by Devon Ashley
“My visions have no concept of time. I see past, present and future. I didn’t know it was gonna happen that night. The only way to differentiate my visions is by age appearance.” She paused, then added sharply, “Forgive me, but vampires don’t age.”
Abby crossed her arms and took two steps forward, reducing the gap between them.
“What do you know about that?”
“More than you would like,” she answered, standing her ground.
“And I take it you told the Order?”
“They don’t know.”
“Really? Cause they seem awfully nervous around me.”
“Gee, I wonder why,” Valerie replied sarcastically. “Maybe they’re recalling why you were kicked out of here.”
Abby didn’t recall getting kicked out of school but she also didn’t remember being here in the first place. She had always thought she was dismissed the same as every other hunter. Noel certainly hadn’t said anything over the years to make her think differently. “What do you mean I was kicked out?”
Valerie’s face froze in confusion. “You’re kidding, right?” she asked suspiciously, expecting another trick.
Annoyed, Abby responded, “Do I look like I’m kidding?”
“You don’t remember?”
“Remember what?” Abby asked impatiently.
In awe, Valerie responded, “You don’t, do you? You’ve actually forgotten.”
Abby’s head was beginning to ache. Perhaps she wasn’t as well rested as she thought. She gently stroked her eyebrows, releasing some of the pain. “Valerie, is it? You probably already know this, being a fortune-teller and all, but let me refresh your memory. I am not a patient person.”
Whether she sensed Abby’s frustration or knew too well how aggravated Abby could become, Valerie waved the white flag and stated, “All right, look. Consider it a blessing you’ve forgotten this part of your history. You’re better off not knowing. In fact, everyone is better off.”
“I’m not ashamed of my history. It’s made me who I am today.”
“That it has,” Valerie said. After a moment of silence and an annoyed expression from Abby, she added, “Fine. If you’re truly determined to go down memory lane, all you have to do is just follow the bloody brick road.” Valerie motioned behind Abby.
She turned and gazed out the window. A pebble path led to a second building faintly visible through the trees. Abby wanted to inquire more about the building, but she didn’t need to turn around to know Valerie had already slipped away.
The sun had set in the horizon, the sky streaked with shades of dark reds, oranges and yellows. The old-fashioned lamp posts had yet to turn on. She wondered if they had even updated them to make them electric. The uneven cobblestone path was in need of repair and so awkward to walk on that she opted for the forest floor instead.
The building wasn’t as old as the manor, its architecture actually resembling something from the Baroque period. The spotlights hit the decorative elements in the walls and overhangs in a way that made the building come to life.
Abby entered through the lobby doors. It was still, no one about. Not surprising since the building clearly housed children. The walls were warm with color and playful decorations. No depictions of gods and demons or weapons were found on these walls - guess they waited till they were older before they exposed them to that.
The first few rooms she passed were classrooms for various ages, from early kindergarten to young teens. Abby couldn’t remember attending classes at any point in time, though she must have attended something sometime, for she knew how to read and write when she left.
Down the hall, through the paneled glass was a nursery. One female infant was resting comfortably in her crib. The symbol of the hunter was on her upper left arm.
Abby stood dazed. Her face saddened. She remembered this room.
The year was 1798. Abby was only four years old. Her red hair was tied back in loose pigtails, her old nightgown worn and discolored.
She quietly snuck through the nursery. Her head eye-level with the baby’s bed, she smiled as the baby cooed and offered its hand through the bars. She gently played with the baby until a nurse entered, yanked her away and pulled her out of the room.
“Abigail, no!” whispered the nurse harshly. “You know you’re not supposed to play with the baby!”
Abby looked back until she passed through the doorway, her face saddened as she reached her other hand out to the baby.
Abby had never remembered anything from this part of her life before. Though she never quite expected her days here were happy, the memory saddened her.
She turned from the nursery and continued down the hall. Her eyes widened as something snatched her lower leg. Sensing the attacker was small, she withheld her natural instinct to swipe and kick it away. She looked down to a pair of the greenest eyes she had ever seen looking up at her brightly. The little redhead couldn’t have been more than four years old, all wide-eyed and excited.
“Momma!” she cried enthusiastically. The little girl squeezed her leg with all her might, unwilling to let go. “Momma, where you go? Becca saw her momma. I miss you!”
Abby didn’t know how to respond. Some time must have passed since the little girl had last seen her mother; enough that she could no longer recognize her. Abby bent down and hugged her. The little girl embraced her tightly.
It was an honest mistake. There was a resemblance with her red hair and freckles. If she had gone long enough without seeing her mother to the point she didn’t know her, Abby was quite certain her mother would not return again.
“I’m here now, sweetie,” Abby told her soothingly.
Abby gently closed her eyes. A tear slipped through. The little girl looked up to her again, face all a grin. “Come momma. Let’s play in Annabella’s room!”
Christmas time. Abby was still only four years old.
She sat in the corner behind the heavily decorated fir tree. Wooden and metal ornaments weighed down the branches. Multi-colored garland was wrapped carelessly around the tree. Tinsel glinted and reflected the candle light.
