Both Barrels of Monster Hunter Legends (Legends of the Monster Hunter Book 1)

by Josh Reynolds

  “Hello, Lucretia. Did Carlos send you? I thought he wanted me himself. Nice to know you’re still groveling for him.” Rose slid her hand along the wall, fumbling for her silver-wrapped staff.

  Joe took a step forward. Lucretia snapped her fingers. Joe froze, a statue trapped in her power.

  “Carlos has no power over me. I am the master now!” Lucretia snarled, exposing fangs. Her followers hissed again, echoing Lucretia’s anger.

  “You’re just his lap dog, a clumsy puppy tagging after, begging for scraps of his favor. Just like you were in life. A has-been, a nothing.” Rose closed her hand over the familiar grip of her staff. Rowan wood, carved by her late husband, the staff had served her well. She prayed it would serve tonight.

  “At least I’m not an old hag!” Lucretia spit, hands curling into claws. Her scarlet nails glowed like fresh blood.

  “No, you’re as shallow now as you were when you were still human. Worse, really. You have no soul left. And no shame.” Rose picked her words with care. Angry vampires made mistakes. Lucretia had a violent temper, still. “No one remembers you, or those atrocious films you starred in. Eternal fame? Carlos keeps you on a tight leash. No one knows you, Lucretia. No one at all.”

  Lucretia screeched. She threw herself across the entryway, arms spread wide. Her dress fluttered like a bat’s wings.

  Rose planted the base of the staff against the door, the sharpened tip angled to catch Lucretia between her artificially plump breasts. The vampire noticed the staff too late. She impaled herself, her screech of rage shifting to pain. Rose twisted the staff, embedding silver wire in Lucretia’s heart as the vampire toppled to the floor. She jerked the staff free with a practiced twist of her arm.

  Rose planted her foot on Lucretia’s neck, muffling her screams to moans. “Who’s next?”

  The gaggle of goth vampires backed into the kitchen, hissing and mumbling incoherent curses.

  Joe shivered as Lucretia’s spell fractured. He stared at the woman writhing under Rose’s fuzzy slipper, his hand creeping to his own throat. He shuddered.

  Dave gurgled. Joe hurried to his partner’s side.

  “I said he’d recover, if we keep him safe,” Rose said.

  “I can list it as self-defense.” Joe hauled his partner to a sitting position. He leaned the younger cop against the wall. “I saw her attack you. I’m sure the coroner’s report will show the same.”

  “Come morning, if we have enough sun, you won’t have to worry about bodies.” Rose kicked herself free of Lucretia’s clutching hands. She strode across her front entry to the kitchen doorway, garlic swinging around her neck and staff clutched in her hand, fuzzy purple slippers slapping the tile flooring. “I’ll be happy to let you take me to Sunny Acres or wherever. If we survive the night.”

  She menaced the vampires crowding her kitchen, waving the staff at their hissing faces.

  Joe joined her in the doorway. “What can I do?”

  “These are nothing. Kill the master and they die. They aren’t fully fledged vampires, no self-awareness. But watch that they don’t bite you or you might end up like your partner.”

  “You sure Dave will be all right?”

  “It’s a temporary paralysis caused by the vampire’s bite, like the numbing compounds in a mosquito’s saliva. You don’t feel it until after they finish feeding. Vampires are a lot like mosquitoes, you know.” Rose babbled to counter the rising fear raising the hair on her neck. Carlos was close, and he was much more dangerous than Lucretia.

  “Suck blood and all that?” Joe smiled, a half-twist to his lips as he fingered his belt. “If guns won’t help, what will?”

  “In the closet behind you. The broom handle is wood. Aim for the heart. And don’t worry about the ribs. Their bones are old and brittle. It doesn’t take much to penetrate.”

  The lights flickered. The air whispered icy cold around her ankles. Carlos had arrived. He stalked through the door, tall and elegant and every bit as attractive as she remembered. Tousled black curls framed a face that any movie star would die to have. But his dark eyes were colder than the bleakest winter night. He smiled, tongue darting across his lips.

  “Rose, how I have missed you. Come to my embrace.” Carlos spread his arms wide, his black cape swirling on the wind of his own making.

