Forrest Wollinsky: Vampire Hunter [Book One]

by Leonard D. Hilley II

  I hurried to the next room where my father stood waiting. He gave a smile. “Pretty young lady, eh?”

  “She is,” I agreed with a blush and a slight smile.

  “She seems interested in you.”

  “I’m too young, Father.”

  “Perhaps, right now,” he said. “But there’s always the future.”

  I thought it an odd statement, given that she had been divining my fortune and future. Both seemed bleak, and if the glass ball gave her any further insight, she’d know exactly what I presumed to be true.

  “Don’t worry, son. Your mind will mature to a better understanding about ladies. There’s time ahead in your favor.”

  I liked his optimism. However, I didn’t hold the same hope. I never would.

  He gave me a reassuring smile. “There’s someone meant for everyone in the world. You simply have to find them. That’s the most difficult part.”

  I doubted his statement. Even before some of the things Rose had revealed to me, I expected to live a lonely life. Tragedy sought me. I didn’t intend to ever pull someone else into the agony of my personal life. Perhaps my mind was being overly dramatic about the dismal future I walked toward, but I didn’t envision a cheery domestic lifestyle. If I was doomed to live a long life, it wasn’t filled with many good things. I’d be alone.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Father led me through the adjoining room and into a narrow hallway. At the end of the hallway, which was eerily dark, a rickety staircase led downward to where there was no light at all. From the top of the stairs there wasn’t any way of knowing how far they descended or what they led to.

  I looked at my father with uncertainty.

  He shrugged with raised eyebrows and extended his hand for me to lead.

  Was this some kind of initiation? I wondered.

  I took a slightly uneasy breath and headed down. Once enveloped by the shadows, my hand rested upon the hilt of my dagger. I didn’t know what lie before us, but if anyone thought it was in good jest to suddenly shout and lunge toward me from down below, the person would be severely injured or dead because I’d take any advance as an attack, regardless. In this darkness, I wasn’t about to risk my life or my father’s, especially after seeing the brood of vampires in the slums. My father had brought me here for a serious purpose, and it dealt with my fate. I wasn’t here to play any games.

  The stairs must have led downward two stories. It seemed an unnecessarily long walk. I walked directly into the closed door. My hands slid along the cold metal door for several moments as I searched for a knob or handle. All my hands eventually found was a keyhole.

  “You have to knock,” my father said in a whisper. “There’s no doorknob.”

  I pounded three times on the door. On the other side of the door, metal scraped sharply, loudly.

  At the top of the stairs, Rose said, “Forrest! Wait! Don’t go in there. I have some urgent news for you!”

  Engulfed inside the darkness, I looked back, trying to see her. The door swung open in an instant, a stern hand grabbed my arm, and yanked me through. My father was pulled through as well.

  Before the door slammed closed, Rose made one more frantic shout, “Forrest, no!”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Rose is an animated one,” the man said with a deep voice. He wore a hooded robe and held a lantern in his hand. Other than his lantern, the room was cloaked in darkness, preventing me from seeing his face.

  He lowered a long iron slat into its bracket to further secure the door. Then he lowered two more flat iron bars into place. Not only was the door locked, it was braced by three iron slats. It seemed to be quite a lot of reinforcement. My father and I had no quick retreat from this room.

  My hand returned to my dagger. Although I didn’t feel threatened, I wanted to be prepared, just in case.

  I didn’t look at the lantern, but I watched the cloaked man in its glow. I had learned by watching the flames in our hearth during the dead of night that once I glanced away, my vision became shadowed by the outline of the bright flame, distorting my view. It was best to watch the target and not the light.

  “I know what you seek,” he said softly. “And I’ve been expecting you since around two weeks ago.”

  “Why?”

  “Come,” he said. “Let’s sit for a while.”

  He turned. My father and I followed the lantern’s glow. As he walked, the light revealed shelves filled with old dusty tomes. My interest immediately was drawn to these books full of wisdom. Even though the man had not properly introduced himself, I found myself wishing to spend time with him and delve into his shelved world of knowledge. Few things I ever coveted in life, but books were my foremost desire, far greater than their weight in gold.

  He led us to a small table near the center of the room. After we sat down, he lit a long match and walked around, lighting candles set in all four corners of the room. Two of the walls were floor to ceiling bookcases. Another wall had various woodcarving tools on a thick wooden table with saws and chisels hanging on the wall behind the table. An unlit lantern set there as well.

  There were no windows, and the room seemed to be at least a couple stories beneath the city, which I thought quite odd. After the sulfur smell of the match faded, another scent dominated. A musty smell permeated the room; a smell that came only from aged tomes.

  Once the candlewick flames grew higher, my eyes scanned up and down the rows of books. I must have smiled because after our robed host sat down, he said, “You have a hunger for knowledge, do you?”

  “I do.”

  My eyes continued to roam the shelves. Most of the books didn’t have engraved titles on the spines, but those that did indicated the books told of the occult, the dark arts, and the creatures that ruled the night.

  “That’s good. The greater a man’s knowledge, the better equipped he is, inside and out. Such holds true for women as well. My daughter has probably read every volume contained inside this room. Some of them twice. She might fancy your company, should she discover your love for these tomes.”

