Bloodsucker

Chapter 5

When a Noble—that is, a vampire—drank someone’s blood and they died, the human returned as one of their kind. This was a principle immutable in both heaven and earth. Though there were humans who would die and not be revived due to the wishes of the Noble, the principle remained unchanged. However, in the rarest of cases, due to either some tiny variance in technique not even the Nobility themselves could quantify or else just the caprices of the universe—in other words, by sheer accident, or perhaps due to the capricious nature of the Noble in question—there were some victims who were left drained but didn’t die. “Incompletes” was the name they were given.

In one sense, there could be no more tragic creature in the world. Since they hadn’t been completely transformed into vampires, they still had a human psyche but, while human, had been given the inclinations of a vampire. Their human minds were plagued with guilt as they were unable to keep from attacking others in their lust for blood. Consequently, when the sun went down, they would creep into the bedrooms of their former friends and drive a Noble’s fangs into throats coursing with hot blood. When they did, half of the time their victims would become Nobles, while the other half would immediately die. Whether their fate was the former or the latter, it was always a great tragedy for the victims’ families.

From knowledge accumulated over ten millennia, almost all the surviving victims of an “incomplete” were left imbeciles, and since it’d been confirmed that not only was there was no danger of them attacking humans, but also that the survivors’ bite wouldn’t turn anyone into the Nobility, said victims would be confined to a secure building on the outskirts of town, where they would be given blood taken from their families. A kind of life support system would be established. Through it, someone would be safely kept in captivity for the rest of their life—or they could be, though in most cases their family ended up driving a stake through the heart of the victim. Because the family couldn’t escape the most negative association with the Nobility and the act of drinking blood—that it was dirty.

It began as a creeping suspicion that their neighbors no longer looked at them the same way, growing into delusions that the rest of the village no longer even viewed their family as human. The only way to escape it was to destroy the source of it. And then, their father or mother, child or wife would head to the edge of town with hammer and stake in hand. And once they’d done what they had to do, they would seek an outlet for their anger—the “incomplete” who was the cause of it all.

Naturally, it was impossible for someone like that to live in a community or even near one. Their habitations had to be frozen wastes where humans never passed, mountains where no man had ever set foot, desert islands, and the like. However, the greatest misfortune for the “incompletes” was that they needed to drink the blood of human beings. Though one might live a thousand miles from human habitation, when night came he would seek someone’s blood. For the craving was a thousand times stronger than the human hunger for food. No amount of self-restraint could curb it. As a result, the tragedy played out time and again, leaving them no choice but to wander eternally until they met their fate at human hands.

“How long have you been here?” the duke asked, his question carrying misgivings—and a modicum of admiration. Because after a bloodsucking incident, or after their hiding place was discovered, an “incomplete” had to immediately go on the run. No matter where they might hide, humans would track them down. They were given three months at best in any one place. Yet this log cabin showed all signs that the siblings had inhabited it for far longer than that.

“A little over three years,” Glia replied.

That was an unbelievable length of time.

“It isn’t exactly someplace where they could never find you. So, have you gone without feeding on the blood of your neighbors?”

The young man in the bed—Cotil—nodded. Glia followed suit.

“I would compliment you on your incredible endurance, but you have served in their place, have you not?” the duke said, looking at Glia.

The girl must’ve known this would come out at some point. She nodded.

“You have no wounds on your neck, which would mean—” the duke began, walking over to her and taking her left hand. On turning it over, he found a pair of swollen and unmistakable wounds side by side near her wrist.

“Those who offer blood to an ‘incomplete’ fall into a stupor, though I hear there are exceptions. Who would’ve thought one of them would be in my domain.”

The duke let go of her.

Glia hid her hand behind her back. Her face was flushed red with humiliation.

“Though brother and sister, in this way he need not hunger, and she wouldn’t become one of our kind—and so long as you didn’t come down off the mountain, the villagers would probably tolerate you. Let me see your injury,” the duke said, raising his right hand.

The medical device that was at the door glided closer, then halted. A mechanical arm extended from its body, and the trauma scanner at the end of it was turned on Cotil.

“Please, wait just a minute,” the boy said in a composed voice, halting the machine. To the duke, who now wore a look of suspicion, he said, “The story about me being bit by a mountain snake was a bald-faced lie. I merely wanted you to see me without the damned villagers interfering, and I apologize from the bottom of my heart for misleading you.”

“What’s the meaning of this?”

