Regan didn’t look at him as she briskly zipped the body bag back up and shut the locker. “Now, moving on…So, vampire hunting? Need me to sharpen stakes or anything?” she asked as she kept her back towards him.
He answered, “No. I would advise keeping an item with you that you have faith in at all times. I have no idea what your beliefs are, or even if you have any, but faith repels a vampire.”
“So not just crosses and holy water?” she asked.
Shiro shook his head and answered, “No. I witnessed a Native American shaman repel a vampire with his medicine bag. I use my ofuda among other items, but popular culture has made the cross iconic with repelling vampires without thinking there are other religions than Christianity.”
“Wow, bitter much,” she said with a snort.
His smile was lopsided as he replied, “No, just realistic and jaded.”
“But you still have your porn,” Regan said with a blush and a chuckle.
His smile widened and said, “Of course, but if you can get home before dark and do not invite anyone into your home that you do not know.”
“So that part of the myth’s true then?” Regan asked as she started to pull off her gloves.
Shiro answered, “Yes. Stoker did get a few things right.”
“So, vampire hunting?” she asked.
He nodded and replied, “Yes, vampire hunting.”
“Shiro, we’ve got a problem,” Regan’s voice was loud and clear through the iphone’s speakers as Shiro made his way down to the infamous Strip. It was a several mile stretch proudly sporting garish neon signs gleefully advertising XXX wears, exotic dancers or both. The Strip was not exactly known to have a savory reputation, but there were those who watched over it like a hawk, or, more aptly a demon waiting for someone to sign their life away.
Shiro asked, “What do you mean, Regan?”
“I mean some totally gorgeous guy with a badge came in, looked at the same body we looked at and noticed the burn marks on the bite,” Regan answered, her words coming out in a rush.
Shiro’s lips curved downward as he asked, “Did he ask you anything?”
“No, but he went to the security desk and got a hold of their computer,” she said, her voice coming out muffled.
He frowned and asked, “Are you eating, Regan?”
“I can’t help it, Shi. You know I eat when I’m nervous, damn it!” she replied in a scathing voice.
“I apologize, so what happened next?” Shiro asked, keeping his voice calm as he took a deep breath.
There was crunching over the line as she replied, “He talked to the guard and Dr. McCoy.”
“Was there anything else unusual?” Shiro asked.
Regan’s breath caught in a sigh as she answered, “Yeah. He…it was really freaky Shi. He like touched the bite, froze for a second and then looked at me. Then he just left. God, he was sort of really creepy. Yeah, sure he was gorgeous, but…like he talked in this monotone and stuff.”
Gorgeous, Shiro thought with a frown. It was common knowledge for all hunters that vampires were incredibly attractive. Part of the process of being transformed into a vampire was the eradication of all physical imperfections caused by genetics. While becoming a vampire would not heal scars one had gotten in their mortal lives, it would correct skin problems, hair problems, weight problems, teeth and eye problems as well. Not to mention vampires are seductive, like their metaphorical kin.
Shiro asked, “Did you notice anything else about this man? Did he cast a reflection at all?”
“Well, he moved…sort of like you do actually. Really graceful, like he knew how his body worked, and he was wearing this giant silver cross. He had a reflection though, and it was still daylight when he came in. Oh, he had curly brown hair that sort of fell in his face and really dark blue eyes,” Regan answered.
Curious.
Shiro said, “Thank you, Regan.”
“Just be careful. This guy was a cop. I don’t want you locked up,” Regan said in a quiet rush.
He smiled and said, “I am always careful, but I thank you for the warning.”
“Text me when you get done playing Van Helsing. I just want to make sure that you’re okay,” Regan said in a soft voice that made his chest tight.
“I will,” Shiro said with a smile, “You have a good night.”
