Emily Shadowhunter - Book 1: VAMPIRE HUNTER

by Small Dog Publishing

  Emily shook her head. ‘No way. What if I don’t want to leave?’

  Bart smiled. ‘Really? You want to live in the asshole of nowhere for the rest of your life. Three hundred miles from the nearest neighbor, with only a bi-annual trip into the city of Anchorage for entertainment?’

  ‘Well, no. I would like to go someplace. See the world. But I also don’t want to leave.’

  ‘Can’t do both, my sweetheart. Because the only way to get someplace is by leaving someplace else.’

  ‘True,’ admitted Emily. ‘And exactly where would this someplace else be? And when?’

  ‘Well, the Olympus Foundation world headquarters are currently in London, England,’ answered Bart, ‘And as for when,’ he glanced at his watch.

  ‘Whoa,’ interrupted Emily. ‘What’s with the whole, looking at the watch thing? When I asked I expected you to look for a calendar. What are we talking? Hours or days?’

  Bart had the grace to look embarrassed. He shook his head. ‘Not hours.’

  ‘So days then?’

  As Emily spoke she heard the dull thump-thump-thump of an approaching helicopter. She jumped up and ran to the window to see a black Bell Jet Ranger cruising in over the tree tops. It flared out at the last moment and landed outside their house, kicking up a vast cloud of snow as it did so.

  She turned to Bart. ‘Now? You gotta be kidding me.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Ryoko. ‘We couldn’t say anything until your eighteenth birthday. Just in case your powers did not display. The Foundation had agreed that, if we didn’t contact them then they would be here mid morning to pick you up. For your own safety. You need to learn how to control your powers.’

  ‘Also,’ interjected Bart. ‘Now that you’re a bona fide Shadowhunter, you might find yourself in some danger. It’s a big “might”, but we didn’t want to take a chance.’

  Emily didn’t know how to react. She was pissed off that such a momentous thing had just been sprung on her with no warning. She was also excited that she was going to London. Yet, at the same time she was nervous as all hell. And she was upset at the prospect of leaving the only people that she had known throughout the last few years.

  However, as was her usual habit, she decided to suck it up and simply attack the whole thing head on.

  ‘Right. I suppose that I’d better get packed then.’

  Bart grinned. ‘That’s my girl,’ he said proudly.

  Emily went back to her bedroom, followed closely by Ryoko…

  …And now, after three connecting flights, she was on her way to London, England and the headquarters of the Olympus Foundation.

  Her initial excitement had long since evaporated to be replaced with both trepidation and a not-small dose of genuine fear.

  Sometimes life just sucks, she said to herself as the hostess approached and put her meal on her fold down table. Lobster thermidor with French fries and spring vegetables.

  Emily smiled to herself. Yep, sometimes life does suck, she repeated. But when you’re flying first class then sometimes it sucks just a little bit less.

  Chapter 2

  A tall man dressed in a chauffeur’s outfit complete with cap, was waiting for Emily when she came out of arrivals. He was holding a sign with her name written on it in beautiful gothic script. Emily Hawk.

  She walked up to him, carrying her one and only bag.

  ‘Hi,’ she said, holding her hand out. ‘I’m Emily.’

  He didn’t acknowledge her hand or her greeting but simply turned slowly and started to walk towards the exit. Emily shrugged and followed.

  Outside, parked in the no stopping zone, was a Rolls Royce Silver Wraith. The chauffer walked over to it. As they approached a young man got out of the car. Maybe early to mid twenties.

  He was dressed in casual but ultra expensive gear. All of it the same shade of midnight black. Gucci Sneakers. Levi vintage jeans, Valentino t- shirt and an Elder Statesmen cashmere hoodie. At least $6000 worth of designer clothing. Emily didn’t get out much but she did have a computer and spent a lot of time online. Vogue, Elle, Iconique. And although she didn’t actually remember reading about the man’s exact ensemble, she obviously had. Because she knew what each item was, as well as its retail value and where one would shop for the items. It was like her new found abilities had provided her with instant access to everything that she had ever seen or read. Talk about information overload, she thought to herself. I’ve become a walking version of Google.

