HUNTING
T
he shadows of the night stalked across the ground and wrapped themselves around the shipping containers on either side of me, providing the cover that I needed in order to avoid exposure.
It was dark tonight. A full moon was only just rising, but it was nowhere near at peak luminosity. Still, I wasn’t about to stray from the protection of the shadows.
My fingers slid against the side of the rusted metal carcass of the container, feeling the coolness of its surface and the uneven texture, as both dirt and eroded metal clung to my fingertips. It felt safer somehow, using the container to hide from the night and the creatures that stalked within it, yet I was still keenly aware that that wasn’t exactly the case.
Whether I was in the relative safety of my house, or standing in the middle of a shipping yard sixteen hundred kilometres from home, there were always going to be things that went bump in the night, things that hunted me in return. Given the very nature of what I was, it seemed naive to think that I was invulnerable to persecution from any given race, particularly the clan that harboured me. But I didn’t have time to consider that now.
I was hunting.
I glanced quickly behind me, scanning the shadows with narrowed eyes just as I had been trained to do, checking if anyone was approaching from the rear. It appeared that I was still on my own.
I had left the family about ten minutes ago to follow the inklings of my nose rather than the common sense in my head. Probably not the wisest decision I had ever made. But since when did I ever do anything sensible?
Simple answer … never.
The biting, cold night air swirled around me and I looked up, just to make sure that the creatures had not taken to the tops of the containers. Surely I would have heard them if they had? Their nails alone on the metal surface would have given away their position.
The coast was clear above, or so it would seem. Unless of course they were in human form? But then wouldn’t I catch scent of them in some way shape or form?
Crap! Why did I wander off on my own again?
Because I’m a total tool.
I shuffled forward a few more steps, ignoring the cold wind that danced through the tendrils of my hair and blew them across my face. Walking between the rows of containers was oddly like being trapped in a wind tunnel. The breeze itself may have been icy cold and biting into my skin, but it did little to calm my nerves or ease the perspiration that was running in beads down my spine.
I treaded quietly across the roughened concrete, taking care not to trip over any of the uneven surface, pulling my coat tighter around me to abate the chill. I continued forward, attempting to track the scent of blood that wafted across the top of the frigid night air. The smell was unmistakable.
It was all encompassing and thick with the stench of both life and death. Although I was still yet to turn, and my very nature meant it should be appetising and somewhat enticing, I still wrinkled my nose in mental revolt at the smell. I knew it was only a reaction from my stubborn human nature that repelled me. If I was completely honest with myself, I was actually not offended by the smell at all.
I kind of liked it.
I was more offended by what the scent represented for my future, not how it affected me physically.
In the back of my mind I felt deeply disturbed that both the taste and the scent of warm, rich blood was not something that my body or my senses willingly rejected. In fact, my body seemed to rejoice internally at the thought of its taste across my tongue.
But I had never gone there.
I had never tasted blood.
At least not that I remember.
I had no intention of taking that next step until it was absolutely necessary, or on the off chance that my stupid curiosity got the better of my more prudent nature.
Unfortunately, to anyone that knew me well that meant there was an extremely good chance that my somewhat rational intentions were going to blow away with the next wind. Who was I kidding, anyway? I’d probably be chugging down pints of the red stuff before I even turned seventeen.
For now, I would only allow myself to scent blood.
That was enough.
I didn’t need to taste it to know that it was strangely sweet even yet laced with lashings of salt and corroded iron. The idea of those combinations in the one liquid was a total paradox. Still, that’s what it smelt like to me and I was attracted to its scent. As tempting as it was given my intended nature, for the sake of not scaring little children and small dogs, I’d try to avoid crossing that line. It shouldn’t be too difficult given that I only had a normal set of human chompers and the idea of piercing flesh with my teeth slightly sickened me.
Some vampire I was going to turn out to be.
It was probably just a product of my upbringing. My family hated vampires. Teenage girls, too, or maybe that was just me when I was acting out. Honestly, they pretty much hated any being from the undead realm, which of course left me feeling less than inclined to really relax around any of them. After all, I was going to be joining those ranks in just a few short years, and I certainly did not want to be on the receiving end of bad juju.
I looked ahead again, focusing on the unknowns. I was satisfied that I did not have someone tailing me. Besides, the scent of blood was coming from somewhere further on, not from the path that I had just tread. Although the wind blew strongly down these passages, and smells could often be lost during harsh wind gusts, I could not mistake
that
scent even if I had wanted to.
A frenetic tension was building in the air. I could feel it in my bones—feel it under my skin. I knew I was heading in the right direction. It was the same kind of excitement that was coursing through my bloodstream each and every second that I caught wind of the blood trail.
I tilted my head upwards, drawing in a long deep breath, inhaling the different scents on the night air. They must have been feeding, hence the feeling of growing satisfaction I could taste on the wind. The blood odour that danced just inside my nostrils hinted at warmth and freshness.
