Chương 5: The Hunt

Morning light spilled across the town, forcing me to move more carefully. Discovery itself did not frighten me, but the complications that followed would be inconvenient, and killing people without cause seemed wasteful. That realization was new. Not the thought itself, but the calmness with which it settled inside me. Yesterday, the mere idea of killing someone would've turned my stomach. Now, I weighed it as little more than a practical inconvenience.

Keeping low beneath the branches, I moved through the trees and brush surrounding the washhouse, using what little shadow remained beneath the rising sun. A flawless display of stealth, assuming spies commonly crept through bushes half-dressed and covered in dried blood stains. The thought was ridiculous enough to amuse me; though asking for clothes would've been far more troublesome than simply taking them.

Questions would lead to suspicion, suspicion would lead to attention, and attention was the last thing I needed right now. Fortunately, the woman from the washhouse had stepped away from the clothesline, leaving everything hanging unattended in the open air. Dresses, shirts, stockings, and folded cloths swayed gently in the breeze, though most appeared to belong to men, judging by their size and cut. Absolutely not…

At the far end of the line hung a short pink dress, plain and simple, likely made for a young woman around my size. It looked a little tight, but it would serve. Several pairs of socks had also been draped over the line, fluttering beside the dress. I watched as the woman disappeared around the corner of the washhouse. Would it not be easier to simply take what I needed? My conscience remained disturbingly clear.

These people were strangers, and for all I knew, they were no different from the hypocrites in my village, smiling beneath the daylight and screaming"witch" by dusk. Why should I trust any of them to be kind? Besides, if they didn't want their things stolen, perhaps they shouldn't leave them hanging in the open. It was a weak justification, but I accepted it anyway. The moment the street emptied, I moved. My new speed blurred the world around me.

One moment, I was hidden beneath the trees; the next, the dress and socks were in my hands, and the clothesline snapped in the breeze behind me. Anyone who noticed would probably blame the wind. I dressed quickly beneath the cover of the trees. The pink fabric pulled tightly across my shoulders and ended higher on my thighs than I would have preferred, but it covered everything important. The socks helped as well, although I still had no shoes. One problem at a time, I'm sure an opportunity would provide itself.

I had barely finished pulling on the second sock when a scream reached me. It hadn't come from the town but from somewhere farther out, perhaps half a mile beyond the eastern road. My head turned before I consciously decided to listen. The sound cut cleanly through the morning air, unmistakably human and terrified. A woman screamed, followed by a man's shout and the sharp crash of splintering wood. Curiosity stirred inside me. So did hunger. For several moments, I remained still and considered my options.

Yesterday, I would've hidden. Danger belonged to other people then, while I had been nothing more than another fragile thing waiting for someone stronger to break me. That girl had drowned somewhere beneath the cliff. Now, I had no family, no home, and no one waiting to cane me for wandering too far. There was no mother to correct my posture, no father to sell my future, and no brother laughing while he counted my punishments. I could go wherever I pleased and do whatever I wanted, and the freedom was intoxicating.

Drawn by curiosity, I followed the scream until the trees thinned near the road and the source came into view. A carriage had been forced from the path, one wheel shattered and half-buried in the dirt. Two horses hung dead in their harnesses, their throats torn open, while bodies littered the roadside. A driver lay near the front wheel, two guards had fallen beside the road, and an older man in traveling clothes rested facedown near the ditch. A woman's body was half-hidden beneath the carriage steps.

The attackers were still there. Four creatures prowled through the wreckage, built like men but broader, heavier, and distorted in ways I could not yet name. Coarse fur spread across their arms and shoulders, pointed ears pushed through tangled hair, and their jaws jutted too far from their faces. Long, curved claws tipped each finger, made for one purpose alone. They were beastkin, certainly, but what kind? Werewolves… perhaps, or something else entirely. I had no idea.

My life had been too small to contain monsters until I became one. The creatures were unloading chests, sacks, and wrapped parcels from the carriage. One of them laughed as he ripped a necklace from the dead woman's throat. My fingers twitched. Their motives didn't matter to me. The travelers were dead, their belongings had already been stolen, and something within me looked at those four furred creatures and wondered what their blood would taste like. Not merely how it would taste, but what it might do.

