Vampire Hunter D: Dark Nocturne (10 page)

“That's what I came out here to tell you. The folks from town were following you—”

D was already facing in their direction.

On the opposite side of the lake, about a dozen riders had formed ranks on the high ground at the top of a good-sized hill. The bowmen at either end of the group had their second shots nocked.

“Don't move. The next time we won't miss,” the giant in the middle bellowed. Based on the armored chest plate and the gauntlets he wore, he must've fancied himself the toughest character in the village. His confidence was made manifest by the rapid-fire crossbows that hung from either hip.

“That's the leader of the local guards. Bazura's his name. Used to be a drifter and a mercenary, and he knows his stuff. He's a lot better with a bow than what you saw just now,” Lyle said in a weary voice.

The rest of the group—with the exception of the elderly man to Bazura's left—must've been members of the town guard. Once they saw that D wasn't moving, the group raced down with a thunder of hoofbeats, surrounding the rider in black in under a minute.

“How did you know I was here?” D asked, not sounding the least bit tense.

“Well, I heard about you from the sheriff. First, we went out to old Helga's place. She's been going on for some time now about how the Nobility were coming. After we knocked her around a little bit, she 'fessed up to being your employer. As for why we came out here—well, call it a hunch.”

“We patched the old woman up fine. Rest assured,” the older man said as if interceding. “I'm Murtock, the mayor. I'd like to thank you for saving my boy. He might not be much, but he's my only son and I love him.”

“For what that's worth,” Lyle said, shrugging his shoulders in the water. “Well, I have nothing to do with these clowns. I swear it. You've gotta believe me.”

“You've always been such a bumbler. I told you the next time you crossed me I'd disown you,” growled the mayor.

“I haven't had anything to do with you ever since mom died.”

“Why don't you just act your age, kid?” Bazura told him. The remark seethed with malice, and Lyle spat at him in reply.

“Old Helga has already given her agreement. You're to leave the village immediately,” the mayor told D.

“She hasn't said anything to me.”

At D's reply, tension scorched the air.

“Don't try to bluff us, Hunter,” Bazura said as he rose in the saddle. “I've heard all about your skill, but no one's ever half as great as they're made out to be. It's ten against one and you don't have your sword out—and even if you drew it, we'd be too far away for you to reach.”

It seemed their leader was at least smart enough to recognize the difference between bows and swords.

Surveying the ten bows now turned on D, the mayor said, “We decide how things go in our village. And we don't need any help from outsiders.”

Putting his hand in his coat pocket, the mayor pulled out a little bag and threw it down at D's feet.

“There's twice what Helga was going to pay you in there. Take it and be on your way!”

“Gee, I really wouldn't do that,” Lyle said in a frightened tone. “You're dealing with Vampire Hunter ‘D' here.”

Before the boy had finished speaking, cries rang to the heavens. Two men—one positioned in front of D, the other behind him—had toppled backward holding their shoulders. The steel arrows stuck in each of them were the very same missiles they'd fired at D a short time earlier. And the instant that chilling realization dawned on Lyle, a white beam blazed across his retinas—a flash of light that danced across impossible distances. Bows and steely arrows flew into pieces. And that was only the start. The neatly severed fingers of the men who'd held them flew through the air as well.

“Huh?!” the mayor exclaimed as he stared down dumbfounded at the blade leveled at his nose.

 

I

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Why the hell don't you do something, Bazura?!”

Though his voice was hoarse, the mayor actually didn't completely comprehend the current state of affairs. His mind couldn't conceive of anything except the sword tip that'd appeared before him in a split second. He didn't have the faintest inkling why the members of the town guard targeting D hadn't shot him with their bows yet.

Bazura didn't move. He thought he'd reply, but his voice wouldn't come out. A warm fluid was spilling in vast quantities from a cut that went halfway through his neck. Without time to raise the rapid-fire crossbows from either hip, or rather, before he could even think of doing such a thing, his subordinates had had bows and fingers carved from their hands, and his own throat had been slashed open. But more than that, more than anything, he was stopped by the unearthly aura that gushed from the handsome young man before him. He finally understood that this opponent was from an entirely different world.

“What do you intend to do with me?” asked the mayor.

“Never meddle in these affairs again,” the Hunter told him.

“Oh, whose affair is this?”

The tip of the sword brushed against the base of his nose. And no sooner had it done so than the end of his somewhat hooked beak was sliced off neatly. With a scream the mayor reeled backward, falling back against the ground headfirst—right on top of the same bag of gold he'd thrown down.

“I—I see. I'll never do it again!”

The mayor frantically brought his hand up to his nose, where fresh blood quickly seeped out between his fingers.

Ignoring the howling men on horseback, D turned and headed back the way he'd come. It was strange how not a single one of the mounts whinnied as he left.

More than malice, more than anything, it was fear that colored the eyes of the mayor and Bazura as they watched the Hunter go.

“Like I tried to tell you, he's Vampire Hunter ‘D,'” Lyle said to them somewhat snidely.

