Emily Shadowhunter - Book 1: VAMPIRE HUNTER

by Small Dog Publishing

  And Emily couldn’t have put it better herself.

  Chapter 30

  The club was situated in Camden Town. Past the canal lock and down an almost invisible side street, there was a single story warehouse. The windows were filthy and the doors scarred and unpainted. But if one looked closely it became obvious that the dilapidation was a mere facade. A Hollywood set. Post Apocalyptic chic, the scars by design and the filth applied by hand.

  A simple but effective camouflage for a private club situated in the beating heart of an area that boasted a thriving nightlife.

  Emily and her Yardies had cased the joint the day before and found a side room that was full of boxes and old furniture. They had decided to enter through this room, via the large set of windows. Samfy had disabled the alarm wires that were linked to the windows and then cut out one of the panes. After that it was a simple process to raise the latch, open the window and climb in.

  Once in the room the team did a quick weapons check.

  ‘Right, boys,’ said Em. ‘Let’s go do some harm to the dark ones.’

  She opened the door into the warehouse and they filed out into the corridor. At the end of the short corridor was another door. Again, Emily eased it open and peered around. It led directly into the club. A huge single room that had been divided up into smaller areas using shoulder high screens. Almost like a miniature maze. Various types of tables, chairs and sofas were laid out in the maze and a bar ran the whole length of the opposite wall. A multitude of mirror balls reflected snowflakes of light about the room and red spots wove back and forth like pinpoints of fire.

  The music was an eastern influenced jazz, using sliding syncopations and based on the Arabic Freygish scale. Like a snake charmer with a drum set. It set Emily’s teeth on edge, the notes jarring against her western sensibilities.

  Em wasn’t tall enough to see directly over the maze of partitions so Tagareg, at six foot six, cast his eyes over the set up.

  ‘Seems almost empty,’ he whispered into her ear. ‘Maybe ten people scattered around. They all sitting singularly. None in groups. With this weird lighting and the sparkle of the mirror balls, I can’t make out if they’re vampires or not.’

  ‘This isn’t right,’ commented Stakkie. ‘My informant told me that this place would be buzzing. He reckons that it gets well full of bloodsuckers every Thursday night. Sometimes a hundred or more.’

  ‘I don’t like this,’ said Emily.

  ‘No worries,’ commented Tag. ‘I’ll just go grab one of these dudes and ask him where all the vampires at.’

  ‘Wait,’ said Em. But it was too late. With Tag, thought and deed happened almost simultaneously. He strode into the maze, approached the first person and pulled him to his feet, studying him closely as he held his MAC-10 submachine gun ready in case he was attacked.

  ‘They’re all humans,’ he called back over his shoulder. ‘And they’re either well drunk or drugged.’ He shook the man a couple of times and then dropped him. He crumpled to the floor like he was asleep. Tag shrugged and turned to walk back.

  But as he did so his face registered shock and, without warning, he opened up with his submachine gun, the silenced rounds tearing out at a rate of eight per second.

  A body that seemed to have literally materialized in front of him was picked up by the stream of silver-tipped lead and thrown backwards, shrieking in agony.

  ‘Vamps,’ shouted Tag. ‘Everywhere. They’re lying down, hiding in the shadows below the partitions.’

  As he shouted his warning, black clad vampires seemed to boil out of the ground. Ten, twenty, thirty. Countless.

  The Yardies opened up, with long raking bursts of fire. Blood spayed into the air as the bullets struck flesh. Bastian and Emily charged forward, their swords weaving a destructive pattern in the air, cutting and slicing.

  Em heard a shout of pain and saw Stakkie go down. A vamp latched on to him as he was reloading. Then another, and another. They tore at his flesh, opening his throat and spilling his life out onto the carpet.

  With three mighty blows, Emily dispatched them. Stakkie looked up at her with pain filled eyes.

  ‘Do it,’ he croaked from his ruined throat. ‘Do it, girly before I turn.’

  Emily choked back her tears as she slashed downwards, bringing an end to Stakkie’s life.