Abby watched as the other, happier children opened presents with their parents. Her shabby, colorless clothes were drab compared to the other hunters. She had no parents or presents and felt disheartened, but she wouldn’t let them see her cry.
Abby’s advisor, Nathaniel Watts, entered and scanned the room until he spotted her. He reached out his hand for hers.
Rather heartless, he said, “Come, Abigail. Leave the hunters alone with their parents.”
She was reluctant to take his hand, but she never once looked back to see what wasn’t hers.
The little redhead was sound asleep in her bed again. Abby had stroked her head until she was sure she had entered a deeper sleep.
Colorfully painted wooden letters above her bed read Annabella. The room was cheerful and filled with toys to keep her busy, many of which the little girl insisted Abby play with before finally falling asleep.
Abby sighed heavily. Sharp pains were firing in her head again. She took one last look at the little girl and slipped back into the darkness.
Chapter Sixteen
Rain was pounding hard on the skylights above. Lightning and thunderclaps continuously went off. Abby’s doing, no doubt, since the sky was perfectly clear ten minutes ago. Noel was resting on the banister overlooking the arena floor. It was night so the arena had long been abandoned. Most were back in their bedrooms or common rooms.
The skylights above were adorned with artistic metal overlays. The lightning shining through created a picturesque display of shadows that appeared to dance throughout the arena. Noel, however, was not able to observe the demonstration, for his eyes were fixed on the gym on the far side. The double doors had been thrown open, one actually off the hinges, the other smashed and stuck in the drywall behind it.
Abby had found her way there, attacking the punching bag with great fury and consistency. He had an inkling of what
had happened to lead to this display. He knew coming here would unleash suppressed memories that would inevitably lead to this moment. Perhaps sending Abby out to get a feel for Valerie’s motives wasn’t such a good idea after all.
“What the hell is she doing?” cried Emily. Her eyes were wide, her mouth dropped in shock. Abby had always kept this side of her in check when Emily was around.
Noel knew what she was doing, why she was doing it. He expected no less of a reaction than the one they were witnessing. She had, after all, confided in him about everything that had happen to her during her school years. She had long forgotten these chilling memories, but he hadn’t.
Without even looking Emily’s way, he coolly responded, “She’s just working out her issues.”
Eight year old Abby was fighting Nathaniel for the four-foot pole that he twirled in his hands. Her body had been badly beaten. Blood oozed from her head and face. She felt dizzy and nauseous. Previous bruises already black and blue on her arms and legs stung as her advisor continued to inflict more damage.
An additional swing of the wood bashed hard against her head. Knocked off balance, blood splattered as she fell to the cold, hard floor. Her head kissed the concrete. She felt severe pain, then numbness. Though they ached for oxygen, her heart and lungs stood still. It seemed an eternity before she felt the surge that filled her lungs with air again.
“Get up,” Nathaniel grunted forcefully. “Get up!”
Gasping and shaking vigorously, Abby stood on her feet again. She knew if she didn’t, his rage would be merciless. So long as she continued to fight, the day would end with far less damage to her body.
Nathaniel repositioned his attack stance, the pole guarding his body. “Now come on. Take it away from me,” he instructed.
Despite her aches, Abby lunged for the pole. She grasped on but the little girl’s strength was no match for the elder. He twisted the pole over his body, sending her flying over with it. Abby once again smacked the floor, back first, followed by her crimson-soaked hair.
Apathetic, Nathaniel pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped away the smeared blood on the pole and the splatters on his glasses.
“Get up,” he commanded.
Abby’s eyes were closed. A pool of blood formed on the floor, her body lifeless.
Annoyed, Nathaniel called for his assistant Stefan. He placed a smelling salt under her nose and within seconds her body jolted to life. What blood left within her seemed to come up with heaving gags.
“Now, get up,” Nathaniel demanded again.
Abby threw up blood uncontrollably. Pressure increased down her spine, so much she wanted nothing more than for it to snap already and relieve the pressure.
Stefan reached down to assist her but was stopped abruptly by Nathaniel. “No, Stefan. She can do it herself.”
Abby rolled over to her side. She fell every time she tried to rise. One time, two times, three.
“Abigail, I’m not going to say it again!”
Abby failed to rise once more. Down on all fours, she heaved up more blood. The floor swirled shades of red, smeared where Abby had continually slipped. The twirling pattern made the dizziness that much worse.
Nathaniel swiftly kicked her in the side and she collapsed completely to the floor.
“What are you going to do when this situation becomes your reality?” he bellowed. “Do you think a vampire will care that you need to take a time-out?”
He kicked her side again. Abby curled up in the fetal position to protect herself, her arms wrapped around her legs. Nathaniel smashed Abby’s left hand. She screamed in agony as several bones cracked enough to poke indentations through her skin.
“You either get up and fight, or you die!” he yelled.
Trembling, Abby forced herself up with her good hand, constantly swaying back and forth without balance. Her right arm caressed the left, doing what it could to protect it. Irritated, Nathaniel struck her repeatedly.
“Take it! Take the pole from me!”
