The Witch Hunter (The Witch Hunter Saga #1) Page 5

  "Well, it's safe to say that we're being watched," Zac announced to no one in particular, annoyed that the fight had been ended prematurely.

  "Do you think they know about, you know?" asked Liz quietly.

  "No," Zac replied, still staring in the direction the vampire had disappeared. "If they knew, then this would have ended differently."

  They stood in silence for a few minutes as if waiting for the shadows themselves to come and fight them. A mournful howl in the direction of the river broke the heavy silence, making Zac smirk in satisfaction.

  "Let's go home," Sam sighed and took Liz's hand, leading her away, Zac still staring after the unknown vampire.

  They hadn't solved anything with the wolves, but maybe now they would be spooked enough not to try anything. Only time would tell if they could venture out into the forest without incident. But he was more worried about Katrin. Until now her threat had seemed empty. Life had continued as normal, the ramifications of staking Alistair non-existent. Zac sighed uneasily. Perhaps he didn't know as much as he thought he did. He took his deflated ego and disappeared into the darkness.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Drawing her first breath burnt her disused lungs and she coughed uncontrollably. Sitting bolt upright in a panic, she looked around herself wildly, disorientated. Where the hell am I? Her thoughts scrambled to make sense of her situation, her heart hammering wildly against her chest.

  The air was dark and damp around her, thick with the scent of earth. Slowly her murky vision cleared and she realized she was in the cave where she escaped the unbearable draw of killing. The reek of blood had stained the fields above and she couldn't take it anymore. The aura of death had driven her to the precipice and the thought of killing a human for pleasure abhorred her. Now, she began to remember.

  My name is Aya. I escaped to this cave for the long sleep. To clear my self of the urge to kill. To let an age past before I can walk the earth again. I am below the fields of southern America. Ashburton, Louisiana. The haze in her mind began to clear and she stood carefully, stretching her disused muscles. Casting her mind above, she felt nothing but silence. Aya was a vampire, but she had been granted with other skills besides. She could sense emotions, which was a blessing and a curse. Recalling the battlefields above, she shuddered. Too much concentrated emotion always threatened to overwhelm her and she had to be careful. War was enough to drive her mad if she didn't protect herself. The American Civil War. She was glad she slept through that.

  She brushed the dust and cobwebs from herself and ran her fingers through her long black hair. She really had to remember to cover herself with something next time. Who knew what had lived in here with her over the years. She had to find her way outside, find something to eat and clean herself before exploring the world above. She smiled at the thought of going outside; she was starving. How long had she been sleeping?

  She made her way from the cave down the passageway she barely remembered. She had entered this place so abruptly, never taking in her surroundings fully. It was hidden from the outside, of that she was sure. Still at the mouth of the cave was the heavy rock she had placed to block the small hole that served as the cave entrance. With no effort, she pulled the boulder aside and light poured through the opening along with the fresh crisp air of the world. The sun was still climbing in the sky as she emerged into the day. Blinking furiously, she held up her hand, shielding herself from the glare as her eyes became accustomed.

  The land outside the cave had changed somewhat; the vegetation was thicker and a little wilder than she remembered. A short way off she caught the glimpse of light reflecting off water and recalled a lake being there. Cautiously, she made her way towards it, ready to catch the scent of any nearby animal. She was bound to have more luck closer to the waters edge. Chance happened that she came across a lone deer grazing, separated from its mates. Once Aya had stated her hunger, she went for a semblance of a bath.

  The water of the lake was dark, the surface lightly rippled by the light breeze that was flowing from the east. Aya, content that no one was around for at least a mile, peeled off her dress and tiptoed into the lake, shivering at the cold. She washed herself with the gravel that littered the bottom, rinsed her waist length hair as best she could and scrubbed her dress. She wondered how the times had changed, and if her clothing would pass until she found more. She was still very 1800s, but at least she had some decent boots under her cream shift dress.