At least they were distracted.
If I got too close with the ferocity of this wind then they might have been able to scent me as well. But I figured that with their snouts all covered in blood it would prevent them from detecting my presence for a little while yet.
I smoothed my hair back behind my ears and took a few more steps forward, cursing myself silently for not tying it back. Not to mention the fact that, despite the cold, I was sweating and my hair and perspiration didn’t exactly see eye to eye. I was almost surprised that my ringlets had not taken over and devoured my face entirely or turned me into something resembling Medusa.
I looked around again. It was time to get on with the job and stop procrastinating. Where was the rest of my family anyway? Surely they should have found me by now, if for no other reason than for George to scream at me for running off—probably giving him increased blood pressure and a greater risk of heart attack in the future.
I closed my eyes briefly, summoning a new wave of courage to wash over every nerve that was racing out of control in my body. I started to count to ten, hoping that it would be enough to calm my rapidly beating heart. I shouldn’t be scared. I had been training with the Institute of Magical Intervention, or IMI, since I was twelve years old. While regular kids went off to regular high schools, I learnt I would eventually become a member of the undead and was destined to spend the next six years studying how to destroy various members of the supernatural realm. So given that I had been trained to deal with these kinds of situations, there was no reason to be sweating bullets now, not when I knew how to defend myself in an attack.
It wasn’t like I could actually get hurt anyway. Well, not unless someone decided to chop my head off, then I was really going to be upset. But I was seriously hoping that that was not going to be on anyone’s agenda for this evening. That would certainly put a dampener on my Saturday night plans, not to mention seriously piss me off.
Perhaps I was just terrified and letting my nerves get the better of me because this was the first time that I had branched off on my own. The last time that we went hunting there had been backup all the way. But tonight I had no idea where everyone else was.
Well, that wasn’t exactly true. I had a ‘vague’ idea where everyone else was wandering around, but they were going in entirely the wrong direction. That much I was sure of, hence why I’d ditched them all in the first place.
I did try to tell them.
Undoubtedly by now, Susan and George would have realised that I was ‘missing’ and already started stewing over just exactly
how
they were going to punish my obstinacy this time. I had to say that they weren’t very creative.
I smiled, despite my current state of affairs. I’d probably be grounded again which was somewhat inconvenient for my social life, but never the less, only a slight obstacle in perverting my nightly activities. I wasn’t about to let a little thing like not being able to use the front door stop me from fulfilling my desire to have social interaction with people other than The Protectors. Besides, there was a rave happening this Saturday that I was determined to attend.
Grounded or not.
I suppose that meant I had to get out of this alive first.
That would be super.
I slapped my head mentally.
Focus Elena.
I wiped the sweat that was building on my upper lip and across my forehead, then grabbed my hair and quickly threaded it into a plait, and then tucked it down into my jacket so that it would at least stay off my face. I couldn’t afford to have it swinging about my eyes and blinding me from an impending attack.
I skedaddled quickly down to the corner of the container and peered around the corner before flicking my head back around again, almost giving myself whiplash in the process.
Geez, calm down.
No one was there. My nose still told me that they were further ahead yet, but not by too much. I looked around the corner again, just to make sure that there was no danger.
Taking a deep breath, I quickly dashed across the open path that exposed me to soft bathing of moonlight, and then ducked back against the next container, folding the shadows around me while I steadied my breathing. My heart beat seemed to quicken in my chest at the prospect of only being a couple of metres away from the targets.
I mentally ordered my heart rate to calm down, but it appeared to be just as stubborn as the rest of me. Although I didn’t really want to admit it, not even to myself, I was shit scared right now, despite the years of training. If there was one sure thing that could possibly alert the creatures to my presence, it would be my heart beat. It would be difficult for them to ignore and resist the sound of fresh blood pounding through my veins, particularly blood that was laced heavily with vampiric scent.
Why did I separate from everyone else again?
Oh yeah, that’s right, I forgot … I’m a frigging tool.
After a few deep breaths and a notable fall in heart rate, I crept along close to the new container, my fingers still grazing against the metal as I walked, my other hand shaking slightly as it hovered protectively over the knife that was lashed to my leg. I wished now that I had had the good sense to stay behind Lucas instead of wandering off on my own. Why I felt the need to always disobey everyone around me was beyond me. But I guess being sixteen years old made me susceptible to bouts of irrational behaviour and the occasional notion that I was in fact smarter than everyone else, regardless of whether or not that was true.
If I was smart now, I would simply walk back the way I had come instead of proceeding forward into the face of danger. Obviously there was a part of me that had considered facing the two vân
â
tors alone and had decided that was a good idea. Perhaps it was PMS? What other logical reason could there be for continuing on a path this ridiculously dangerous and stupid? Unless of course the only plausible explanation left was that I was in fact a total moron, with a capital M?