Asa
"Shit," comes Rafe's voice over the line. "What happened?"
The wind howls, making him sound faint. "I was following orders to track Emiko and not interfere. Sanji tracked her down and they battled for quite a while."
"Where are you?"
"Near the ski area." The long shadows cast by the chair lift add a spooky, scary-movie feel to the kill scene. Thanks to the nearby fluorescent lights, the splashes and pools of blood look like ink against the white background.
"You told me about Bebe and how Sanji drank from Emiko's discarded kill. Did the rogue walk away from this kill, too?"
"Yes and no." I look around at the huge circle of tramped-down snow splattered with black. "They sliced each other up with swords and Emiko took some blood to heal. As far as I could tell, she sustained minimal surface wounds throughout the entire encounter. The rogue didn't drain the corpse nor did she finish decapitating Sanji or cut out her heart. She ran off right before I called you."
"Holy fucking hell," sounds off to my right and I whirl around to face Liam and Jet heading over from behind the small ski lodge.
"You've got visitors, Asa?" Rafe says.
"Yeah, must have been why Emiko split before the task was done."
"You know what to do-finish the kill and store the corpse where you put Bebe. Call me back when you're alone. I have some more details to fill you in on." With that he ends the call, leaving me staring at the two stoic vampires.
"Savage," says Jet while checking out the blood pools, "wouldn't you say?"
Liam walks over and examines the Indian vampire's remains. "Looks like she almost hacked through the right arm at the shoulder. And her head is barely attached." He turns his attention to me briefly before going back to the corpse, "Did you witness the fight?"
"Yes."
Jet walks around the forty-foot clearing. The nearby light on a pole dimly illuminates the ground, making most of the details discernible with our enhanced vision. "Lots of prints. How long did the encounter last?"
"Over thirty minutes."
Liam gives a low whistle, "Long time for a sword fight."
Images of the whirling blades, driving fists, and flying feet fill my mind. "They didn't just stick to swords."
"What's your impression of Emiko, lad?" Liam's brogue comes through in his excitement.
"She's highly skilled and tends to play with her opponents." Jet raises an eyebrow at my assessment. Of course, I'm not going to tell him about how she played with me in the bowling alley and stripped me of my weapons like I was a child. "She's silent when she fights. From what I witnessed, she could have ended Sanji's life much sooner-like twenty-eight minutes sooner."
Liam shifts his battle-axe to his other shoulder. "I wonder if it's worth it."
"You mean this hunt?" Jet asks.
"Yeah."
"Donald didn't think so," I say.
"What do you mean?" Jet crosses the circle to stand over the body.
"He bowed out when he knew he was outclassed as a fighter. Offered to end his participation in the hunt if she spared his life."
"And she honored such a request?" he asks.
"Yup. And took a nice snack at his neck to seal the deal."
"'Spoils to the victor'," Liam says. "Standard for submitting to a more powerful opponent."
Jet grunts and continues to examine Sanji's remains. "Look at this crisscrossing of slash marks." He pokes a finger and the shredded coat falls away, revealing blood soaked clothing. "It looks like a pattern."
"I'm sorry to spoil your fun," I say while removing a long, silver knife from a sheath strapped to my left thigh. "But I have a job to finish." Both vampires take a small step back; eager to watch when I cut out their fallen comrade's heart.
I push the ferocity of my actions to the back of my head. Following orders to correctly dispose of a dangerous corpse is not the same as being a trained soldier. Rarely were we ever required to do anything even remotely as brutal as what I've been exposed to in my new undead existence.
I slide the blade under her shirt and cut the material away to provide better access. The marks on her chest are numerous, reinforcing what I said earlier in my observations-Emiko was obviously toying with her.
"Is that a word?" Liam asks.
One glance at the cuts and I realize he's right. They do make a word. "Looks like 'N-O-T'," I say. Reaching down, I push more fabric aside to reveal her abdomen. Hacked, shallow cuts clearly spell out the word 'GUILTY'.
"Well, if that don't beat all," Jet says. "Talk about making a statement."
"Could it be true?" the Scotsman asks.
"What criminal do you know ever admits they're guilty?" I say.
"True," he replies. "But I think I'm going to head back to the inn and think on this for a bit. It took a long time to deliver this message-not to mention skill. And one has to wonder why."
I shrug and bend to my task. The silver cuts like a hot knife through butter. In a moment the first step to my job is complete and the Indian vampire's heart lays in a paper bag-ready for burning.
"Can I borrow your axe?" I ask of Liam.
He shrugs before handing me the heavy weapon. "Knock yourself out."