  The man scowled at the chaffer before he spoke, his voice well modulated but obviously used to command.

  ‘Phineas,’ he said. ‘Help Miss Emily with her bag, this instant.’

  The chauffer stopped mid stride, turned on his heel and snatched Emily’s holdall from her before continuing to the Rolls and placing in the trunk.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ said the young man. ‘He’s an adequate driver but his social graces are far from exemplary.’

  He walked up to Emily, his hand outstretched in greeting.

  Emily took in the rest of him, the person beyond the clothes. Blond hair, cut short on the sides with a bit of length and some volume on the top. Carefully styled to look as if it hadn’t been styled at all. A hint of stubble on his chin. Eyes a bright summer-sky blue. Teeth as white as hotel sheets. Maybe two inches taller than her, which put him at five nine or ten. A gymnast’s body. Moved with confidence and grace.

  For some reason the mere sight of him irritated her. Too much confidence, too much money and simply…too much.

  But he seemed friendly and Emily wasn’t long on friends at the moment so she took his hand and shook it.

  ‘Emily, I’m so pleased to meet you,’ he said enthusiastically as he shook her hand. ‘My name’s Nathan Tremblay, I believe that we’re from the same neck of the woods.’

  ‘Umm...Alaska?’

  ‘Well, Canada actually. But practically neighbors.’

  Yeah, thought Emily. Give or take four thousand miles or so.

  Nathan opened the door and ushered her in.

  Emily settled into the plush soft leather seat and stretched her legs out in front of her, marveling at the amount of room in the back of the huge limousine.

  There was a privacy screen in between the passenger seats and the driver, as well as blinds on the windows, reading lights, armrests and a small bar and refrigerator built into the back of the driver’s seat.

  Nathan opened the fridge and took out a pack of protein bars. Twelve of them. He offered the pack to Emily.

  ‘Here, I’m sure that you’re starving. I remember when I first manifested. Body went mental for protein, could have eaten a horse. Don’t worry, it stops after a while. Well, actually, it never stops, but it gets better. The insatiable hunger, I mean.’

  Emily stared at the box of protein bars and then suddenly realized that Nathan was right, she was ravenously hungry. She took out a bar, unwrapped it and took a bite.

  ‘You see,’ the young man continued. ‘Because you’ve just turned, your body is adjusting. Over the next few weeks you’re going to probably double in weight. Maybe even more.’

  Emily flinched ‘Eek – what? Good God, I’ll be huge. That’s awful. I’ll need one of those gross cart things that people use in Walmart so that they can buy their Reece’s Pieces and Pop Tarts to keep topping up their obesity problems.’

  Nathan laughed. ‘No, silly. You’ll stay the same size. Perhaps even drop a size. But the density of your muscles will increase as you get stronger and stronger. You see, the denser you get the heavier you are. I mean denser as in mass, not as in Doh! Not sure what you weigh now.’

  ‘One hundred and thirty two pounds,’ blurted Emily.

  ‘Cool, then I would figure on topping out at around three hundred plus in a few weeks time.’

  Emily shuddered. ‘I’ll be like Baby Huey, grotesque.’

  She opened another bar and hoovered it up without even thinking. After a minute or so she looked down in surprise to see that the box was emp
ty.

  Nathan grinned and handed her another box.

  Emily blushed but opened it and got to chewing.

  ‘Where we going?’ She asked between bites.

  ‘Pankhurst Manor. It’s a huge Victorian pile on the outskirts of London. Mind you, we don’t spend as much time there as we used to, mainly we use it for training. There are so few of us now – tend to rattle around in the old place a little. It’s not like the old days. I tell you, Emily, those were golden days. The manor was full, honored guests, balls. We were all feted by world leaders, great actors and the cognoscenti. Great days indeed.’

  Emily raised an eyebrow. Nathan was talking like some old codger, rambling on about the golden days. The expressions didn’t sit well coming out of such a young mouth.

  She shook her head and slapped her thigh. ‘Well, goldarnit. Dem old days was just peachy keen weren’t they?’ She chuckled.

