Emily Shadowhunter - Book 1: VAMPIRE HUNTER

by Small Dog Publishing

  For the next four hours Bastian grilled Emily in the art of Capoeira, starting with the Ginga, a constant dancing motion that keeps the capoeirista in regular movement, making them a frustrating target for a forward-advancing opponent. Then he moved on to the various striking and defensive techniques, working her hard until her whole body was covered in ugly black bruises.

  After four hours they all stopped for lunch, trooping off to the dining room where mountains of food awaited them. Breads, fruit, whole roasted chickens, rice, potatoes and pulses.

  Nathan sat next to Emily and ensured that she had enough to eat and drink.

  ‘Bastian working you hard, I see.’

  Emily nodded. ‘I look like I’ve been in a major automobile accident,’ she quipped. ‘I don’t think that there’s a square inch of my body that hasn’t got a bruise on it.’

  ‘There might be,’ interjected Lyle as he leered at Emily. ‘Perhaps you should strip down and I’ll check for you.’

  ‘Shut it, fat boy,’ growled Piet.

  ‘Up yours,’ grunted Lyle as he shoved a whole potato in his mouth.

  ‘Don’t worry about the physical damage,’ said Nathan. ‘We all heal up real quick. By tomorrow morning there won’t be a mark on you. In a few weeks time, once you’ve fully changed, the bruises will heal almost instantly. Even deep cuts and bone breaks will mend in minutes.’

  ‘Cool,’ responded Emily. ‘Will it still hurt like it does now?’

  ‘Like buggery,’ affirmed Nathan. ‘We heal but we still feel pain just like anyone else. Mind you, the density of our muscle makes it much harder to hurt us. You’ll find that something that would slice into a normal person will barely deliver more than a shallow cut.’

  When they had finished eating they headed back to the dojo.

  All accept for Lyle who stayed seated as he crammed another chicken down, followed by almost a gallon of freshly squeezed orange juice. Piet slapped the fat man on the back of his head as he walked past him but Lyle didn’t even react, so entranced was he by his food.

  Bastian walked next to Emily. ‘For the rest of the day I want you to train with Piet,’ he said. ‘He’s the best when it comes to weapons. Blades, staffs, throwing stars, that type of thing.’

  ‘What about firearms?’

  ‘No. Karl is the firearms expert. You can spend time with him tomorrow.’

  ‘Okay. If you are the combat expert, Piet is the weapons guy and Karl is firearms – what is Josephine?’ Asked Emily.

  ‘Tech geek,’ answered Bastian. ‘I mean, she can fight pretty good but she’s beyond awesome when it comes to computers and such. You’ve gotta watch her though,’ he continued. ‘She’s a sandwich or two short of a picnic basket. Very emotional, goes off for everything and anything. So we try to keep her out of the field.’

  ‘And dare I ask what Lyle excels at?’

  ‘Strength. Bong belly boy is stronger than any two of us put together. Even Big Piet. I mean, Lyle is one of life’s genuine assholes but he’s good to have around in a fight. Like the hulk but without the green skin or the social graces.’

  Emily grinned. ‘Fair enough.’

  When they got back to the dojo she paired up with Piet. He started her with a Bo. A six foot long, heavy Red Oak staff that was held with two hands and used as a spear, a sword and a staff. Then they moved onto swords, especially the katana, a traditional Japanese Samurai weapon. After that they progressed to nunchuks, shuriken, throwing knives and sling shots.

  Emily had trained with all of the weapons before but the South African Shadowhunter brought a level of skill and expertise to their handling that transcended normality. It was as if every weapon was an extension of him. Another appendage as opposed to a separate weapon.

  After four hours with him she was ready to drop from exhaustion. Piet finally stopped, collected the weapons up and nodded his approval. ‘You’re good,’ he said. ‘Well done.’

  ‘I don’t feel good,’ returned Emily. ‘I feel clumsy and uncoordinated. Like a beginner.’