One strike is all it takes for the olive-toned skin and long black hair of the old vampire to roll away into the snow. I hand back the bloody axe, for a moment or two it looks as if Jet and Liam are contemplating drinking from the body.
"It's not your kill," I say.
"From what I heard, it didn't stop Sanji with Bebe," Jet replies.
"And did it do her any good?"
"No honor in it," says Liam. "I'll pass."
The two hunters slink off into the darkness, in the direction of the inn and not the fleeing footprints of the rogue. I heft the headless body over my shoulder, grab the bag containing the heart, and snag the head by its long, trailing hair. I carry my burdens to the storage shed near Gen One, where I stowed the garbage bag with Bebe's many severed parts. In very little time I've got her head and quickly freezing body lodged next to the Brazilian's bagged remains.
It occurs to me, as I reach for my phone to call Rafe back, that Emiko wrote that message for me. She knew I was watching and would be the one to clean up her latest kill. I doubt it was intended to make the other hunters rethink their position in this game. Why focus on me? You'd think if she wanted to clear her name she might not have jumped me at the bowling alley like she did. Then again, from what I've seen of her abilities, she meant me no permanent harm.
When Rafe answers, I tell him of the words found carved on the body and my completion of the assigned task. The blood darkens the bag I'm holding, dripping onto the snow as I walk. I can't wait to dispose of it and get it out of my possession.
"Don't bring the heart inside the inn. It makes an awful stench when you burn it. Use the fire pit in the stone garden. Should be some dry wood in the kindling box."
"Got it. Want me to track Emiko when I'm done?"
"No, go check in with the wolves in cabin number three. Drew reports, via the GPS locators, that there are two more wolves back in the cabin. I want to make sure none of them are injured. A pack can be pretty stubborn when it comes to asking for outside help."
"Didn't you have something you wanted to tell me before?"
"Yeah, but I'll fill you in when you come back to the main building. The seethe meeting at one has been pushed to two."
"Okay."
We end the call and I head west to get back to the main building and the stone fire pit. The statues, wrapped in rope lights, twinkle in the false twilight of the garden. Numerous landscape bulbs brighten the courtyard in a simulation of daylight and help to preclude shadows from forming between the carved sexual antics on display.
Near the glass wall of the pool wing lies a gathering of benches. The smooth paver stones from the path branch out here and form a large, round clearing. An indentation in the middle indicates where the fire pit is.
A large cedar box, mounded with snow, stands behind a bench. Logically, it has got to be where the wood is kept. Brushing off the snow, I uncover a small, ash-coated shovel leaning against the back. In a few minutes, I dig out the pit, load it up with some dry wood, and set the small pile ablaze.
I sit and watch the dance of fire, enjoying the exuberant lick of flames before I have to toss the heart in. A weight bears down on me, stifling the enthusiasm I had when coming to the inn just two months ago. This was to be a new beginning away from the undead life I'd come to hate.
Is this what I want? Did I join the Army to serve our country only to get infected with an incurable disease that has effectively ended my life forever? Where is the honor in arranging a hunt for a bunch of blood-sucking serial killers?
I toss the bloody bag into the flames and the waft of the sickly sweet smell rises up to choke me. The natural tones of the fire illuminate the colors hidden previously by the dim fluorescent lights, causing the dark red stains to leap into focus. My gut clenches. More so then it did when I had to do this for Joanna's heart, and then Bebe's, earlier today.
Is my new "family" the family I want? Can I repair the damage I've done with killing Joanna? Hell, she was a crazy bitch and had to go, but am I up for the rebuild into Vivian's good graces?
A sigh escapes me as I stare into the sputtering fire. The wetness of the heart dampens the roaring flames. I toss a few more pieces of kindling on and build it back up to finish the job.
Essentially, isn't this what I must do with my life? Build it back up and make something of my new undead existence? It will never be the same as my old life. I miss my father and my brother, having lost my mother and other brother ages ago.
A resolves grips me as I sit and watch the fire until it dies. Vivian is a worthy leader to follow. I've pledged my allegiance to her and to break my vow trying to leave is a fate worse than losing honor-it is a fate filled with fear.
This existence is all I have left. I don't want to die, so I intend to make the best of it. "Adapt or die" is Vivian's favorite saying, and one I'm only now starting to fully understand.
Pushing the ashes around with the shovel, I spread out the remains to ensure the job is done. A check of my cell phone indicates the time is one-fifteen. With one last glance at the stone pit, I head out to the guest cabins to complete my next task-checking on the stinky werewolves. Why hasn't anyone told them they reek of wet dog? There's got to be soap or something to cover that stench up.
I'll be glad when the week is over. It's still hard to believe we haven't even made it through the second day and we've lost two hunters already-three if you count Melvyn. I see why Vivian asked for the money upfront.
