Forrest Wollinsky: Vampire Hunter [Book One]

by Leonard D. Hilley II

  Having waited patiently in the chair beside his bed for as long as it had taken him to finish eating, I bluntly asked, “What happened?”

  Father took a cloth and gingerly wiped his mouth, manners returning. “Once you get older and have killed a few vampires, villagers will seek you out sometimes hoping to hire you to slay a vampire.”

  “There’s no way to remain anonymous?” I asked.

  He smiled. “I suppose I could have, but . . . it’s highly unlikely that you will keep your secret from the public’s knowledge.”

  I gave a slight nod. “Jacques said about the same thing. Why is it different for me?”

  “You were born to become such a hunter. No birthmark or any such thing like that, but you’re blessed with size, strength, and keen knowledge. At an early age, mind you. Your schoolmates sensed you were different. Several of your teachers talked to me, questioning and marveling about your intellect, but I never divulged any revelation. For one, you’re still too young, and your mother, ah, she refuses to accept it.”

  Momma shook her head. “That’s not entirely true, John. I’m getting better about it. But when you think about a child fighting against cursed undead beasts that might be centuries old in knowledge—”

  “Right you are, dear,” Father said. “Child. Ah, yes, getting back to the details of my dilemma, son.” He paused, pointing his finger for emphasis. “Often the one hiring you is a relative of the vampire they wish you to kill. Such was the case with this one. In fact, it was one of your teachers that had hired me.”

  “It was?”

  He nodded.

  I wondered which teacher, but thought it best not to ask.

  “Seems his boy, who was your age, had come home with bite marks on his neck. They tended to the wound, as best they could, never suspecting the bite to be anything serious. They certainly never thought the bite to have been from a vampire.”

  My only teacher with a son my age was Gustaaf Popescu. His son, Bodi, was the tiniest one in class, looked rather mousy in appearance, and was always small and quiet. In fact, he was the only child in class that actually liked me. Perhaps it was because we were so different from everyone else and on the opposite ends of the size spectrum. Plus, I never allowed any of the other children to pick at him, either. That was a positive for anyone incapable of protecting himself.

  Now that my father was telling me about what had happened, I remembered that Bodi was absent from class about two weeks before they dismissed me. The last week, Popescu had taken leave. It made sense now, in quite a painful way. I had assumed a nasty sickness was going around, as several of the other students lacked attendance during this time as well.

  Frowning, I asked, “What was he doing that he might encounter a vampire?”

  “Boys his size are hired by the granaries to kill rats in the cellars. When you don’t have much money, that’s not labor any parent would turn away. It’s not a hard job and the reward is quick. If a child is good with a slingshot, they can kill a bagful of rats in about an hour. In exchange, they receive a sack of grain equal to the weight of the rats. For the granary, it’s cheaper to do that than let the rats continue to flourish unchecked.”

  “So they thought a rat had bitten him?”

  Father nodded.

  “Why didn’t the boy remember what had bitten him?”

  “The cellars are dark, but a vampire can compel a young child quite easily, making him forget ever seeing the vampire or being bitten.”

  “When did they realize the bite was from a vampire and not a rat?” I asked.

  “Later in the night there was a disturbing, loud sound in the child’s bedroom. When they went to his room, they noticed the boarded windows were wide open and cold air filled the room. With a lantern, they noticed a new bite on his neck and the boy’s mouth was filled with dark blood. His skin was blue.”

  “He was dead?” I asked, feeling remorse for Bodi.

  “They thought he was. In a sense, he really was. Apparently the vampire drained his blood enough to stop his heart, but the blood in the boy’s mouth was that of the vampire. That was what turned the lad into a child of darkness. According to the father, he was getting ready to wrap his son in the sheet and await the last rites from a priest, but when he neared his son, the boy’s eyes snapped open. Fangs sprouted in his mouth.”

  “So quickly?”

  He nodded.

  “How?”

  Father shrugged. “Your teacher and his wife are fortunate to be alive. The boy didn’t attack them. He hissed at them and fled out window into the night.”

