Hunter: Undead Reckoning

HUNTER:

By: Art Wiederhold

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© Copyright 2011 Art Wiederhold.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

Printed in the United States of America.

isbn: 978-1-4269-7212-6 (sc)

isbn: 978-1-4269-7213-3 (e)

Trafford rev. 06/07/2011

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Contents

Chapter Two:

It’s called the Rising Sun…

Chapter Three:

And it’s been the ruin

of many a poor boy…

Chapter Four:

The Not-So-Delightful Turk

Chapter Five:

Mirror, Mirror on the Wall…

Chapter Six:

Heads You Lose

Chapter Seven:

That’s No Way to Get a Head

Chapter Eight:

A Vampire Deprived

Chapter Nine:

Longue Vue

Chapter Ten:

The Scorpion’s Kiss

Chapter Eleven:

Icehouse Annie

Intermezzo

Dedicated once again to the good people of the Crescent City and fans of horror-adventure stories.

Chapter One:

There is a House in New Orleans…

The night was hot and sultry and the rougarou was on the prowl for yet another victim. After lurking in the shadows of the French Quarter for several hours, the creature spotted a likely target.

He watched as a slender young woman in a black cloak walked along Barracks Street and licked his dog-like lips in anticipation of what he knew would be an easy kill.

The woman was alone.

She’d be another easy meal to satisfy his hunger.

He waited for her to get closer and went into a crouch. As soon as she passed his hiding place, the rougarou sprang toward her. To his astonishment, his intended victim whirled suddenly and struck him square in the nose with her clenched fist.

The unexpected blow was painful.

It made him see stars.

He stumbled back and fell on his behind. The woman laughed as he shook the blow off. As his vision cleared, he saw her smile and bare her fangs.

A vampire!

Rather than engage her in what he knew would be a fruitless battle, the rougarou jumped to his feet and bounded up the façade of nearby building.

He thought he’d be safe on the roof.

He thought wrong.

Looking for me? came a voice from behind him.

He whirled around and watched as tall man dressed in a black leather mantle and wide-brimmed hat emerged from behind a chimney. The man had a revolver in each hand, which he cocked and pointed at him.

Hunter grinned.

The rougarou had walked right into his trap. All three of his recent victims had occurred within a four square block area. Each time, witnesses had reported seeing him take to the rooftops to make his escape.

Hunter had bet he would do so again.

The creature stared balefully at him for a few seconds, dripping saliva from his open mouth. Even in his animalistic state, he knew who he was facing.

He also knew he was overmatched.

His best bet was to flee.

The rougarou loped to the edge of the roof then turned to face his nemesis. He bared his long, yellowed fangs, emitted a howl, then leaped straight at him. Hunter ducked beneath its outstretched claws and spun around. The rougarou landed a few feet away, snarled again and beat its chest like an ape.

Make your move, bastard, Hunter challenged.

The rougarou charged, then emitted a cry of pain as Hunter’s first shot struck him in the wrist and all but blew his hand off. The second shot finished the job. The rougarou stared in disbelief as the appendage went flying over the edge of the roof.

Unwilling to lose anything else, the rougarou turned and leapt into the street below. Hunter watched as it landed on its feet like a cat. Almost immediately after, the silence of the night was shattered by two loud reports and bright flashes. He watched as the rougarou reeled back a few steps then fled down the street.

Jean-Paul DuCassal emerged from a nearby doorway and reloaded his shotgun just as Hunter reached the street.

Where’d he go? asked Hunter.

He fled south. He should be very easy to track. He was bleeding badly, DuCassal replied as he pointed to a large pool of blood in the middle of the street.

As they reached the corner, Lorena joined them.

He’s loosing a lot of blood. He might die before we can get to him, she said.

That’s fine with me, Hunter said. We’ve been chasing him all night and this is getting old.

They followed the blood trail down Barracks and across an intersection. When they reached the edge of Chartres, Hunter knelt to examine the trail.

Looks like he ran down toward Jackson Square. You two swing around and come at him from the other end. I’ll follow the trail. He won’t escape us this time, he said.

As they moved to split up, they were stopped dead in their tracks by a loud, blood-chilling scream.

That’s no human screaming! DuCassal said.

That sounds like our rougarou! Hunter said as they raced toward the square.

They arrived just in time to witness a large, hairy, barrel-chested creature with a hyena-like face taking a large bite out of the throat of the rougarou as it twitched on the ground beneath it.