  Nathan displayed the mere ghost of a smile.

  ‘Oh come on Nathan,’ continued Emily. ‘You sound like someone from one of the old timey movies banging on about the glory days. I mean, hell, what are you, twenty two?’

  Nathan nodded. ‘Almost right. Just put a one in front of the equation.’

  ‘What, twenty three?’

  He laughed. ‘No, actually, I didn’t say add a one. I said put in a one in front of the twenty two.’

  Emily paused for a few seconds. ‘One hundred and twenty two?’

  ‘Spot on, Emily. One hundred and twenty two years old.’

  ‘But that’s impossible.’

  ‘A bit of advice, Emily. You’re going to have to drop the word, impossible, from your vocabulary for a while. Because you’re probably going to see at least two or three impossible things every day from here on in.’

  ‘But one hundred and twenty two?’

  ‘We age slowly.’ Nathan looked her up and down, his expression one of appraisal. ‘So,’ he said. ‘I hope that you’re relatively happy with the way that you look right now, because that’s pretty much how you’re going to look for the next fifty years or so. If we were allowed to live out our natural lives in peace then we’d probably check out at around a millennium. A good one thousand years old.’

  Emily shook her head. ‘Wow,’ she exclaimed. ‘Imagine the size of the cake that you’d need to fit all those candles on.’

  She went to grab another protein bar but the box was finished.

  Nathan handed her another one.

  Chapter 3

  The meeting in the grand hall was almost over. What had needed to be said had been said. Recriminations had been cast where necessary and praise had been given if called for.

  But truth be told, there was little call for praise. After all, the fact of the matter was simple – they had still not found what they had been looking for.

  And after a thousand years of searching, that was simply not good enough.

  It was the first time in almost seventy years that Lord Byron Chelsea had been compelled to call a complete meeting of The House. Obviously he hadn’t gone as far as inviting the Familiars or the over one thousand Grinders. The subject to be discussed was simply way too important for them. And anyway, the Grinders’ brains were too damaged to comprehend what the meeting was about and he was confident that there would be no real danger, so their presence was unnecessary.

  But he had insisted that the rest of the three hundred kindred attend.

  In the vampire hierarchy there are four basic levels of rank. Level I was a mere Familiar. These are humans who are vampire wanabees. Little more than servants. A mixture of men and women who are either looking for power and immortality, or simply loners looking for a place to belong. Some are just idiotic teenagers who think that vamps are cool. Overdosed on a surfeit of Twilight novels to the point that they no longer see the fangs and blood-sucking. Only the suaveness, sophistication and tailored clothes. Basically, idiots. Although they are primarily treated as servants, doing daylight errands like carrying messages, they often simply end up as food. However, sometimes they were rewarded and turned but it is unusual for a vampire to turn anyone without very good reason.

  The vampire virus is carried in the creature’s saliva, so, when one decides to turn a prospect, they simply bite them. It matters not if they kill them in the process as, ultimately, the virus will decide their fate. Some will reanimate and others will either stay dead or die.

  The ones that turn do so in one of two ways.

  Firstly, they either become level II’s. These are lower order vampires.

  The virus doesn’t kill them but it burns them. Their brains are badly damaged and they are left with physical power and speed, longevity, fast healing, but not immortality. They are mere drones with severely impaired mental capacity and a penchant for serious violence.

  Most of the humans that are turned become level II’s. The full vampires refer to these as Grinders.

  Finally, level III’s are successfully turned vamps. These are named as Aspirants. They have access to full powers but have not fully grown into them yet. It takes many hundreds of years for a vampire to mature into his or her powers, such as the ability to glamour, or control people’s minds. When they do, they become level IV’s or Masters.

  Lord Byron was over one thousand years old and was the head of the United Kingdom House. As such he was referred to as a Grand Master.

  In the room before him stood seven of his eight Hydra, or lieutenants, as well as another three hundred brethren.

  Next to him stood his eighth Hydra and his second in command. Radford Cromwell, the head of the Nosferatu Enforcers. The killing arm of the House of Byron. Radford was referred to by all simply as Enforcer and they had done so for the past six hundred years.