“I’d like you to make me a real vampire.”

“Oh,” the duke said, not surprised. For an “incomplete,” seeking the power that would let him serve the Nobility rather than live life as a human was, in a sense, the natural choice.

Before the duke could answer him, D inquired, “And your little sister agrees with this?”

One look at Glia, who’d had her head lowered ever since her brother had confessed his plan, made her feelings plain. Nevertheless, D had asked.

“That’s right,” Cotil replied.

“A word of warning,” said the duke. “Our handsome friend here isn’t one of my vassals. He is the world’s greatest Hunter. And he is here with me because it wouldn’t do to have me escape before he can destroy me.”

“It can’t be,” the two of them groaned in unison. “Is that really him—D?”

“It is. Though not in his contract, I’m not sure he would stand idly by while I make you one of the Nobility. Your head would most certainly fly, and mine might as well. So, how about it, D? Will you turn a blind eye to all of this as having nothing to do with you? You would have my thanks for it.”

“Is his sister fine with it?” D asked once more.

Her older brother didn’t answer this time. D’s tone had carried something that made it clear no one else could speak for her. All eyes focused on her lithe frame.

“Well, I . . . ” Glia—that tough little girl—began, sounding like she was ready to cry. Her right hand was wrapped around her left shoulder. No one would protect her. In which case, she’d have to protect herself.

“I . . . I hate the idea of it. What have I worked so hard for all this time, then? But you . . . you said you’re tired of drinking just my blood . . . You kept badgering me about what you’re supposed to do after I’m dead . . . and I couldn’t tell you.”

A glittering something fell to the floor.

“When were you bitten?” D asked, turning to her brother.

“I was . . . six when it happened.”

“And your parents?”

“Dead, both of them . . . in a train wreck a year before. I got bitten at an orphanage. The director was in with the Nobility.”

“If you were six years old, then your sister was two. And you’ve been feeding off her all this time?”

Cotil turned his face away. His teeth gnashed together with a sound like steel. When he looked back at them, he wore the face of the devil himself.

“You’re damned right I did. That’s right. I’ve been drinking my little sister’s blood since the time she was two. And she hated it. But I wouldn’t let her go. I needed her blood if I was going to live without people chasing after me all the time. She ran away time and again. But my eyes can see even at night, and my sense of smell is a hundred times stronger. Most importantly, I can run a hundred yards in less than five seconds. There’s no way she could ever give me the slip. All I ever did for her was make her live alone with me in a shack on this boring old mountain. But now all that’s at an end. Duke, your grace, I beg of you. Please, make me one of your vassals. I’ll serve you well. First of all, I’ll see to this Hunter—”

The boy’s eyes began to glow with the blood light.

“Stop it, Cotil!” Glia cried out, writhing. “Cotil, you never think about anybody but yourself—and what am I supposed to do now? Day in and day out you suck my blood. And that’s fine for you, but I still have to eat. But since you didn’t help me at all, Cotil, I had to go off alone and eat roots and berries and bugs and rabbits. Still, I thought I was fine with that, so long as the two of us could live together . . .”

Such was the confession of the twelve-year-old girl. She’d been giving blood to her brother from the time she was two, and now that same brother said he was tired of life with her so he wanted to become something else and leave her behind. And what of her future?

“This can’t be helped, Glia. I know you must’ve understood that. I just can’t drink your blood anymore,” Cotil said, a thin smile rising on his lips as he looked toward the window.

“How many people have you killed?” D asked.

“Wow, I’m surprised. Turns out you’ve got more going for you than just good looks. So, how could you tell?” Cotil asked, his eyes wide.

“The stench of blood was too heavy,” D replied.

The boy laughed. “Oh, hell, so you’re one of us, then? A dhampir? How can you stand to stay in such a half-assed state?”

“Are the bodies in the yard? Who were they?”

“It really couldn’t be helped,” Glia shouted, her body quaking. “Some folks from the village we used to live in managed to track us down here and attacked us. And that’s when my brother drank their blood by—”

“I tore open their throats, and it splashed all over my face. I knew it wasn’t right, but it was too late—no, that’s a lie. I was happy to drink it up!” the boy said, giving them a silent smile. “So, my lord, I think you can see that I have what it takes to become one of your kind. If you’d be so good as to give me the kiss right here, as soon as possible. And once you do, I’ll take out this Hunter first.”

Cotil suddenly furrowed his brow and turned toward the window, listening intently.