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Once the mayor's group retreated in their sorry state, Lyle got on his horse and galloped off the same way D had gone. His sulfur car had been left back in the village. However, the only reason he'd been able to follow the mayor and the others out to the old woman's house, then beat them to the swamp using a route known only to himself, was because of all the long days he'd spent driving through the area in his vehicle.

At the edge of a small pond he found D. The Hunter was bent over, picking the broad leaves of a plant that grew in profusion near the shore. But what would he do with them?

In no time D went down to the water with a number of them under one arm and threw one out onto the surface. And then he took a steady step onto it. The leaf was a foot in diameter. Though it might've been capable of supporting a small animal, there was no way it could ever support the weight of a human being. And yet the leaf didn't sink at all, but merely trembled a bit. One after another D threw the leaves out in front of him and moved across the path—and the water's surface—like a weightless illusion.

The tenth leaf brought him to the center of the pond. Peering down at the surface by his feet for a few seconds, the figure in black then sent up a spray and left a set of ripples as he dove into the water.

Racing down from the path to the pond, Lyle began to count the seconds instinctively.

Ten seconds . . . Twenty . . .

Although there was no evidence that the Nobility had once had a mansion in this area, in his boyhood Lyle had repeatedly heard the elders relate fantastic stories about seeing the dark sorcerers who slumbered in the middle of the swamp gather en masse on a misty night, when the water suddenly cleared and allowed them to glimpse a palatial mansion in its depths. Could it be that was what D had seen?

Two minutes . . . Three . . . Five . . .

Despair tinged Lyle's heart. He knew that D was a dhampir. Those descending from Noble blood lost half their strength in running water. If D were to be attacked by the freshwater octopus's brethren in force . . .

One of the leaves plopped out of sight. Beginning with the ones closest to shore, they were sinking.

Nine minutes . . .

The last leaf vanished . . .

Ten minutes.

A black figure bobbed to the surface. Before the boy could even confirm that it was D, the Hunter began doing the breaststroke back toward shore. The hundred feet took him less than five seconds. On seeing Lyle, he remained expressionless and wiped his face.

“Was there anything in the water?” the mayor's disowned son asked.

“The sun will be down soon,” D replied.

Though it didn't address his question in the least, his reply was good enough for Lyle. After all, the girl was going to be locked out in the sacrificial hut on the village outskirts all alone tonight.

“What are you gonna do?” Lyle asked D as the latter walked off toward his white horse. “If you keep an eye on Cecile, the Noble will probably show up. Kill it and your work will be done, right? Come on! Go out there with me.”

D galloped off without a word.

As the gloomy figure rode away without a backward glance, the boy shouted at his back, “You're cold-blooded! And an ingrate! I came all the way out here just to warn you that you were in danger!”

His vain howls of rage echoed for quite some time.

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Although she'd had every intention of waiting until Lyle got there, it looked like he wouldn't make it in time. When the group from the town guard came to her house to “escort” her, she thought she was ready, but her legs still trembled terribly. Her adopted father said nothing, while her adopted mother alone stepped outside and bade her farewell as the tears welled in her eyes. The only thing that kept Cecile going as she was loaded into the carriage and driven out to the hut on the outskirts of the village was the knowledge that in return for her sacrifice, the village would give her parents enough to live on for the next ten years.

The hut was furnished with nothing save a table, a chair, and a bed. Once the men had Cecile safely inside, they then locked the door and left. This wasn't intended to keep the Nobility out. It was to prevent Cecile from running away.

Not long after the men's footsteps faded, Cecile smelled the odor of blood in the night air. The men had spread it around so the presence of the sacrifice might be known.

As the minutes passed, Cecile's mind slipped further and further into panic. There was no way a girl of eighteen could sit calmly and wait for her own demise. There were only two reasons she didn't smash the chair against the door in an attempt to break it or flip over the table—because the furniture was too heavy, and because she was still thinking about the couple that'd raised her. Instead, the girl crouched on the floor and pounded the bed with her fist as she sobbed.

Just how much time passed she couldn't say. Cecile suddenly lifted her head. She was horribly cold. The tracks of her tears were freezing. The depths of her ears froze.

There was a harsh rasping sound on the far side of the door. Like a key turning.

Cecile felt like her heart had shrunk down to nothing. Just when it seemed like she could take no more, another sound dealt the final blow to her heart, closing around it like a fist. The creak of hinges. The door was slowly opening.

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II

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The girl reflexively moved to the wall opposite the door. Though she wanted to let out a scream, it caught in her throat. She'd never seen a Noble. While their appearance and actions in the elders' tales had always been incredible, those had always been mere stories that ended with the telling. Or so she'd thought. Now a deep fear came back to her from the marrow of her bones, from the depths of a darkness she never could've imagined, climbing the long, long stairway to the underside of her soul.

It stood in the doorway. And it came as little consolation that it was a girl about her age but far more beautiful. Her face had nigh-translucent skin, and at its center glowed a pair of red lights. The ground rustled dryly. It was the sound of the hem of her blue dress dragging across the floor.

