“You don’t recall hitting me?”
“No…”
“With both hands,” he said. “It was like being hit by a truck and I was thrown backwards several feet.”
“You’re kidding right?”
“I’m most definitely not,” he said. “Something is inside of you and it’s powerful.”
“That makes no sense,” I said. “There’s nothing powerful about me. If there was, I could have saved my parents.”
It was there again, flashes of darkness and old pain at the mere mention of my parents and tears welled up. I refused to cry though, I hadn’t since that last visit to the nuthouse and I wasn’t going to start again now.
“What’s your name?” he asked and I blinked.
“Selena, Selena Lunn, though friends just call me Lena.”
“Call me Abe,” he said and smiled. The lines of his face, those wrinkles that told the tale of a lifetime, showed me that wasn’t something he did often.
“Well Abe, you’d better start giving me some answers or I’m out of here.”
“Go sit down,” he said. “I’ll get you a drink and we’ll talk.”
Still clutching my stomach, I staggered into the living room, giving him a wide berth and practically collapsed onto the couch. Dust exploded upwards and I almost doubled over from coughing which did nothing to improve the ache in my stomach.
“Drink this,” Abe said as he handed me a glass of water. I sipped it, barely wetting my lips and suspicious of what it might have in it.
He saw and nodded almost approvingly before taking the glass from my hand and taking a long swallow. “See, perfectly fine,” he said. “You don’t have to worry, I’ve no intention of harming you.”
Just yet seemed to go unspoken but it hung there in the silence between us as I accepted the glass back and took a defiant swallow. It helped a little.
“Who the hell are you?” I asked and didn’t even bother trying to keep the anger from my voice. I still held the stone I’d picked up from the gardens, the rough edges digging into my skin as I gripped it tightly.
“I’m a hunter,” he replied as he sank down into the armchair. His eyes were fixed on me and I didn’t know if that was because he was paying attention or just avoiding looking at the pictures that filled the room.
“What, you go out and hunt werewolves?”
“Those and vampires, ghouls, ghosts and any other supernatural being that needs to be stopped.”
“They’re all real?” I stared at him and didn’t know whether to believe him or not. Which was ridiculous since I’d put up with so much just because I so very badly wanted to believe.
“Yes, the monsters you’ve heard about are real,” Abe said. “Not quite like you’ve seen in the movies, but real none the less.”
“And you hunt them…”
“Yes.”
“Why?” he lifted an eyebrow and I shrugged. “I mean, why do you do it? You want to be a hero or something? Travel the world saving people?”
“I don’t care about saving anyone,” he said and it was my turn to blink in surprise. “I just want to kill the monsters.”
“Is it just you?”
“There are others,” he admitted. “Lots of us, spread around the world. Some try to save people, others like me, just try to make sure no one else will be killed by them.”
“This a religious thing?”
“No,” he smirked and I frowned as I tried to figure him out.
“So there’s a load of people wandering the world killing vampires and werewolves and stuff… do the police know?”
“Some might, most don’t. This has been a fight that’s been going on for millennia and the supernatural creatures have become adept at hiding themselves from us. If they stay hidden, don’t kill people, then we’ll probably never meet them. The ones like the wolf tonight… those get noticed.”
“When they get noticed a hunter kills them?”
“Or they kill the hunter and another will notice and come after the monster.”
“This is… unbelievable,” I said. “How many are out there?”
“Monsters? Thousands, tens of thousands perhaps. No one really knows. Not enough to be more than parasites, feeding off the edges of humanity.”
“They all eat people?”
“Most feed on humans in some way or other. Wolves are generally not bad, they don’t need to kill humans.”
“They don’t?”
“No, they stay in their packs and they live in rural areas. Usually change only when they really have to around the full moon and maybe chase down a rabbit or deer if they’re lucky. They keep to themselves and hunters don’t notice them.”
“Occasionally though, one will get it into its head to chase down a human and afterwards, they can never go back. Too much fun you see.”
“That’s messed up.”
“Indeed.”
“What about vampires? Can they turn into bats and stuff?”
I noticed it as soon as I said it. A definite chill filled the air as his expression hardened.
“No,” he said. “Vampires are stronger than humans and live a good long time as long as they feed.”
“On blood?” I pressed and he scowled.
“Blood and misery,” he said but didn’t elaborate. “Vampires were human once but as soon as they’re turned, everything good and decent about them is burned away. What’s left is a shell of a human.”
I sensed that it was a sore subject for him and my gaze went to the dust covered pictures that filled the room. I daren’t ask though so instead, moved on.
“So is this, like, your job?”
“If you’re asking do I get paid, no.”
“A hobby then.”
“More of a calling,” he said with a faint smile. “Some are born to the life, others gravitate towards it because of tragedy that brings with it an awareness that these monsters exist.”
“Like mine.”
“Perhaps,” he agreed. “I think you need to tell me what you remember.”