“Well now, I hear the racket of an old-fashioned transport plane! Hmm, are the folks from the village coming up here, too? They probably know what I want, and have come to beg you not to do it, my lord. So, please hurry, your grace.”

His youthful face was full of ambition as he turned his carotid artery toward the duke. A few seconds later, he bugged his eyes and glared at D and the duke.

“Why don’t you grant my wish? You’re afraid of this Hunter, is that it? Then I’ll deal with him first—”

“Don’t, Cotil!”

“Shut up!” Cotil snapped, leaping from the bed. In his right hand he gripped a dagger that he must’ve always kept close at hand. Hauling back with it, he let it fly at D.

A lovely ching! was heard, and Cotil stared down at the left side of his own chest. The dagger was sticking out of it. Drawing and striking in a single motion, D had batted it back, and the boy still couldn’t believe it had pierced him right through the heart.

“It can’t be . . . Why? I . . . I just . . .”

He fell back on the bed, face up. As his body swiftly turned to dust, both the duke and D watched without saying a word.

“No one, no matter who they are, gets any mercy after pulling a weapon on the man called D—that’s what I’ve heard,” said the duke.

Making no reply, D turned his eyes to the door.

II

A little more than twenty minutes later, there was a tentative knock at the door of the log cabin, and the men from the village below were shocked when the duke and D appeared.

“You didn’t go and make that punk a Noble, did you?”

“My lord, anything but that . . .”

“If you already have, please allow us to beat the life outta the both of ’em.”

“We’ve brought stakes and axes with us.”

As the villagers pleaded with their liege, they looked so wretched anyone would be likely to tell them, I hear you, O powerless ones, yet their fervor toward their mission more than made up for it.

“Be at ease. They’ve already been destroyed,” the duke said, his proclamation sending a buzz through the group. “Our friend D here was good enough to rid us of them. You may return to your village with confidence.”

“Oh, that’s great. Still, we’ve gotta see the two bodies to be sure.”

“Brother and sister alike were run through the heart, and the boy turned to dust. The girl’s remains are buried in the garden out back. She cursed the people of your village most vehemently as she breathed her last. Do not tempt fate,” the duke told them, flames beginning to blaze in his eyes.

The men stiffened, gave out shrieks, and turned around to sprint back to the transport plane that awaited them. They were dealing with the lord of their domain here. And they were no more than serfs he allowed to foster life.

After watching the transport borne away by old-fashioned propellers, the two men turned and looked back at the house.

“It’s okay now.”

Glia appeared.

As the girl stared straight ahead, the duke told her in a gentle voice, “They shouldn’t come up here again. You may live here or go elsewhere, whichever you prefer.” Taking a hefty purse from an inner pocket, he handed it to her. “On your own, this should be enough to live in luxury all your days. Be free.”

“You mean I can do as I like?”

“That’s correct.”

“In that case, drink my blood, your grace.”

D quietly turned toward the girl.

Wrinkles creased the duke’s brow as he asked, “Why?”

“I can’t live on my own. So please, make me one of the Nobility. If you do, I can live with you, and this man here will likely kill me before I drink anyone’s blood. As he did with my brother. Either way, I won’t have to live alone.”

Glia’s eyes were vacant. No tears streamed from them. For all her tears had long since dried up. She’d cried them all out over what had come so far, and what was yet to come. What was a girl of twelve supposed to do?

“Let’s go,” the duke said, turning right around.

The tiny figure slammed against his broad back, but immediately pulled away again. The handle of a dagger jutted from the duke’s back.

“Now the villagers will take me in as one of their own. Because all of ’em hate the Nobility in truth.”

The duke kept on walking. Before following after him, D looked at Glia. She just kept staring straight ahead.

There was a deep valley there. Anyone could tell that if she leapt into it, it would be the end of her.

Taking a scarlet seedling out of one of his coat’s inner pockets, D set it down at Glia’s feet.

“This grows on a lot of the trees around here. Its juice will heal most wounds, and it can be used for food too.”

What of it?

Glia didn’t say anything.

And then D walked away.

“Whose fault is it things ended up this way?” the hoarse voice asked in the aircraft. “The Noble who drank the boy’s blood, or the humans who drove him into a corner?”

Nobody answered.

When they arrived back at the castle, the duke was carried into a room for treatment.

“I have something to tell you,” the duke said to D.

