A Moonlit Night - The Complete Saga (10 page)

“T—take a picture,” the homeless man choked.
“…It’ll last longer.”

She smiled, kneeling down in front of the
man. She stared into his eyes, and said, “I think I’ve found
exactly what I’m looking for.”

“A psychotic, old, war vet?” the homeless man
asked. “That’s what you’ve been looking for?”

“Well no,” she said, shaking her head. “Those
are all just bonuses…you could say.”

“Get out of here, lady,” said the homeless
man, turning over in his cardboard box.

“Is that how you treat a lady?” she asked.
“No wonder you’re homeless.”

“Buzz off!” shouted the homeless man, turning
back to face him as he tried to push her back.

She grabbed hold of his arm, and tightened
her grip as the man tried to desperately shake himself free.

“Who…are you?” the homeless man asked,
clenching his teeth.

“My name is Amata Gemeti,” she said, barring
her fangs. “…And I want you.”

“W—what for?” the homeless man asked,
trembling in fear.

“For an army,” Amata said, as she grabbed the
man’s head, and sunk her teeth into his neck.

The destitute man screamed in pain as Amata
consumed his very essence. Blood splattered against the stone
walls, as the life drained from his body.

“Ah!” screeched Amata, as she pulled herself
away from his cold, dead body. “I love my second life.”

Chapter Two

“Get in the house!” shouted Samuel, holding
Emily back as she tried to run over to Xander, still trapped
underneath the silver-lined net. It was burning through his skin
and down to the bones; in mere minutes there would be nothing left
of him.

Emily desperately wanted to save Xander, but
the werewolves were barreling down on them, snarling as they licked
their twisted lips in anticipation. She looked Xander, and said,
“But, I can help—.”

“Now!” yelled Xander, growling in anger. His
eyes were bloodshot, but Emily could see the seriousness in his
eyes, and she soon found herself running back towards the
house.

Three werewolves had descended upon Samuel,
circling around him as they stalked their formidable prey. They
were large, standing at least eight feet tall on their hind legs;
but on all fours they were faster and more agile, as they stayed
out of Samuel’s line of sight, sneaking around in the corner of his
eyes.

He watched Emily slam the front door shut,
and returned his gaze towards the werewolves. Reaching into his
long coat, he unclasped his sword and brandished it in defiance.
The cold steel glistened in the moonlight, catching glimpses of
beady red eyes and frothing fangs in the sword’s reflection.

The first wolf made his move, parting from
the pack as he dashed towards Samuel. He lunged at the vampire
hunter, barring his sharp teeth as he went for Samuel’s neck.

The steel hooked the wolf’s mouth, cutting a
yawning path down the side of his body. Blood poured from of the
creature as it dropped to the floor, writhing in pain as it died a
quick and gruesome death.

Samuel looked up at the two other wolves,
both of them in shock and disbelief that their pack mate had been
so easily defeated. They howled in rage, their piercing cries
reaching out to the mountains and beyond.

Xander could smell his own flesh sizzle as
the silver burned through his skin. The pain was excruciating,
enough to take down a lesser vampire, but Xander fought through the
agony, unwilling to give his aggressors the satisfaction of his
defeat.

He could feel the fire smoldering his lips,
melting them away slowly, as he grit his teeth and clenched his
hands into the dirt.

Samuel sliced sideways with his sword,
narrowly missing one of the werewolves. The other pounced at him
from behind, but he was able to avoid the attack, rolling to his
side as he parried the blow.

The first wolf sprang forward, chasing Samuel
down as he rolled on the ground. Catching him by surprise, the wolf
snapped at his sword, sending it sliding across the grass. Inching
towards his face, the wolf was desperately held at bay by Samuel as
he stared it down eye to eye.

With one hand on the throat of the roaring
werewolf, Samuel ran his free hand down his leg, hoping to find his
concealed dagger.

“Not today,” said Samuel, drawing a crude
dagger from his pants.

The wolf howled in anguish as Samuel stuck
him in the gut with the rugged blade. He arched his back and howled
to the moon, crying out for his pack as the blood drained from
him.

