Bond of Blood

Chapter One: Night Hunter

The eerie light of the bloodmoon sent shivers Jensen Kapnov’s spine. They were nothing but tiny quakes, pulsing in waves through his body. He did not flinch, nor tremble, nor did his face betray a single thought. In the eyes of his squad he remained the Iron Soldier.

Bloodmoon so pale, bloodmoon’s hot breath. Where has gone innocence, o bearer of death?

The poem of old played through his mind. Back in those days, grandmother had chanted the words like a superstitious old fool. And she’d never let Jensen leave the house, not during the bloodmoon.

Evil thrives when red fills the skies, she would whisper, shadows from the fire dancing across her old face. Confused and terrified, he would huddle close to her, and together they would pass the night rocking in the tiny cabin.

“ Superstitious fool,” he muttered.

“ Captain?” a voice sounded out in the darkness of the vehicle.

“ Nothing Alex. Just ghosts of old,” he said with a thin smile.

Alex Dukane nodded and sat back. The youth was hardly a man at twenty one years of age, but he had demonstrated remarkable skills when the agency had been searching for candidates. Like the rest of the squad, Alex had one day received a telephone call which would change his life forever. The speaker had informed him that due to his outstanding physical and academic accomplishments, he had been selected by the government to serve in a covert line of work.

“ The extraordinary exist in our everyday world, Alex,” the voice had said. “ If you accept this offer, you will encounter things you only thought possible in the gravest of fiction. The rewards will be generous: a six figure salary, access to the most sophisticated of technologies, and most importantly, serving and defending your fellow citizens. This is your call of duty, Alex. Accept this, and your eyes will be opened to a world where textbooks are rendered useless. It is a world of danger and a world of darkness. Heed your calling Alex. A man will be waiting with plane tickets for Austin, Texas tomorrow at noon inside the First Baptist church. He will wait exactly an hour. If you do not appear, he will vanish, as will we all, and you will never hear from us again.”

Like all the others, Alex had accepted. How could he have refused?

One of the squad members leaned back from the van’s console board and said, “Captain, we’re approaching the Miller farm now. Our bearings are 3 miles southeast. Radar is picking up a flurry of activity, presumably animals.”

“ Continue to one mile south by southeast, then park the van at Ren A. We’ll continue on foot,” Kapnov answered coldly. “ Alex, contact Team B and confirm their approach.”

While Alex reached for the radio, Kapnov instructed his men to gear up. Gun barrels were quickly whipped down, machine guns snapped together and then holstered on side belts. Automatic firepower was about as effective as a squirtgun against this ruthless monster, except for the louder ruckus of course.

“ Keep your subs with their safeties on,” Kapnov said. “ We don’t need to have the entire town of Cricksdale wondering if World War Three has come knocking at their front doors.”

“ Wouldn’t want to wake up all seventy of them,” someone joked.

Calm laughter rippled through the van. Kapnov immediately reprimanded the man, although he couldn’t suppress a smile himself. Not a single of his boys showed a trace of fear, and he was damn proud of it. How many people would be at ease only minutes away from encountering the Night Hunter, face to face?

Not many, the Iron Soldier thought. But not many believe in vampires, either.

Vampex Serum, the trademark weapon of the Vampex Corporation, was locked and loaded into several tiny, portable tranquilizer guns. This would be their main means of disabling the Night Hunter. Long enough to finish the job, at least.

Kapnov tossed a glance at Alex, who had just hung up the radio. The younger man nodded solemnly and began assembling his own suit. As the van slowed down and then bounced to a halt, the captain stood and said, “ Stakeguns at your side. Don’t get giddy, kids. I don’t want any John Wayne stunts this time. You hear me, Raves?”
“ Sir yes sir. It won’t happen again, sir!”

“ It had better not. Now let’s move out.”

The van door swung open and they poured out into the night, six black shapes merging into the darkness of the night. High above the red moon seemed to mock them, as if insisting that the gods would not settle without blood spilled tonight.

