Emily Shadowhunter - Book 1: VAMPIRE HUNTER

by Small Dog Publishing

  ‘Up yours William,’ said Sylvian. ‘After a few hundred years that joke is wearing a bit thin.’

  ‘I disagree,’ chuckled William. ‘Still makes me laugh.’

  ‘Yes. But you have a very basic sense of humor. Anyway, the priest isn’t human. He’s a Cluracan.’

  ‘A what?’ Asked Emily.

  ‘Cluracan,’ answered William. ‘Sort of an Irish leprechaun. Except normal sized. Kind souls and always willing to help a lost cause. Unusual to find one working as a priest though.’

  ‘He was cast out of the underground kingdom last century,’ said Sylvian. ‘Ended up in the church. Does a good job actually.’

  Emily shook her head. ‘Just when I think that I’m getting to grips with things, you guys spring something else on me. I mean, is anyone a normal human or are we surrounded by the occult and weirdo types?’

  Both William and Sylvian laughed out loud. ‘Actually,’ said Sylvian. ‘There are a surprising

  amount of the fey folk present in human society. Wizards, werewolves, vampires, leprechauns, ghouls, banshees, demons, kobolds, jotnar. The list goes on and on.’

  ‘What about elves and hobbits?’ Asked Em.

  ‘Oh be serious,’ quipped Sylvian. ‘This isn’t Lord of the Rings, this is real life.’

  ‘Oh excuse me,’ countered Emily and she stuck her tongue out at the bloodborn count.

  ‘Charming,’ mumbled Sylvian. ‘Uh, here.’ He said to William. ‘Drop me off, it’s close enough and I need to move. It’s only twenty seven minutes to sunrise.’

  ‘You know the exact time that the sun is going to come up?’ Questioned Emily.

  ‘Of course,’ answered Sylvian. ‘Life and death knowledge.’

  William pulled the car over to the side of the road and Sylvian got out. He turned, waved and then simply seemed to disappear as he moved so fast. William pulled off again.

  ‘He seems nice,’ noted Emily.

  ‘He’s a pompous French ass,’ quipped William. ‘Oh. And you?’ Teased Em.

  ‘I’m entirely different,’ argued William. ‘I’m a pompous English ass.’ He slowed down and stopped outside a massive townhouse. Then he pressed a remote control on his visor and the automatic gate slid open in front of them.

  The house was situated in Kensington Palace Gardens road, opposite the Nepalese embassy and, although Emily was unaware of the fact, if purchased in the current market it would have set the new owner back more than thirty million dollars.

  William steered the car down a ramp into an underground parking and then Emily followed him up a flight of steps and into the entrance hall.

  An old servant waited for them at the top of the stairs, greeting William with a nod of and a quiet, ‘Sir.’

  ‘Good evening, Halston,’ answered William. ‘This is Emily, she shall be staying in the blue room tonight. Wake chef and tell him to prepare a meal. Something quick and substantial. A good fry up will do nicely.’

  The servant nodded again and went off to do Sir William’s bidding.

  ‘Come along,’ said William. ‘I’ll show you to your room. You can have a quick shower, change, whatever and then ring the bell and someone will come and show you to the dining room.’

  Emily did as William suggested and half an hour later they were chowing down on platters of fried eggs, bacon, sausages, baked beans, mushrooms, kidneys, black pudding and toast.

  As they ate, William talked. ‘We have a problem,’ he stated.

  ‘No shit, Sherlock,’ responded Emily. ‘All my friends are dead, well, except for Nathan and Bastian and no one knows where they are.’

  ‘It’s worse than that,’ said William. ‘It’s obvious that the brethren are looking to completely wipe out the Olympus Foundation.

  I’m not sure why they chose now to do it but I suspect that it might have something to do with the whole corona potestatem.’

  ‘Well then they’ve pretty much done what they set out to do,’ exclaimed Emily.

  ‘Not true,’ argued William. ‘Three of you are left and we’re not sure what happened to your wizard chap. Also, there are Olympus members all over the world. We need to find them. It’s a great pity that you’re so new to the whole thing, a bit more knowledge of the structure of the Foundation would be invaluable.’

