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

by Josh Reynolds

  Not wasting a moment, Shiro rushed into the alley without a sound. With each step taken, energy was focused and refined, pouring into limbs without a second thought. Steel whispered from its sheath as the all too familiar katana was brought to bare. His breathing was even as he was aware of the sweet stench of copper in the air and the fair haired figure bent over the gaunt woman’s limp form. Glowing eyes like crimson embers looked up right as slack limbs tumbled carelessly to the ground.

  The shark skin and silk of the handle against his palms was an all too familiar and comforting feel for Shiro as those burning eyes stared at him. Sharp fangs were slick and dark with their latest meal as they were bared in a low hiss. Neither hunter nor monster said anything as the vampire stood to his full height.

  Unlike Detective Frost, the vampire was half a head taller than Shiro and dressed in tattered fabric that had seen better days. Inhuman eyes looked around wildly before the vampire vanished in a blur. Shiro felt something brush past him right before his side exploded in agony. Fire laced through vulnerable flesh as liquid anguish bubbled forth and a thousand needles dug in at once.

  Shiro hissed as he saw the blur come forth again, but this time he pivoted and swung the sword with his wrists. Steel hit something and parted through it, earning a growl and a spray of dark gore. Eyes narrowed as a pale, clawed hand gripped the length of metal currently carving into its chest and jerked. Shiro braced himself as he continued to push, but with one hand the vampire easily shoved him away.

  Stumbling back, Shiro took his right hand off the sword’s handle and reached into his pocket. A whispered word jerked the ofuda upright and a flick of the wrist shot it forward. The blessing hit the vampire and erupted like a magnesium flare, filling the alley with white light. A shrill scream erupted forth as smoking hands clawed the charm off and threw it to the ground. As the vampire still smoked, it took off deeper into the alley, leaving Shiro behind.

  Shiro sheathed his sword and gave chase, ignoring the burning pain in his side. His quarry was fast and easily leapt onto a windowsill. Cursing, Shiro began to move his fingers in all too familiar patterns as heat washed up within him.

  Heat boiled blood, becoming more and more overwhelming with each step until every breath seemingly scorched lungs, but it did not stop. Fingers moved faster and faster until the heat raged into an inferno. Shiro yelled as he released the flames from within, and a brilliant orange and gold pyre sought out their target. The vampire’s screams were shrill as he was engulfed, the flames causing his body to fall towards the ground.

  Limbs twitched and seized in the flames before they quickly died out. Pale flesh was charred a hellish black that was cracking and oozing with pinkish liquid. Milky eyes like a dead fish’s looked up at Shiro as a hellish mouth opened and closed soundlessly. The katana whispered from its sheath once again to finally end the hunt once and for all.

  Shiro gritted his teeth as he drew the sword with a quick jerk. It caught for a moment before sliding through skin, muscle and bone to part through it. Severed from the neck supporting it, the head rolled forward a moment before it and the body it was attached to crumbled to ash.

  Then the wound in Shiro’s side began to make itself known before he collapsed on the pavement.

  “Jesus fuck, Shi, did you pick a fight with a tiger or what?”

  Shiro gritted his teeth as he held up the tattered remains of his shirt as Regan knelt before him. Sitting beside the gamine girl was a small stainless steel table filled with medical supplies as her patent was on a stool. A normal examining room with a doctor that would ask too many questions was impossible, so the only reasonable choice was to go to the morgue and let a med student tend to it.

  Thousands of angry ripples made themselves known as small, gloved fingers lightly pressed into the angry, gaping raw flesh. Each gentle prod produced a small trickle of fresh blood from the four gashes buried into golden skin. Regan’s face twisted into a scowl as she hissed and winced. “You need stitches,” she said with a grimace.

  “Please do,” Shiro said as he swallowed and looked at the drab mint walls.

  She bit her lip and said, “I don’t have a local and they’ll be sloppy…”

  “I trust you,” he said in a soft voice as he looked down at her.

  Grey-green eyes widened at that as she took a deep breath. She nodded, met his eyes and said, “It’s going to hurt like a bitch.”