Team Vampex A hurried to conceal the black, unmarked van behind a handful of shrubs. Chosen days ago, Rendezvous A (or Ren A, as they called it) was a well concealed location. A passing driver would literally have to stop for a piss, and then walk into the van to even realize that there was a vehicle there. And it wasn’t like anyone was going to be out and about at this time of night in Shitbean, Arkanas.

Kapnov felt for his radio piece on his lapel and pressed a tiny button on his left glove to activate it. “ Team B, what’s your situation?”

“ Out and on foot, Vamp Leader. We’ll be at the farmhouse in approximately twelve minutes.”

“ Understood. Contact again when destination is reached.”

Kapnov held up his hand and signaled his team to follow. He started down the dirt trail at a clipped pace, and they fell in soundlessly behind. Not a word was passed between them as they jogged along the old farm road. Their eyes swung left and right with a pendulum’s rhythm, vigilant as ever for a sign of their enemy.

That was the problem, Kapnov reflected. About ninety percent of the time, the vampires were very mobile at night. None of it had to do with the ridiculous myth about sunlight, however. The vampires were intelligent enough to realize that darkness offered better cover for their shady activities, their thirst and their lust. And on a night like this, with a moon bloated with blood, they would be pining for a drink from the stream of life.

The squad was literally soundless in their movements. Equipped with specially soled shoes, each member was trained to walk like the Native Americans of old—step down on the ball of the foot and roll onto the heel. The result was a very fluid-like movement that made virtually no noise.

Too bad the vampires were entirely soundless. As sophisticated as their machinery was, the Vampex squads were in no possible way capable of detecting an approaching vampire until the beast was upon them. But most of the times, the fiends were completely unaware of their exterminators until the moment of destruction came.

And in all thirty years of Vampex Corporation’s existence, only once had a vampire ever escaped. That was long, long ago, when Jensen Kapnov had been a muscular young man and David Locke had run the squad. Locke had met a violent end at the hands of that same vampire, and from his death, Jensen had learned a valuable lesson. A vampire’s hunger for vengeance will never, ever die out.

The wooded path gave way to a wide open clearing around the farmhouse. No lights were on, of course. Not that it meant a thing; it wasn’t as if the Night Hunter needed a flashlight for his dark raids.

Seven people missing, the report had said. Cricksdale was in a total panic—nothing of this scale had ever happened around these parts. With a population of only three hundred and six, every single person had been personally acquainted with at least one of the vanished victims.

Vampex had been tracking down the Night Hunter for three years now. Elusive and clever, the vampire traveled from small town to small town to prey on victims. Old men and young boys were no exceptions to its diet. The prized choice, however, seemed to be a young virgin girl, always between the ages of sixteen and twenty five. In all of the eight towns the Night Hunter had visited, the last of its victims had always been a pretty young girl.

Not so pretty when we find them, Kapnov thought angrily. And definitely no longer virgins.

And every time they’d finally tracked down the Night Hunter’s location, the beast had vanished into thin air. Moved on, as if some six sense had alerted it of danger. And this could very well have been true, considering the nature of most vampires.

“ Team B is in position,” a quiet voice announced into Kapnov’s earpiece.

He pressed the voice button once again and said, “ Very well. Cover the perimeters. We’re moving in.”

With Team B swinging to form a wide circle around the house, Kapnov led his six men across the weeded field and toward the front door. He nodded to Alex, who broke off with three others from their group and headed for the only other entrance—the rear of the house. Alex was a highly flexible and prudent leader, despite his youth. Kapnov had often allowed him to co-lead the operations. And the youngster’s reflexes had saved his life, four times to be exact.

About a hundred yards further behind the house, a sea of dead corn stalks rustled in the wind.

Kapnov felt his heart pounding in his chest like an animal struggling to get free. He scuttled in to the door and peaked through a dirty window. Unable to distinguish anything, he reached for the knob. In his head he counted to sixty, so as to give Alex enough time to reach the rear.