  ‘I know the passwords to get into the computer records. They’re in the cloud. There must be some info there.’

  ‘Good,’ affirmed William. ‘But for now we need to address the biggest problem. You.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Yes. The vamps are going to keep coming after you. They’ve tried twice already and, as far as they’re concerned, you have single handedly defeated all comers. By now they will be convinced that you are superman and the terminator rolled onto one. The next time they come it will be in numbers that will certainly overwhelm us. Even if Sylvian is present.’

  Emily frowned. ‘What do we do?’

  ‘Well, you’ve got to go off grid somehow. It’s no good staying here. My London residence is no secret. Also, I’m sure that by tomorrow they’ll have some Familiars watching me around the clock.’

  ‘Where can I go?’ Asked Emily.

  ‘I have a number of apartments that are registered in the names of certain trusts,’ answered William. ‘Totally untraceable back to me. I’ll give you the keys to one of them. Can you ride a motorcycle?’

  Emily nodded. ‘Sure.’

  ‘Right. I’ve got a Harley Davidson V-Rod you can have. It’s also registered to an offshore trust. Better than a car, faster in traffic. Also, you’ll need some more ammunition for the Glock, maybe a couple more firearms.’

  Emily shook her head. ‘I don’t want to go.’

  William took her hand and kissed it. ‘You sort of have to,’ he said softly. ‘You’ve got a target painted on you and you’ve got a bunch of blood suckers looking to fire at it. Staying with me will only make things worse. Look, I’m also going to give you a handful of burner phones. I’ll pre- program the corresponding numbers into each one. You can phone me whenever you need to and then destroy the phone afterwards. Come on, let’s get you kitted.’

  It took William less than an hour to sort Emily out. She had her clothes, half a dozen throw away cell phones, one hundred rounds of ammunition with three extra magazines for the Glock, her katana, a sawn off double barrel shotgun with a pistol grip, short enough to conceal under her jacket.

  Extra ammo for the same. A selection of throwing knives and a thick wad of cash in various denominations adding up to twenty thousand Pounds Sterling. And her makeup.

  The Harley was a beauty. Matt black with a larger gas tank for extended mileage and a satnav. William punched the address of the apartment into the satnav and handed Emily the keys.

  There was no need to postpone the inevitable.

  They stared at each other. Emily desperately wanted to kiss him. To hold him tight and run her hands down his chest and over his taut abs and more. But she knew that, if she did, she wouldn’t have the strength to leave. As it was she felt like she was tearing her own heart out.

  So instead she simply donned her helmet, started the Harley and rode out.

  And into the next phase of her life.

  Chapter 24

  It had been two weeks since the Pyrrhic victory over the Olympus Foundation. Lord Byron could still feel the pain of his dying brethren. Of course not the Grinders. They were mere animated meat bombs. Weapons of violence to unleash and use up. But, apart from the thirty or so Grinders, the true death had been brought upon fifteen brethren. And of those, three were Elders. In one night, the United Kingdom Chapter had lost over five thousand years of collective experience.

  An insufferable loss.

  But at the same time they had gained something unique. Something that no one had ever encountered before. They had turned a Shadowhunter.

  Standing before him was the result. And it was magnificent.

  Nathan Tremblay stood, legs slightly apart, his shirtless torso show
ing off an almost impossibly ripped musculature. His stance was relaxed and in his right hand he held a sword. On his face, there was a slight smile.

  No, thought Byron to himself. Not a smile. A sneer. Of contempt.

  Four other vampires surrounded him. All armed with similar swords, circling, looking for an advantage. Looking for the correct moment to strike.

  Before any vampire was accepted into the ranks of Cromwell’s Enforcers, they were made to stand a trial of combat. It was no mere formality. The Aspirant had to show skill, courage and the desire to win.

  Obviously there was no way that a single combatant could stand against four experienced Enforcers but that was not the point. The point of the exercise was to see how long they lasted.

  And, if Cromwell was impressed enough, the Aspirant was allowed to join their ranks.