  My father said, “I think she already does.”

  “Does she now?” the man asked. His voice rose with amusement.

  My father nodded and opened his mouth to speak.

  “Why did you say that you’ve been expecting me?” I interrupted, before I found myself betrothed.

  He waved a hand in the air. “Spirits have spoken to me and told me that a novice vampire hunter has been issued forward. For the past few days, I thought perhaps I had misheard. Has something delayed your arrival?”

  I shrugged. “I had no forewarning to come.”

  “It is I,” my father said. He briefly explained the baron’s attack and how much time it had taken for my father to heal from his critical injuries.

  “Ah,” he said. “It seems we have a common foe. Thus, the prompting of your issuance, young man. No matter, I heeded the voice and have already prepared a hunter’s box for you.”

  “May I ask your name,” I said. “Or is that a mystery I am forbidden?”

  “My apologies,” he said. He lowered his hood. His hair was dark, possibly brown or brownish-red, but in the dim lighting, I couldn’t be certain. His skin was pale, paler than his daughter’s, and there were dark spots on his face. Not freckles. Scars perhaps? His eyes were dark, unlike Rose’s, and his face had no facial hair. “I am Roy. We moved here from Ireland after the reconstruction began due to the great famine in our homeland. My wife, Rose’s mother, passed away two years ago.”

  Sadness hollowed his eyes. He rose from his chair and walked to his woodworking table. He grabbed the handle of a wooden box, much like my father’s, and heaved it off of the table, returning to us and setting it before us.

  The hinges reflected polished silver in the lantern’s glow. Two crosses were engraved in little silver squares at the outer edge of the case. Unlike my father’s box, this one was constructed out of a dark, rich mahogany. My initials were engraved at
the bottom of the case between the hinges. FW.

  I glanced at my father. “Did you already give my name to him?”

  He shook his head.

  “I told you,” Roy said. “The spirits informed me. I was given precise instructions on how and what exactly I needed to build for you. Open it.”

  I stared at the dark box for a few moments, intimidated by what I might discover once I looked inside.

  “Go on, son,” my father said with a proud smile.

  I stood and looked down at the chest. Unlatching the two well-oiled clasps, I rested my fingers at the outer sides of the top half of the box. Warmth welcomed me. Slowly, I lifted the lid. My heartbeat thumped harder inside my chest. Excitement rose inside me, much like the first night when I opened my father’s box, but this time the sensation was stronger. The box and its contents were bestowed unto me and whatever Roy had blessed his handiwork with, the power leapt toward me.

  The hairs on the back of my neck and my hands stiffened. Chill bumps prickled up my arms and down my back.

  “Don’t be uneasy about taking anything out,” Roy said. “From this day forward the box is yours should you choose to take it.”

  “I’d rather not disturb the contents just yet, if you don’t mind,” I replied. I shut the lid and refastened the clasps. I remembered the sensations that had run through me when I held the tools of my father’s box. These feelings I didn’t wish to undergo until I was alone. I didn’t understand why, but I felt like that should be a private moment for me because energy pulsed from the items, almost pleading for me to use them.

  “Is there a problem, son?”

  “No, sir.” I glanced from him to Roy. “What is the price for this?”

  My father withdrew his billfold from his vest pocket.

  “It is a gift,” Roy said. “One that you cannot buy with gold or money.”

  “This was expensive to fashion,” I replied. “As were the stakes inside. You must have spent weeks carving the stakes and properly fitting the box compartments together.”

  “The time crafting these wasn’t a sacrifice, Forrest; not when we’re fighting the undead.” There was hardness in his gaze and coldness in his voice. “You’ve been predestined to kill the vampires, and I am a handworker crafting the proper tools as I have been instructed. Consider this a gift, a token, for what I pray will protect your life while you eradicate the cursed undead.”

  “I cannot take these for free.”

  “My daughter,” he said, clasping his spotted hands together while resting his elbows on the table. “She’s exceptional at reading the cards and telling fortunes. There is a strict tradition for those who master reading the cards. Someone gifts a deck of cards to you, usually handed down by a parent, aunt, or a close relative. You don’t buy a set. Rose received her mother’s cards when her mother died. We believe that a bit of the person’s former power remains with the cards, even after death, and unseen guidance provides additional aid in telling a new generation’s fortune.”

  “Are you also a hunter?” I asked.

  Roy shook his head.

  “Then I do not understand how your comparison relates.”

  “Quite simply, I have been given an ability to fashion killing tools. Since you didn’t handle or examine any of the box’s contents, there’s no way that you noticed the carved symbols I’ve delicately engraved in the stakes, nor did you see the other magical rune markers from a long dead culture that the cathedral priests have tried to eradicate. Our battle isn’t simply against the undead, but against those tearing down our heritage and traditions as well, simply because ours doesn’t coincide with theirs. So, while I am not of the chosen lineage as a hunter, I do possess the necessary talents to aid hunters in their pursuits. Because of this, I refuse your money. You cannot purchase what I was blessed to offer as a gift. It was indeed a honor to craft this for you.”

  He smiled.