The paths leading to the guest cabins smell much more doggy-like than they did my last trip through here. The musky trail has hints of femininity in it, but male pheromones overlay those traces for the most part.
I haven't met this group yet, I was on duty in the command center when they arrived and Drew showed them around. Hopefully, they'll give me a chance to explain who am I before they jump to the conclusion I'm one of the vampire hunters. I went over the dossiers of the wolf pack so two of the male werewolves I sense inside must be Romeo, Spike, Eric or Patrick. Don't know much else besides their first names. Jon said Weres tend to take the last name of the pack they're a part of.
I knock on the door and wait. The heavy wood door is pulled open by a bulky young wolf looking a lot like my younger brother. Is my wishful thinking from earlier about family playing tricks with my mind?
"Asa?" The young man's mouth hangs open in shock. "It can't be you, right? Because my brother died in Afghanistan."
Shock spirals through me and grips my heart in a death vise. "Eric?" My voice comes out in a croak. "How the hell did you get here?"
Eric reaches out and grabs me by the shoulder, hauling me into the cabin and slams the door shut. He takes hold of me in a big bear hug while his stink of werewolf musk wafts around me.
In one split second the moment is over and he pulls back and slams me into the door. "Dude!" The smack against the solid wood reverberates through my spine. "What the fuck, man? You're a vampire now?"
"I could say the same to you," I grumble while my heart sings with the fact I'm reunited with the brother I never thought I'd see again.
"So you didn't die overseas, but got turned?"
"Yeah, that about sums it up in a nutshell."
"Why didn't you contact us?" he says while shaking his head. "Dad was beside himself with grief. Hell, I grieved for you right alongside him."
I look away, unable to meet his pain-filled eyes. Wandering in, still in shock, I sit on the couch. "I couldn't. There was no way to control the bloodlust going through me... I would have drained you both."
Eric dismisses my fears with a snort and waves it off. "Yeah, whatever. You keep telling yourself that. It was shitty and you should have at least called."
The heat of anger fills me, reflecting the confused emotions spilling through my body. "And said what? 'I'm a vampire now and have killed innocent people while the bloodlust rides me?'"
My brother sobers and sits across from me. "Okay, good point. But surely sometime in almost two years you could have reached out?"
I shake my head at his obvious acceptance of my new existence. "Like you two would have believed me? Give me a break. No one believes in this paranormal crap, unless they've experienced it firsthand. Speaking of which-how did you wind up a werewolf?"
"Pat and I were hanging out at camp, you know, our old favorite partying spot in West Milford?" I nod and he keeps going. "We had one too many, like usual, and this mangy-looking big dog wanders into the firelight." He stares off in the direction of the fireplace, his broad shoulders hunching forward while he retells the details. "We didn't have any food to entice it, but tried to call it over so we could pet it." He shakes his head. "Idiots. We were such dumbasses. Back from a tour overseas, feeling no pain. The big dog growled and lunged. Pat shouted, 'Run!' We stumbled through the woods, screaming like morons, and the thing took us down in minutes."
"Did it just bite or were you both mauled?"
"Both of us were torn up pretty good. Maybe all those damn shots and vaccines the government forced on us gave us a fighting chance, I don't know. We both woke up in the hospital. Pat had to be strapped down and medicated for a while. The uncontrollable rage from the transformation rode him the moment he came to."
A smile creases my face as I remember my brother's obnoxious best friend; he always did have a hair trigger. "Did the bastard survive?"
Eric motions with his head at the closed bedroom door. "Yup, he's in there right now, trying to seduce the pants off our injured pack-mate. I don't think he'll get far. Lori is a bit of a bitch." He laughs at his own joke. "In every sense of the word."
"How did you find out what you were?"
"Some guy came to visit us in the hospital. Claimed we'd been changed into werewolves and bitten by a junior member of his 'pack'. Pat laughed his ass off. I just kind of sat there in shock. The man was Romeo, our alpha. A group of them were vacationing down in warmer weather during the fall," he pauses in his speech, looking to see if I'm listening. At a nod from me he continues, "He told us one member wandered off right when they were scheduled to leave before the full moon. The full moon happened and the loner wolf attacked. Romeo only brought us along on this hunt because we're the newest pups and he didn't trust us alone with the pack."
"Yeah, but to bring you out to hunt a rogue vampire?" I shake my head. The incredulity of my brother being a werewolf still hasn't sunk in. It's easier to just examine the facts. "That doesn't seem like a good choice, either."