  But there was no time to pause. No time for regret. No time for human feelings.

  She jumped forward, parried a dagger wielded by a human familiar and then slashed upwards, disemboweling him with one stroke. He fell to the floor, his intestines rolling out of his wound like so much offal.

  Tagareg had picked up Stakkie’s machine gun and now wielded one in each hand, firing in short controlled bursts. ‘Damn,’ he shouted. ‘They got us good. Ambushed us. Crap, we should have seen this coming.’

  He moved forward, firing and kicking as he did so. Em watched his back, cutting down any vamps that got close to him.

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw Qwenga go down under a pile of blood suckers. And then Samfy. But both of them got back to their feet, firing their weapons, driving back their attackers, genuine smiles plastered across their faces.

  ‘Yeah, you don’t get me that easy,’ shouted Qwenga. He looked across at Emily. ‘No bites,’ he called. ‘I’s clean.’ He reloaded his MAC 10 and carried on killing.

  ‘And I,’ added Samfy.

  But there were simply too many of them. And every vamp took an incredible amount of damage before they were neutralized.

  Finally, Emily, Bastian and the remaining Yardies were forced into a circle, no longer attacking. Simply defending.

  Fighting for their lives.

  ‘I’m almost out of ammo,’ yelled Tag. ‘Me too,’ shouted Stakkie.

  There was a chorus of agreement from the other Yardies who were all burning through ammunition at a horrendous rate, shiny brass cartridge cases spewing from their weapons and covering the floor like discarded costume jewelry.

  Man, thought Emily to herself. It just can’t get any worse than this.

  And then the ceiling imploded.

  Roof tiles buzzed through the air like shrapnel, exploding against the walls or smashing into exposed flesh. Whole sheets of corrugated iron spun across the room like giant blades, severing limbs of human and vampire alike. Large wooden beams crashed to the floor, crushing and maiming.

  And then something came leaping down from out of the explosion and landed in the center of the room, legs astride, carrying the biggest machine gun that Emily had ever seen.

  A Garwood electrically driven Gatling gun. The type normally mounted on a helicopter. Its barrels revolved as it spat out silver coated lead slugs at a rate of just over 3200 a minute. That is fifty four bullets a second. It sounded like a giant, tearing telephone books in half with one long continuous growl. The noise was beyond belief.

  Vampires simply exploded as the massive quantities of ordnance tore them to shreds.

  The Yardies threw themselves to the floor, as did Bastian and Emily.

  Em looked up from her prone position to see that it was none other than William/Wolfman standing in the middle of the room. Incongruously her mind took in the scene and immediately started to work out how much his ordnance actually weighed.

  The Gatling gun came in at ninety five pounds, three thousand rounds of ammunition at a further three hundred pounds and the two car batteries needed to drive the motor, another hundred and twenty. A total of five hundred and fifteen pounds. And he was wielding it like an assault rifle.

  The fact that he had transformed into his Wolfman mode probably had something to do with it, as he stood over eight foot tall and his muscles bulged out like sacks of leather filled with nests of fighting snakes as they swelled and rippled.

  And then the ammunition was expended and the only sound was the whirr of the barrels as they spun round.

  That stopped as well. Silence.

  William threw back his head and howled. The sound reverberated
about the room, shivering the already fragile foundations and shaking bits of masonry and wood loose, filling the room with dust and debris.

  ‘Now that,’ said Tag. ‘Is the most seriously kick-ass thing that I have ever seen.’

  Chapter 31

  William/Wolfman led Emily and her Yardies out via the back entrance and they followed without question. Tag picked up Stakkie’s body, carrying it with as much respect as possible as he brought up the rear.

  The back door was locked but William, still in beast mode, simply brushed it aside like it was a paper wall hanging.

  In the alley was a large, Ford transit, or what Emily referred to as a van. Sylvian stood at the rear and around him, lying on the floor, were the remains of at least five decapitated vampires.

  ‘Come on,’ he shouted. ‘Vite, vite. Quickly. Get in the back before more come.’