As soon as the initial shock wore off, Hunter raised his revolver and took aim at the strange creature. It turned and stared at him with large, almond-shaped eyes that glowed like coals on a campfire. Before he could fire, it turned and leaped over a nearby building with one graceful bound.

He lowered the weapon and ran to the rougarou. He was kneeling next to it when Lorena and DuCassal walked over.

My god! He looks like he’s been gutted! DuCassal remarked.

"What in Hell was that?" asked Lorena.

I don’t know. Whatever it is, it eats rougarous, Hunter said as he stood up and holstered the revolver.

That thing took a very large bite out of this one’s throat. He looks like he was killed for food, DuCassal said.

What in God’s name eats rougarous? Hunter wondered.

"From the looks of it, the rougarou never stood a chance. That thing ambushed and killed him within seconds. A rougarou has eyes that see in the dark and a keen sense of smell like a hunting dog. How could he have not detected this thing?" asked DuCassal as they walked back up to Royal.

Maybe he did but there wasn’t anything he could do about it? Lorena suggested.

"Now there’s a comforting thought," Hunter said.

What do we do now, mon ami? DuCassal asked.

The same thing we usually do when faced with something inexplicable. We go and see Minerva, Hunter replied.

It’s nearly five a.m. How about we have breakfast first, then see her afterward? I don’t think she’d appreciate being disturbed this early, DuCassal suggested.

Hunter nodded.

As they headed to Pere Antoine’s, the strange creature watched them from the shadows of a nearby roof. As soon as they were out of his line of vision, the creature quietly retreated to his lair.

Minerva DuPres, the reigning voodoo queen of New Orleans, had just put the kettle on the stove to boil water for her morning tea when she heard the knock at the front door of the temple. She mumbled under her breath and opened it, then smiled as Hunter, Lorena and DuCassal walked in.

Set yourselves down. I’ll be with you as soon as I finish making breakfast, she said.

They went into the parlor and sat down in the high-backed Victorian style chairs while they waited. A few seconds after they heard the kettle whistle, Minerva emerged from the back room with her cup of tea and sat down with them.

What’s on your mind, Hunter? Since you’re here so early, I know this ain’t a social call, she said.

Hunter explained in detail what they’d seen. Minerva raised an eyebrow as she sipped her tea.

Tell me exactly what that thing looked like, she instructed.

It resembled a rougarou, only it was larger. More muscular and a lot faster, Hunter said. It didn’t try to attack me. It just glared at me and ran off. It leaped onto a building and vanished into the shadows.

Have you any idea what it could be? asked Lorena.

"No, child. I’ve never heard of anything that preys on rougarous, much less eats them. This might be some new kind of monster. Something that’s never existed before, Minerva replied. What are you going to do about it?"

There’s nothing we can do right now. We don’t know where it lives, what it is or how to kill it. All we can do is wait and see if it comes out to play again. If it does, maybe we can deal with it, Hunter said.

The next night, he woke up in a sweat after another one of his more vivid nightmares. Unable to fall back to sleep, he got up and dressed. Lorena sat up in bed and watched as he headed downstairs.

Don’t wait up, he called back as she heard the front door open and shut.

She sighed.

The dreams were becoming more frequent.

More vivid.

She got up, dressed and quietly followed him toward the French Quarter. As always, she’d stay at least a block behind and try to remain unseen. She knew it was futile. Hunter always knew she was there.

She always had his back.

And he always had hers.

Hunter walked down Bourbon Street to the Dragon. This was the biggest vampire hangout in New Orleans and he was a regular there. Everyone knew who he was. The vampires and wanna-bes of the underground always felt safer when they knew he, Lorena or DuCassal were around.

He entered and sat down in a small booth near a street window. The waitress, Mary Ann, spotted him and waved. He nodded and held up his index finger.

Gotcha, Charlie! she called out.

A few seconds later she hurried over with his favorite drink, a powerful mixture of bourbon, rum and gin blended with a hint of punch. It was called the viper and was one of Tony’s biggest sellers.

Hunter handed her a ten dollar note and told her to keep the change. She tucked it into her blouse and sashayed off. He laughed.

He sipped his drink and tried to shake off the effects of the nightmare. This one was cluttered with floating symbols, screaming men impaled on wooden stakes and the year 1462 in flaming numerals.