Then he opened the door.

Although the door had not been locked, its hinges pierced the night with a deafening squeak. Kapnov cursed silently and swung his flashlight into the entrance. There was no sign of life.

He entered first, his light slicing through the musty air like a gladiator’s sword. Cobwebs and dusty floors met the eye. No furniture was to be found. The Night Hunter could be anywhere in the house. Kapnov thought of the Hollywood productions, where vampires were helpless and sleeping inside their big, unavoidable coffins. He wished it was that easy in real life.

The house sighed as the back door was eased open, far away. Alex and his crew had entered.

“ He could be on a raid,” one of his men whispered.

“ No, he took a victim just yesterday evening,” Kapnov answered. “ He never takes more than one every three days.”

The idea that the Night Hunter had already abandoned Cricksdale for another town occurred to Jensen. The notion was slim, however, because there had been no reports of any missing women. Only a seventy-four year old grandmother, but even she was too old for the Night Hunter’s lust. And the vampire never left town without first indulging in the fruitful pleasures of its work. That much was a fact.

Leaving the parlor, the kitchen, and the dining room for Alex, Kapnov headed up the stairs. Each step groaned like a man in pain. By the time he was halfway up, he knew that the Night Hunter was aware of their presence. No vampire could have missed such audible warnings, especially not one as cunning and ruthless as this one.

Sometimes they booby-trapped their homes. Never the Night Hunter, though. He was too proud to allow a simple mechanism to claim the lives that he himself could destroy.

On the top landing, Kapnov began moving with swift, sure footsteps. At a time when most men would be trembling with anxiety, he was overcome by a calming sensation. He was comfortable with his skills, trusting in his team, and confident of their victory. This squad had never lost a battle. Tonight was end of the Night Hunter’s reign of terror.

He kicked open each door, his tranq gun and flashlight at ready. The flashlight was a valuable asset in situations like these. Rather than wearing night vision goggles and running the risk of being blinded by electric light, the Vampex squad relied on simple, dependable flashlights. A beam straight into the red eyes of their enemies would render the monsters blind for several seconds.

Oh, do they ever hate that, Kapnov thought, remembering the cursing, writhing form of the pedophilic vampire years ago.

The rooms were empty, one after the other. Frustration began to mount in Kapnov’s head, although he tried to brush away any distracting emotions. Maybe the Night Hunter had moved on after all.

“ Upstairs is clear,” he barked into his radio.

“ Main floor is clear too, Captain,” Alex answered. “ He must be in the basement.”

Kapnov felt ill at ease when he descended the stairs. “ He must have heard us enter. Team B, keep your eyes open.”

A series of “roger that” came back over the comms. He frowned, something striking him as dangerously odd. But what was it?

Once again united, the squad headed through the kitchen and stopped at the threshold of the basement. The darkness down there seemed to block out even the beams of their flashlights.

“ Together, let’s go,” Kapnov commanded. He felt his way down the rickety old stairs, testing out each wooden plank before applying his whole body weight. Seconds later, he reached the bottom.

It took all of five seconds for the team to announce the basement clear.

Kapnov struggled to keep the frustration and rage out of his voice. “ He’s not here. He’s moved on. Report in, Team B.”

“ All clear, sir.” Came the responses.

And he immediately understood what had struck him as odd earlier. “ Again, Team B, report by sequence.”

“ B one, all clear.”
“ B two, all clear.”

“ B three, all clear.”

Silence

Alex was already running up the stairs, followed by the others. Kapnov was shouting into his radio piece, “ Three missing! He’s out there with you! For God’s sake, watch your backs.”

They burst out onto the front lawn and searched frantically through the darkness for the other team. Casting aside all caution, Kapnov unhooked his night vision lenses and peered out. He immediately caught sight of three armed figures jogging in formation for the farmhouse. They were converging from three different angles.

