Vampire Hunter D: Dark Nocturne

by Dark Nocturne (v5. 0) (epub)

  By the age of seventeen or eighteen, most people had a better understanding of what Hunters were really like, but this girl seemed to be an exception. But, it was certainly true that the relatively rare Vampire Hunters were regarded with a reverence not afforded other monster-slaying experts.

  “In that case, you could take care of those three, no sweat. Even if the Nobility have returned to the mansion, there won’t be any problem.”

  “They’ve returned, you say?” asked D.

  “That’s the rumor. Almost twenty years ago—” Ry began, recounting the tale exactly as Amne had told it to him. D listened without saying a word, but then he suddenly turned his gaze forward. Following his lead, Ry let a gasp escape.

  Nestled in the sea of green into which the narrow road dissolved was a magnificent mansion that could almost be mistaken for a palace.

  “What’s the matter, haven’t you ever seen one before?” Amne teased, but the boy didn’t even seem to notice.

  The closest of the Nobility’s castles was still a hundred miles or more from Ry’s village—no small distance. While he’d heard vile tales about them before bedtime, he’d never actually seen a real Noble. What’s more, there was the matter of the song.

  “Are there any victims of the Nobility left in your village?” asked D.

  “Don’t make me laugh! They were all disposed of. I’m sure it’s the same everywhere.”

  “That’s not necessarily the case. When someone didn’t completely become one of them, there have been cases where their family took pity on them and kept them hidden and locked in the basement.

  “That’s revolting! In that case, what are they supposed to do after that? Victims who’ve progressed to a certain degree toward becoming Nobility stop aging. If their family died out, would those things just be left living alone in the basement till the end of time? I wonder what they’d do about food? Would hunger torment them for all eternity?”

  “You just say whatever the hell you feel like, don’t you?” Ry said, his voice laden with anger. “You can put down the Nobility all you like. But their victims are human, just like us. You could choose your words a little better.”

  “What are you putting on airs for all of a sudden?! If you’ve been bitten once by the Nobility, you’re one of them, and that’s all there is to it. You’re such a softy.”

  Ry was disgusted. Was that all this girl who’d been so worked up about the whatever-it-was club at school had to say? She was far too callous.

  “And you’ve spent too much time with your nose in books!”

  “Oh, is that a fact?!”

  After that, no one said anything and the three of them merely listened to the rumble of the engine.

  The front gates grew closer.

  “Stop here,” said D.

  “Why? Aren’t we going into the courtyard?”

  “I heard a horse whinnying. It seems someone else has gotten here first.”

  Ry and Amne looked at each other.

  “You suppose it’s those guys?” asked the boy.

  The wagon stopped. D got out first, saying, “You’d better stay put.”

  “But—” Ry protested.

  “Those men are after you.”

  “Oh, great! You mean to tell me there are people on your trail?”

  “Put a cork in it.”

  While the two of them were arguing, D raced over to the gate with his coat streaming out behind him. Pushing the rusted iron panel open, he entered the courtyard.

  The garden where women in white dresses and men in black capes had come long ago to admire the elegance of the night was now laid bare to the light of the sun, leaving the ravages of time painfully displayed. Various spots around the white mansion that’d been destroyed must’ve been the work of villagers who’d slipped in after the Nobility had left.

  D entered the vestibule. Its large door had collapsed.

  “Welcome,” a youthful voice called down to him.

  Quietly looking up, he found a golden light that danced on the landing directly ahead of him, where the two staircases leading to the second floor converged. Blond hair. The cold and youthful face it framed played host to a refined smile.

  “Forgive our lack of manners last night. Seeing that you’ve made it out here, I take it Kurt must’ve been wounded.” The young man hadn’t said his compatriot had been killed. His assessment was right on the mark.

  “You got here fast,” said D.

  “I flew. Oh, forgive me for not introducing myself earlier. I’m Price.”

  “D.”