Defenseless and emotionally defeated, Abby accepted each blow. The fifth went straight to the occipital. She fell lifelessly back to the floor.
Stunned, Emily asked, “Why would they do that? They never did that to anyone from my generation.”
“She was an experiment. They wanted to know if a more torturous training system would produce a more aggressive hunter.” Noel lowered his head in disapproval. “They damaged her. And I don’t mean just physically.”
The year was 1810 and Abby was now sixteen. Lean, athletic, strong - still covered head to toe with bruises and cuts. Nathaniel once again baited her with the pole. To his surprise, she easily avoided his every advance and grasped a firm hold on the pole.
“Abby was traumatized early in life. Seeing her mother murdered, she had something the other hunters didn’t: anger, hatred and no family stopping by to refute the treatment. The Order saw an opportunity and took advantage of it.”
She ripped the pole from Nathaniel’s hands. Fear overcame his face as he looked deep into her eyes. They changed from green to black with a single blink. They were cold, almost evil, and her face was irate.
Nathaniel stepped backwards, stumbling. Abby stalked him step for step, glaring.
“They isolated her, denied her any human affection. All she ever felt was anger and pain. They wanted a hunter that was passionate about the kill. One who would never question the target.”
Backed against the corner, Nathaniel could no longer retreat.
“Abigail?” he asked, unsure, for the black eyes truly frightened him. There was no mistaking what was about to come.
She snapped the pole in two with her knee and aggressively swung at him over and over again. She bashed in every part of his body. As he fell to his knees, blood sprayed profusely around him. Stefan came running to help but she knocked him down with one swift blow to the head.
Disgusted, Noel added, “I guess they got what they asked for. Abby had become nothing more than a non-feeling killing machine.”
Two more advisors rushed to her side, armed with weapons. She knocked them down with the slightest of effort. Both received the splintered wood through their chests.
“The only problem was they could no longer control her.”
Four bodies lay amongst her. She crouched over them, her breath intense and quick. Up in the balcony, out of arms reach, a fifth man shot her in the neck with a tranquilizer dart. She removed it instantly but knew it was too late. The poison had already entered her bloodstream.
Abby looked the man’s way, stared cold-heartedly and took a few steps toward him. Her hand turned fire-red. Instinctively and with the thrust of her arm, a wave of fire rushed towards him. He screamed and flailed about as the fire overwhelmed and consumed him.
Before he could burn to death before her eyes, Abby wobbled and softly dropped to the slick red floor.
“They then feared what they tried so hard to create.” Noel huffed and cocked a half-smile. “Do you want to know what the only amusing part of this story is?”
Emily looked like she was going to be sick, taking on a putrid shade of green. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
“Of all the hunters to brutally traumatize and turn against them, they picked their precious ordained one.” He chortled softly.
“What?” Emily burst disbelievingly.
“She didn’t tell you?”
Dumbfounded, Emily replied, “She seemed to have left that part out.”
They fell into silence, watching helplessly as Abby’s aggression finally caused the bag to fall out of the ceiling. Still red and furious, she picked up a chair and began smashing the mirrors throughout the room.
“How long did that go on for? What they did to her?”
“Thirteen years. Every day she was beaten, starved, belittled.”
The unexpected noise late at night echoed down the halls and aroused the attention of many hunters and advisors. All were appalled as they stepped up to watch Abby destroy t
he room from the safety of the balcony or across the arena floor. He looked to the rain above, still going loud and strong. It was surprising they could even hear her inside destruction over the one she was causing outside.
The Chancellor leaned into Noel and said quietly, “I would like to speak to you privately in my office.” The Chancellor walked away and left the others behind to watch.
Under his breath, Noel replied, “Yeah, I bet you would.”
Chapter Seventeen
Moore was situated in the recliner in his private suite, quietly reading a novel when he thought he heard a faint crash. Concerned, he wrapped his heavy cotton robe around his silk pajamas and quickly followed the sound of what he thought to be breaking glass. As he neared the end of the hall, several of his fellow advisors and charges had already gathered in an attempt to learn the source of the commotion.
The sight before his eyes was shocking, and intolerable. Abigail had destroyed the workout room beyond recognition. It was surprising, considering the injuries she had a few days earlier. Yet, here she was, suffering no physical ailments of any kind.
He leaned in behind Noel and quietly told him, “I would like to speak to you privately in my office.” Without waiting for a reply, Moore turned and left.
Too many things were wrong with that girl. Her unknown source of longevity, her incomparable strength to the other hunters, her ability to heal so quickly and the strong hold she seemed to have developed over Emily. But most disturbing of all was her erratic behavior, for this, he knew could be fatal. He truly feared for the safety of those around her.
Moore was behind his desk when Noel finally graced him with his presence. He didn’t bother to knock or have the respect to sit down. Instead he browsed the bookcase like every other sporadic visitor to his office.
Annoyed, Moore asked, “Do you have any control over your hunter?”
“Absolutely not,” he replied light-heartedly. He seemed proud of that realization.
He firmly stated, “Your huntress cannot come here and destroy private property. I won’t stand for it.”