  I nodded. “Thank you for this special gift. I am humbled to receive such and promise to use it for the duty to which I am called.”

  “You see, Forrest,” he said softly. “That is my payment. That is my reward. A part of me travels with you to kill the vile beasts of the night when physically, I am unable.”

  I sat down. “May I ask you something?”

  “Certainly.”

  “Why have you chosen to lock yourself down here in complete darkness?”

  He stared into my eyes for a few moments, still clasping his hands together. “There are different kinds of darkness. Some evil ones choose to live in darkness, while others like me, are cursed from ever walking in the daylight.”

  I frowned. “What kind of curse?”

  Roy lowered his hands near the lantern’s light and offered a slight shrug. Dark scabs covered the back of his hands and his fingers, much like the spots on his face. “I cannot go into the sunlight without severe consequences. I have no idea why, and the few doctors I’ve seen haven’t a clue as to what’s wrong with me. I blister easily in the sun. Severely at times, so this is the best alternative I know. To hide in a place where the sunlight cannot penetrate.”

  “And your door?” I asked, pointing over my shoulder with my thumb. “You have it secured tighter than a prisoner’s cell.”

  “With these boxes I craft, I have my enemies. I have no luxury here, other than my books, and this place is indeed my prison.”

  “You leave Rose to fend for herself?”

  Roy shook his head. “She’s well capable of defending herself. In ways you and I cannot.”

  “How many of these boxes have you made?” I asked, primarily because I’d like to know how many of my hunting brethren were out there.

  “Four? Five maybe.”

  “That’s not many.”

  “Your kind are few. Besides, I’ll be seeing you again. Over time, you’ll need to have new stakes and other supplies. Of course, you can make stakes yourself in times of need, but mine do have a quality that lasts much longer. As your prowess increases, you will also seek me for better, more unique weapons. I’ve not met a vampire hunter yet that hasn’t innovated a weapon for me to fashion.”

  Father was quiet during my conversation with Roy, and I appreciated it. He didn’t try to undermine me because of my youth. He never really did at any other time either. Often he regarded me based upon my size and not how long I’d been alive.

  “When were you last visited by a hunter?” I asked.

  Roy looked toward the ceiling as his mind thought. “About a day before I felt the need to build your hunter’s box.”

  “Name?”

  “Dominus.”

  My eyes narrowed. “That’s his real name?”

  Roy smiled. “Probably not. But it’s what he goes by.”

  “He lives in Bucharest?”

  “I don’t know exactly where he resides,” he replied. “Why?”

  “I seek the counsel of a vampire hunter.”

  Roy looked toward my father and then back to me. “Can your father not help you?”

  Father cleared his throat. “It was my suggestion to him.”

  “I see,” Roy said. “And why would you persuade your son to do so?”

  “He is chosen. I was not.” Father took a deep breath. “I’m certain Forrest has questions about impulses he senses that I have never felt.”

  I nodded. “I do.”

  Roy eased back in his chair, resting his hands upon his lap. “Vampire hunters are often solitary. Although, they do occasionally hunt in pairs. I’ve heard of trios every now and again, especially when they seek to kill a powerful master. Bucharest could stand a good cleansing. The vampire population is almost as bad as vermin.”

  “I took Forrest through the slums this morning.”

  “Then he has seen the growing infestation,” Roy said.

  “I have,” I replied.

  My father leaned forward on the table. “You mentioned that the baron is our common enemy? In what way?”

  “He killed my wife,” Roy said
evenly.

  We all remained silent for several minutes. Finally, I said, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Yes,” Father said. “My condolences as well.”

  Roy looked at me sternly. “Whatever you do, never tell Rose.”

  “She doesn’t know?”

  He shook his head and looked away. “I’m sure if she wanted the knowledge about how her mother had actually died, she could seek the guidance of her powers. Perhaps she knows and wishes to spare me, thinking I don’t know.”

  I placed my hand upon the hunter’s box. “Baron Randolph will die from one of these stakes you’ve carved.”

  Roy’s eyes widened. “Forrest, no. I appreciate the sentiment. I do. But a master vampire is well outside your league currently. You’ve never killed a vampire, have you?”

  “No, I haven’t. But I didn’t say when I’d seek to kill the baron, but I will be the one to deliver his death. He attacked my father, nearly killed him, and had Father died, he’d have turned into one of the undead. If you know where I can find Dominus, please tell me.”

  Roy ached with pain inside. It was evident on his face. Perhaps it stemmed from his wife’s death, and some remorse possibly came by revealing the vampire responsible for killing her, which now was a common thread between us. He might have even feared that I’d die prematurely based upon my sudden zeal, and if so, he’d be partly to blame for my death.

  “Dominus, from what I’ve been told, frequents the eastern graveyard at midnight on Saturdays, killing stray vampires on the day of the risen.”

  I nodded. “Thanks.”

  “Do note that he’s a brazen and hardened individual. He has killed a great number of vampires. His eyes are dark like coal and his face has many scars. He’s quiet most of the time, so I don’t know how much he will tell you. Can’t get him to carry on a conversation with me. He leaves a list with me and comes back days later to fetch it. I wish you peace and safety.”