he should say something. Again the darkness from Alexandria’s window caught his attention. Now he wished that she had beaten him home. He wanted to rush to her, grab her and never let go–but she didn’t know him. Didn’t love him.

  He continued on his way.

  “Hello, Rellik.” Her whisper stopped him mid-point on the stairwell. “That was an impressive race.”

  Rellik turned to her. She was leaning against the railing, her hair blowing in the cool breeze. The starry sky was captured in her eyes, and there was no sign of a smile. His heart pounded with the need to hold her.

  “Hello, Alexandria,” he said, descending a stair toward her.

  “Alix. My friends call me Alix.” She ascended one toward him.

  “My apologies, Alix. I am pleased you enjoyed my victory.”

  She took another step up. “Fred and I had an interesting chat. We talked about the stakes to your race.”

  As she drew closer, Rellik wondered what reason Fred had for betraying his trust.

  “Of what particulars did he inform you?”

  “He told me the loser has to leave town.” Her voice peaked as if she were asking a question.

  “I suspect you have a notion why.” Rellik was now backing up the stairs.

  “Well, considering both you and Shay asked me to the dance, I thought it might have to do with me.” Alix nearly laughed. She now had him backed against his door.

  “Your assumption is correct. Our stakes had everything to do with you. The winner has the sole right to pursue you unchallenged–I pray you are not angered that we bargained with you as our prize.” Too late he wished he had phrased that last part differently.

  “I’m more curious than angered. Why would you do such a thing? Do you love me?”

  As her eyes met his, Rellik reached out and caressed her cheek . . .

  . . . and that was the last time Rancor was able to bring himself to touch her. After Ariana’s voice had trailed off, their eyes no longer met. They were alone in the tiny room where they slept, but it was a room for devotion no more. Now it had become a place of heartbreak. Ariana fiddled with the ring he had given her only nights ago, as her loved one packed the last of his belongings. He could not bring himself to look upon her tear-stained face, for if he dared he might forsake his honor and let love triumph. How he had come to detest being a man of such virtue!

  He slung his bundle over his shoulder and walked through the common room. Shay, sitting on a cushioned chair, gloated in triumph. Rancor gave the devil a hard glare and stormed from the cabin, wondering how the gods could have expected him to know that this merchant was the vampyre. But, reflecting back on the past few weeks, he also wondered how he could not have known.

  Though the day outside had begun with a sky that drenched the Earth, by early evening the sun had broken through, showering the world with drops of light. The day had turned out grand for a long journey, and for that Rancor was not at all g
rateful. At least if the rain had continued, he could have postponed his . . . banishment. His second banishment. Would he never find a place he could call home?

  Rancor loaded his wagon and checked his horse, Storm. He heard Ariana follow him outside. Though there were birds singing, crickets chirping and a wind rustling the leaves of nearby trees, the loudest sound to him was the door she had stopped to close. For in that sound was the end of a place he had come to call home.

  Was it right to leave her with such a demon? Was that the virtue to which he clung? He loved her pure and true, knowing that she loved in him the honor he could never forsake. But what was honor if it did not complete love? Pulling himself onto the riding bench, he took the steering ropes in hand. He did not look down at Ariana, not even when she spoke to him.

  “At least tell me why it is you must leave,” she said.

  “I bargained woy that devil if he bested ma I’d leave town.” Rancor gave into his need to look at her, and knew he could not go. But how could he consider himself a man of principle if he broke this promise? Should he surrender to sin, his soul would never find redemption. But was Hell worse than a lifetime without Ariana?

  “Come with me,” he said.

  Ariana’s shoulders slumped and she shook. Her tears stopped when she looked back at the cabin.

  “I cannot leave my home.”

  “Ariana, ma love,” Rancor said tenderly, beseeching her. He wanted, nay needed, to spend every moment of his life with her. Perhaps if they did so together, they could turn Shay’s curse into a blessing. “This place is woy ya lost ya family. ’Tis a place best forgotten. Come. Begin a new life woy me.”

  Ariana bit her lower lip. She brushed her hair from her eyes. Rancor noticed that their red rims looked like two sunsets, each one a sign of an end. He knew she didn’t wish to leave, but he also knew she needed him as much as he needed her. She no longer met his emerald eyes. But she climbed on to the riding bench next to him.

  As she caressed his hands with her tender touch, she said, “This is also the place where we met.”

  Rancor brought her close, kissed her forehead and caressed her cheek. “Our true love should not be coupled in a place of sorrow. Woy did noy, after all, meet under the best of circumstances. Come woy me, Ariana.”

  Their souls embraced in a passionate touch, and the love between them grew until separation was impossible. They knew, short of death itself, nothing would ever cause them to part.

  “And would you love me forever, Rancor the Wulfsign?”

  “I have never loved anyone but you,” Rellik replied to Alix, who trembled at his very words.

  She didn’t understand why she felt so much love when they hardly knew one another. As well, she remembered how he had acted only days earlier when he’d fought Derrick, showed up for the job interview, and kicked Carl at Mr. Chips. He had seemed so frightful to her, and yet she now felt equally drawn to him. It was as if she had known him years and not days; as if they were meeting again rather than for the first time. Her mind told her this was wrong, but her heart told her otherwise. She listened to her heart, and accepted that this feeling was right. That he was right.

  “I love you,” Alix whispered in his ear.

  Rellik brought her close, kissed her, and opened the door to his loft. As he backed inside she stopped him.

  “I don’t want to have sex,” she said, unable to look at him.

  He caressed her chin and brought her eyes to meet his. Smiling, he said, “Nor do I.”

  “You don’t?”