With a nimble click of a button the phone went dormant before it was slid into a vest pocket. A quick inventory was made checking to make sure that all the proper tools were at hand. There was salt, more ofuda, sake, a length of sacred rope, a mirror, the katana, and the magatama, a charm that was shaped like half of a circle or an animal tusk. He knew of other hunters who always had a firearm at their disposal, but he found them distasteful and cumbersome. Not to mention when one’s own arm could project flame then a gun was made unnecessary.
He walked down the Strip to The Velvet Glove, an exotic dance club with a dancer that would give information for enough coin or other less innocent favors. Standing at the front of the club was a man bloated with muscle frowning dully at a beautiful man with glittering eyes and pale skin. Shiro slunk into the shadows as he watched the sharp featured man as he pulled out a gleaming badge from his pocket. After a moment’s deliberation, the bloated man let the unearthly man in. A flash of silver drew Shiro’s eyes to the large, yet simple cross hanging from the man’s neck. Relaxing at the sight of the cross, Shiro silently made his way to the back of the club.
The back door opened with ease and without invitation Shiro entered. Even in the back amongst the store rooms the loud thump of what had to be heavy metal sounded from the front of the building as the show with its illicit delights continued. An ofuda was withdrawn and with a whisper as the paper was pressed against a pair of lips it stood up ramrod straight. The charm glowed faintly and hummed between finger tips before tilting to the right. Shiro walked towards the direction as the charm started to tremble more and glow brighter until it was vibrating so hard he could barely hold it.
With a snap of a wrist the charm fell still and dim before pocketed once again. Standing in the way was a closed door with a crooked gold star emblazed upon it. The knob turned easily and Shiro stepped into the room to see rack upon rack of bright fabric and miles of feathers. Counters were filled with makeup and the room seemed to go on forever in the reflection of all the mirrors. A couple of pairs of startled eyes looked up as feminine screams called out and hands fluttered up in a protest of false modesty. Bare, womanly flesh rushed past as the room’s occupants fled from its intruder.
Sitting at one of the ends of the counters was a tall woman with long, straight coppery hair that fixed golden eyes on Shiro. As he watched her eyes flickered from gold to amethyst to brown and back to gold again as she stood up. Inch upon inch of sheer feminine perfection made itself known as the redhead folded her arms under her breasts. She said, “You really stirred up a hornet’s nest, didn’t you kid?”
“Are you the one they call Cybil?” Shiro asked as he took a deep breath, ignoring the scent of roses in the air or the fact that her pristine, white skin looked like silk and was begging for his touch.
She tilted her head and asked, “Who’s asking?”
“That is not important,” Shiro replied, knowing that if he gave her his name it could mean his death.
The need to touch, taste and take her spiked through him like fire until every inch of him was tingling in awareness of her. A deep breath didn’t still the need as she replied, “Maybe you should ask your cute little side kick out.” The eyes that blinked up at him were the same grey-green as Regan’s.
“I am looking for a vampire,” Shiro said, his voice tensing as he gritted his teeth with a glare.
She chuckled and said, “You’re not the first, nor will you be the last.”
“Who else is looking?” he asked as he tapped the handle of the sword at his side.
Eyes shifted from grey, to blue to gold again as she said, “The rather pretty detective that’s
on his way right now after you sent the other girls screaming when you barged in.”
“Cybil, you okay in there?” a male voice called without a hint of emotion.
Cybil the succubus smiled at him and asked, “You really are new at this, aren’t you?”
Shiro frowned and said, “No, I am not.”
“Mmm, then probably from an archaic family of hunters who need to adapt to the times,” Cybil said in a loud voice.
The dressing room door burst open to reveal the same man with the silver cross that Shiro had seen just moments ago. The man had curly brown hair that fell into pale features and dark blue eyes. Silver sparkled in the light as the cross swayed ever so slightly on the man’s shirt and he was wearing a leather shoulder holster set up for a left handed draw. Each of the mirrors reflected him as plain as day, but, as Regan said, each of his movements was graceful and full of purpose.
A pale right hand reached for a badge as the left reached for the semi-automatic pistol. “Freeze, Kid,” the man said in a low, haunting monotone voice.