From behind the woman, the autumn night breezes billowed into the hut through the doorway. Somewhere out in the forest, men and women from the village would probably be talking of love again.

The girl closed her eyes.

Nothing happened.

Unable to stand it any longer, she opened them again. The woman stood before her. Just as she noticed the white fangs in that mercilessly gaping mouth, the girl also saw leaves blow in through the open door. As Cecile's mind was about to plummet into the abyss, she sensed that the woman had stopped.

“Hold it right there, you bastard—or bitch, I guess,” Lyle shouted, adjusting his grip on his harpoon as he stood in the doorway. “What do you think you're doing, woman? Back to the cursed pages of history with you!”

“A man?” the woman seemed to say to herself as she pulled away from Cecile's body. “A woman's blood is sweet but thin. A man's is bitter but thick. And that's what I like. I believe I'll feast on you first.”

The face that turned in his direction was ferocious in its beauty. A lock of black hair had slipped free of her dazzling jewel-encrusted hair clip and fallen across her face, and the fangs that peeked out over her grinning crimson lips were razor-sharp. Was this a Noble?

Even as terror froze the blood in his veins, Lyle raised his harpoon and said, “If it's me you want, come and get me. But not in cramped quarters like this—I'll take you on outside.”

“You would have me leave the girl? I'm afraid that won't happen.”

As if pushed by the woman's sneer, the door behind Lyle slammed shut.

“Damn it all,” he growled.

“I like confined spaces. Your screams echo in such places, and the shadows of your death throes dance on the walls. This way, I can savor the experience. Drink your blood leisurely. I want the girl to watch your humiliating end.”

“Shut your yap!” the boy bellowed, his words shattering his own fear.

Capable of sticking in rock, the harpoon flew with unerring precision at the left side of the woman's chest and actually imbedded itself in the stone wall behind her.

The woman grinned. Not so much as a single drop of blood stained the wound. What's more, the very shredded fibers around the tear in her blue dress seemed to knit themselves back together and repair the garment.

“Had enough fun and games?” she asked. “That's all the resistance your kind can offer mine. You had your nerve to think you could ever rule the world in our stead.”

“It's just the natural flow, you antiquated bitch,” Lyle shot back as icy sweat clung to every inch of his body. “Your era's over. And I'm gonna drive that point home now!”

The woman closed on him. Her gait brimmed with confidence.

As he backed away, Lyle pulled out his final weapon. Although it would be dangerous to use it indoors, he had no alternative. Come what may, Lyle would rescue Cecile or die trying. If he couldn't save her, he wanted to die right along with her.

The black bottle he waved drew a stare and a sneer from the woman. But before her very eyes, white smoke began to rise. The bottle contained a powerful acid. Left completely exposed, the woman's eyes were seared by it. And the white smoke was proof that her skin was dissolving.

Slipping past the woman as she clutched her face without speaking, Lyle raced over to Cecile and scooped her up. Her throat was free of injury.

“Serves you right!” the boy said as he slipped by the woman once more with Cecile in his arms. But as he did so, his shoulder was caught in a terrific grip. Flesh and bones compacted beneath its force. The boy couldn't even cry out.

Grasping Lyle's shoulder with one hand, the woman used the other to cover her face as she quietly got to her feet.

“That was the last straw. I have no need of your blood. First I shall tear your legs off, and then as you thrash about in agony, I'll allow you to watch as I do the same to the girl.”

“Let go of me . . . Dammit!” Lyle screamed, his words painting an arc across the room. Even after slamming into the far wall, the boy tried to shield Cecile as he fell to the floor, but the woman bounded toward him to seize him again.

A streak of white light burst through her chest from behind, and the figure in the blue dress barely maintained her balance as she dropped to the ground. The first thing the woman did was look at her chest. A bloody flower now blossomed there.

Seeing the face of the person in black who stood in the doorway, the woman thought that he was the only one who could've possibly managed such a thing.

“What . . . what are you?”

Her voice was like a cry of pain, but it also held a kind of fascinated praise.

“What are
you
?” D said, repeating the very same question. “Last night, two people had their throats torn open on the east edge of town. Was that your doing?”

“Suppose I said it was?”

White light traced a cross in the air.

When the table she'd kicked across the room had been sliced to quarters, the woman retreated to the wall to her rear. As both her palms came in contact with the wall, cracks raced across it like the threads of a spider web, and then her form slipped through the newly made hole into the darkness with a rough wooden stake hurtling from D's left hand right behind her.

There was no response.

Becoming a black wind, D slipped through the hole.

A gunshot rang out from somewhere in the woods.

As D ducked, hot lead whizzed right over his head and bit into a distant tree trunk.

D could feel the woman's presence melting into the stillness of the forest. As he twisted around, he let a rough wooden needle fly toward where the shot had originated.

A man's scream rang out, and another shot flew off into the heavens.