  “Why was the vampire’s blood in Bodi’s mouth?” I asked.

  “You knew the boy?” His eyebrows rose.

  I nodded.

  “My sympathies, son. For someone to become a vampire, they must partake or drink its blood right before death.”

  I thought back to the night when my father had nearly died. Not only had he been bitten, but his mouth had been filled with blood, too. Momma had never told me whose blood it was. But now I knew. The baron’s blood. That’s why he had come to the cottage. He had wanted to ensure my father died and turned.

  “How much blood does a victim need to drink?” I asked.

  “No one rightly knows.”

  “What if they drank the blood but didn’t die?”

  Father thought for a few moments. “Eventually, it’d work through one’s system, I suppose. Why do you ask?”

  “The baron bit you,” I said.

  Momma frowned and shook her head at me.

  Out of reflex, he placed his hand to his neck, feeling for the scars. None were found. He looked at Momma. “You used holy water?”

  She nodded.

  “Your mouth was filled with blood. All she had told me was that it wasn’t yours. I had thought you had suffered internal bleeding and it was your blood.”

  He placed his hands upon his upper thighs. “I suffered a brutal assault. There’s no doubt about it. Had I died and been turned, these injuries wouldn’t still be healing. They’d have already healed.”

  “But you’ve never suffered from pain,” I said. “Even now.”

  Father smiled and glanced toward my mother. “Your mother has strong healing herbs.”

  Some time later, Jacques informed me that the roots he had given my mother produced a tea capable of blocking severe pain for several weeks, which was good for someone with injuries as bad as my father’s. Although it wasn’t responsible for his coma, it did prevent constant inadvertent pain spasms, which prolonged recovery. Jacques had also mentioned that for anyone without physical trauma who drank the tea felt no pain. It temporarily deadened a person’s pain receptors. Quite possibly the person could endure such damage that mentally he might believe himself invincible and keep fighting long after he should have been incapacitated.

  “Do you remember how you suffered all of this?”

  “I’ll get to that. But back to Bodi.”

  I nodded. “They hired you to kill their son, a child?”

  Father closed his eyes and swallowed hard. Tears formed at the edges of his eyes. “They made a proposal, and I promptly declined. I couldn’t do it, Forrest. He was a vampire, yes, but in appearance, he was still a boy.”

  Seeing tears in my father’s eyes was rare. The thought of what they had requested continued to haunt him.

  “In desperation, they doubled their offer. I walked outside of the tavern where we had agreed to meet onto the cobblestone street. The boy’s mother ran after me, begging, pleading, with tears in her eyes. They couldn’t stand the thought of their son living a life of the damned. Since you were the same age as he, I put myself into their position. What if you were the one bitten and transformed? I wondered what I would do.”

  Tears streamed down my mother’s face as the same thought ran through her mind.

  Father reached over and clasped my hand under his. He whimpered, something I’d never heard from him. “Son, it was a horrid emotional struggle to consider suc
h a thing happening to you, but even after weighing it for a long time, I still was unable to come to the conclusion they had. I couldn’t do it, Forrest. Even if you became a vampire, I couldn’t kill you. I just couldn’t. I’d let you kill me, or turn me. But I . . . couldn’t drive a stake through your heart.”

  Momma leaned to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing his forehead. He shook, sobbing.

  I looked away. When I had confronted the same question of what I’d do if my father turned into a vampire, I hadn’t weighed the situation too long before concluding that yes, I would. Perhaps it was different from a parent’s perspective, after nurturing a child and watching him grow into a man. Maybe it was totally different. But my conclusion was based upon my understanding that my father wouldn’t be the man I had known. And he wouldn’t. According to the legends, his soul would have vacated the body. Where it had gone? I haven’t any idea, but according to the cathedral, a vampire was cursed, forbidden to whatever lay in store in heaven, provided that was how one believed.