  One of the Enforcers lunged forward but Nathan slipped out of the way without any apparent effort. As he did so, another struck from behind. Again Nathan moved but the edge of the blade slid along his ribs, cutting deeply. Exposing bone.

  Cromwell smiled, pleased to see the sneering Aspirant brought down a peg or two. However, his smile did not last long when he saw the deep cut heal up almost instantly. In less than a second.

  Cromwell turned to Byron.

  ‘My lord,’ he whispered. ‘How is that possible? A wound that deep should take minutes to heal. Not microseconds.’

  Lord Byron raised an eyebrow. ‘I do not know, Enforcer. All that I do know is that we have something unique. The blend of Shadowhunter and Nosferatu has created a new breed. Now watch.’

  Again the vampires attacked but this time Nathan struck back. Spinning and cutting and parrying, combining his new speed and strength with his hundred years of Shadowhunter training. He was unstoppable. His blade struck and cut again and again. Whenever an enforcer was badly cut they would simply drop to one knee and stay still. After all, it was not a fight to the death. It was a simple test.

  Within seconds the four Enforcers were kneeling and Nathan stood still. His only wound already totally healed.

  Lord Byron clapped. ‘Well done, young Aspirant,’ he said. ‘Now, please go to your rooms and await Master Cromwell’s decision.

  Nathan nodded, bowed respectfully and left the room without a glance at the defeated Enforcers.

  ‘Beyond impressive,’ commented Cromwell. ‘But I still wonder if he can be trusted’

  Lord Byron laughed. ‘He is Nosferatu. His blood is our blood. Of course he can be trusted. That is like asking if we can trust ourselves.’

  ‘Normally I would agree, sire,’ said Cromwell. ‘But you yourself said that we are dealing with a new species here. Who knows how and what he thinks.’

  ‘He betrayed his Shadowhunter companions. He helped to destroy the Olympus Foundation,’ reminded Byron. ‘He is desperate to be accepted. Also, he is ambitious. Very ambitious. I would watch him if I were you, Cromwell,’ advised Lord Byron with a grin.

  ‘And I you, my lord,’ added the Enforcer. ‘However, sire, we have not totally destroyed the foundation. When we took Nathan to see the manor house, he said that one of the Hunters was not present. A Jamaican by the name of Bastian Miller. Also we could find no trace of the wizard.’

  ‘They are of no moment,’ said Byron. ‘What worries me is the girl. This Emily Hawk. The crew that we sent to exterminate her did not return. I have placed watchers over Sir William’s abode and there is no sign of her. Or him. I feel that, once again, we have underestimated her power.’

  ‘It seems impossible,’ mused Cromwell. ‘We sent ten brethren after her. She must be beyond superhuman. Unless Sir William helped in some way.’

  Lord Byron laughed. ‘What? That effete antiques dealer? I think not. Must have been quite a shock for him though. No, we need to hunt this Emily down and destroy her. Our time has come. This is the time of the Nosferatu and I won’t have some snot-nose little girl child ruining things.’

  ‘We have all of our Familiars looking out for her, sire,’ affirmed Cromwell. ‘We shall find her; it is only a matter of time.’

  Chapter 25

  The apartment was situated in the docks of London. A large warehouse conversion that took up the top two floors of the building. Three hundred and sixty degree views and wrap around balconies allowed one to observe London and surrounds in its entirety.

  There were three bedrooms, all on-suite, three reception rooms and an indoor-outdoor gymnasium on the roof terrace.

  Emily’s days were much of a muchness. She rose early, ate, then trained for three hours. After that, she ate again, showered and went out if she needed anything.

  Then returned and trained again, until exhaustion set in.

  There were times when she longed to contact Bart and Ryoko but she knew that to do so would surely sign their death warrant. She couldn’t take the smallest chance of attracting attention to them. The Nosferatu would hone in on them and destroy them merely because they meant something to her.

  She had phoned William a couple of times but the conversations were stilted and wary as his concern for her overwhelmed all else and, after the second call, Emily had decided not to contact him again until she was either in trouble or she had some sort of plan.

