Vampire Hunter D (25 page)

“Look how close it is already. C’mon and start already!” The fist gave D another smack.

The cloud had closed within ten feet of D. Close enough to hear the tortured cow within it.

Three feet away. The cloud rose into the air and flew straight for D.

A flash of light raced through its translucent mass.

The blade seemed to pass right through it without meeting any resistance, but when the bisected cloud fell to the ground in two chunks, it lost its color before it had a chance to split into smaller pieces. It gave off a whitish steam and soaked into the earth. Only the remains of the cow were left behind.

D got to his feet, scattering moonbeams.

“Nice going. You know, you had me scared out of my wits, as usual.”

As if this somewhat inappropriate greeting for someone just risen from the dead hadn’t reached his ears, D asked, “Where are the two of them?”

“In the asylum, I’d imagine. Every village seems to put it on the edge of town.”

With that, all conversation ceased, and D leapt to his feet and headed for the stables.

..

The tall trees spread their branches like monsters, fending off the invading moonlight. The only light to speak of was the phosphorescent glow of guidepost mushrooms here and there among the roots of the trees, though that didn’t amount to much before the mass and density of the crushing darkness. Even a traveler with some source of light would have a hard time traversing this forest late at night without getting lost in the process.

This was the Ransylva Forest—where night was said to live even at midday. And through it, Dan ran desperately. He wasn’t alone. From the darkness less than thirty feet behind him came the growl and footsteps of a carnivore. Its identity was clear. The Count’s servant—Garou—pursued him.

Caught by the Count just as they were about to flee the asylum, his sister and Larmica had been put into the carriage, while Dan had been left there alone. Promptly deciding to rescue Doris, he’d headed back to the farm to arm himself. Despite his youth, it was clear to him it would be futile to seek assistance in rescuing his sister from anyone in town. And there wasn’t a moment to lose. The shortest possible route would be to cut right through the Ransylva Forest instead of taking the road. With only his sister in mind, he did it without a moment’s hesitation. However, less than a minute after he’d entered the forest he heard the snarling of the werewolf behind him.

The deadly marathon had begun.

His father and sister had brought him here before in the relative safety of day, and he could even recall playing in the forest alone. Tapping all the knowledge he had, Dan raced down the most serpentine paths he could find, snuck into hollow trees, and hid in the brush in an attempt to confuse his unsettling pursuer.

But whenever he stopped, it stopped. If he ran again, it took off as well. No matter what he tried, the distance between them neither grew nor shrank.

Dan finally figured out it was toying with him. The moment this occurred to him, his admirable sense collapsed and pure, black terror became the sole occupant of his heart. He ran for all he was worth. And yet, the pursuer to his back remained the same thirty feet behind him as always.

His heart was about to explode and his lungs gasped for more air. He could taste his own salty tears on his tongue. And just when he thought he could take no more, he saw a spot of light in the darkness. The way out!

Hope pumped him full of energy. His feet beat the ground in powerful strides until something suddenly grabbed hold of them.

“Waaugh!” Falling face forward, he tried to get up again but was caught by a pair of hands. “Deadman’s hand!”

The scant moonlight barely spilling through the interwoven trees showed him what it was. A pale corpse’s hand reached from the ground, its five fingers wriggling in a disgusting way. No, not fingers but rather five flowers. Dan was being held to the ground by a pale blossom that looked just like a corpse’s hand. As the various botanical horrors sown by the Nobility went, these were rather bizarre but innocuous plants—and the fact that Dan had known where they grew and had still ended up jumping right into the middle of this patch said volumes about how the terror behind him had wiped everything else from his mind. But who could blame a boy of eight for that?

Using all his might, Dan got to his feet again. The deadman’s hand still hung from his wrist, pulled-up roots and all.

Just as he was about to start running again—

“Awoooooooooh!”

A terrific howl assailed him from behind, rooting his feet.

Seeing the exit so close at hand, this was the battle cry Garou gave when it decided the time had come to put an end to their horrifying chase. It’d been pursuing Dan because the Count was allowing it to dine on a living person for the first time in ages.

All the strength drained from the boy. Sorry, Sis. Looks like I won’t be able to save you. Tears of regret rolled down his cheeks.

And then, the howling abruptly halted. In its place, Dan could sense trembling.

At that same moment, Dan heard something. He caught the echo of hoofbeats out beyond the exit, distant but drawing closer with a vengeance. He couldn’t hear a voice or see a shape. But Dan knew in a second who it was. “D!” His hopeful cry speared through the darkness.

Once again a howl rang out behind him, and a black whirlwind raced by his side.

“D, watch out!”

He ran a few steps, kicking the tenacious deadman’s hand blossoms out of his way. An incredibly bestial roar rose beyond the exit, and was suddenly silenced.

Fairly tumbling headlong out of the forest, Dan saw a rider on a hillock ahead, bathed in moonlight. At his feet lay the fallen werewolf. D galloped over. Getting down off a horse Dan recognized, he asked, “What are you doing out here? Where’s your sister?”

Dan was overcome with emotion. “I just knew you were still alive, D. I ... I knew there was no way you’d die on us ... ” He couldn’t say anything more. When Dan finally settled down and explained the situation, D picked him up without a word and set him on the horse. He didn’t tell the boy to go home or offer to bring him back to the farm.

Looking out across the prairie at the Count’s castle with a steely gaze, D asked, “Are you coming with me?” It was the same question he’d asked the boy in the ruins a night earlier.

“Sure!”

There was no reason to expect any other reply from the boy.

..

There was one particular characteristic of the castles of the Nobility that suited their vampire lords. While there were gorgeous sleeping chambers ready for guests and other visitors, there were none for the lord and his family.

They slumbered in a place most befitting their rank, an exalted place that was the stuff of legend: in coffins beneath the earth.

In vast subterranean chambers filled with tiny organisms, where the stench of dankness mixed with the sweet perfume of ancient soil, here alone the true past slept, free of computer controls. The smell of long-unused torches hung in the air of this special place. A stone wall that looked to be perhaps thirty feet tall was covered by a colossal portrait of the Sacred Ancestor. On the crimson dais before it stood the Count in his black raiment and Doris, garbed in a gown of snow white. The girl’s eyes were lifeless. She was hypnotized.