  My father was a vampire hunter, perhaps not born under the calling, but he had chosen to become one. For the life of me, I couldn’t understand why Bodi’s parents clearly saw the truth and why my father had overlooked the obvious, based upon his irrational emotional attachment.

  I placed a gentle hand upon my father’s shoulder. He gripped it and kissed it. I wasn’t certain what to do but I finally said, “According to what you and Jacques have disclosed, I’m a vampire hunter. Untrained, but one all the same. But here’s something I must say to you, as it is vitally important for you to understand and never question what I tell you upon this day.”

  Something in my voice had changed, a maturity that he had never heard leave my lips, and he immediately lost his sorrow, staring at me in a new light. I wasn’t the eight year old he had awakened to see. The nature and understanding of a true vampire hunter welled up inside me, slowly consuming me.

  “What is it, Forrest?” he asked.

  “If I’m bitten, and about to become one of the undead, you must kill me.”

  He and my mother gasped.

  “Kill me,” I said sternly. “For I will no longer be your son, no more than Bodi remained the son of his parents afterwards. Absent a soul, what is left but a cursed being? I wouldn’t be Forrest, the child you have reared, but something evil and sinister and bloodthirsty. Something that would kill to feed and have no remorse or second thought about its victims. So tell me something, Father. Is Bodi still alive?”

  Father looked away. Shame replaced his sorrow.

  “John?” Momma said.

  “He is. I regret to say that he is.”

  “So you refused to kill him?”

  My father shook his head. “No, actually, after a couple of days, I took their offer.”

  “What changed your mind?” I asked.

  “Bodi started killing his other classmates. The ones that had bullied him before he met you I suppose.”

  “Those killings had to be during the week I was dismissed.”

  He nodded.

  I closed my eyes, partially angry with myself and angry with the school for not protecting Bodi before I had enrolled. “And why didn’t you kill the small vampire?”

  My father stared straightforward, remembering. “I had gone into the city, son, after sunset, to the old cemetery. That’s where the boy’s parents had last seen him. Even they had sharpened sticks into stakes, intent on stopping his needless slaughter. They didn’t want any more children killed by their son.

  “Apparently there was a gargoyle statue on the edge of the cemetery that Bodi was attracted to. And that’s where I saw him. He was standing upon tiptoe, rubbing the outline of its hideous face. When I saw him, he was much smaller than I imagined him to be.”

  I nodded. “He was tiny.”

  “So little and fragile. With his back to me, he looked so innocent, like he couldn’t harm a gnat. Had I snuck up and staked him through the heart from behind, the task would have been done. But understand, I didn’t feel right about that. I’ve never done that to an adult vampire. Not that they deserve a fighting chance, but at least the person should witness his executioner.”

  He sighed and wiped tears from beneath his eyes.

  “But I was wrong. When that little boy turned around with a face more hideous than the gargoyle, I froze. I never expected such evil on the face of a child. He was a pure image of what being cursed means. He was vicious. More vicious than some of the older vampires I had hunted and killed. The only reason he didn’t kill me when he flung himself at me was because of the silver cross I had tucked inside my vest. His cheek pressed against it, burning his face. For some reason, the cross burned me at the same time.”

  I nodded. “We saw the scar.”

  “The little terror shrieked and tore off into a sprint down a dark alley. I took off after him, but he was faster than any child I’d ever seen, especially one that small. Midway down the alley was a gas-lit streetlamp. Bodi was too far ahead for me to catch, but I noticed a gentleman step to the curb, and the child was headed in his direction.”

  “The baron?”

  “Baron Randolph, yes. I shouted for him to stop the child. Foolish request, now that I think about it, to put another person in jeopardy by grabbing a vampire, but I was desperate. But it didn’t matter. I didn’t know he was a vampire, too, not until I got to him.

  “Bodi slowed and turned, stopping right behind the baron. I came running, breathing too hard to talk, and noticed the burnt flesh upon the boy’s cheek. There was anger in the baron’s eyes as he regarded me. The child placed his hand against his blisters, making a pitiful face that made me feel guilty.”