The room was swimming in blue light. Having been carried in on a stretcher, the duke lay at its center, while D stood by his side.

“What do you make of our moonlight energy? It doesn’t seem too bad for you, either!”

“Let’s hear what you have to tell me.”

The duke let out a long breath. His mind apparently made up with that, he began, saying, “This energy was developed by a human researcher. At the time, he was already working as a scientist. I found him and personally requested that he join us at my castle. While remaining human. My vassals, Kiniski among them, didn’t much care for that. They didn’t like someone who was neither a true Noble nor a servant of the Nobility being treated as their equal.”

Though General Kiniski appealed directly to the duke on several occasions, Van Doren would hear nothing of it. In no time, the scientist mastered moonlight energy, and after giving all his know-how to the duke, his vassals, and his scientists, the man left the castle. On his way home, the scientist was attacked. He had guards assigned to him, but they didn’t do any good. His attacker was the greatest warrior in the northern Frontier sectors. He literally cut the scientist to pieces.

That was unforgivable to the duke. He ordered that the warrior, who had fled, was to be found even if they had to turn over every rock. Two days later the warrior was found walking down the highway in the central Frontier without a care in the world, so General Kiniski’s soldiers raced to the scene only to be promptly slain. On receiving word of this, the prince rushed there and killed the warrior.

“A hell of a man he was. Strong, but gentle. And that’s only natural. After all, he was lord of this domain at the time. But he was no match for me. Naturally, the son cannot triumph over his father.”

From the vicinity of D’s left hand, someone let out a gasp.

The blue light remained unchanged, still coloring the old man on the table and the vision of beauty leaning against a stone wall not far away.

“After that incident, the role of my successor shifted to my second son—Kazel. For fifty years he defended our domain from traitors and bandits. Defended it with a physical and mental toughness beyond my ken. Though I knew him to be even more talented than Leavis, I had no idea just how much better he was—so for those fifty years, I lived without a care in the world. It was then that I took Sirene as my wife. But then, the great one suddenly appeared.”

On a white night of insanely blowing snow, the duke had been in a chapel praying to a statue of the Sacred Ancestor. He never would’ve imagined that it would speak to him. I must have one of your family, the statue said. That was how it sounded to the duke. There was no point in asking, Who shall it be? He called for the lord of the land, and then he learned who it was.

“Do you think a man who worshiped the Sacred Ancestor could voice any objection to the Sacred Ancestor’s actions? I could only accept it. However, such was not the case for my third son. Sacred Ancestor’s will or not, he wouldn’t allow his older brother to be taken away without even a reason given, and he cursed me for a coward as he left. We haven’t met since.”

Could that be the true source of the aged duke’s melancholy?

“The Sacred Ancestor was here, too?” D murmured. His form was dissolving into the blue, as if the light had seeped into his pores to enter the blood in his veins.

“Where did Kazel go?” the duke groaned, moving a little. “If only he were here, I could’ve lived to this ripe old age without ever knowing such weariness.”

Just then, a faint sound flowed through the air.

“What is it?” the duke inquired, and the face of a young man floated in space.

“Bandits have attacked the village of Melmecky.”

“Who’s in charge of peacekeeping?”

“That would be Colonel Picato.”

“Tell him all his energies are to be devoted to keeping the people of this domain safe. I will be heading out there soon, too.”

When the duke got up off the table, the caregiver android that was attending to him hastened to stop him, but the Nobleman wouldn’t listen, and ten minutes later he was aboard his aircraft. Even D himself didn’t know why he’d agreed to go along on the trip.

In the village of Melmecky, only horror remained. There were no survivors. All the buildings had been burnt down, and even Colonel Picato and his peacekeeping force had been brutally destroyed. In the evening there had been a harvest festival, and all of the villagers had been gathered in the public hall when the attack came.

“There must’ve been an informant. The timing was just too convenient,” said the duke, standing stiff as a board.

“It seems the attackers were armed with needle guns,” an android who’d been surveying the scene told the Nobleman less than five minutes later.

Capable of firing tens of thousands of tungsten needles in an instant, each only a few microns long and a fraction of a micron thick, the weapons could reduce a rock to sand with one blast, or turn steel into a sponge. No matter how resilient their armor, any living creature would be killed instantly by it, their nervous system destroyed. It was one of the most powerful weapons humans had devised for fighting the Nobility, so along with crosses and garlic, the weapon had been erased from the memory of all mankind.

