The Hunters by Teves David

Author:Teves, David [Teves, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Horror | Vampires
Published: 2018-08-12T04:00:00+00:00

On the other side of Boston, William Bailey, vampire hunter, stirs from a fitful sleep. He sits up in bed and listens to the sleeping town. Though it’s still the middle of the night, it seems unnaturally quiet. Then a sound comes floating on the wind. It’s the faint echo of screaming. He rises from his bed and gets dressed. He grabs his work bag and rushes to the livery stable to retrieve his horse. Minutes later, he’s riding through the empty streets; down Common Street, past The Mall and into the gloom of the countryside where only his sixth sense knows his destination.

An hour later Bailey arrives at the house where he is certain a terrible danger is lurking. The front door has been wantonly thrown open to the cold. There is mischief afoot on this night; mischief custom made for his talents. He slides from his horse, grabs his bag of tricks and runs to the porch. Along the way he notices a dog lying dead in the front yard. He peers into the house and spies the glow of an ebbing fire to his left. He retrieves a wooden stake and hammer from the bag and steps into the foyer. The house is silent except for the crackle of the fire. He moves toward the fireplace where he discovers the body of a man dressed in his nightclothes. He sniffs the air but doesn’t detect an odor. It’s a fresh kill. Bailey kneels to examine the neck. His eyes land on the unmistakable marks of a vampire.

Bailey hears a hiss, and the man’s eyes spring open, but they are not the eyes of a human; they are the black orbs of the undead. Bailey acts with blinding speed: stake in hand, centered over the heart, his hammer crashing down. A spasm shudders through the once human body. Blood oozes from the wound where it turns into a vapor. Then the body trembles one last time and falls to dust. Bailey barely has the opportunity to appreciate his grim work when someone lands on his back. It’s a woman dressed in a blue quilted bathrobe. She has the same dead eyes along with clattering, hungry teeth. Bailey twists his back, flips her onto the floor, and slams a stake into her heart.

But the danger is not over. There is someone else in this house. He can feel it within him. He lights a candle, returns to the foyer, closes the front door and listens. It’s the whimpering of a child coming from upstairs. William Bailey is not a man easily fooled. It’s an ability that has kept him alive for his thirty-three years. He asks himself, is it a child or a clever trap set by a cunning vampire? He carefully climbs the stairs. At the top, he pauses. The sobbing is coming from a room to his right. His mind and his body are ready for anything. He reaches the door and looks in. On the floor, a boy is curled in a fetal position.

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