  “I know,” he said as he tensed to keep his body still.

  She winced again, grabbed an antiseptic and said, “I’ll be quick.”

  The next ten minutes were Hell. Each drag of the curved needle made its presence known as the nylon thread bound the ragged edges of flesh together again. Despite her protesting though, the stitches were relatively small and even. Shiro admired her work as she bandaged him up.

  “You said that the stitches would be sloppy,” Shiro said with a slight smile.

  Pink stained round cheeks as Regan ducked her head and admitted, “My grandma use to sew. She taught me a few things.”

  “You did a remarkable job. The scarring should be minimal,” he said with a nod as he let his shirt go.

  Regan asked, “So, other than vampires kicking your ass, how did your night go?”

  “Interesting actually,” Shiro said with a smile, “I killed the vampire who did this.”

  She grinned and said, “Well, that’s good.”

  “Maybe you should ask your cute little side kick out.”

  Shiro blinked, cleared his throat and said, “Regan, may I ask you something?”

  “Sure,” she said, her voice a cheerful chirp as she began to clean up the bloody mess left over. A smile like quicksilver spread over elfin features as grey-green eyes closed that momentarily stopped reason. It was a smile that tightened Shiro’s chest in a way that had nothing to do with the pain of his recent stitches or wound.

  Shiro said, “I would like it if you would go on a date with me. Would you accept such a proposal?”

  Had he known the response he would have braced himself, but he found his arms filled with soft warmth and his ears filled with giggles. Small arms wrapped around a broad body and held it close, but being careful of the fresh stitches. Regan smiled up at him and said, “Bout bloody time you asked me that, Shi.”

  “Good,” Shiro said with a smile, making a note to thank the succubus the next time he saw her.

  Shiro found Detective Quinn Frost leaning against his questionable means of convenience with his arms folded across his chest at the appointed spot. “You said I would be early,” Shiro said as he mirrored Frost’s stance as he stood to his full height.

  Frost lifted himself from the car with a careless grace and answered, “I was fucking earlier.”

  “Must you use such profanity?” Shiro asked with a sigh.

  Those sulky lips quirked up to reveal a smaller version of the fangs Shiro had seen last night. Frost answered, “I fucking enjoy it.”

  “I think you enjoy the fact you make people uncomfortable using it,” Shiro said with a shake of his head.

  Midnight blue eyes fastened on Shiro as the monotone voice said, “Your left side’s injured. You out of the game?”

  “I assure you I can work with that wound,” Shiro answered with a blink.

  Frost’s grin spread into a smile as he asked, “Did you get attacked by a fucking bird or something?”

  “…I will not even pretend to understand that sort of question,” Shiro replied with a frown and narrowed eyes.

  Frost smirked and said, “Next time you go vampire hunting, try not to create a fucking electric light show big enough that it could be seen a mile away. People can only believe so much shit about gas leaks before they get fucking suspicious when flames magically appear.”

  “What about the prostitute?” Shiro asked in a quiet voice.

  Those pitiless eyes, much like a shark’s, searched Shiro’s face and replied, “You went after the vampire and left the fucking woman. Maybe you weren’t the r
ookie I pegged you as last night.”

  It felt as if someone had poured a bucket of ice down Shiro’s spine and he swallowed. He shook his head rapidly and said, “It could not be helped.”

  “Well, if I have to fucking clean up after you, ever, I won’t be so fucking cheerful,” Frost said with narrowed eyes.

  “Like I said before,” Shiro said with a glare as he leaned into the detective’s personal space causing him to tense, “you can try to stop me. Pretty Boy.”

  Fangs were bared as the glare was returned. “Don’t fucking call me Pretty Boy.”

  “Hopefully, the next time we can meet under more productive circumstances,” Shiro said calmly.

  Frost said, “Speaking of which, there’s been another vampire attack here. Bite marks as same as the first pervert and different than the prostitute’s attacker.”

  “So there were two vampires here?” Shiro asked with a frown.

  Frost asked, “You didn’t fucking compare the bite radius, did you?”

  “…I did not,” Shiro answered, “I did not think to, human mouths are close enough in size that it would not make a difference.”