  When she first arrived she had gone out and purchased some nondescript clothing. Cheap jeans, t-shirts, sneakers and a baseball cap. She knew that parading about in her black Shadowhunter gear could attract unwanted attention, so instead she donned the attire of a student. With her long blonde hair tucked under the cap, no makeup and small round sunglasses she blended in with any of the other thousands of comparable types walking the street of the capital city. Anonymous in their similarities.

  When she shopped for food she used cash and purchased from the local market as opposed to the chain stores. She never shopped in the same place more than once a week and never purchased anything unusual. Polite, quiet and forgettable.

  She was alone. But she had no time to be lonely. Her need to improve herself drove her beyond loneliness.

  Over the last few weeks she had spent hours upon hours in the apartments gym, practicing with her sword, beating the heavy punchbag, kicking and striking the makiwara Japanese punching board and performing endless katas that had honed her skills to a level that she had never thought possible. She was fitter, stronger, faster and more deadly than she had ever been.

  Because she was determined that the next time she came across a blood sucker, there would only be one possible outcome. They had killed her friends. They had irrevocably changed her life. And they would pay.

  It was time for Emily Hawk to kick some serious ass.

  It had been a month to the day when she finally donned her Shadowhunter uniform and left the building heading for the city. There she visited a shabby lawyer’s office in Brixton, handed them a wad of cash and instructed them to place a series of classified adverts in all of the London and national newspapers. There was no way that she could have done so herself without a credit card and the consequent questions and flags that its use would have raised.

  The ad was short and simple but she knew that only one person would fully understand what she was saying.

  Bastian. Tings a gwaan but we hab di ting lack. Link me a Ben Johnson day where we got de bashy red dress.

  Loosely translated from the Jamaican patois the message read; “Bastian. Things have gone bad but we need to sort them out. Meet me on Thursday at the shop where I purchased the red dress.”

  It was the best that she could do. Now she simply had to wait two days and then stake out the clothes shop that she and Bastian had visited before.

  She had no idea how to track down Nathan.

  Chapter 26

  The ancient crone absentmindedly stroked the large crow that sat on the back of the kitchen chair while she looked at the body of the man on the floor.

  ‘Ah, Ambros,’ she croaked. ‘What have you done this time?’

  The body had appeared in the old crone’s cottage som
e few weeks back. Materializing out of thin air to land on the floor in her living area. She had recognized him straight away, even though it had been over a hundred years since she had last seen him. She had also instantly perceived that he was dying. In fact, so close to death was he, that she could literally smell the stench of the River Styx on his clothes.

  A closer look at his various wounds and her worst fears were realized. Droch-fhola. The evil blood. Vampires.

  Given time a mage as powerful as the man who lay before her could survive. But he needed time. And that he did not have. So the old crone had cast a spell. It was done in desperation but it was all that she could think of.

  The spell of Gheimhridh. The winter spell.

  And now the body of Ambros lay still, under a two inch coating of ice. His heart in stasis. Not alive but not yet dead.

  She had given him time. But it had cost her dearly, for although the spell of Gheimhridh allowed one to live on borrowed time, it demanded payment in kind.

  So she had sacrificed years of her own life. And even to one who has lived for so long as to be almost immortal, time is a precious resource and not one to be given away lightly. But she would have gladly sacrificed her every last second for the not dead/not alive man in front of her. For, although she was now known to all as the Morrigan, or the goddess of battle, she remembered well the days when she had been called Morgan le Fay. Then she had been the oft time lover of the man in front of her. Myrddin Ambrosius Ambros Caledonensis, or Merlin the Magician as most knew him.

  Since then, the legend of King Arthur and his mage had been twisted and turned into a mere fable of Camelot and the eventual search for the Holy Grail. But the Morrigan remembered the truth. She remembered the battles and the sacrifices that Arthur’s knights had made as they fought against the Nosferatu. The children of the night.

  The terror of the villagers as they became mere fodder for the vampires and how, with the help of Merlin and the Olympus Foundation, they had eventually driven the Nosferatu underground so that, once more, the people of Camelot could live in happiness and light.