  She shuffled forward a step, drawn by the old spell. She shook herself, hand clutching her staff so tight her knuckles whitened. She ignored the twinge of pain from her arthritis. “But I’m old, Carlos. Why would you want me now?”

  “I could make you young again.” His seductive words whispered through her mind.

  She’d almost fallen for his charm, all those years ago. Until Henry saved her with his flat farmboy accent and his utter lack of romantic notions. Rose blinked back tears. How she missed her Henry. He’d kept her grounded, kept her laughing through all those years of hunting and being hunted.

  “I have waited for you, Rose.” Carlos edged closer, his followers parting to allow him through. “Why did you hide from me? Did you think I would not find you? You belong in a palace, as my queen.”

  “I thought Lucretia had that honor.”

  Carlos smiled, fangs dimpling his lip. He gestured behind her. “You have bested her and thus earned the honor of becoming my queen. Together we shall rule. Forever we shall be lovers. Come, my Rose, my queen.”

  Her slippers slapped on the linoleum as she took another step towards the seductive promise. With Henry gone, she had nothing but loneliness to fill her hours.

  “You shall never be alone again, my love.” Carlos extended his hand, like an offer to tango. “Look at yourself, Rose. Old and forgotten. But I have not forgotten you. Come, my sweet one. I shall care for you forever. One moment of pain, and then no more ever again.” She shuffled forward another step. The staff fell from her hand. She was so lonely without her Henry. Carlos would love her. Carlos would treasure her. Carlos would not leave her here, among old lace and tacky knick-knacks and bargain furniture. Carlos would remove the scent of garlic from her life. Her fingers tangled in the wreath around her neck. She struggled to pull it free.

  Carlos smiled, his dark eyes full of sympathy. “Come, my sweet Rose.”

  She reached for his hand, hesitating at the wrinkled appearance of her own hand. To be young forever? To never wake to aching joints? To never be alone and forgotten on her porch, gray hair twisting on her head as she rocked and watched her neighbors live their lives. The price of her soul seemed a pittance to pay.

  Light flashed from the ring on her hand. Her wedding ring. Henry insisted she needed one, though they could barely afford food at the time let alone a roof over their heads. The tiny diamond chip caught the kitchen light. Henry. Rose smiled at the memory of her husband kneeling at her feet, both of them spattered with the blood of the vampires they had just killed. Henry’s blue eyes gleamed with sincerity as he begged her to be his wife, to stand by his side as he fought evil.

  “Come, my bride.” Carlos touched her fingers, his hand cold as the grave.

  Rose smiled. She grasped the vampire’s hand. “Never yours, Carlos.” Her other hand grasped the wooden spoon from the kitchen counter. She plunged it towards his impeccable white shirt.

  Carlos snarled. He broke her wrist with a single snap. Pain raced through her. She dropped to her knees, cradling her hand and fighting tears.

  “That’s enough. Stop right there.” Joe drew his gun, centering it on Carlos.

  Carlos laughed, a chuckle of derision that the gaggle behind him echoed.

  The gun barked. A vampire behind Carlos jerked to the side, a hole opening in his head as the bullet shattered his skull. He hissed, crawling across the stove top. Rose groped for the knobs on the stove, twisting them all. The gas ignited the vampire. Flames washed over the walls as his dry flesh burned. The vampire crowding behind also caught fire. In moments, the kitchen filled with panicked flaming vampires.

  Carlos flung his arms wide. The flames died around his feet. Hi
s face pinched tight in rage. “You shall die, as you deserve.”

  Joe fired, emptying his gun into Carlos. The bullets marred the perfect white shirt but did not stop the vampire’s deliberate advance. Carlos closed his hands around Joe’s neck, opening his mouth to expose long fangs. Fire blossomed from the kitchen curtains. The scene danced in eerie orange light.

  Rose bit her lip against the throbbing pain from her wrist. She fumbled across the floor, her good hand closing on her staff. Joe was an innocent. She’d sworn to protect the innocents, she and Henry together. But, Henry was gone. It was up to her to stop Carlos. She wedged the staff against the base of the refrigerator, then levered herself to her feet. A burning arm dropped from the stove to the floor.