  A sharp smile crossed Frost’s face as he said, “It’s fucking enough to tell you if your vampire is male or female.”

  “So the first victim was killed by a female vampire then?” Shiro asked.

  Frost nodded and said, “And you’re going to be my fucking bait.” Then, without warning a pale hand went smashing into Shiro’s side. Pain flared like a supernova and drew forth to a cry. Shiro’s vision swam as stomach bile bubbled up to his throat, and he staggered at the intense ache. He lurched forward and took a few deep breaths as sweat trickled down his brow and neck.

  Eyes flickered up only to see Frost looking down with bright eyes, flared nostrils, and tight lips. Shiro sighed as he felt that his shirt was still dry and that Regan’s stitches had held out. He managed to rise to his full height, but kept a hand to help support his wounded side as he glared at Frost. “Walk, look for a fucking prostitute that’s too good to be true. I’ll be tailing your ass as you do,” Frost said.

  Shiro stared and asked, “You want me to hire a prostitute?”

  “Or at least get her fucking attention,” Frost said with a smirk.

  He scowled and asked, “And why did you hit me?”

  “To open up your wounds. You’re not fucking bleeding, but we can smell you coming a mile away,” Frost answered.

  Shiro frowned at his use of “we” instead of “they”, including himself with the vampire despite all the signs that he was not one. His eyes widened and Frost said, “You still have a fucking lot to learn.”

  “Then, I would appreciate the lesson, sensei,” Shiro said as met the other man’s eyes.

  Frost smirked and said, “First one’s free, after that you find a new fucking teacher. I don’t play nice with others.”

  “I am not surprised,” Shiro said as he walked off, eager to begin his lesson.

  Adaptive Strategies

  William R.D. Wood

  I’m going to die down here.

  Three months of training wasn’t enough, no matter how rigorous. She just wasn’t built for this, physically or mentally. Heart racing and muscles aching, each breath a controlled gasp, Corinne pushed herself forward.

  Through her night vision goggles, she could make out the closest of the strike team members leading her through the cave. They all wore special nul-reflective uniforms and gear that made the standard issue camos look like LED-studded hunting vests, or so the Colonel said. But the military types loved to brag too, especially to her, since they didn’t think she knew better.

  She slipped on a wet patch of stone, caught herself on an outcropping and continued trudging ahead. Her lungs burned and she longed to stop even for a minute to catch her breath, but there would be no breaks at this point. The last two of the asra’pa had been detected and her unit mobilized. Do or die time, the Colonel called it. “You pick,” he’d snapped at her across the conference table in front of the entire committee two days ago.

  Toggling the gain up on her optics, she saw the man a few meters ahead. The others members of the team were out of range. Superior gear explained why she couldn’t see them better, but only training could explain why she couldn’t hear them. Each of her own steps scraped or splashed against the rough floor despite her best attempts at stealth. But she had to move faster. They wouldn’t abandon her, she knew, but they weren’t exactly waiting either.

  The two creatures lay somewhere ahead in the green-tinted gloom, their bodies cold enough in their preternatural state to be invisible against the ambient temperature of the cave. Wonderful adaptation really, and perfect camouflage when being pursued with modern technology, almost as if by design. What forces would spark such evolutionary foresight in the asra’pa? It was yet another mystery to add to the growing list occupied by these fascinating creatures. She’d studied them for months now. All since some high-ranking official in the surprisingly vast underworld of military shadow ops had decided her unique background in theoretical linguistics and her reputation for rapid absorption of information would make her the perfect cryptozoologist.

  Insanity. Pure fu…

  A drip of icy water struck her neck and Corinne gasped, gagging on the musty air. The sound echoed, magnified by the stone walls. Eight sets of boosted optics spun to face her. A sneer formed beneath the closest. The Colonel had not wanted to bring her into the cave and—in all honesty—she had not wanted to come, but they both answered to the same congressional committee. Being recruited into a new aggressively adaptive program designed to incorporate able academics into field operations wasn’t the honor and duty they pitched it to be. Now, here she was in a cave a mile beneath the surface. Knowing a couple thousand feet of the earth and rock lay above this very cave was bad enough.