This distraction gave Samuel enough time to
throw the werewolf off him, and quickly pick himself up. He growled
back at the remaining wolf as it circled around him. Slowly, he
picked up his sword, not once letting the monster out of his
sight.

“You caught me off guard,” smirked Samuel,
his sword pointed towards the werewolf as they circled each
other.

Samuel looked over towards Xander, now almost
completely ablaze, still trying to lift himself from underneath the
silver net. He didn’t know if he could trust the mysterious
vampire, but he reluctantly came to the conclusion that he could
use the vampire’s assistance. He knew that werewolves rarely travel
without their pack, and if these wolves found them, the rest
wouldn’t be far behind.

He also knew that getting to Xander was an
entirely different issue, as the werewolf would attack the moment
he took his eyes off the menacing creature. They were at a
standstill, both waiting for the other to make the first move.

The werewolf grew tired of waiting and darted
towards Samuel, his thundering paws tearing up the earth below him
as he went in for the kill.

Samuel’s sword sliced downward, but the wolf
managed to evade the blow and went quickly for his throat.

His sword was knocked out of his hands as the
powerful beast crashed against his body. Thrown onto the ground,
Samuel clasped his hands around the werewolf’s jaw.

The wolf’s sharp canines dug into Samuel’s
head, trying to close his mouth around the head of his prey.

“This… isn’t quite how I planned things to
go,” grinned Samuel, trying to remain calm under pressure. The
werewolf could smell his trepidation, and Samuel feared the one
drop of sweat and the wolf’s jaw could lock tight around his head.
“Usually I make someone wine and dine me before I let them get this
close—.”

The werewolf jerked backwards, a pair of
scorched hands grasped around his throat, pulling him off Samuel.
It was Xander, barely alive, but still he managed to exact his
fiery vengeance.

Xander stared down Samuel, his skin slowly
started to heal from the ghastly burns. Extending a hand towards
the vampire hunter, he appeared willing to put aside generations of
hatred in order to save the summoner’s life.

“Keep your fangs in your retracted and we’ll
be just fine,” warned Samuel, as he accepted Xander’s help and was
lifted to his feet.

“That… coming from the man who almost killed
me,” mumbled Xander, his lips still charred.

Their victory was short-lived, as the rest of
the pack started howling in the distance. The werewolves’ shrill
cry pierced through the night sky, signaling that they had found
their prey and would soon descend upon them.

“I hope you’re ready for this,” said Samuel,
looking to his side as the two of them took defensive
positions.

Xander laughed heartedly, now almost
completely healed, as he looked back at Samuel, and said, “…Says
the vampire hunter facing down a pack of werewolves. Yeah, I’m
ready for this.”

Chapter Three

A shadowy figure emerged from a dimly lit
passageway, shrouded in a dark hooded robe; the only identifiable
part of the man was his icy blue eyes and long wiry beard.

Walking into a large chamber, the man passed
by dozens of other individuals all clad in the same black robes.
They were aligned in a semi-circle, all residing around a golden
throne. The man passed by everyone, and took his place on the
throne. He slouched, tired from years of tireless vigilance, as he
peered out across the room. That’s when he noticed that one of the
seats was empty.

“Elders… Councilors… I see that one of us is
missing from the proceedings. Does anyone know where Councilor
Gemeti is?” asked the man, his hoarse Russian accent booming across
the room.

“Lord Korolev, Amata Gemeti hasn’t been to
the castle in months now,” replied one of the councilors.

“She’s off plotting her little schemes!”
shouted another one of the councilors. “She’s nothing but a
rat—.”

“My lord, I have reports that she’s even sent
her first prime, Simeon Agathon, to the summoner’s last known
location,” said a third councilor. “My sources are completely
reliable—.”

“That’s what we get for allowing a 300 year
old vampire Elder status among our people,” commented the first
councilor to voice his concerns, his snide comments resonating with
the other vampires. “She’s too young, and the prestige has gone
straight to her head!”

“Would you like to be the one to tell her
that?” another councilor asked, all of the Elder vampires seemingly
wanting in on the discussion. “We’ve all seen what she can do.
There isn’t a single one of us who could stop her on our own,
regardless of her age.”