Just what in Hell does it all mean? he wondered as he drained his glass.

He was about to signal Mary Ann to bring him another.

It’s already been taken care of, she said as she pointed.

He watched as a young woman with long black hair walked over to him. She had a drink in each hand. She put one down in front of Hunter and slid into booth. He looked up and smiled. She did, too. He saw her fangs and nodded. The girl was a vampire.

I need your help, she said.

I’m listening, he said as he sipped the drink.

My youngest sister vanished last night. She disappeared right from her bedroom. All the windows and doors were locked from the inside. She just vanished into thin air. There were no sounds and no one in the house noticed anything unusual. She’s just gone, the girl said.

You have my full attention. Is she a vampire? Hunter asked.

Yes. She just turned last month, the girl replied.

Did anything unusual happen to her before she disappeared? he asked.

The girl thought for a few moments.

There was something strange, she said.

Go on, he urged as he took another sip of the drink.

She told me that when she woke up the night before, she had this weird bruise or mark on the back of her left calf. She showed it to me, the girl answered.

What did it look like? Hunter asked.

It was round and about the size of a silver dollar. There was this weird symbol in the middle of it, too, she said.

What kind of symbol? he asked.

Here—I’ll draw it for you, she said.

He watched as she grabbed his napkin. He handed her a pen. She nodded and drew an odd, three pronged symbol. He looked it over.

That’s a Nordic rune, he said.

What’s it mean? she asked.

It can mean several things. The most common use for it was a mark of ownership, Hunter explained.

Ownership? You mean like an old cattle brand? she asked.

Something like that, he said. Whoever put that on her was claiming her as his property.

Oh my! the girl said as she stared at him.

What’s your sister’s name? Hunter asked.

Bernie, she replied. That’s short for Bernice.

What’s she look like? he asked.

A lot like me but a little shorter. I’ve already been to the police. Inspector Valmonde said I should talk to you about it. So here I am, she said.

He smiled.

Will you help me? she asked.

Of course I’ll help you. What’s your name? he assured her.

Bertrice Falonger, she introduced herself.

Tell me, Bertrice, have you heard of anyone else vanishing like your sister did lately? he asked.

She shook her head.

No but maybe Tony did, she suggested.

Tony LeFleur was the owner of the Dragon, the Dungeon and a half-dozen other vampire themed clubs on the underground circuit. He and Hunter had become close friends and Tony was a veritable well of information of what went down on the circuit.

In that case, let’s go ask him, Hunter said.

They walked around the bar and knocked on the door to Tony’s office. He called out for them to enter. Hunter and Bertrice told him what was up. Then Hunter asked him if he knew of anyone else who might have gone missing.

Tony shook his head.

Not right off. I’ll ask around. I’ll also ask about that odd mark, he said.

Thanks, Tony. You know where to find me, Hunter said.

He and Bertrice left the club and walked along Bourbon Street for a couple of blocks. At the corner of Toulouse, they parted. Hunter watched her vanish around a corner, then continued walking toward St. Charles.

Just as he reached the streetcar stop, a dense, almost clammy fog popped up from nowhere and swirled around him. Within seconds, everything around him became obscured.

He stopped and smiled.

He knew what the fog meant.

Seconds later, an all-too-familiar figure in a long white dress and blue neckerchief slowly appeared in the fog and walked toward him.

Good evening, Madame Laveau, he said with a courteous tip of his hat.

Good evening, Hunter, she replied.

And what brings you out on this lovely evening? he asked.

Something wicked this way comes, Madame LaVeau said.

Are you referring to me or yourself? Hunter joked.

She smiled. It was that same annoying, I-know-something-you-don’t smile she always wore when they met.

Neither. The air has a foul feel to it tonight. It’s been building for quite some time now, she said.

I hadn’t noticed, Hunter said.

"Well, I have. You would, too, if you used all of the senses God gave you. Then you’d see what I mean," Madame LaVeau asserted.

"Forgive my density, but just what do you mean?" asked Hunter.

"Something evil is in New Orleans. Something straight out of Hell. It’s neither man nor demon. Neither alive nor dead. Yet it is all of the above and none of the above. It’s powerful, too, Hunter. Very powerful," she replied.

Before he could ask another question, both Marie Laveau and the accompanying fog vanished. He muttered the usual string of epithets and caught the last streetcar back to the Garden District.

