Chapter 1

Andy sat by his little fire in the basement of what had once been a New York tenement building as the snowstorm raged outside. The winds buffeted the old ruin, making it creak and groan loudly. He marveled at the durability of the old one’s ancient construction. For 200 years it had withstood the forces of nature, even as it fell slowly into disrepair. Andy reached into his old ruck, a frayed threadbare thing of olive-green material, and pulled out a can of beans and a small cooking pot. As he heated his supper over the fire, he heard his horse wicker from upstairs in the building’s entryway, as though greeting a passing visitor. Andy thought nothing of it until a small creak on the steps leading down to the basement caught his attention. His hand crept slowly to the Colt 44. Revolver slung at his hip and waited. A form materialized out of the darkness and Andy was able to make out the familiar, weather-worn face of Dances On Wind. The old Apache war chief smiled warmly at him and took a seat at the fire across from him. Dances On Wind was essentially Andy’s handler, dropping in from time to time to give Andy his next bounty. Or sometimes just to sip whiskey and trade war stories. Before the cataclysm, his people had been relegated to reservations by the U.S. Government. Their numbers dwindled to nearly nothing. The cataclysm and the full return of their shamanistic powers allowed them and many other native tribes to thrive and prosper, and soon they once again spread across the American continent. They gave up the ways of the white man, returning to their old languages and habits.

“You always seem to know where to find me, old friend,” Andy said by way of greeting.

“You are white man, easy to track, clumsy” replied Dances On Wind with a grin.

Andy chuckled and pulled another can of beans out of his bag for Dances On Wind, adding it to the pot.

“How did you get here anyway? It’s a complete white out there.” Andy asked, curious.

“I came through the Otherworld,” Dances On Wind replied casually as if he’d merely made a comment on the weather. Andy let out a low whistle. The Otherworld was a pocket dimension adjacent to our own. It was the den of all the supernatural creatures of the world, and as such, could be immensely dangerous. Using the paths through the Otherworld, you could travel from Maine, or Maine that was anyway, to California in a matter of hours. But there were many dangers there. And the supernatural denizens of the Otherworld were quite territorial. Andy knew that Dances On Wind was a powerful shaman. But the extent of the man’s abilities never ceased to amaze him. Dances On Wind smiled at the praise.

“My people have always been sensitive to the ways of magic. Even after the magic receded, we still maintained a little of that power through shamanistic rites and holy rituals.” The old Indian said proudly.

Andy nodded to himself thoughtfully. As the beans began to bubble Andy laid out two bowls and filled Dances On Wind’s bowl first, handing it to him before serving himself. Dances On Wind smiled and bowed slightly as he accepted his meal.

“So why are you here? Not that it's not good to see you and all, but you rarely make social calls.” Andy asked conversationally.

Dances On Wind frowned.

“After our meal,” he said with a wave of his hand.

“It is not polite to discuss business over supper.”

Andy chuckled and continued to eat, shaking his head slightly. Dances On Wind gave him a small glare, with no hint of malice, and did the same. After they finished eating Dances On Wind broke out a long pipe and lit it. At a sniff, Andy recognized the skunky scent of burning cannabis. Dances On Wind took a long puff, held it a few moments, and then blew it out in a large swirling cloud, and moved to pass the pipe to Andy. Andy held up his hand and shook his head.

“No thanks, partner. You know I like to keep a clear head,” Andy protested lightly.

Dances On Wind, still holding the pipe out to Andy, replied, “It is required for you to see. It will not cloud your mind.”

Andy had no idea what that meant but he reluctantly reached for the pipe. He watched Dances On Wind uncertainly and then took a small puff. Dances On Wind shook his head, slightly annoyed.

“Deeper, deeper, you need to see,” he said cryptically.

Andy grunted in annoyance, but complied, taking in a long deep inhale of smoke and holding it before blowing out a huge cloud of his own. At first, nothing happened. But then Andy suddenly felt incredibly light, like a feather on the breeze, and he began to float upward. Panicked, he struggled to swim back to the ground, and in doing so, noticed his own body still sitting at the little campfire in the old decrepit basement, slightly slumped as though he’d fallen asleep sitting up. Then he was floating, up and up, higher and higher, passing through the basement's ceiling, through the wreckage of the upper floors, and out through the roof, where the fury of the storm raged around him. He picked up speed but felt neither the wind nor the biting cold as he rose. Below he could see the battered ruins of New York that was, marveling at the slightly leaning skeleton of the Empire State Building as it looked out morosely over the ruined landscape of the once-great city. He saw Times Square, overgrown with weeds and the rusted out hulks of cars, the massive jumbotron screens that had once filled the street with light and color, now dark and cracked and broken. Then, he was zooming horizontally through the air, flying at speeds faster than any vehicle mankind had ever conceived in this world or the old. When he finally came to a stop, he saw a town besieged. Men and women were tied up in the town square, lorded over by their grotesque captors. Vampires of course. Andy would recognize those bloodsuckers anywhere. As Andy watched one of the vampires stepped forward and grabbed a little girl by the hair, dragging her into the square. The parents screamed and struggled at their bonds, crying and begging. The disgusting creature was tall, his face seeming pallid and rotted in places. Its jaw was distended and fangs the size of steak knives jutted down through the flesh of its chin and out the bottom. Slowly it opened its mouth, unhinging its jaw like a rattlesnake. Then it thrust those fangs into the young girl, who screamed in fear and agony as the fangs pierced her flesh. Andy railed and screamed. H fought to reach the creature so that he could rend it apart with his own two hands. But he could do nothing. He understood that he wasn’t truly here but still he fought. Then he heard the voice of Dances On Wind, booming through the sky all around him.