  Piet laughed. A gruff sound more like a dog’s growl than an affirmation of amusement. ‘Trust me,’ he said. ‘Right now, you are superior to any other human being in the world.’

  ‘What about you?’ Questioned Emily. ‘And the other Shadowhunters? And the vamps?’

  ‘I said Human Beings,’ answered Piet as he turned away. ‘Now come on, let’s go and eat.’

  Chapter 7

  The next ten days were pretty much the same.

  They woke early, ate, went to the dojo and then, as far as Emily was concerned, people took turns beating her up.

  Except for one morning when she was told to train with Lyle.

  It surprised her. She was expecting a morning of sexual innuendo, crass comments and self importance. Instead, Lyle put her through a physical training routine that brought with it a new respect for the fat man. For all of his bravado he obviously worked hard at building his strength and Emily learned a lot about how to train to maximum efficiency, building both power and endurance.

  At the end of the session she thanked Lyle and patted him on the back in a show of camaraderie.

  ‘Oh ho,’ he responded. ‘Look who’s trying to get close up and physical with the big man. Join the cue, girl,’ he continued. ‘But don’t fear, there’s enough of Lyle to go around no matter how many of you there are.’

  Emily shook her head. ‘You know, Lyle, you’re a complete half-wit.’

  The fat man blew a massive raspberry and left the dojo to look for a snack.

  On the last of the ten days, Karl took her to the underground shooting range for her morning training.

  The German laid out a selection of firearms on the table in front of the targets. Emily was familiar with most of the usual makes and calibers of handguns but she had to admit that many of the weapons on the table were outside her area of prior knowledge.

  Karl pointed as he explained. ‘Desert Eagle, 50 cal auto pistol, Glock 10mm, Thunder Twelve shotgun revolver, Fostech semi-auto shotgun.’ He picked up a handful of mixed ammunition.

  ‘Note that all of the rounds are silver tipped. Or, in the case of the shotguns, pure silver. You’ll also see that we don’t bother with the smaller caliber weapons, 9mm, 38 specials and the like. If you’re hunting for blood suckers, you need loads of muzzle velocity to take them down.

  My preference is the Desert Eagle. You might prefer the Glock.

  Slightly smaller handle. Easier fit. Also a bit easier to conceal. The shotguns are a little bulky, even the Thunder Twelve but we only use those if we’re going on an overt mission. Full scale attacks on a headquarters or such. Right,’ he slapped a magazine into one of the Glocks and wracked the slide. ‘Let’s boogie. Show me what you’ve got.’

  Emily took the weapon and hefted it a couple of times to get the feel. She knew that Glock had an internal safety, so all she had to do was point and pull. She looked downrange at the man shaped silhouette target, picked the pistol up and squeezed off a round. The slug went through the center of its head.

  Quickly she burned off the rest of the rounds, banging off all fifteen in fewer than three seconds. Every shot struck the target in the head. It was exceptional shooting and she couldn’t help but grin with satisfaction as she placed the empty pistol back on the table.

  Karl nodded and picked up another two fully loaded Glocks, one in each hand. Then he faced the target and blazed away, pulling the triggers faster than seemed humanly possible. A veritable storm of silver tipped lead tore through the target. As each weapon’s slide racked back he ejected the empty magazines, flipped the pistols into the air, grabbed two more full magazines from the table, rammed the magazines into the pistols as they came down and burned off another thirty rounds in less than two seconds.

  The paper target had been totally shredded.

  He turned to the flabbergasted Emily. ‘As I said. Blood suckers take a lot of firepower to put down. But don’t worry; we’ll work on your technique.’


  That afternoon Emily found herself in the library with Josephine Brady. The small, dark haired girl was showing Emily the computerized archives and setting her up with a password so that she could access them whenever she needed. She also gave her an iPhone. She explained that she had tweaked the phone, adding an extra layer of security, boosting its reception, battery life and storage capacity to around twenty times more than the factory model.