  Lord Byron cast his eyes over his assembled kindred. ‘I have spoken,’ he said. ‘We must redouble our efforts. Use your familiars to seek during the day. Take yourselves into the darkness every night. We must not rest until it is found. Now go, my children. Go forth and find that which we seek. For our time approaches. The time of the Nosferatu. The time of the Shadows.’

  Chapter 4

  It took over fifteen minutes for the Rolls to travel from the gatehouse to the actual mansion. And when they arrived, the sight took Emily’s breath away, and not in a good sense.

  The place was like Hogwarts on steroids. It was all towers and flying buttresses and ribbed arches. Intricately mullioned windows sparkled in the wan English sun and literally hundreds of carved grotesques leered down from the roofs and gutters, their faces a panoply of nightmares.

  ‘So,’ said Nathan. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘It’s very…’ Emily searched for the right words, not wanting to offend before she’d even taken her first step out of the car.

  ‘It’s a massive pile of crap,’ said Nathan. ‘Looks like every kiddie’s nightmare wrapped up into one gigantic, cold, gray heap of stone. Made poorer by the fact that it’s no longer full of guests.’

  Emily laughed. ‘Well, I didn’t want to say.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ reassured Nathan. ‘It’s different once you get inside.’

  ‘Oh,’ responded Emily.

  ‘Yeah,’ continued the old young man. ‘It’s worse. Anyway, don’t let me put you off. Let’s go in and meet and greet. Phineas will take care of your luggage.’

  She followed Nathan up the stone stairs to the massive front door where he raised the iron knocker and banged it down a couple of times. The noise echoed through the interior and a few seconds later the door creaked open. Inside stood a man in a dark suit and tie. His eyes were blank and his face devoid of any expression.

  Emily greeted him but he didn’t react, simply stood still holding the door open.

  ‘Oh, don’t worry about him,’ said Nathan. ‘That’s Fergus. I think. Actually, maybe it’s Duncan. Whatever, they don’t talk much so don’t feel like you’re being singled out for the silent treatment. Just ignore him. Come on, follow me, I’ll introduce you to the boss man.’ N
athan walked fast, taking seemingly random corridors and steps. The interior of the mansion was like a maze but, although Emily didn’t know where she was in relation to where they were actually heading, she wasn’t lost. Her mind automatically tracked every turn, every change of direction and every flight of steps. It felt like she had an internal SatNav monitoring and storing her progress.

  ‘Your bedroom is down there,’ said Nathan as he pointed down a corridor. ‘Third door on the left. It’s quite nice actually, on-suite with a great view and a massive fireplace. Got a couple of creepy paintings but nothing that’ll keep you awake, I’m sure. I’ll take you there after you’ve met our esteemed leader. We all stay in this wing of the house, nowadays. The other two residential wings are closed on a permanent basis. No need for them anymore.’

  As Nathan spoke he stopped outside a large door, rapped twice on it and then opened and walked in. Emily followed.

  The room appeared to be a library. The drapes were drawn shut and a few large church candles wavered in the far reaches of the room. The walls were lined with book filled shelves. The ceiling was so high as to be shrouded in shadow, although it was just possible to see that it had been painted with a series of frescos, ala Sistine Chapel. A pair of wheeled ladders leaned against the shelves.

  In the center of the room a large desk was covered in piles of papers and opened books. On the right hand side of the room stood an old man, his back to them as he stared into the fire that burned ferociously in the huge inglenook fireplace. The orange flames provided both warmth as well as most of the light in the room, causing the shadows to dance and flicker about. Shadow puppets without a master.

  The man wore a dark, silk robe and his gray hair lay in a thick pony tail that hung down his back to his waist. It was obvious from the breadth of his shoulders and his upright stance that, although old, he was still fit and strong.

  ‘The purpose of knocking, my dear boy,’ he sniped. ‘Is to wait until the resident of the room gives permission to enter. It is not merely some form of warning that you are about to barge into a man’s inner sanctum.’