“Be still my son. It has not yet come to pass. This is a spiritual vision. You have been granted a vision of the future by the gods. There is still time to stop this.”

Tears streamed from Andy’s eyes as the vampire finally dropped the now desiccated lump of flesh that had been a living, vital, child just moments before.

“Where is this? Where do I have to go,” Andy asked through clenched teeth.

“This is the town of Ocean Harbor. It is a coastal town in what was once known as Rhode Island. You must save them,” Dances On Wind’s voice boomed.

“I’ve never seen this many vamp’s in one place,” Andy marveled.

“How haven’t they been noticed before now?”

“They have been hiding, propagating, waiting,” the booming voice of his friend replied.

“They plan to take over the village and turn it into a blood farm. They will enslave the people and force breed them, like cattle. Their very own sustainable source of food. Unless they are stopped, these events will come to pass.”

Andy, shaking with unbridled rage, roared into the winds as loud as he could. Then he was tugged, as if by a fishhook behind his navel and he was flying backward through the night, his soul being sucked back toward the gravitational pull of its worldly vessel.

Chapter 2

The moment he re-entered his body Andy leaped to his feet. He drew his big revolver so fast that not even his own eye could track it, scanning the room for enemies. But he was alone. Dances On Wind was gone. But the echo of his voice still thundered in Andy’s brain.

“Unless they are stopped, these events will come to pass.”

Andy laid down on his bedroll and covered his face with his hands. He had to get to Ocean Harbor quickly. But the storm was too bad to go tonight. Hopefully, the storm would break by tomorrow. Andy didn’t want to waste any time. He didn’t even know how much he had. What he did know, was that he had spent his entire life standing up to the forces of darkness, protecting those unable to protect themselves. And he would do so again. He let out a sigh and tried to settle in to sleep, but sleep was beyond his reach. He sat up, pulled his cleaning kit out of his bag and began the calming ritual of cleaning his gun. He lovingly caressed the metal with his oilcloth, tracing the occult etchings along the barrel and cylinder carefully. Each one was designed carefully to make it exceptionally more efficient for dispatching magical creatures. Here an etching of the full moon, with a pentacle inside, meant to stop a werewolves healing ability. There, one a symbol of Ra, the Egyptian sun god, meant to burn vampires wherever the bullets struck. So many wards were etched into the gun, all beautiful and flowing. The gun had been a gift from Dances On Wind after Andy had announced his intent to become a hunter. Dances On Wind said that he had commissioned the project to a very powerful wizard. The man was apparently a Texan who specialized in magically imbued firearms. And he knew his business. This gun had laid low hundreds of supernatural creatures. And for each one he’d fought, Andy had never seen one immune to the gun’s charms. Some burned and screamed just from laying eyes on the enchanted weapon. Andy finished cleaning the gun and then loaded it with its specially made rounds. The 44. Caliber bullets were slightly longer than average to allow for a wad of quicksilver just behind the lead slug. A cross was cut into the tip of the lead, both for symbolism and to make the bullet spread out more on impact with its target. There were etchings on each bullet too. Each one effective against a different creature. He only had 55 of the vampire rounds left. He would have to have more made on his way to Rhode Island that was. There were bullet makers in nearly every settlement who could make such rounds. But he promised himself then and there, that come hell or high water, he would make it in time. Maybe not in time to save everyone. But he would save the little girl from his vision. He swore that much. He would end these bloodsuckers and save that child.

Chapter 3

Andy awoke just before dawn to find that the storm had broken. He gathered his gear and stowed it on his horse, Rhoswen. Rhoswen, which was a Gaelic word meaning white rose, was a gift from the queen of the Faye folk, bred in elvish stables, and was a special reward for defeating a foul fairy creature known as a Kelpie. Her coat was a stark white, unmarred by brindle or dappling. After his gear was stowed, Andy ate a quick breakfast of salted venison, and then he mounted up and began his journey. Before the cataclysm, a motorized vehicle could have made the trip from New York to Rhode Island in a matter of hours. Andy’s journey took 4 days and five nights and on the afternoon of the fifth day Andy finally came within sight of the town of Oceanside Port. He was relieved to find that people were walking about the streets. Though they appeared to be slumped and forlorn. As he rode into town two riders came riding toward him from the sheriff’s office. A metal glint on their chests as they approached marked them as deputies. Andy reigned up and raised his hands slightly, so they were away from his gun. As the riders approached they raised their hands in a tentative greeting and Andy answered it.