“All existing ones should’ve been melted down by the Ministry of Public Affairs. Do you mean to tell me they found some?”

It was D who answered the duke’s question, saying, “Whether they found them or not, they have the weapons. They just had to make them.”

“Make them?” the duke said, knitting his hoary eyebrows.

“It wouldn’t be all that strange. The needle gun was originally a human invention.”

“What happened to it being erased from their memories?”

“Even if they forgot how to make them, they can create anything if necessity dictates. You could take their memories again and they’d still build the same thing, and be applauded with the same fervor as the first time. That’s how humans are.” D then added, “Also,” but stopped there.

“Also what?” the duke asked him, and after receiving no answer he asked again. His tenacity was rare.

“It may be that this new model wasn’t made by humans.”

“You mean to say that Nobles built them?” Gazing at D, the duke insisted, “Nobles wouldn’t re-create a weapon they themselves had banned!”

D simply stared at him, saying nothing.

The duke’s expression changed. “I see, someone like you might . . .”

Just then, voices could be heard arguing violently off in the distance, and a soldier came rushing over. According to him, villagers who’d escaped the slaughter were trying to get through.

“Let them pass.”

Appearing before the duke were a half dozen bloodied people. One was a man in his thirties, the rest boys and girls around ten years old. The man was a schoolteacher. Since the attackers were relatively late in hitting the school, he’d taken all the children who were there for night school and evacuated them to a nearby cave.

“We heard gunshots and people screaming from all over the village. It lasted about an hour, though it seemed to go on for a century. When it got quiet, the kids all nodded off. Not that it was time for them to go to bed. They were so scared, they sought refuge in sleep. All of them lost their families.”

“Tell the children this: their families will be avenged if I have to chase those responsible to the ends of the earth.”

“Your kind always says that,” the teacher replied, his expression becoming almost demonic. “They will be avenged, we will have vengeance no matter how long it takes—but that’s because you’re immortal.”

He prodded the duke.

A soldier slammed the butt of his laser rifle into the teacher’s solar plexus and was about to deal a second blow to the man’s neck as he doubled over, but at that moment the harsh sound of something being cut rang out, and the rifle fell to the ground with both the soldier’s arms still attached to it.

“Hold!” the duke commanded, and if he hadn’t, the rest of the soldiers would’ve attacked D, which would’ve ended with every last one of them lying on the ground. “I’m so sorry for that,” the duke apologized. There could be no doubting that the words came from the bottom of his heart.

D went over to the motionless teacher, took hold of his arm, and helped him up.

Thanking the Hunter, the teacher got to his feet, aiming a finger at the duke again.

“Your kind doesn’t know how hard life is. Since you’ll presumably live forever, you can’t understand the weakness of humans, who have only a set span to live.”

The duke made a face that said, Oh, this again?

Grinding his teeth, the teacher continued, “I’m well aware that you’re much more benevolent than the lords of other Frontier sectors. But you only care for us to the extent that a human would an insect or a dog. Your kind doesn’t know the meaning of life, of living. And that’s why the resistance will never end.”

The duke, who said nothing and merely listened, stared at the teacher. Though the Nobleman’s expression was nearly blank, the teacher felt his own anger unexpectedly burn away like a fog.

“To be sure, dogs and humans are similar creatures to me,” the duke replied. “However, you think that discrimination.”

Turbulence raced through the teacher’s eyes.

“There is this expression, ‘after all.’ ‘After all, they’re only human,’ we say. When you see a dog, don’t you say to yourself, ‘After all, it’s just a dog’?”

The teacher had no answer for that.

“To us, humans trying to construct a civilization are like insects crawling around on the ground. If necessary, we can save the life of a single insect. However, when it tries to suck the blood from us, we crush it ruthlessly. And the same goes for the humans in the rebellion. Would you not call that equitable?”

“The rulers can say what they like.”

“Are not your own village mayors rulers? What of the government leaders in the Capital? I know of this sort of rule, without sword or gun in hand. If you know a leader to be incompetent, do you not replace them immediately?”

The teacher stood there, rooted and without a thing to say. Darkness was beginning to envelop his body.

The duke ordered the officer by his side, “Dispatch all your peacekeepers to the neighboring villages. And manufacture more soldiers. Your sole duty is to seek out and destroy the bandit scum. Tonight I shall make the rounds of the nearest villages and say something to put their minds at ease. D, I have bodyguards with me this time. Go on back ahead of us.”