  “No. It would not be in my honor to bed a woman who is not my wife. Outdated and old-fashioned perhaps, but right nonetheless.”

  “Will you still hold me?”

  “That I will.”

  “All night?”

  “Forever,” and as the word left his lips tears welled in him.

  And fell. One by one. Each for every day they had spent apart.

  As Fred strolled down a dark, lonely street, he analyzed the events of the last few days. What he couldn’t figure out was what connection all this had with Rellik. What if you knew someone so vile–and were helpless to stop it?

  Fred stopped in his tracks and breathed in the cool, thick air that had suddenly descended from a cloudless sky. He didn’t notice a thick, bluish fog creeping nearer. He was recalling what Alix had told him of her dream, a nightmare he had told her just to dismiss. His heart raced, and deciding it best to keep moving, he hurried home while piecing his thoughts together.

  Mostly, he wondered why Alix had never mentioned Betty’s disappearance. At first he had believed she was worried about his feelings. After all, she knew how Fred felt about Betty. But now too much time had passed. She seemed to have forgotten her best friend even existed! He sighed, so lost in thought that he still didn’t notice the bluish fog seeping in around him.

  And then, the pieces began falling into place. The resounding thump of each one landing in its place knocked him from his reverie. Hypnosis–Alix’s dream of a fog-creature–the bodies killed by a wolf–Shay Jackson was a vampyre! And what of the wolf in Alix’s dream? Who was the canine that killed the blood-drained corpses? That was the connection Rellik had with Shay.

  Rellik Faolchú was a werewolf.

  That was their power struggle. Shay must have been turning the townspeople into vampyres, and Rellik was killing them–but why would he kill them?

  And Fred still wasn’t certain what Alix had to do with all this. Was she going to be Shay’s next victim?

  Fred now accepted that Betty had to be the unidentified corpse. Even though no police reports acknowledged his newfound suspicion, he had to acknowledge this was the most logical of choices in such an illogical situation. Shay must have suppressed Alix’s memory of Betty and what had happened to her.

  Somehow, together, Fred and Alix would recall it. They would work on ending this evil. If only he could have figured things out before Shay had killed Betty.

  Sometimes life just wasn’t fair.

  “I wish I could meet with you again, Shay!” Fred shouted at the night.

  “Some wishes come true,” a voice whispered, seemingly coming from the night air.

  Fred froze in his tracks. He scanned the empty street. He saw the fog, and all at once knew that was where the voice had come from. Even as he tried to make one last-ditch effort to run home, he understood what Fate held in store for him.

  “My God,” Fred thought as the sky rained down streaks of green and pink, and the ground swirled around him in an ever-thicker blue fog.

  “When mortals learned that only a blow through our heart can end the life of an immortal, they abominated that knowledge by instilling an absurd legend around it. To kill us, they use wooden stakes, herbs or crosses. Whatever the tool, their ignorance always amazes me.

  “Whenever I try to understand those who kill my kind, and those of my kind who kill them, I do so without success. Mostly, I wonder who is more evil: those who kill for the hunt, or those who kill out of prejudice.”

  -Wulfsign

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Alix woke–and found herself trapped in her room. She clung to her blankets, examined the darkness, and saw only the dreaded opaque orb on its ivory pedestal. Pressing her body against her headboard, she recoiled when the orb melted into the wall. Still, she preferred its clammy presence over the apparitions in the sphere. Alix prayed the horrific voice wouldn’t come. She knew that once the dream ended, the nightmare would begin.

  “Look into the orb,” the voice echoed, its mockery bringing her to weep.

  “Why do you do this to me?” she screamed at the darkness, as the mattress beneath her fused into the floor. “Why me?”

  Alix pressed herself into a corner, but the walls shrank around her. As she slid toward the globe, she pressed her hands and feet against the floor to stop herself. But her efforts were of no use. The pedestal bent at its elbow and reached out to her, beckoning with its bony index finger for her to peek inside.
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br />   Alix stiffened her upper lip, held her head high, and not only did she look inside the pedestal–she also grasped it. The fingers on the pedestal interlocked with hers and caressed her hand. The touch felt familiar, almost comforting, but the hollow echo of its raspy voice reminded her that it held the Devil’s eye.

  With a deep breath she peered in.

  The opaque substance cleared and manifested into a crystalline movie clip of a dark, lonely street. Minnow Avenue, near Fred’s home. Alix’s heart thumped so madly that she thought it might leap from her chest and take the orb’s place upon the pedestal. She forced herself to look upon the apparition. The bluish fog fed on a corpse like an animal, but whomever it ate, she could not tell. This time it was visible, but far too mutilated to identify.

  The hand on the pedestal, no longer caressing her, released her fingers and started to rise. It took away the crystal eye so that whatever happened next she wouldn’t see, but Alix held it in place. The vise released its grip over her mind. The mental block she had suffered came to an end. She now recalled the dream that had shown her Betty’s demise, and knew that someone had cast a spell over her. She wondered who had such power.

  The arm-pedestal allowed her to take the crystal from it, and then it reached out to hold her. Alix did not pull away, but instead let it comfort her.

  “Do not look into the orb,” the raspy voice said this time, no longer sounding so dark.

  When Alix turned her gaze back to the movie clip, she watched the fog, having finished its feast, manifest into a man. A shadow over his face hid his identity, but Alix knew who he was. Her cheeks burned nearly as bright as the blood he used to write a message upon the ground. He scribbled it in a strange language, but she somehow knew it meant: Midnight, graveyard, tomorrow, and lastly–Wulfsign. Alix memorized the message.

  When the man left the scene, he made no effort to conceal his identity. He looked up at her as if he knew she watched. His smile showed the pride he took in exhibiting his actions.