  The way the young man’s changed expression was a sight to see. His face suddenly filled with fear and regret—but he grinned then nevertheless. “The Vampire Hunter ‘D.’ I should’ve realized as much the moment I first gazed on your beauty. It’s an honor to meet you.”

  “I’ve heard talk about you as well,” D said emotionlessly.

  “Oh, really? What kind of things?”

  “That you’d sign on for killing women and children so long as there was a paycheck in it for you. You’re a real piece of work.”

  Price was at a loss for an answer. Ordinarily those words were a condemnation, but when they came from D’s lips, they could also be taken as a compliment.

  “What brings you out here, anyway?” asked the young man.

  “How about you?”

  “I am loath to reply, but since it’s you that’s asking—I’m on a journey to find the origin of that song.”

  “You heard it in your mother’s womb. So, why have you suddenly come out here?”

  “Well, actually—” Price began, hemming and hawing. Perhaps he’d never given the matter any thought. “First, kindly answer my question. Why would the world’s greatest living Vampire Hunter call on ruins the Nobility have long since abandoned?”

  One above, the other below—and between the two dashing figures there flowed an ineffable air of the uncanny.

  “There is something I should make clear,” said Price. “We’ve already found an employer. Kindly keep in mind that our actions in the village are backed by a figure of no small standing.”

  “And this figure wants me defeated?” D asked softly.

  Price’s expression stiffened.

  “Twenty years ago, the Nobles that departed this place returned. A number of people heard that song, and now their children have come back here at the very same time. Why is that?” said the Hunter, the black depths of his eyes transfixing Price.

  A pair of blue eyes counterattacked. It was almost as if two exquisite sculptures had suddenly appeared in a hall previously filled by naught but desolation.

  __

  II

  __

  “Why is that?” D said, his voice echoing off into the vast stillness.

  A bead of sweat rolled down Price’s cheek.

  “Answer me.”

  As D’s command shouted out like a coup de grace, a base growl rolled across the floor from the doorway to the Hunter’s rear.

  “Bijima?” Price said, his face flushing with joy. Apparently free of D’s spell now, he used one hand to rub at his eyes.

  “Looks like even you’re not too good at handling Vampire Hunter ‘D.’ That’s a little sad.”

  If the ten-foot-tall four-legged creature with three heads in the doorway had said that, it would’ve been more ridiculous than astonishing. From the tops of its heads to the tip of its tail, the armored beast’s entire body was covered with glossy black steel. And behind it stood the man in uniform.

  “Make one move and he’ll chomp down on you, D. And I’ll snap the necks of these two to boot.”

  His arms pulled in tighter, and within them, the faces of Ry and Amne contorted without so much as a cry.

  “You see, you can’t go head-to-head with a Vampire Hunter of your notoriety without getting some leverage. So go ahead and answer Price’s question, D.” The man in the uniform—Bijima—bared his yellowed teeth. “It’s only fair to warn you that this beastie was a wat
chdog left behind by the southern Nobility. The alloy armor covering its body could stand up to a direct hit from a small nuclear device. And look what else it can do.”

  Molten swirls of color shot by D on either side. The dog had spat them up. Flames that could melt iron hit the floor sixty feet away, spreading in a carpet of spiteful hues.

  “Can you cut your way through fire, D? Now, if you value your life and those of your two friends, you’d better come clean with us.”

  “Now there are two,” D said as flames flickered across his face, “who need to answer.”

  Bijima’s complexion grew even paler than Price’s. He realized that he and Price were the two to whom the Hunter referred.

  “Kill him!” he shouted, but perhaps that was too rash for a man who thought he held the trump card.

  At the same time the beast’s trio of heads lunged forward, they also spat flames that the Vampire Hunter dashed straight into.