  They all piled into the back of the van while Sylvian got behind the wheel. William threw the Gatling gun and accessories in after them and then clambered onto the passenger seat, changing back to his human form as he did so. He grabbed a pair of track pants and a t-shirt out of the glove box and pulled them on before turning to address everyone. ‘Is everyone alright?’ He asked. ‘Have any of you been bitten?’

  ‘We be fine,’ answered Tag. ‘But Stakkie is well broken. His head isn’t here.’

  ‘What do you mean? What happened to it?’ Asked William.

  ‘I think that Emily chopped it off,’ answered Tag.

  ‘He asked me to,’ objected Emily. ‘He didn’t want to turn.’

  ‘Hey,’ reassured Tag. ‘Ain’t none of us blame you, sweet-thing. You did the good and brave thing. I was just answering the Wolfman.’

  ‘Dude, we gotta go back for Stakkie’s head,’ said Samfy.

  ‘Ain’t no way, man,’ countered Tag. ‘We can bury him without his head. It’s still him. Well, most of him anyway.’

  Emily curled up and leaned against the door, closing her eyes and fighting back tears. It was her fault. She had pushed too hard and too fast and led her boys straight into an ambush.

  If it hadn’t been for William there was no doubt that they would have been killed. Or far worse. Turned. She shuddered. The thought of becoming a vampire filled her with such dread that she almost threw up. Her stomach cramped and she could feel a trickle of cold sweat run down her back.

  And then without warning she burst into floods of tears. Her body shook with emotion and she couldn’t catch her breath. She felt as though her lungs were about to burst. Black shadows flickered across her vision and she could hear her heartbeat thumping in her chest.

  The vehicle shifted, rocking slightly on its springs and then she felt William sit down next to her. Her put his arms around her and pulled her tight, enveloping her with his arms and chest. Comforting her. Protecting her.

  Once again she was surprised at the massive amount of heat that his body generated and she snuggled as close as she could, letting the warmth cocoon her.

  Within seconds exhaustion overcame her and she fell into a deep sleep.

  ***

  Emily woke to find herself being carried like a small child. She didn’t need to open her eyes to know that she was in William’s arms.

  Not only could she feel his heat but she could smell him. That unique, clean leather and ozone musk that enveloped her like a summer’s morning in an Alaskan spring. Steel and Pine trees and freshly cut grass.

  ‘You’re awake,’ he said.

  ‘Mmm,’ mumbled Emily. Not yet prepared to face the world in any way whatsoever. Not even to communicate.

  ‘You’ve been asleep for almost three hours.’

  ‘Where are we?’ She asked.

  ‘The New Forest. The Yardies are back with their boss, except for Tag who wouldn’t leave you. Don’t think that he fully trusts Sylvian or me. And of course Bastian is with us. I thought that we needed to get out of London. Re-plan and re-strategize.’

  William pushed a door open as he spoke and Emily finally opened her eyes. She saw that it was still dark outside, then William nudged the door closed. They were in a large, low ceilinged building. Stone walls, exposed beams that were black with age and a rough stone floor.

  William placed her back onto her feet. ‘This place has been in my family for many generations,’ he said. ‘It’s a hunting lodge. But it’s registered as crown property so no one knows that I actually own it. We’re safe here from any attacks or prying eyes. The locals are all loyal to me. No one will get close to this place without me knowing about it.’

  ‘Where are the others?’ Asked Em.

  ‘It’s getting dangerously close to sunrise,’ answered William. ‘So Sylvian is down in the cellar. Bastian is in the kitchen with Tag. They’re stoking up the coal stove. Bastian’s going to cook and Tag said that he’ll make us a pot of tea.’

  Emily grimaced at the thought of Tag’s tea, but said nothing as she followed William through the house and into the kitchen.

  Chapter 32

  Lord Byron stood still and studied his own feelings with a detachment borne of hundreds of years of self inspection. And he was shocked when he finally worked out what the strange emotion was.

  Fear.