Lord Vane's blood had awakened something within me, but these creatures weren't human. The possibility that their blood might affect me differently should've been revolting. Instead, curiosity sharpened my hunger. All four beast-men froze at once, their heads snapping toward me in perfect unison. So they could sense me as well. One released a low growl from deep within his throat. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

I stepped from between the trees wearing stolen socks, a too-small pink dress, silver-white hair, and probably the expression of someone who had misplaced all common sense during the night. The closest beast-man bared his teeth.

"Little girl," he warned, his voice rough as gravel.

"Run." My gaze moved from the bodies to the stolen goods before settling on him.

"Why?" His growl deepened.

"I'm giving you one chance to live."

"How generous." The three behind him shifted uneasily. Surrounded by the village mob, hesitation had weighed on me. There had been too many weapons, too many unknowns, and too much risk. These four didn't inspire the same caution. They felt manageable, like prey pretending otherwise. Something new stirred within me, and this time it was not hunger. It was power. The sensation radiated from somewhere deep inside, beneath flesh, bone, and anything I understood.

Perhaps it came from my soul, assuming I still possessed one. Did vampires have souls? Was I even a vampire? My heart continued to beat, although more slowly than before, and my lungs still drew breath even though air no longer seemed entirely necessary. Those were questions for later. The power wanted to be released now. I raised one hand, and the beast-man nearest me stepped backward. Concentrating on the tip of my finger, I felt violet light spark to life.

It began as a faint flicker before another joined it, the same violet color as my eyes and bright enough to stain the morning air. The light pulsed with something unstable and alive, gathering above my fingertip until it grew considerably larger than I had intended. I stared at it. The beast-man did the same.

"Well," I murmured, "that is new." The light surged, and instinct urged me to release it. So I did. With a sharp rush of air, the violet power shot from my finger and crossed the distance faster than thought. The beast-man attempted to dodge, but his instincts reacted a moment too late. The light struck him directly in the chest. For a single heartbeat, nothing happened. Then his body folded inward. His body didn't collapse in any natural way.

Beneath the violet glow, his shape twisted inward as fur, flesh, blood, and bone compressed into a narrow, mangled form that no living creature should possess. Then he combusted… The explosion shook the road as blood, ash, and violet sparks scattered through the air. For several seconds, none of us moved. A smoking crater marked the place where the beast-man had stood. My gaze traveled from my finger to the crater and then back again.

"What in the hell is this power?" A grin crept across my face, far too delighted for anyone who had just reduced a creature to a smoking crater. The remaining beastmen turned and ran. For a moment, I watched them disappear into the trees. A different kind of excitement surged through me, sharper than anger and stronger than hunger. The chase had awakened something primal. My grin widened as I raced after them. Some distant, reasonable corner of my mind knew my expression must have looked deranged.

Silver-white hair whipped behind me, the stolen pink dress snapped against my thighs, and laughter escaped my throat as I pursued one of the three surviving mutts through the forest. I did not care. Excitement coursed through me, wild and thrilling. That feeling should've come from something sweet, perhaps dancing, music, warm food, or a hand held without ownership. Something soft and human, gentle enough to belong in the stories young girls whispered before the world taught them better.

Instead, my first taste of joy came during a hunt. How fitting. The beast-man raced ahead, dark-brown fur flashing between the trees as his claws tore into trunks and roots to drive him forward. He moved with the ease of something born to hunt in the wild. Unfortunately for him, I was learning how to hunt too. A root snagged his foot and sent him stumbling. I leapt before he could recover. The ground vanished beneath me as I launched into the air, clearing the distance in a single impossible leap.

I came down hard on the center of his back. Bone snapped beneath my feet, and the beast-man crashed into the dirt with a shattered howl, the impact shaking leaves loose from the branches above. A fierce thrill surged through me, but the remaining attackers gave me no time to savor it. The other two attacked from opposite sides, one aiming high while the other swept low. Their claws flashed silver beneath the fractured morning light. My body reacted before thought could interfere.

I jumped, twisted, and folded inward, passing through the narrow opening between their attacks. One set of claws sliced above me while the other swept beneath, both close enough for me to feel the air split against my skin. My feet touched the ground, and laughter slipped free.