  “What did you do once you got to the baron?” I asked.

  “I explained quickly that the boy was a vampire and I was a hunter, that his parents had hired me to stake the child. While I pointed at the child, almost pleading for the baron’s aid, it was then I noticed Randolph’s fangs. His rich blue eyes turned crimson. His features darkened. I went for a dagger hidden in my coat pocket, but he gripped me by the throat and peered into my eyes. My body grew flaccid.”

  My father looked distance. His lips quivered slightly as he recalled that nightmarish night.

  “He compelled you?” I asked.

  “He must have,” Father replied. “For a few moments at least.”

  “What do you remember next?”

  “A dark room within a series of catacombs,” he said.

  “His lair perhaps?”

  “I think so.”

  “How did you escape?”

  He swallowed hard, his eyes darting back and forth as his memory reeled. “Not easily, as you could see by my injuries.”

  “I realize that. The baron inflicted all of these injuries upon you?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “When I had awakened, I was chained to a pillar and my hands were tied above me head. Bodi was the one who slashed the wounds across my chest and stomach. He and several older vampires fed on my blood, for a day or so, at my best estimate. Hard to know for certain as I faded in and out of consciousness. But they didn’t seem to want to kill me quickly. The boy enjoyed drawing pain and blood from me, and the baron allowed it, appeasing Bodi.”

  “You never suspected the baron was a vampire until that night?” I asked.

  “No, it was a total shock. I doubt anyone other than the ones inside his lair even suspect what he really is. He’s always been a prominent figurehead, even amongst those with higher authority. He must use his intoxicating charisma to make others fawn over him. That’s one of the most dangerous aspects powerful vampires have. They charm others into doing whatever they bid.”

  I nodded. “He tried it with me, but it didn’t work.”

  Father frowned. “How do you know he attempted to charm you?”

  “It’s difficult to explain, but when he confronted me that night, I sensed his power. It tugged at me, trying to make my yield, but I think the dagger’s blessin
g gave me the power to resist. At least that’s what Jacques suggested.”

  “Neither Jacques nor I would rightly know, son. Once I’m healed and able to walk, I need to find a real hunter to train you.”

  I smiled and squeezed his shoulder. “I’m certain you can train me quite well.”

  “The basics but nothing more.”

  I brought our conversation back. “Is Randolph the vampire that turned Bodi?”

  “I’m not certain, but he highly favored Bodi.”

  “In what way?”

  My father grinned. “Much in the same way a grandparent spoils a child. He let the little tyrant do whatever he wanted. For a small child, he was overly violent and hostile. He held so much anger.”

  “He had been picked on and ridiculed a lot by others due to his tiny size.”

  “Well, he unleashed his anger and directed it toward me. I was his object of aggression.”

  “Since you were in the baron’s lair, how did you manage to escape?” I asked.

  “By accident, I suppose. You see, during some of the times I faked being unconscious I learned that the baron wanted to kill me, but Bodi pleaded for him not to.”

  “Why?”

  Father shrugged. “I really don’t know since I was responsible for the cross shape on his cheek. Maybe I reminded him of a family member. I have no idea. The baron explained in order for me to be spared, Bodi needed to be the one to attend to me, and that meant cleaning my wounds every day. He explained if the injuries weren’t attended to, infection would set in, and I’d die anyway. Bodi agreed. At that point, my legs were fine. The major injuries were the cuts on my upper body where they had cut me to feed.”

  He paused to drink some water. His hand shook. “And here’s where Bodi’s tiny size worked in my favor. Since I was chained too high for him to reach all of my cuts, the taller vampires held him to collect my blood into a chalice.

  “After they had fed from me during another session where Bodi had caused me immense pain, another vampire lowered me, thinking I had fallen unconscious so the boy would clean my wounds. Bodi tended to stop his torture whenever I became lifeless. I suppose he lost the exhilaration if I weren’t screaming. Once I had caught onto that, I overly displayed the pain and dropped to silence, drooping my head forward and closing my eyes.”