  Not a fear of any physical harm, although that was a distinct possibility. No, this was a fear of failure. A fear of losing seven hundred years of planning and maneuvering that had brought him to the pinnacle of leadership as the Grand Master of the United Kingdom House of the Nosferatu.

  But even he had to admit that he had not covered himself in glory over the past few weeks.

  Failure had been piled on top of failure as he had not managed to completely wipe out the Olympus Foundation, letting the wizard, the girl and another Shadowhunter escape. He had blundered once again when he had tried, unsuccessfully, to exterminate the girl the second time.

  Then he had not foreseen her teaming up with the London Yardies who had proceeded to exact a terrible toll on his brethren, bringing the true death to scores of them as they attacked two of his clubs.

  Then when he had finally caught up with them, he had instructed Cromwell to lay a trap and it had all gone horribly wrong. Once again he had failed to see what had been in front of him the whole time. Sir William was a shapeshifter.

  And not just any shapeshifter. No, according to the few vampires that had escaped his wrath at the Camden Club ambush, he was the fabled Omega Wolf, the one wolf who controlled all others. The Alpha of all Alphas. Bigger, faster and stronger than a normal werewolf. Capable of assuming a man/wolf hybrid mode.

  Personally, Lord Byron did not believe them, the myth of the Great Wolf had been bandied about for centuries but he, for one, had never seen him. However, there was no denying that Sir William was most definitely a creature of great power.

  Whatever his beliefs, the unthinkable had happened. Janus Augusta, the head of the Italian house and also the Capo di tutt'i capi of the Federation had travelled once again from Italy to England in order to personally take over the running of the purge against Emily and the Olympus Foundation. Such were Lord Byron’s losses that the Capo had actually brought in reinforcements.

  One hundred big hitters, all of them Masters, plus another one hundred Grinders. He had also brought one hundred Familiars so that they had people who could operate in the day to search for Sir William, the Yardies and the Hawk girl.

  It probably wasn’t actually necessary for the Capo to bring over such a large number of reinforcements but he had done so to prove a point. It was a public slap in the face for Lord Byron. Basically the Capo was saying, ‘Not only do I have to sort out your problems, but I have to even bring my own people to do so.’

  Never in his hundreds of years of command had Lord Chelsea Byron been so publically shamed. So openly belittled.

  The only thing now that the Capo could do to further his humiliation was to demote him. And although that was almost unprecedented, it had been done before.

  That was what was fuelling the fires of Lord
Byron’s fear. The loss of his position. His power. And with it, his existence.

  Because, if he was demoted, then he knew that the Capo di tutt'i capi would insist on the true death. No one wanted an ex-grand Master moping about the chapter like some sort of whipped cur, begging for scraps and souring the atmosphere.

  Whatever was about to happen, Lord Byron was sure that his humiliation was not yet over. His blunders had been huge, as would be his chastisement.

  The door opened behind him and the Capo and his entourage entered, led by Cromwell the Enforcer.

  The first thing that Lord Byron noticed was that none of Cromwell’s own Enforcers were with him. Of the twenty six people that entered the room, Cromwell and Nathan were the only brethren belonging to the United Kingdom chapter. The rest were all from the Italian house.

  The Capo seated himself on one of the leather wingbacks, steepled his fingers together and stared at Byron, his obscenely long fingernails almost tangling together as they curled around each other. Lord Byron approached the leader of all leaders and prostrated himself flat on the floor in front of him. For he knew that now was not the time for false pride. Now was the time to debase himself as much as possible. To humble himself before his lord and master.

  No one spoke for fully five minutes. A seeming eternity.

  Finally. ‘I am disappointed,’ rasped the Capo. ‘I was here only a few weeks ago and you assured me that you had everything under control. The girl was as good as dead, you told me. You guaranteed it. Now I return because, instead of killing the girl, you have killed almost fifty of my children. Not counting the slovenly waste of who knows how many Grinders and countless Familiars.’

  Lord Byron said nothing. Nor did he move. He simply lay flat on the floor, arms outstretched in front of him, and waited for his fate.