A shadow flickered behind one of the men. A cry broke the night, and then the shadow was gone, as was the man. His crumpled body had vanished in the corn stalks.

“ Fire at will!” Kapnov roared, running out into the field. Another soldier cried out nearby, the strong voice trailing off into a gargle. Kapnov plunged into the field recklessly, willing the beast to take his life before it turned its bloody claws on anyone else. Something hissed in his ear, and he felt a tremendous force fling past him.

“ Here!” he called out. “ Near me!”

“ Captain, get out of the field!” Alex was screaming.

But Kapnov was on a trail now, following the scent of rotting decay like a determined bloodhound. Up ahead, a burst of automatic fire shattered the silence of the night. As a panicked soldier sprayed wildly left and right, bullets slashed through the cornstalks like a scythe. Kapnov slammed into the dirt as the crops all around him was frayed to pieces.

“ HOLD YOUR FIRE!” he hollered again and again. The trooper paid no attention, and the fusillade continued for another six seconds. Then came the rattle of an empty clip, followed by a whimper. Then a bloodcurdling scream.

An insane fury took control of Kapnov. He wanted to murder this creature and rip out its heart with his bare hands. He smashed through row after row of stiff, dead corn stalks, his breath short and labored.

He tripped on the body of a soldier and fell into bloody mud. Warm fluid continued to stream out of the lifeless body and into his shirt and pants. He gazed straight into the dead, horror-filled eyes of one of his squad members. Half the jaw was missing from the face.

There was a rustle of corn parting behind him. He made it to his hands and knees when a slicing pain shoot through his right shoulder blade, cutting clear up and out his right arm. He kicked with his left foot and felt his shoe slam into the only tender part of the rock-like vampire. The Night Hunter howled in pain and melted away.

Kapnov tried to get to his feet but collapsed. His entire back seemed to be in agony, as if someone had flayed him with a barbed whip. In the light of the moon high above, he raised his trembling, bloody fingers in front of his eyes. The sight of his own life pouring away into the dirt made him dizzy.

Alex’s voice was strong and authoritative. “ He’s gone back inside! Jackson, Rayniers, McMillan move with me. Sanders and Raves scout out for Kapnov. Lets go!”

Too disoriented to call out for help, Kapnov shifted his weight and laid back his head in the soft soil. His world was filled with the sounds of crickets and the smell of fresh dirt after rainfall. The red moon gazed down at him greedily, enjoying every moment that he bled into the damp earth. Far off, bursts of gunfire formed a bizarre symphony of despair.

“ Captain!” Sanders and Raves were calling for him in unison, their voices steady except for the faintest quaver. He knew from that tiny tremble that they were badly shaken up by the night’s events. It was the worst operation in the history of Vampex.

“ I’m here,” he finally managed.

A moment later Sanders was examining his gaping wound and telling him how lucky he’d been.

“ They usually aim to kill, captain. Consider yourself fortunate to have survived,” the medical technician said. “ Shit, ain’t this one pretty? This is gonna sting a bit.”

And he upturned an entire bottle of disinfectant on the wound. The acute sting invoked tears in Kapnov’s eyes, but he said nothing. He was the Iron Soldier, after all. The pain was there on the surface, the anger deep below, but right now, what he felt the most was sadness. He’d engineered a failure of an operation. So many of his men had died today.

“ Come on, captain, we gotta get you out of here,” Raves said. He helped the wounded leader to his feet and allowed him to lean on his shoulder for support. Together they hobbled from the field, Sanders at point with his gun trained.

The house was utterly quiet. They stood five paces from the rear door, staring at the darkness within, wondering what to do. Both men glanced at their captain for answers.

But Kapnov was, for once, speechless. He couldn’t imagine Alex dead. Young, invincible Alex, so smart, so strong, so shrewd and lean, slain by a vampire? Was it even possible?

Kapnov fumbled for his radio piece and asked, “ What’s your situation, Alex?”