With a suddenly dry mouth, I tried to answer, coughed and finally just nodded. I did need to tell him. If I wanted answers at least, but after all those years of barely being able to speak about it, I didn’t know if I could.
“Take your time,” he said as he saw my struggle.
My memories, despite the nightmare recollections I’d suffered over the years, were hazy about that time. I nodded though and began to speak.
“I know I was eight years old and it was a Sunday night. We’d spent the day together, I don’t recall exactly what we did that day and that upsets me sometimes, but we’d returned home, had a family meal and I’d just had a bath. I had my pyjamas on and had gone downstairs to ask my mum to read me a story.”
Sorrow clouded his features as he listened and his eyes were hooded. He looked at me or at his hands where they rested in his lap, but nowhere else. I thought of the two children in the pictures and understood.
“There was someone there with them, in the living room. I couldn’t see his face but my dad was arguing with him.”
“What were they arguing about?”
“I don’t know. I just remember their voices were raised and it scared me.”
“What did this man look like?”
“Tall, taller than my dad but I was eight. Everyone looked tall to me.” He nodded and I scrunched up my face as I tried to recall more detail. “His eyes were funny.”
“In what way?”
“Odd, a different colour.”
“What?” he leaned forward in the chair and his face twisted as some unrecognizable emotion crossed it.
“Yeah, I’m sure of it. They seemed almost red, like fire. Does that mean something?”
“Carry on, what else do you remember.”
“Not much. Dad started shouting louder after the strange man said something and he was waving his arms about. Then the other man just hit
him.”
“Hit him how?”
“Backhanded, across the face but hard enough it sent him spinning across the room.”
“And then?”
“I screamed and the stranger came towards us,” I said as I swallowed past the dryness in my throat and the overly loud pounding of my heart in my chest. I drank down the last of the water and sucked in a deep breath of air, holding it a moment and then releasing. I repeated that several times to try and gain control of the rising panic that threatened to overwhelm me.
“Keep going,” Abe said, impatience colouring his tone.
“My mum shouted at him and he smiled and then I saw his face and it wasn’t human He hit me.”
“Hit you? How?”
“Swept his hand across me and suddenly there was blood everywhere and I was lying on the other side of the room.”
“That’s what gave you that scar?”
“Yes,” I shuddered at the memory of the pain, the fear as I saw him turn to my mum. “He grabbed my mum with one hand around her throat and lifted her. He said something to my dad and then…”
“Then what?”
“She stopped screaming and he dropped her.”
“What did he say to your dad?”
“I don’t know.”
He scowled and his hands were clenched into fists but he didn’t press. I could tell he wanted to and I tried, really tried to remember what had been said but it slipped away from me.
“My dad started saying stuff. Nonsense words to me but I’m sure that was just the shock. The stranger screamed and everything went black.”
“Screamed in pain?”
“Anger I think.”
“What happened next?” He asked as he nodded thoughtfully. Something had occurred to him but he didn’t offer up any insight.
“When it wasn’t dark anymore, my dad was holding me. He was bleeding and saying a lot of strange things. More words I didn’t know. I think I was in shock because everything was strange.”
“How do you mean?”
“The lights were on but the room was full of shadows, moving like people. Twisted and distorted like things out of nightmare, but still… my dad kept talking and then they were gone and so was he.”
“He was gone?”
“Not physically,” I said as my eyes filled with tears once more. “He was breathing I think, but his eyes were empty. A few days later he died in hospital.”
“I’m sorry kid, that’s quite a tale of woe.”
“Yeah, thanks. What does it mean though? What killed my parents?”
“From your description, I’d say vampire.” He scratched at his chin, eyes distant and tone thoughtful. “Are you sure about the eyes?”
“I think so, why?”
“Because it can’t be possible that there were two vampires like that.”
“You know him?”
“I knew one with eyes like that, many years ago,” he said. “There’s no way it could be him though.”
“Why not?”
He ignored me and pushed himself to his feet. He took a quick look around the room, somehow managing to miss every photo there with his gaze and stamped his feet.
“You can sleep here tonight or walk back, I have some reading to do.”
“Seriously?” I snapped. “What reading?”
“Your parents weren’t human, at least one wasn’t. I suspect your father because he did something to keep you alive.”
“He did?”
“No way you’d survive a blow from a vampire with just a scar, no matter how impressive the scar. That he survived being hit and drove it away speaks of power. I have some idea, but need to confirm it.”
“Are you going to tell me?” I asked as a sudden thought came to me. “Wait, I thought you killed supernatural creatures, if I’m one does that mean you’re going to kill me?”
“Depends,” he said without looking at me.
“On what?”
“On what type you are.”
He stalked from the room before I could respond and I was left staring at the doorway he’d passed through. I had no idea where I was and even less of an idea of how to get back to the city, let alone home.
But on the other hand, it was likely that he’d try and kill me if he figured out I was something he didn’t like. So I had no choice, there was no way in hell I was going to sleep there.