“Greetings mister,” one of them said, an older man with a large belly and graying hair.

“Hello there,” Andy answered cheerfully. “My name is Andy Alden. I’m a hunter, here on council business.”

The two men blinked and looked at each other a moment, then they gathered their wits and looked at Andy with blatant suspicion.

“Where’s your sigil then,” said the other, younger-looking man.

Andy reached to his neck and pulled a gold talisman from under his shirt. It had a large amber stone in the middle and within the amber a large fang could be seen. The fang came from a werewolf, Andy’s first kill, a rite of passage for all hunters. The two men stared in awe for a moment and then, without another word, spun their horses and headed for the sheriff’s office beckoning him to follow.

Chapter 4

The sheriff was a muscular balding man of about forty years. He was stoic and contained but quick to laugh at a good joke. He was not laughing now. After Andy had told him and his deputies of the threat to his town he had stood abruptly, poured a glass of whiskey for all four men in attendance and after passing them around, sat in his chair heavily.

“I knew something was going on,” he said grimly, sipping his drink. “Folks have been going missing lately. A drunk here, a whore there. And last week a child disappeared right out of her bed in the middle of the night. Vampires, Jesus jumpin’ Christ.”

Andy nodded gravely and replied in a solemn voice. “There’s a whole nest of em’ holed up in a sea cave not far away. They plan to turn this place into a blood farm, with you folk as the cattle.”

“I know those caves,” said the sheriff. “It’s a big network of tunnels, carved out by the tides over centuries. How are they living in there? Shouldn’t they have drowned when the tide came in?”

“Creature that doesn’t breathe in the first place has no need to fear drowning sheriff,” Andy replied solemnly.

“Shit!” the sheriff exclaimed, slugging the last of his whisky and slamming his glass down. “So what can we do?”

“You don’t do anything sheriff,” Andy said sternly. “Leave this matter to me.”

The sheriff looked like he was about to argue but the hard glint in Andy’s eye silenced him. Andy put his untouched drink on the table in front of the sheriff and walked out into the late afternoon, a plan already forming in his mind.

Chapter 5

Andy began his work the very next morning when the tide was at its lowest. He gathered as much gunpowder as he could get his hands on and set to work making several small but powerful explosives. The sheriff had managed to find an ancient map of the caverns and together they mapped out the weakest points in the cave's structure. Andy would go in at noon when the vampires would be most likely to be asleep and set the explosives in a daisy chain so that when one exploded it would set off the rest in sequence. At high noon Andy made for the caves and scrabbled down a short cliff face and into the mouth of the nearest tunnel, his pack filled with his load of improvised dynamite. Once his feet were solidly planted, he lit a torch and made his way into the damp confines of the cave. The torch was necessary, but it would give away his position and wake any vampires he came too close to. He walked slowly and carefully, his gun drawn, watching the flickering shadows carefully. Almost immediately a vampire flung itself at him from the shadows, shrieking, Its black eyes twinkling in the torchlight. Andy fired and the runes on his gun flared with a golden light. The vampire was flung backward as the bullet tore through its chest and struck its shriveled heart. The vampire immediately burst into white flame before turning to ash at Andy’s feet. The sound of the shot was deafening in the cave and as the echo receded Andy heard a series of echoing shrieks as dozens of vampires awoke to the sound. Andy moved swiftly. Running through the cave planting explosives in the proper positions. He was just about finished when he heard a hissing behind him. He spun ready to fire but was struck in the chest and sent flying into the wall behind him. A creature stood before him, humanoid but with huge fangs, and black wings that dragged the ground. The master vampire. Gun still in hand Andy fired, but the monster dodged with supernatural speed and moved toward him. Andy was lifted and thrown into another wall. The creature laughed.

“My master will be pleased when I bring him your corpse,” it said. Andy was puzzled.

“I thought you were the master,” he croaked.

“Of the vampires yes. But there is another, a wizard, who seeks to bring this pathetic world to its knees. And when he does, the creatures of darkness will control the world.”

“Not on my watch,” Andy said with a smile. He produced a bomb from behind his back, fuse lit, and tossed it into the darkness. The vampire shrieked and ran after it. Andy quickly climbed to his feet and ran for his life. He heard the first explosion not long after and then another as the next bomb was triggered. He knew he was too far away to get to the entrance, but he put on a burst of speed as more and more loud booms sounded behind him, growing ever closer. Large stones fell all around him as he sprinted for the entrance, lungs burning from exertion. At last he rounded a corner and saw bright sunlight. He sprinted ever faster as the explosions grew ever closer and launched himself out of the mouth of the cave just as the last bomb blew, collapsing the tunnel behind him. He plunged into the cold ocean and swam to shore, his heart heavy with the fell news he had learned. That night the town held a party in his honor. He drunk some then, though as a rule he usually didn’t and tried to revel in the happy atmosphere, a shadow weighed on his thoughts. Whoever this wizard was, Andy would have to find him and put an end to his designs.

“Ain’t no rest for the wicked,” Andy muttered to himself, taking another drink.

THE END FOR NOW