Cybil smiled, canted her head and said, “I suggest jumping out the window.”
Each breath felt as if a pass of fire rippled through labored lungs as each step became harder and harder. It was his family’s way to instill training since one could walk, but Shiro reasoned that this was ridiculous. Glass was still falling from his hair and clothing with every step ran since he jumped through the window at the Velvet Glove. Shiro had hoped that he could slip away unnoticed once he got back to the alley and hidden in the shadows.
He had been very wrong.
The police officer that Regan had spoken of had given chase, and Shiro had not been able to shake him. While Shiro was starting to breathe hard, a look cast over the shoulder told him that his pursuer wasn’t. Teeth gritted, heavy boots turned down what felt like the thousandth alley way that night. The buildings were getting increasingly closer with every block that turned into miles as they ran past. Shiro looked up at the heavy steel railing of a fire escape above him, hunched up his muscles, jumped and felt rough steel pressing against leather covered palms.
He wears a cross, casts a reflection, but is putting forth very little effort to keep up with me.
Shiro had a feeling that if the police officer wanted him dead, he would already be lying on the ground.
He may not be a vampire, but he is not fully human.
Weary limbs swung up until each foot hooked on a rung for purchase before ascending up the ladder. Each breath was a colossal effort as his chest tightened, muscles strained and sweat wept from every pour as the latter was scaled. Shiro felt something brush past him as he reached the first platform only to look up into a face that would have made many women and men alike swoon.
Midnight eyes narrowed as that still, pale face almost like moonlight studied Shiro. Shiro quickly scanned around him, looking for another exit but there wasn’t one unless he risked breaking a limb. However, he was aware that the tusk like charm was rocking ever so slightly in his pocket. In the presence of a true monster it vibrated violently until the point where an outsider could notice it, but the slight movement was indication enough.
The charm confirmed earlier suspicions that the police officer chasing him wasn’t fully human.
“What the fuck where you doing?” the man said, his voice soft, haunting, and void of emotion.
Shiro inhaled deeply as he forced his heart to slow down. He answered, “I was looking for answers.”
“Fucking sloppy, kid,” the man said, his overuse of profanity making the Japanese man flinch ever so slightly.
Shiro asked, “Must you use such language?”
“I’ll fucking ask the fuck again,” the man said, full lips curving into a slight smile, “What the fuck where you fucking doing with that corpse, you fucker?”
Shiro gritted his teeth and narrowed his eyes as he looked the man over. He was slightly taller, but despite his wiry frame his cheeks were slightly hollow, giving him a gaunt and hungry look. There was a leather shoulder holster set up for a left handed draw that housed some semi-automatic pistol that looked police issue. Shiro’s nose curled ever so slightly at the sight of scuffed sneakers that were at one time possibly white and sporting what he assumed to be duct tape around the heels and toes. Instead of answering, Shiro said, “If you wanted to stop me you could have shot me.”
“I could fucking arrest your ass,” the man said with a shrug as he drew out a badge from his jean’s pocket, “With that fucking pig sticker and all.”
A smile split Shiro’s lips as he replied, “You could try.”
Midnight blue eyes narrowed right before the slimmer man squared his shoulders and his expression turned gaunt. A pale hand reached out and skimmed golden fingers faster than Shiro’s eyes could follow. That same pale hand clinched as the man shivered slightly and closed his eyes. A few heartbeats later those same eerie eyes looked at Shiro and said, “So you’re my fucking corpse burner. Did you throw away that fucking ofuda that you fucking used to deface my fucking corpse?”
Shiro blinked that this foul mouthed police officer would even know what an ofuda was and then go as far to pronounce the word properly. “I’ve been fucking looking for you and now I’ve fucking found you,” the other man said with a shake of his head before that same hand went to play with the cross around his neck.
Shiro frowned and asked, “What makes you think I am your culprit?”
“You can burn shit, I can fucking see shit,” was the answer as the cross’s bail slid up and down its simple chain. Blue eyes looked at Shiro before the once expressionless face slid into a dagger like smile before he vaulted over the railing to nimbly land on the pavement below.