  “What the hell?!” Bijima exclaimed, forgetting all about breaking the necks of his two prisoners. Every gout of flame directed at D had been split down the middle, allowing him to pass. The instant the villain realized the ungodly skill behind the blade he faced, he put all his crushing strength into his arms. But his captives didn’t move. Looking down in disbelief, he found sticks of unfinished wood running through both his elbows.

  “Waaaagh!” he bellowed, his wail as regrettable as it was disgraceful. But naturally his cry did nothing to stay D’s naked steel.

  With a resounding crunch the beast’s three heads were severed, but D then halted right in front of the body as it spouted fountains of black blood. Even the decapitated torso seemed to lose itself in the sound of the song.

  The faces of all present—including D himself—turned in a heartbeat toward a little door to the rear of the hall. Seeing Price spring into action, Ry started to run as well. Bijima had already released his prisoners and leapt out into the courtyard.

  One of D’s hands stopped Ry. Taking a quick glance in the direction where Bijima had made his escape, the Hunter then dashed for the door a second later. He was only a few paces from it when it slammed shut. There was the sound of a lock being thrown.

  Without stopping, D hit the door shoulder-first. Though it creaked, it didn’t open—in this mansion of the Nobility, the doors were made with Nobles in mind. Finally, on the third try, the lock gave way. Beyond it lay a corridor.

  About fifteen feet from them, Price was frozen in his tracks. He was facing D. And he seemed exhausted.

  “Did you hear it?”

  “I heard it,” D replied.

  “It was a beautiful tune. Aside from the voice, that is.”

  The singer definitely had been a young man.

  “Do you think it was a Noble? No, it couldn’t possibly be. No Noble could ever have a voice like that. Who was it, then?”

  As Price continued to talk, D checked all around them for any sign of another presence, but he soon turned his back to the warrior. Ry and Amne were standing in the doorway.

  “Is he gone?”

  The Hunter nodded faintly in reply to Ry’s query.

  “Everyone who sings that song goes. Even my father’s gone.”

  “Let’s leave,” said D.

  Price watched in silence as the three figures vanished into the hall. Ever so sadly he watched, as if he were the last living creature on earth.

  __

  III

  __

  After parting company with Amne, who seemed to want to ask him something but was strangely unable to do so, Ry holed up in his hotel room. That singing voice still rang in his head. Was that voice the same one that his father and Price had heard? No, he thought it couldn’t be. But he didn’t know why. He’d asked D about it, but hadn’t gotten any answer.

  Having fretted until sundown, Ry finally went to the room beside his to see D. Upon returning to the village, the Hunter had also checked into the hotel.

  Never even bothering to take off his coat, the figure in black was seated in a chair by the window. The village was growing a deepening blue. A strange sense of reality askew enveloped the boy, for he’d just wondered if perhaps it hadn’t been this Hunter that’d sung the song. He of all people could make sprites and moonlight captives of a single-minded sentiment merely by singing the poignant nocturne to himself.

  “What is it?” asked D.

  “Nothing much. I just wanted to talk to you a little.”

  “Then take a seat.” D then asked, “Why have you come here?”

  To be honest, Ry was elated that the Hunter was interested in him. Once he’d finished telling D the story about his father, he said, “I wondered what it’d be like to meet the person that sang that song. If at all possible, I’d like to hear it right from their lips. That’s all I want. Once that’s done, I’ll go home.”

  He continued, “But I wonder what kind of Noble it was. The thought of one of them luring people there with just a song . . . And the people who’d been bitten didn’t attack their own families, but merely wandered the night singing the song. You ever hear of a Noble like that before?”

  “No,” D replied as he continued to look out the window. Out in a world shuttered by darkness, lamps had begun to shine here and there. “There are various kinds of Nobles. Perhaps there are Nobles who aren’t Nobility at all.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  At that moment, a knock sounded.