  It also came with two hidden features that the Apple Corporation would never have dreamed of. The flashlight setting had been amped up to include a powerful UV light and if you pushed the on button and the bottom of the phone together, a compressed air cylinder shot a silver needle out to a range of twenty feet. Neither of these would be fatal to Vampires but Josephine explained that they would definitely slow them down and give someone time to either escape or to get hold of a better weapon.

  By the time that the evening meal came around, Emily felt like her brain had exploded. Due to her new photographic memory she had remembered everything that Josephine had told her but actually understanding it was a different kettle of fish. She simply hoped that her mind would eventually sift through all of the info and make some sense of it over time.

  But truth be told, it was with a heavy heart that Emily finally went to bed that evening. It seemed that everyone was better at everything than she was. Her new found strength and speed and mind powers had seemed so awesome only a few days ago. Now she felt like the kid in the playground that always gets chosen last because no one wants the loser on their team.

  If she had been a different sort of girl she may have cried herself to sleep. Instead she resolved to try harder.

  Then she made sure that the fire was built up and snuggled down for a good night’s rest.

  Chapter 8

  Emily sat in Ambros’ study across the desk from the old man.

  His hair hung loose about his shoulders as opposed to his usual ponytail and he was thumbing a wad of tobacco into his pipe with a calloused and nicotine stained thumb. It had surprised Emily when she had seen that all of the Shadowhunters smoked. But when she brought it up with Bastian he had simply laughed as he informed her that the normal rules did not apply to them. They were immune to mortal disease, he explained. No cancer, no dementia. Not even the common cold. So if they wanted to smoke it was merely a lifestyle choice. Not a health issue.

  He had offered her a cigarette but Emily simply couldn’t get over her natural prejudice that she held towards the cancer-sticks and she had refused. Bastian had chuckled and said that he would give her fifty years or so and she would be an addict just like the rest of them.

  Ambros finally got his pipe to take and he leaned back in his chair and worked up a head of smoke with a contented look on his face.

  ‘So,’ he said. ‘How are you getting on?’ Emily shrugged. ‘Okay, I suppose.’

  ‘You suppose?’

  The teenager nodded. ‘I mean, I like it here. But, honestly, I feel a bit useless. Everybody is better at everything than I am. Bastian beats the crap out of me, Lyle’s like more than twice as strong as me, Karl can shoot multiple weapons at once and Piet is like the Terminator. Not to mention Josephine, who’s just the ultimate super-geek. I thought that I was meant to be this super-hero, uber-mean dude but all I am is the playground nerd.’

  Ambros raised an eyebrow. ‘I see,’ he said. ‘Strange way to see things.’

  ‘Maybe,’ agreed Emily. ‘But it’s true.’

  The old man shook his head. ‘No, my dear girl,’ he countered. ‘It is patently not true. In fact, I would venture to say that it is quite the opposite. Firstly, how long have you been training with the other Shadowhunters?’

  ‘Ten days,’ answered Emily.

  Ambros nodded. ‘Gosh. A whole ten days. How many days do you think that Bastian has been training to perfect his art?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Well I do,’ said Ambros. ‘Approximately forty six thousand days. When Karl started training with firearms, his first weapons were a Napoleonic era flintlock cavalry pistol and a Baker muzzle-loading service rifle. He has been shooting since before cartridges were invented. Before semi-auto pistols and machine guns. That is a serious amount of practice.

  And do you know that Josephine actually knew Charles Babbage? The man who invented the first proto-computer back in the nineteen thirties. Piet fought against the British in the first and the second Boer wars back in the late eighteen hundreds. These people have put in serious time to perfect their skills, so you cannot be disheartened that they may be better than you.’

  ‘What about Lyle?’ Interjected Emily.

  Ambros grimaced. ‘Lyle is…well, he’s Lyle. He’s actually a relative youngster. Thirty five years old. But he’s driven. Trains hard and, to be brutally honest, he’s a bit of a freak.

  Even without Shadowhunter powers he would be unbelievably strong. It’s just one of those things. But I’ll tell you something,’ continued Ambros. ‘After Lyle you are the strongest here. And another few facts that may interest you; you’re pretty much second best at everything.