A moment passed. No reply.
“ Alex, what’s your situation?”

Again, nothing.

Sanders began to shuffle nervously, wiping at his orange-red hair which seemed to be aflame in the moonlight. He exchanged glances with Raves and cleared his throat. “ Captain, we had better cancel the operation.”

Kapnov stared at the door.

“ Captain, we’re at a disadvantage here. The manual says that once we sustain fifty percent losses, the mission should be compromised.”

Not a word of what he said registered in Kapnov’s head. The elder warrior was thinking of his grandmother’s silly old chant. Evil thrives when red fills the skies. Evil thrives when red fills the skies. Bloodmoon so pale, bloodmoon’s hot breath. Where has gone innocence, o bearer of death? Evil thrives, o bearer of death. Where has innocence gone? Where, o where has innocence gone? O bearer of death, bloodmoon so pale, red fills the skies. WHERE HAS INNOCENCE GONE? WHERE HAS-

The door smashed open and a screeching shadow came flying with arms outstretched. It reached Sanders before he could even think about firing. Long, bloody fingers scratched for his neck, and a moment later a torrent of red rain exploded like a geyser.

Raves had cast aside Kapnov and was screaming at the top of his lungs, fumbling to chamber his weapon. The Night Hunter descended on him in a flash, its enormous finger nails carving at his face like a wild animal. Years of martial arts training flew out the window—Raves fell underneath the vampire thrashing and begging for help. He fell silent quickly.

The Night Hunter rose slowly and turned to face Kapnov. Its pale face was ruby red in the moon. Rivers of blood dripped down its face, as if it had perspired blood instead of sweat. Its shredded clothes were a wild assortment of rags and cloaks dripping wet. But most frightening were its eyes. Eyes that burned red like the pits of Hell.

It came at him in a flurry. He fired three doses of Vampex Serum into its chest before a wild claw raked down the side of his face. The taste of blood was bittersweet in his mouth; he was revolted at the idea of swallowing it, even his own. So he spit it out, right in the monster’s face.

It struck him again across the chest. He fell a second time, convinced that he would never get back up.

The Serum had taken longer than usual to kick in, perhaps due to the vampire’s superhuman adrenaline rush—something the scientists back at base termed “octadrenoline,” as they calculated a production of eight times greater than humans. Whatever the case, the Night Hunter was ultimately no exception to the drug’s effects.

It stumbled towards him, braying into the night sky. “ It will never end. I will devour your eyes, your heart, and your soul.”

He could smell its rotting stench as it fell beside him, woozy and swaying. A clawed hand reached to split his neck wide open.

Then the vampire jerked upright, its red eyes opened wide in surprise. A hole had appeared in its chest, just right of its heart, and Kapnov was showered by the red life of his friends and his enemy. The Night Hunter probed its wound with both hands, its eyes blinking rapidly. It took a moment for it to realize that its heart had been spared. The wound was not fatal.

But when it returned its attention to Kapnov, he was waiting with a smile on his face and an ivory stake in his hand.

“ Sleep well,” he muttered, and drove the refined point into its chest cavity. Ribs, lungs, heart, everything shattered under the weight. The Night Hunter tried to scream. It raised a hand weakly for one last blow, but another stake broke through its skull from behind. With a final convulsion it fell dead beside Kapnov.

“ I do believe that’s the fifth time that I’ve saved your life,” Alex Dukane said wearily. The young soldier was standing tall over his leader, clutching a wound on his side and favoring one leg over the other, badly spliced one.

Kapnov gazed at the nightmarish corpse beside him, convinced that the monster would spasm awake and come at him. When nothing happened, he whispered, “ Call for emergency backup.”

“ Already done, Captain,” Alex said. “ I’ll wait right here beside you until they come. You just be quiet for a little bit.”

“ Th…thank you , Alex,” the Iron Soldier murmured.

And he lost consciousness.