"These instincts are marvelous." The two beast-men snarled and lunged again. Then the world slowed. It didn't stop or freeze, but every movement stretched before me in exquisite detail. Claws swung toward my face, and I leaned away. Another strike came for my ribs, prompting me to turn aside. A swipe cut toward my throat, so I dipped beneath it, while a backhand from the left drew me forward and inside the attack. Up, down, sideways, backward, and forward again, every movement came naturally.

Who was I, Muhammad Ali? The thought made me grin. Whether the joke made sense in this world was irrelevant because I enjoyed it anyway. The beast-men certainly did not. Their frustration grew with every failed attack. They were strong, fast, and vicious, but they fought like animals accustomed to prey that panicked. There was no panic in me. My body understood where to move, my eyes saw too much, and my feet responded too quickly. One of them overextended.

My fist struck his face with a sound somewhere between a crack and wet thunder. His head snapped sideways, and the rest of his body followed, flying past his companion before crashing through the brush and rolling across the dirt. The untouched beast-man glanced after him. Only for a second, but that was enough…. I lunged, wrapped my arms around his shoulders, and sank my fangs into his throat. His blood was different.

Vane's blood had been thick with age, wine, filth, and the slow decay of the miserable creature carrying it. This blood was wild, hot, and rich. It struck my tongue like a storm, flooding my body with savage, living heat. The ugly ache of thirst, which I had barely noticed until I began feeding again, eased with every swallow. The beast-man roared and thrashed, throwing himself backward and sideways into nearby trees as he tried to tear me free. His teeth sank into my shoulder, and pain flared through me.

I ignored it and bit deeper. Claws raked across my side while his jaws tore into me again. Blood streamed down my arm, some of it his and some of it mine, but the wounds were already closing beneath the damage. The sensation was strange and almost itchy, as though my body took personal offense at the idea of remaining injured. The beast-man weakened with every passing moment. His struggles became frantic, then sloppy, and finally desperate. Another roar erupted to my left.

I released my grip and sprang backward just as the final standing beastman charged. He collided with his wounded companion instead. Whether he meant to save his companion or simply knock me away, I couldn't tell. His shoulder struck the wounded beast-man square in the chest, and both of them tore through the undergrowth before crashing hard into the dirt. I landed lightly several paces away.

"One with a broken back, one exploded, and one half-drained," I counted, raising my fingers before looking toward the final beastman.

"Three down… one to go." His expression changed. That was the best part. The snarl vanished as fury cracked and gave way to fear. His ears flattened against his skull, his tail dropped toward the ground, and his body lowered slightly, not in preparation to attack, but in submission. His submission carried the unmistakable recognition of a predator facing something far more dangerous. How charming. Unfortunately for him, I had no desire to adopt a puppy. I lunged. He turned to flee but wasn't nearly fast enough.

My hand closed around the back of his neck and drove him face-first into the dirt. Before he could twist beneath me, I was on top of him with my fangs buried in his throat, drinking until his claws stopped carving trenches through the earth. Once he fell still, I rose and returned to the first beast-man, whose back had shattered beneath my feet. He watched me approach without growling or threatening me.

Only pain remained in his eyes, along with the dull animal understanding that death had found him while wearing a stolen pink dress. For the briefest moment, I almost pitied him. Then I remembered the bodies surrounding the carriage, the slaughtered horses, the woman beneath the steps, and the necklace torn from her throat. Whatever pity had surfaced disappeared. I finished him quickly. By the time I stood again, all four beast-men were dead.

Two had been drained, one destroyed by violet power, and another emptied after his spine broke beneath my feet. Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I looked down at myself and found the pink dress stained with blood. Again… My shoulder had already healed, and the lingering ache in my ribs from the fall had vanished. Warmth pulsed throughout my body, leaving me stronger and fuller than before. Satisfied was not the correct word. I felt alive.

My gaze swept across the forest as I listened for more heartbeats, more enemies, or anything foolish enough to mistake itself for the hunter. Only birdsong, wind, and the distant murmur of water answered me. A slow smile curved across my lips. So this was what it felt like to stand at the top of the food chain. Whatever waited above me could remain there for now. Eventually, I would be ready to hunt it too.