“I’m out here because I want to be.”

“So you don’t take orders from me, then? My apologies. Well, do as you wish. We’ll be heading out right away.”

Five minutes later, the aircraft flew away, and D began galloping down the road that led back to the duke’s castle on his cyborg horse.

III

The moon was out. There were grassy plains to either side of the Hunter. He was already at a different village. Lights twinkled up ahead and to the right. Red ones. D’s eyes could make out a sign with a liquor bottle painted on it.

Advancing in silence, he had only fifty yards of road left when a trio of figures spilled from the establishment. From the way they walked, they’d had quite a bit to drink. Laughter could be heard.

“Would you look at that,” the left hand that gripped the reins sighed sadly. “The neighboring village was completely wiped out. Is this any time to be laughing?”

Once the trio reached the road, they turned their backs to the Hunter and started walking away. He soon caught up with them. The stink of alcohol assailed his nose. He passed right by them.

“Howdy!”

“Evening!”

The voices called from behind him.

The trio drew guns from their hips. The barrels were four inches in diameter.

Propelled by compressed gas, clouds of needles assailed D from three directions, only to disappear vainly into the air.

Hitting the ground as if he’d been dropped, D then executed a somersault, landing behind the men’s backs. It must’ve looked to them as if part of the darkness had bounded.

They weren’t given time enough to turn. D’s sword flashed just twice in the moonlight, and two men’s bodies fell to the road, cut in quarters.

The air whistled. For D had hurled a needle of rough wood.

Convulsing madly, the third man dove back into the bar.

Leaving his cyborg horse there, D sprinted.

On passing through the doorway, the Hunter was greeted by silence. The world was blue with cigarette smoke. The establishment seemed large enough to accommodate about fifty patrons. There was actually about half that number there. And all of them had their eyes on D—and the man on the floor—going back and forth between the two.

The man was sprawled there. He was dressed just like the villagers, the only difference being that he had a wooden needle stuck through his throat.

“He a villager?” D asked.

Everyone exchanged glances, while the bartender said from behind the counter, “Nope, just a drifter who came in a little while ago. Probably changed clothes after he left. One of ’em brought the horse they came in on around back, which seemed a precaution of some sort. Maybe so that you wouldn’t notice, eh?”

On seeing the weapon the man held in his right hand, one of the patrons groaned, “What the blazes is that thing?”

“Hell, those were the guys who attacked Melmecky.”

“They ain’t getting away with it!”

With an assortment of shouts, they were about to rush the man, but then they stopped in their tracks. D had gone over and taken a knee beside the dying man. All of them realized the young man in black was no mere traveler.

Taking the needle gun from him and sliding it across the floor, D then pulled out the wooden needle. It was unclear what kind of ungodly skill he called upon, but not a drop of blood came from the wound.

A buzz spilled from the villagers’ mouths.

“You’re in league with the bandits, aren’t you?” asked the Hunter. “Seems there’s someone you were gunning for before me.”

Raising his right hand, the man gestured toward his throat. By that, he meant that he couldn’t speak.

“There’s no damage to your vocal cords,” D said, taking the needle he still held, pressing its point against the wound, and pushing it back in again.

Shuddering from head to toe, the man clawed at the floor. Boards pulled loose, and his fingers gushed blood.

“Talk.”

The man capitulated.

“It was the duke we were out to get. We knew he’d be coming. So we’d been keeping watch from the top of a nearby pass all along. See, if he gave us an opening, we were gonna close in and nail him with some stake launchers. Problem is, he left right after he got here. So we decided to take a shot at you, since you were still here.”

“Did Vulcan authorize this?”

The man looked at D with the light of life failing in his eyes. “Hell no. But it was just too good to let slip by. He’d have stopped us for sure. You . . . you’re a dhampir?”

“That’s right.”

“Figured as much . . . The way you use that sword . . . like nothing human . . . Hell, even an android couldn’t do that . . . Just wish . . . the boss . . . had said . . . something . . .”

“Where’s Vulcan?”

“Damned if I know . . . Seriously . . . The boss . . . he always stays somewhere different from us . . . That monster horse of his . . . brings a note . . . with his orders.”

“When does he show up?”

“Just before . . . we put the orders he wrote . . . into action.”

“Then he ain’t coming this time, eh?” the hoarse voice said, the sudden sound of it freezing everyone there. “No point hanging around here. We moving out or what?”