“Enough!” shouted Lord Korolev, raising his
hands to quiet the crowd. They all hushed instantly, both
respecting and fearing the eldest vampire in existence. “Do not
tell me things I already know!”

“We have not convened to discuss the matters
of one rouge councilor!” boomed Lord Korolev, continuing his speech
to the crowd. “I have called you all here for a much more serious
matter. You’ve all heard the rumors, that the last summoner has
been found. I am not going to hide behind the rhetoric any longer.
She exists… and is living in south east of the United States of
America.”

The crowd began to murmur their discontent
between one another, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily
on their cold chests.

“Be calm!” bellowed Lord Korolev, retaking
control of his councilor chambers. “I have considered our actions
for many days now, and refused to speak on the matter until I have
made my decision. Make no mistake; this council will not repeat the
mistakes of the past. The summoner shall not be harmed.”

The reserved councilors had heard enough.
Many stood and shouted out in discontent. Some even spat and spewed
obscenities. Clearly, this was not a popular choice among Lord
Korolev’s followers.

“The summoner can destroy us all at any
moment… and you suggest we let her walk away?” asked one of the
councilors, throwing his hands in the air. “This is
preposterous!”

“Silence!” shouted Lord Korolev, his hand
grabbing hold of his hood as he tossed it behind him. Barring his
monstrous fangs, he stared them all down with his frosty eyes. They
cut sharply through the tension, none of the other councilors
willing to test his limits.

As Lord Korolev began to speak to the
bewildered councilors, a large commotion rang out behind the main
entrance to the council chambers. Alarmed, the councilors all
turned their heads in unison towards the door, their superhuman
ears picking up what their eyes could not.

The large mahogany doors flew open, crashing
against the stone walls as the sounds of battle engulfed the large
room.

Amata Gemeti emerged from the entrance,
brandishing a sword in each hand; she was armed to the teeth and
ready for war. The blood splattered on her face suggested that she
had already, in fact, seen much war inside the vampire’s holiest of
locations.

“What is the meaning of this?” asked Lord
Korolev, rising for Amata’s insolence. “Speak now, before you lose
your head for this treachery!”

“Oh, dear Korolev,” said Amata, grinning from
ear to ear. “I believe we have a difference of opinion. You see, I
figured you would fold on the matter of the summoner. I may not
have been around during the first culling, but had I been, we would
not be having this problem. Call this an insurrection… or
rebellion. It matters not what you choose to call it. The end
result is that I am going to lead our kind into the promise
land.”

Lord Korolev laughed heartedly, his gruff
chuckle echoing through the chamber. He looked back at the
attempting usurper, and asked, “And how do you plan to accomplish
this?”

“My esteemed colleague,” began Amata, running
her tongue across her razor-sharp fangs. “I plan to cut off all of
your heads… with a large axe… one by one.”

“You…,” growled Lord Korolev, saliva spewing
as he frothed at the mouth. “And with what army?”

“My newborn army, to be precise,” replied
Amata, raising her swords above her head as a swarm of sickly
looking vampires rushed into the council chambers. They were the
forgotten; the drug users and the homeless, the perfect army for
Amata’s needs.

Their eyes were bloodshot, overindulging on
their victims as they tore through the chamber. The Elders were the
most powerful vampires in existence, but even they were no match
for the sheer numbers Amata had amassed.

The councilors fought back valiantly, but for
every newborn they put down, another five would take its place.
Sharp claws and fangs descended upon them from every angle as the
younger vampires tore through them, gorging themselves on sacred
blood.

Amata smiled, as she watched the chaos unfold
around her. She looked back towards the hallway as the ground
started to shake. Slowly, a dark silhouette emerged from the
shadows. A giant of a man, his mere presence made the ground behind
him tremble in his might.

“Mr. McAlister, what took you so long?” Amata
asked.

“The royal guard… took longer than I had
anticipated,” replied the lumbering vampire, carrying a large war
axe on his shoulders.

The man stood at seven feet tall and his
broad shoulders enveloped the mighty axe he was carrying. With
long, scraggly hair and unkempt beard he was a rough looking man,
but his chiseled cheekbones and piercing green eyes gave him rugged
good looks that Amata liked to have around.