  Rose staggered across the kitchen, the fluffy fur on her slippers catching sparks from bits of flaming vampires. She aimed her staff, one last time. Carlos bent his head to feed from the policeman. Rose squared her shoulders. She grasped the staff in both hands though her wrist had swollen to twice its normal size. She shoved the pointed end into Carlos’ back, letting her full weight drive the wood home. The vampire king arched his back, screaming as she twisted silver wire into his heart. He flailed his arms, throwing Joe into the entryway.

  Carlos ripped the staff from her grip, turning to her. His face twisted in agony. “I promised you everything!”

  “Except love. Henry gave me what you never could.” Rose stumbled, falling into a chair. Flames licked over the cherry blossom wallpaper. “And now it’s over.”

  “You will die!” Carlos extended his hand, not in invitation but in accusation.

  “Good. All things should die.” She folded her arms. “Even vampires. Especially vampires.”

  Carlos wrinkled his lips, snarling as he collapsed to the floor.

  “May you burn in Hell where you belong.” She coughed on smoke.

  “Ma’am? Are you there?” Joe staggered through the door, one arm over his mouth to block the thick smoke choking the air. “We have to get out of here.”

  Rose sighed. She so wanted to be finished, to lie down in peace like her Henry. But duty still called. “What about your partner? I’ll help.”

  She shuffled through the burning kitchen to the entryway. Flames danced across her mantel, burning her lace doilies and her pictures. She helped Joe drag the unconscious Dave from her home, out to the front lawn. Fire danced through her home, destroying her past along with the vampires.

  Rose held her broken wrist and watched, numb, as her life burned. The warm summer breeze teased her gray hair, curlers dangling from loose strands.

  “The fire truck should be here soon,” Joe said as he joined her. “Not soon enough to save much, though.”

  “Vampires burn rather violently. How’s your partner?”

  “A little dazed. He doesn’t remember much of what happened.” Joe touched her sleeve, a tentative contact. “If I hadn’t seen it, I wouldn’t believe any of it. Listen, do you have anywhere to stay? Any relatives or family I could call?”

  Rose shook her head, a curler dropping to the lawn at her feet. “Henry was all I had. Carlos took the rest from us a long a time ago.”

  “I’ve got a spare room at my place. It’s not much.”

  “You don’t have anyone, either.” Rose guessed, squeezing his hand in her good one. “I’d be happy to accept. Someone needs to know how to fight the vampires, in case they come looking for me again. I’m getting old.”

  Joe smiled. “I hadn’t noticed.”

  “You’ll make a good hunter. You’ve got the right instincts.”

  They watched the flames lick the summer night, yellow and orange light dancing as if to celebrate the end of a vampire king.

  The Rookie

  Jennifer L. Barnes

  “Well, like you said, I’ve got something unusual…”

  Shiro Wakahisa tilted his head at the petite girl standing before him. Her hair was dyed a vibrant shade of blue and pulled up in one of those popular hairstyles that was messy and resembled some wild creature. She pushed her long bangs back from her face and shrugged behind her. “You wanna see it, Shi?”

  He nodded and said, “Of course, Regan. I appreciate that you called me.”

  “Come on, I owe you after you saved my ass from Larry Talbot,” she said with a grin as she pulled at a keycard attached to a pristine white lab coat. The card was swiped underneath a scanner, its lights flashed green, and with a heavy push the heavy stainless steel door finally opened. Cold air rushed forward from the darkness of the room as did the heavy, astringent smell of industrial cleaner. Regan lead the charge and turned to push the light switch on, bathing the room in a sickly, pale green.

  Shiro gritted his teeth at the all too familiar sight of stainless steel gurneys, faded green tile, drains in the floor, tables filled with insidious looking tools, and the back wall made of nothing but cold lockers. The low buzz of the fluorescent light filled the ears as the sickly green light flickered to something more akin to white, but none the less eerie. He had been in more morgues than he would care to admit in his mere nineteen years, but that was part of his duty.

  He would admit that having Regan Clarke as his guide to this morgue which was close to his university made things a bit more enjoyable if not easier.