Shiro blinked as he stared down at the police officer as he easily started to walk out of the alley. A moment later he turned and shouted, “Are you fucking coming or what?”
After driving around with his impromptu partner in something that could only vaguely be called a car Shiro had become more aware of one Detective Quinn Frost. They were back on the Strip and Frost had gone back into the Velvet Glove with strict orders for Shiro to wait outside. So Shiro waited as Frost was presumably talking to the succubus named Cybil while the faint strains of loud, pulsing industrial music floated from the establishment. After a small eternity later Frost returned with a scowl marring his other wise perfect features.
“Fuck.”
Another thing Shiro had learned was that Frost enjoyed abusing profanity, that one word in particular.
Shiro asked, “What did you find out?”
“Fucking nothing,” Frost said, his voice never changing. His expressionless mask was impressive, even to Shiro who was use to hiding who he really was in front of others. Then again, Frost likes to be intimidating. The man shook his head with a scowl.
Shiro sighed and said, “That is rather unhelpful. Even I had heard how reliable the succubus’ information is.”
“Her fucking name is Cybil,” Frost said as he started to walk back to his patchwork mess of conveyance. His eyes were narrowed and his lip curled up ever so slightly to reveal longer than average canines.
Shiro said, “I did not mean offence.”
“How long have you been fucking hunting, Rookie? And not werewolves,” Frost asked as they reached his car.
“When I went out with my cousin for the first time I was twelve. My first solo hunt I was sixteen,” Shiro answered.
Frost stilled, utterly motionless as if he was carved out of stone right before those pitiless eyes met Shiro’s. “What you are doesn’t make you who you are,” was all he said before unlocking his car.
Shiro blinked and asked, “Where are we going now?”
“I’m fucking going home,” Frost answered, “I’ll do some fucking research there and we’ll meet here tomorrow right before sundown and start over again.”
Shiro frowned and asked, “What makes you think I will come?”
“You’ll fucking come, and you’ll be fucking e
arly,” Frost said with a lopsided smirk as he climbed into his car.
Shiro’s scowl deepened as Frost drove away. He turned back to the Velvet Glove and shook his head. I believe I have my own methods of hunting that I will employ. With that, boots barely touched the pavement at a level jog towards the sight where the victim had been carelessly discarded.
Street lights caught and rippled against the clear stream as it splashed softly against the pavement. The sweet smell of sake momentarily overrode the stench of garbage and more unsavory elements. Shiro capped the small, yet surprisingly heavy ceramic bottle that had the same blessings carved on it that the ofuda did. The bottle slid easily back into its pouch as the ritual was complete. In a two square mile area of the Strip Shiro had created a boundary field tied to the charm in his pocket.
The field worked as an alarm system that would cause the charm to vibrate as soon as something inhuman walked into it. It had worked countless times before and was a trick that every active member in the Wakahisa clan learned as children. Now I wait, Shiro thought as he pondered heading up to a rooftop to watch the Strip from above. He shook off the thought as he started to walk the perimeter of his field.
There were few people milling about, but then again most of the life was in the dens of iniquity that the Strip was known for. A gaunt looking woman that sported makeup so heavily caked on it looked more like paint displayed her wears to the desperate as she walked up and down the sidewalk. Shiro shook his head as a car pulled up to her, rolled down the window, and began to make a transaction. His stomach rolled at the thought of being desperate enough to contemplate something in these circumstances. The woman cocked her head to a nearby alley and headed towards it as the car was parked.
A man looking like a better kept version of the one Shiro had seen on the slab the night before emerged from the vehicle. A hand swept through thinning hair right as the charm began to vibrate violently. Every muscle tensed as Shiro turned to the alley right as the man walked into it. Not even a heartbeat later a loud scream rang out and the sordid man came tumbling forth.
Both Barrels of Monster Hunter Legends (Legends of the Monster Hunter Book 1) Page 22