  Bastian reckons that you could take anyone here, except for him. Karl says that you are the best shot that he’s come across for over a hundred years. And as for Piet, well let’s just say that he didn’t say anything overtly bad about you, which is the closest that you will ever get to a compliment from him.’

  Emily didn’t react.

  The old man shook his head. ‘Do you appreciate what I have just told you?’ He asked.

  Emily nodded. ‘I think so. You’re saying that I’m not the best at anything. But that’s what I’ve just been telling you.’

  ‘No,’ said Ambros. ‘I’m telling you that you are almost the best at everything. Even though you are a mere stripling that has only had ten days training. I’m telling you that you are special. I’m telling you that you are the most amazingly talented Hunter that I have come across since your mother and father. And I would venture that you surpass even them. Emily,’ he continued. ‘You have the potential to be the very best of the best. The ultimate Shadowhunter.’

  Emily smiled. ‘Wow,’ she said. ‘Thanks. That’s cool.’

  ‘I’m sure that it is,’ affirmed Ambros.

  ‘And what about Nathan?’ Asked Emily. ‘Everyone seems to have a specialty except Nathan. What’s his thing?’

  Before Ambros answered Emily was sure that she saw the tiniest flicker of sympathy cross his face. ‘Nathan is a bit of an all-rounder,’ he said. ‘In the past he was referred to by all as “The Fixer”. He is gifted at arbitration, negotiation. A born diplomat. A politician, I suppose. He used to keep the gears greased between the Olympus Foundation and the government, the captains of industry, the news and entertainment moguls.’

  ‘And now?’ Asked Emily.

  ‘Now, things are different,’ admitted Ambros. ‘A hundred years ago, before the internet and social media, we didn’t have to keep such a low profile. Obviously we were a secret organization but there were many notables who were in the know, as it were. Basically, Nathan took care of these notables.’

  ‘I see,’ noted Emily. ‘Wow, no wonder he hankers after the old days. Seems like a real come down. He was almost like the public face of the Foundation and now he’s…well, an all rounder.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Ambros. ‘It has been a difficult transformation for Nathan. Anyway, now, that said, I think that it’s time for you to venture out into the field. Nothing too overt. A short trip to London. I’ll send Bastian and Nathan with you. There are a few things that I’d like you all to check up on. I’ll explain fully before you leave. So, go to your room, pack a few outfits and be ready to leave after lunch.’

  Chapter 9

  Emily traveled to London with Bastian and Nathan, all three ensconced in the back of the Rolls, surrounded by leather and wood.

  Nathan was his usual attentive self, ensuring that Emily was comfortable and had something to eat and drink, but she could tell that he s
eemed to be a little preoccupied with his own thoughts.

  Bastian, on the other hand, became visibly more relaxed the further they got from the headquarters. When she mentioned this to him he laughed.

  ‘I can’t stand that old place,’ he informed Emily. ‘All those grotesque sculptures and musty old carpets and dark corners. Sucks, man. Wait until you see the London pad. It’s the dogs.’

  Emily raised an eyebrow. ‘The dogs?’

  ‘English expression,’ explained Bastian. ‘The dog’s bollocks. Means that it’s seriously cool.’

  ‘Whatever,’ said Emily. ‘Sounds gross. I didn’t find the big house so bad. The servants were a bit weird though.’

  Bastian actually shuddered. ‘Man, I hate those dudes,’ he said, quietly.

  ‘Hate seems a bit extreme,’ argued Emily. ‘I mean, given, they’re not the most communicative of souls.’

  ‘That’s because they don’t have any,’ said Bastian.

  ‘What?’ Asked Emily.

  ‘Souls,’ continued the Jamaican. ‘The servants don’t have any souls.’ He stared at the teenage girl. ‘Man. You didn’t know?’

  ‘Know what?’

  ‘The servant dudes at the manor. They’re all zombies. Dead.’

  Emily shook her head. ‘Good one, Bastian,’ she said. ‘Not funny though.’