Lorena got home ahead of him. She was seated on the porch when he arrived. He smiled.

It’ll be sunrise soon, he said.

I know, she replied as they walked inside. You didn’t think I would let you go out alone, did you?

Of course not. I know I can always count on you to be there. I appreciate you keeping your distance. When I have those nightmares, I need some alone time to clear my head, he said as they walked up the stairs to the bedroom.

What about now? she teased.

Now, I want you close, he said.

How close? she asked with a knowing smile.

"This close!" he replied as he picked her up and carried her to the bed.

The next afternoon, Hunter and Lorena headed for the Basin Street station to speak with Inspector Valmonde about the disappearance.

When Hunter finished talking, Valmonde walked over to the file cabinet and pulled out for brown folders.

Seems that Bernice ain’t the only one who suddenly went missin’, Valmonde said as he handed Hunter the files. There have been four others. All were young, pretty female vampires. Real young.

Hunter looked through the files. A couple of them he knew from the Dragon and other clubs on the circuit. He looked at Valmonde.

What happened to Alexandra Knox? he asked.

She left the club a few nights ago and never made it home. There’s no trace of her anywhere. It’s like she vanished into thin air, Valmonde replied.

Cayla Harper? Hunter asked.

She vanished from the middle of a crowd on Bourbon. One second she was there with her friends havin’ a good old time. A second later, she was gone, the Inspector said.

Mary Ann Murphy? Hunter queried.

Vanished from a crowded streetcar on Canal Street. As you can imagine, it freaked out the two friends who were with her. Those girls are still hysterical, Valmonde replied.

Willa Masters? Hunter asked.

Vanished right from middle of a wedding party. She was clutchin’ the arm of her escort at the time. The poor kid went all to pieces. He still ain’t right. That was this past Saturday at City Park. All four of them gals vanished into thin air. Three were in front of eye witnesses. I put two of my best men on the case but they ain’t found clue one as to what happened. That’s why when Bertrice came and told her sister had vanished, I sent her to you.

I see. Can you get me copies of any eye witness accounts and anything else your men might have turned up? I don’t care how insignificant it seems, I want to see it, Hunter asked.

Sure thing. I’ll have Sam run it by your place this evenin’, Valmonde agreed. Anythin’ else?

There might be. Bertrice said her sister had a strange, circular mark on the back of her neck. It sort of looks like a cattle brand. She got this just before she vanished. Did any of the other girls have similar marks? Hunter asked.

Not that I’m aware of. If they had those marks, nobody said anything to me about it. Is it important? Valmonde replied.

It could be very important, Hunter said.

I’ll send my men around to ask about that. If they turn anythin’ up, I’ll give you a holler, Valmnde said.

That’s fair enough. Any idea how long those girls have been vampires? Hunter asked.

Not long at all accordin’ to their friends. Less than a month in all cases, Valmonde replied. Looks like somebody’s targeting young girl vampires. Any idea why?

Hunter shook his head.

No. But I intend to find out, he said.

As they left the station, the familiar carriage of Jean-Paul DuCassal pulled up in front of them. DuCassal leaned out the window.

Good morning, mes amis! I was just headed to Brennan’s for brunch. Would you care to join me? he called out.

That’s the best offer we’ve had all morning, Hunter said as he opened the door and waited for Lorena to climb aboard.

He followed and shut the door behind him. DuCassal signaled for the driver to continue, then smiled.

I figured you would be here when I heard about the disappearance of Bernice, he said. What did you find out?

Plenty. Bernice was the fifth young woman who suddenly went missing. All disappeared under the most unusual circumstances, Hunter replied.

DuCassal raised an eyebrow.

Hunter told him what was in the files. DuCassal whistled and shook his head.

That’s incredible! he said.

It sure is. Three vanished right in front of witnesses. There are no clues. No one saw or heard anything unusual beforehand, except for that strange mark on Bernice’s neck. Five young women are gone. Poof! Hunter said.

Any connections? DuCassal asked.

Maybe. All five were recently turned. Willingly, too. And all were under 20 years old, Hunter replied as they pulled up in front of Brennan’s.

They got out and headed inside. A young waitress escorted them to a table and told them to help themselves to the buffet while she fetched their drinks.

It sounds like someone has a fetish for collecting young, female vampires. Virgin vampires, if you will, DuCassal said as he filled his plate.