  Corinne shuddered. The entire Adriatic Sea beyond that was just icing on the cake.

  The Colonel, silent in the eerie white noise of the cave, communicated in complex hand gestures to his soldiers for several seconds and they vanished into the digitized static of her goggles. Three soundless steps later he’d moved within arms’ reach and tugged his goggles to his forehead. His eyes burned fluorescent green in her enhanced optics making him look as much a fiend as the asra’pa they hunted. He made a show of placing a finger to his lips and raised his eyebrows.

  Corinne nodded, her goggles flopping noisily. The Colonel rolled his eyes, grabbed the sides of her head and cinched the straps tight enough she had to bite back a yelp of pain. Then he was gone, sidestepping the larger puddles and finessing his boots into the unavoidable ones. Watching carefully and moving with all the grace and speed she could muster, she followed in the burly man’s path.

  I really am going to die down here.

  The cave was thirty feet in diameter, a half-collapsed lava tube maybe. Perfectly smooth millennia ago, but since filled with fallen debris and textured from the constant dripping and flowing of water from the ceiling and walls.

  A chill ran down her spine. The thought of the cubic miles of water above must be getting to her, she thought. The urge to call out to the Colonel her sudden uneasiness was strong and the urge to look up stronger still, but she didn’t want to further anger the man, nor lose sight of him. The fact she could see only him must mean he was hanging back for her benefit.

  A rush of air tousled her hair and loose pieces of grit drizzled down from above. She looked up as a glowing form, fang-filled mouth agape, swooped in. Clawed fingers like knives spread wide, for an instant reminding her of skeletal bat wings.

  Small arms fire blasted her eardrums, reverberating between wall, ceiling and floor. Wide aperture UV lasers flashed, blooming everything in her night vision display to brilliant white. A wall of air lifted her from her feet and slammed her to the floor as claws tore at her uniform. The attacking asra’pa landed hard, straddling her for an instant before launching back into the air.

  Corinne whipped her g
oggles away, keeping her eyes shut as the raw candlepower of the sun lit the cave in flashes a hundred times brighter than lightning. A man screamed as a volley of wild gunfire whizzed by close enough for her to feel in the damp air. Another scream, this one from the only other female in their party, became a wheezing gurgle in seconds as she fought to breathe. The Colonel barked orders, his voice piercing the cacophony, directing his squad. The smell of cordite and seared meat mixed in her nostrils and Corinne swallowed the bile rising into her mouth.

  Fumbling for the sidearm holstered on her thigh, she rose into a crouch as a shriek exploded in her head. Dropping the weapon, she clamped her hands to her ears and fell back to the floor. Her skull felt as if the bones were blasting apart from within.

  And then silence.

  A calloused hand grabbed her forearm and lifted her to her feet. Corinne’s eyes adjusted quickly, beams from panning flashlights painting the immediate area. A right angle light hung on the Colonel’s chest, shining on her. His breath poured from his mouth, steam in the frigid air. He pushed something hard against her chest and she reached up to take it. Cold, wet metal. Her sidearm.

  “Clean this off,” he snapped. “And next time, feel free to use it.”

  “I’m sor…”

  He turned away. “Time to adapt, folks. Light this place up. They know we’re here anyway.”

  “Colonel, over here, sir,” called one of the squad members before he could continue. With one last withering glance he stalked away, splashing as he went.

  “We lost Gonzales and Tehteh, sir,” called out another. Corinne could see the man kneeling over a mass of twisted gray and red.

  “Doctor, get over here.”

  Corrine tore herself away from the butchered body and joined the Colonel’s at a large flat stone projecting from the cave floor.

  “Fanger chicken scratch?” he asked, kicking the edge of the stone near several rows of etched symbols.

  “Asra’pa glyphs.” Corinne knelt at the rock and pulled a touch-tablet from her pack. The small computer booted in seconds and she directed its camera to scan the characters. Images scrolled along the display, stopping on a family of similar symbols. “N-not exact…but similar to those found beneath Budapest.”