Eric shrugs. "Which is why we're mostly here in the cabin. We went out initially when the hunt started, but at four months as werewolves, we're not really up to snuff yet. Both of us can follow orders and hunt in the pack at home, but here is different. Once Lori was attacked in the main building, Elsa wanted us safe and sound in here."
Pat saunters out of the bedroom, gets a look at me, and stops dead. "I thought you had the TV on. Am I seeing things or is that your brother, Asa, looking like a pasty-assed version of himself and fuckin' reeking of a dead guy?"
I rise from the couch to greet my old friend. Quick as a wink, Pat launches across the space and bitch slaps me. My head whips around and the skin of my lip splits. I turn back to face the enraged Were as the small bit of blood on my mouth disappears and the wound seals shut.
"What the fuck was that for?" I ask, trying to keep my temper in check.
"Do you know what we went through thinking you were dead? Be thankful I only smacked you once, you inconsiderate bastard." Anger gone, Pat pulls me into a hug and thumps me on the back.
I shake my head as he lets go and plops down on the couch next to where I sat earlier. "You're crazy, you know that?"
"Yup, and an asshole. Tell me something I don't know," Pat replies with a good-natured grin on his face. "How'd you wind up with a liquid diet, anyway?"
I settle back on the couch, still feeling a bit like this moment is surreal, and try to explain. "We were out in the field for a few weeks, tail end of winter in Afghanistan. Came across a local-pale, skinny guy who looked delirious. I was bringing him back for medical assistance when he jumped me." I look away, the memory lurching up to life. "I found out later he must have drained me dry, and then gave me some of his blood in return. Maybe he felt bad for almost killing me?" I shrug and finally meet my brother's concerned eyes. "I dunno. I didn't know what happened to me until I tried to snack on my buddies. After that, I went AWOL and staged my death."
"How did you get back to the States?" Eric asks.
"Yeah, and did you forget your family's fuckin' phone numbers, too?" says Pat.
"Took me a few months to figure out how to get home. The first person I called was Aunt Cali."
"Aunt Cali?" Eric says. "We haven't seen her in years. Since she went overboard and started acting weird."
"I remember hearing about that," says Pat. "Your whole family cut her off, right?"
"You guys don't recall what she was acting weird about, do you?" He shakes his head. "You weren't paying attention much, Eric. Think you were eleven or so at the time. She started talking about other worlds and supernatural beings. The family kind of wrote her off like she was a nut. Little by little everyone distanced themselves from her until we just stopped talking about her."
"So you called her?" Eric says.
"I figured maybe she wasn't so crazy. After all, I had to drink blood to live and the sun burned my skin... Turns out, she was bitten by a werewolf over a decade ago. Lives in Manhattan now."
"No shit?"
"Her husband is a vampire. I lived with their group for over a year."
Pat leans forward and lifts up his hand, in a mock strike. "Don't tell me you were only an hour away for all that time and still didn't reach out?"
I put two hands out in a placating gesture, "Relax, fuckhead. By that point, I couldn't contact you. The vampire family, or seethe, forbade it. If I wanted to keep you all safe, I had to play by their rules. Over time, I realized the rules were made for a good reason."
"'Good reason' my ass," Pat sneers. "It was just wrong. And you know it."
I stand, not wanting to get into an argument with the volatile young man. "I'm not going to rehash why I didn't contact my brother and father when I could have killed them the moment I got too hungry. It's done. If you two hadn't been bitten I doubt I'd have ever been able to tell you and have you believe me."
My phone rings and I grab it.
"Yup?"
"Meeting is about to convene," Rafe's smooth tones come over the airwaves. "You might want to hightail it over."
"Yes, boss. Be right there." I extend a hand to my brother, who ignores it and hugs me again. "I'll be back as soon as I can and we'll talk some more." He thumps me on the back before stepping away. "Duty calls." I flip off Pat, like I used to do back home years ago. He smiles and returns the one-finger salute.
"You work at this place?" Eric asks. "You're not here as part of the hunt?"
"Nope, not a hunter. I joined this family about two months ago." I stride to the door and turn back with my hand on the knob. "Be back when I can."
"You better, I don't plan on losing you twice."
Moving quickly down the lit paths, I cross into the grotto and see a panel of wood over one of the windows to the gym. I bet it's one of the things Rafe wanted to talk to me about.
The stillness and peace I usually feel when stepping through the back door into Rafe and Viv's suite is missing. The unmistakable odor of wet dog, not werewolf, fills the space. A glance into the living room reveals two big wolf-dogs stretched out on the pull-out couch, staring intently my way.
"Nice doggies," I say.
The lip of one half-breed pulls back, showing long, pristine white teeth. A low rumble sounds through the quiet and the creature's muscles tense to leap.