  Regan’s natural hair color may have been unknown to him, but it was refreshing to have someone he didn’t have to keep secrets from. Yes, I come from a long line of mystics who interbred for generations to create the perfect monster hunter. Yes, I keep up this tradition. I can catch things on fire with fast and slightly painful movements of my fingers. Would you like to see?

  Since Shiro had no desire to be locked in a padded room by nice men in clean white coats, it was a secret he kept very close to his chest. By chance, or fortune, Regan had learned his secret. They had a couple of classes together, her marks were as high as his if not more so, and they were in occasional study groups together. She was a wild free spirit and he was the nearly stereotypical studious Asian. It was a good cover after all, so they really did not have much other socialization other than that of an academic nature.

  Until Regan had taken a short cut back to her car and attracted the unwanted attention of a werewolf hit by the full moon. God had obviously been watching after her because Shiro had been chasing the werewolf for the past week. Screams and a well placed fist adorned with heavy silver rings had bought enough time for a rapid swipe of a katana to end the werewolf’s reign of terror. Regan took everything in stride and informed Shiro that she worked as the Medical Examiner’s assistant, granting her access to the dead brought into the morgue. As thanks, whenever an unusual corpse was brought in she’d call him and he could divine if the attack was supernatural or of a human nature.

  Like tonight’s.

  Shiro asked, “What was so unusual about this killing?”

  “Lack of post mortem longevity, signifying that there was no blood in the body and these two itty-bitty holes cleanly puncturing the carotid artery,” Regan answered as she opened up one of the drawers and pulled it out with a grunt. With a squeal of protesting steel the slab slid forward to reveal its black vinyl covered cargo. A gloved hand pulled down the zipper to reveal sickly grey flesh with the slightest blue tinge to its pallor. As previously stated there were two tiny holes in the corpse’s thick neck and faint, purplish marks from where the rest of the teeth had gripped the skin as well.

  Shiro bent down towards the corpse and frowned at the bite marks. A hand reached into cargo pants pockets to extract an ofuda, a talisman for protection that bore the name of a god on it, and placed it gently onto the bite. Not even a heartbeat later the paper charm flared up like a magnesium flare and the smell of burning flesh filled the room as smoke started to rise from the paper.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Regan shouted as she placed her hands on Shiro’s broad shoulders and pushed. However he didn’t budge as he quickly withdrew the ofuda from the corpse and nimbly folded it. The charred sheet of paper
was placed in a pocket separate from where it had been initially drawn from. Regan’s grey-green eyes looked up at him and she snapped, “You can’t just go around pyro-ing corpses and what the hell is that thing anyway?”

  “An ofuda,” Shiro said as he scowled at the burn marks on the lifeless husk.

  Regan’s expression became pinched as she tilted her head and said, “It looked like one of those charms one of those shrine maidens use in cartoons to beat up monsters.”

  “That is an accurate depiction for now,” he replied as he continued to scowl at the corpse. The person had been obese in life, but what had taken their life were generally picky eaters. Unless they were desperate, which is troublesome, he thought with a shake of his head.

  Regan peered at the bite and said, “So…vampire?”

  “…Yes,” he answered with a sigh as he looked back at her. Shoulders slumped at the sight of her eyes gleaming and the smile etching dimples into rounded cheeks. “Why are you excited about this, Regan?”

  She clapped her hands together and said, “Come on, I’m a font of information for a bad assed monster hunter. Plus vampires exist? How cool is that?”

  “It is not ‘cool’. If there is a vampire openly leaving hints of their feeding about then that could be a great problem,” he answered with narrowed eyes as he crossed his arms over his chest.

  Regan jerked her thumb in the direction of the corpse and said, “Come on, Shi. This guy was found outside of one of the porno palaces on the Strip. Not exactly Ward Cleaver material here.”

  “I must ask, but what is wrong with pornography?” Shirou asked with his eyebrows raised.

  A faint splash of pink colored those rounded cheeks as Regan stammered, “Well…um… it’s dirty and stuff.”

  “Sex is not ‘dirty’ if all parties are in agreement and enjoy the act. In fact, it is unhealthy to deny oneself,” he said with a shake of his head.