D stood up. “He’s dead,” he said. Something gold flew like an arrow from his right hand, landing on the counter. “Sorry about the mess. I’d appreciate it if you’d take care of it.”

And saying that, D headed for the door.

“Hey, wait a sec.”

D didn’t turn around. His business was concluded. And there was no hostility in that voice.

The speaker was a giant of a man seated at the counter.

“This here’s a hundred dalas coin. Everybody here could drink themselves to death and you’d still have change coming. Plus, the damned thing’s standing.”

The patrons’ eyes focused on the small golden disk that stood on edge on the counter.

“Somebody take care of the stiff. Buddy, you care to try your luck against me?”

Rolling the right sleeve of his shirt all the way up to his shoulder with his left hand, the giant flexed his bicep for all he was worth. It was almost perfectly round. And it looked to be about a foot in diameter.

“Blade on blade I ain’t a match for you. Let’s go with arm wrestling, something I’d have a chance at. C’mon. I’ve always wanted to see how strong you dhampirs are. Hey, new guy, you try asking him!”

“Well, I don’t know,” the bartender said, scratching his head.

The giant put his right elbow on the counter and bent five fingers as thick as sausages, just raring to go. However, there was no way D would accommodate him—and yet, the Hunter shifted his feet and began walking toward the other man. Still standing, he took the same posture as the giant.

“All right! Best out of ten. And every time you lose, you gotta take a shot of Kalchiki. We clear?”

Kalchiki was a local expression that meant “would surprise even a dead man.” It was a kind of liquor with powerful poison herbs mixed in it, and even the strongest of men would be flat on his back after three shots, and probably be left an alcoholic as well.

The bartender set his hand on top of the pair of fists and their interlocked fingers. “All set? One, two—”

With “three,” the match was decided. One twist of D’s arm sent the giant flying, sailing over the heads of other patrons to strike the reinforced glass of one of the windows. The bar shook.

Forgetting all about the bottles and glass falling from the shelves, the bartender stared at the giant spread-eagled on a table by the wall. His expression was terribly sad.

“Who’d have thought it—the brute strength of Bedmansch, mightiest man in the village, bested with a single twist. It’s like something out of a nightmare.”

The other patrons could only nod.

“Not too shabby,” said the first to speak, which happened to be the very man spread-eagled there. “That’s a hell of a thing. Actually, it’s kinda refreshing, being beaten so easily for a change!”

The giant got up from the table to stand on the floor—and then slumped back again.

“Don’t move. I’ll run you over to Doc Heggins right away,” the bartender called over from behind the counter.

Bedmansch clung to the table for support as he stood up and started after D, who was headed for the door.

“Hold on, would you? You can’t manage it on your own,” the bartender told him, wiping hands still wet from washing dishes, then slipping out from behind the counter.

“Just leave me be,” said the giant. “I just wanna go see off that fella who whipped me so easily.”

The three of them went outside.

“Mister, I’m—” Bedmansch began, but his voice was suddenly cut short.

Just below the solar plexus he had a silvery sword blade running through him. A cry of pain rang out behind Bedmansch. D had drawn and made a backward thrust along his left flank, his blade piercing not only Bedmansch but also going right through one of the bartender’s lungs.

It was unclear which was more surprising, the Hunter’s skill or the wooden stake that dropped from the right hand the bartender had raised to strike. The stake itself was the kind that could be found in any house in the village. But why was a bartender who’d just met D trying to put it into his back?

“How . . . did you know . . . I was out to get you?”

“All the patrons were afraid of me. You were the only one who wasn’t,” D said, extracting his blade.

The two men collapsed under an overhanging roof. The bartender had given up the ghost. He’d taken the job in the bar ahead of time so he could gather intelligence about the next spot that would be hit. Undoubtedly he was a spy for the Pitch Black Gang. It was probably someone else who’d informed the gang the villagers of Melmecky would be gathered in the public hall, but this must’ve been one of his colleagues.

As D got on his cyborg horse, behind him Bedmansch said, “It’s the damnedest thing, but it don’t hurt a bit, and I ain’t even bleeding.”

The giant was a captive of his own astonishment. With ungodly skill, D had managed to avoid striking any nerves or cutting any arteries.

“Hey, do me a favor and remember my name. It’s Bedmansch. Bedmansch of Apico Village!”

By the time the giant had hollered that, D and his cyborg horse had already been swallowed up by the darkness of the road.