  Ry stood at the ready—he thought it might be the same trio that was after him. But he was incorrect. The caller was a servant from the mayor’s home. He explained that his employer had learned that the famed Vampire Hunter “D” had called on the village and was most eager to discuss some work with him. He also said his employer wanted the Hunter to come right away. D agreed. The servant added that the other young man was also to accompany them, and that they needed to discuss the matter of the nocturne. Although Ry got no answer when he asked how the mayor knew about him, he decided to comply.

  As they headed east toward the estate, Ry rode in the coach that’d been sent for them while D took his newly purchased cyborg horse.

  In an opulent living room befitting the head of a wealthy village, the mayor waited with three men: Price, Bijima with his pair of bandaged elbows, and Kurt with an arm missing. Though Ry was tense, D went impassively to the seat that had been indicated. Heavy curtains were drawn across the windows.

  “Welcome, Vampire Hunter ‘D.’ I am Mayor Cobier,” the silver-haired woman said, showing them a forceful smile. “And these three, as you can see, are in my employ. For, you see, a certain objectionable rumor has been brought to my attention.”

  “And that is?” D asked, ignoring the trio that stood behind Mayor Cobier as if they didn’t even exist.

  “That the Nobles have returned once more.”

  “Did you say ‘once more’?”

  “Yes. They came back on one other occasion, nearly twenty years ago. At that point using ear plugs and keeping our doors locked had become the norm, so there were no victims. I hope this time we can say the same. I should like to have you join forces with these three and destroy the Nobility.”

  Stealing a glance at the horrified trio, Ry averted his gaze after catching a look of egregious resentment from Kurt.

  “Needless to say, I’ll pay you whatever compensation you desire, and you shall be in charge of the group.”

  Now Ry was staring at the trio again in amazement. Bijima and Kurt looked dejected, and Price’s exquisite countenance was etched with an ironic smile, but none of the three said a single word. They must’ve been promised a considerable sum to agree to such conditions. However, there was no chance of the Hunter ever accepting the offer.

  “Very well,” said D. “But you’re to leave the entire matter to me. You cannot countermand me.”

  “Understood,” the mayor replied. Clearly this woman was quite competent at running this village, and with good reason.

  “So, what would you have the three of us
do, boss?” Price asked, his words mixed with a bitter grin.

  Walking over to the window, D pushed aside the curtains and looked out into the darkness, in the direction of the mansion.

  “Next, we’ll be heading up to the mansion. Bijima, you take the boy back to the hotel.”

  “Pardon my saying so, but I went over every inch of that place,” said Price. “I didn’t find anyone.”

  “Apparently they can’t be seen,” D said without ever taking his eyes off the window. Perhaps sensing something, he pulled the curtain back as Price was about to walk over.

  It was the mayor that gasped.

  What Ry felt was terror and a strange sense of relief. It seemed that his long journey hadn’t been a waste.

  The lights of various villages were scattered in the distance—in one spot on the towering mountain whose outline only added to the darkness, a little light winked on, glowing to announce to all the world the return of the fiends.

  After Price and Kurt left with D, Ry stayed on at the mayor’s house. He’d been told it would be safer than the hotel, and that the mayor didn’t feel right about him riding back after dark. Bijima told him he should do it, too, before he made himself scarce.

  “I heard about you from those three men. They say you were traveling all alone. What a brave young man you must be.”

  “I guess.”

  “Why have you come to our village? Are you drawn by the song, just like Price?”

  “That’s right.” And then, in response to her questions, Ry told her all about his father and the song.

  Staring coldly at the curtains her servants had drawn, the mayor said, “That song is the devil’s work!”

  It almost sounded as if she were talking to herself.

  “The Nobility made the song to lure the villagers. Those they called never came home again. It’s a cursed melody that should never pass anyone’s lips. And that’s why it’s so beautiful.”

  “But I heard everybody that was called came back.”

  The mayor cackled—Ry was actually a little surprised that this woman could laugh.

  “The girl at the hotel fed you that malarkey, did she? You see, all the victims of the Nobility become their servants. Do you know of any exceptions?”