In the kitchen, there was a pen and notepad beside a phone attached to the wall. I scrawled down my mobile number and left the house. It’d be a long walk but better than being murdered in my sleep.
Chapter 4
The weekend passed and I heard nothing from him. I cursed myself several times for not getting his number so I could call and ask and even considered going back out to that dilapidated old house but never quite managed to work up the courage.
I went in to work as normal on Monday at my minimum wage job at the local supermarket. I didn’t speak to anyone about what had happened and even kept quiet about it to Evie though I would usually tell her everything.
A week went by, which then became two and still I’d heard nothing. My days became the same terminally dull routine of get up, go to work, home for dinner and then sleep. The nightmares would still come each night but rather than fight them, I began taking a pen and paper to bed so that when I woke up, cold sweat covering my body, I could jot down everything about that night I could remember. It seemed to help. I managed to come up with a few more details, even the occasional word and from the deepest, darkest depths of memory, a name.
Still, a name did no good if the one person I had ever met that understood that monsters were real, wasn’t around. I resigned myself to waiting.
Two weeks to the day after I had met Abe, I woke up and showered much like I did every day. I towelled myself dry and brushed my teeth before getting dressed. Black trousers, horrible blue shirt with the supermarket's name emblazoned on the front and my usual beaten up pair of trainers.
I checked my phone for messages and had just the three, all from Evie, all asking what I was doing that night. I sent her a quick reply to agree that I’d meet her after work and grabbed my coat. One last look around my crappy bedsit which had just enough room for my bed, a chest of drawers and a tiny kitchenette, then I was off to work.
My manager was there to greet me when I arrived, a short, stocky man with a bad comb-over. He glanced at his watch and frowned as I held back a sigh.
“You’re late. Again.”
“Sorry Mark, it’s only five minutes. I’ll make it up at the end of the day.”
“Don’t bother, I’ll just deduct a quarter of an hour from your pay.”
“What! How’s that fair?”
“By the time you’re in and ready to work, it’ll be almost fifteen minutes late so don’t start. You should be here and ready to work at eight sharp, not rolling in five minutes past.”
As irritating as it was to admit, he wasn’t wrong and if I was late because I hardly ever got any sleep, then it was my fault, not his. No need to take it out on him and he wasn’t a bad guy, not like the fat prick at the last job who told me he’d let me off early if I gave him a few favours. Nudge, nudge, wink, wink. Ass.
“Sorry,” I said instead and bit down on my tongue as he nodded officiously and gestured me inside.
The supermarket wasn’t the worst place to work. I got paid on time, a reasonable wage and plenty of overtime should I need it. Which I generally did since I had no family to help out when times were tough and a tendency to help myself to sleep with a stiff drink or three. Not the healthiest or cheapest tendency admittedly.
I nodded greetings to a couple of the other girls in the warehouse and stuck my mobile and coat in my locker before setting to work. The majority of which consisted of me wheeling our large metal cages of stock and filling the shelves.
Monotonous and dull, it at least gave me the chance to people watch and listen in on conversations. Li
ke the blonde haired woman who came in a couple of times a week with her daughter.
She was always well presented, hair styled and makeup on with her clothes neat and clean. Her daughter, a gorgeous child of about four would chatter along as best she could, excited about pretty much everything. Seeing them always made me smile and wonder how I’d have turned out if my mum had lived.
Growing up, I’d moved from one group home to another. Families would come looking to adopt and, if they didn’t go straight for the younger kids, they’d pick the quiet little girl with short dark hair and big brown eyes.
At first, they’d be nice and friendly. Then when the screams began on a night, along with the bed wetting, they’d start to get frustrated. Eventually sending me back to the group home.
Occasionally a couple would pick me and the husband would have a certain look in his eye as he watched me. I grew to recognize what it was but even those dark little desires they held, weren’t enough to keep me around for long.
As I’d hit my teenage years and bounced from group home to asylum and back again, I tried the usual teen rebelliousness. Too much makeup, cigarettes, booze, and sex. I’d soon grown bored and the only thing that’d stuck had been the booze.
I was the first to admit that I’d been a bitch all through those years and about as much fun to be around as a natural disaster. Evie had been the only one who had managed to stick it out, to hold on to me with both hands and keep me sane. Barely.
She was the reason my first attempted suicide had failed, and the third. She’d held me as I’d wept, heedless of the foul state I was in and whispered words of comfort into my ears until I’d calmed enough that she could call for help. Then it was back to the nut house.
By age eighteen, I was kicked out with the bare minimum of fuss. Classed as an adult and no longer the government's problem, I’d found a bedsit on the outskirts of Leeds and several crappy jobs to pay the bills as Evie went to college and then the local University.
Considering her grades, she could have gone anywhere and I half suspected she’d stayed local for me, as much as for the courses available there. I loved her for that as much as anything else.
“Selena,” a voice said and I glanced back to see Tina, one of the warehouse girls.
Born of Shadow (Shadow Walkers Book 1) Page 3