  Completely naked, she sat on the shore amongst some weeping willows that were still devoid of their leaves and ran her fingers through the drops of light that spilled between the curled branches. Her clothes lay on some rocks nearby, drying in the early morning sun. By the air around her, she guessed it was late winter, early spring, though the temperature didn't bother her much. A vampire in the sun was an abnormality, but she wasn't a typical vampire.

  Musing about her awakening as her mind became clearer, she remembered a dream. And she rarely dreamed while she was asleep. She was walking through a forest, thick with ancient trees, covered in moss and vines. Lush and the purest green she had ever seen in all her long years. She reached out and laid her hands against the trunk of the closest tree, listening to the sounds around her. She was vaguely aware of a humming growing around her that grew into a voice chanting. "Blood of my blood..." it was the faintest whisper and she almost didn't catch the words. Looking about her, her blue eyes sparkling in the dappled sunlight, she gasped.

  Aya jerked her head up, suddenly awake. She had dozed again at the memory of the dream. Someone had called her, she was now certain of it, and they had used an ancient spell to do so. There was some power at play here and she had to be all the more careful. She could be walking into a trap if she wasn't prepared; others hunted her as she hunted them. Who had called her and what did they need her for? These were the questions she needed answered, and for that she needed to find the spot where the spell was cast. Only then could she begin to track for other answers.

  Pulling her clothes on, she began to wander the shore of the lake, sending her mind abroad to feel out the land ahead. From the abruptness of her awakening she gathered that the spell was cast nearby, perhaps within a few miles. Someone from the village perhaps? She wondered what had become of the people she had befriended in her short time here during the Civil War. Lived and died, presumably.

  It wasn't long before she felt the faint emanations of power from the forest. Wandering lithely through the trees, she came across a graveyard; so overgrown it seemed to seldom hold visitors. The headstones were spotted with yellow lichens and green moss, some dating back to the early part of the 1700s. The few family crypts were in a sorry state, broken windows and doors that had become unhinged and rusted. Aya didn't have much respect for the dead, the neglect not bothering her that much. She much preferred how nature had claimed this place back.

  At the centre of the site, an area had been cleared, the earth churned up suggesting it had been done recently. Dead leaves and twigs swept to one side, fallen branches and weeds removed. The ground underneath was bare, with the faint traces of footprints and indentations where objects had lay. Aya noted the markings bore the resemblance to a circle of power, the corners of a pentagram. Witches work.

  At the very centre, she felt the residue of power she had noticed from the lake. Kneeling, she felt the disturbed earth with long pale fingers. Yes, this was where it had happened. Aya heard the subdued humming she recognized from her dream. A potion was made here and it had had blood in it. Potions never sung in such a way, perhaps it was the calling card the spell had left, or the blood itself.

  It was strange that blood would make this sound, or rather singing. It was like a song was being performed only for her to hear. She had never experienced the like of it before. Standing she brushed her hands together to remove the dirt and smirked. Find the source of the song and there her caller would be. One and the same.

  On her way to the town, Aya came across a farmhouse. Inside, she h
eard the movements of the humans who dwelt there. At the rear, she found a clothesline where a young woman was pulling in the now dry laundry. A man's voice called her from inside and she disappeared into the house. Aya noticed what the woman was wearing, a white shirt with no collar or sleeves and dark colored trousers... Silently, she pulled similar clothing from the line and disappeared, the houses occupants none the wiser.

  Aya dared not move any faster than need be, so it took her some time to reach the outskirts of the village, now town of Ashburton. Even in the muted darkness she remembered how this place was, a small sleepy village, growing more prosperous as time went by. Now, it was a very different place. Much larger, full of strange technology, but more alive and colorful than she had expected. The streets were hard, no longer packed dirt and there were no horses to be seen. Shiny metal vehicles were lined along the street instead and an artificial orange light washed over her surroundings from the street lamps. A little overwhelmed and intrigued at the changed world, she pulled her stolen jacket closer around herself. Compared to other women that were around the streets, she passed as ordinary enough. She was a little surprised at how promiscuous some looked in short skirts above the knee and low-cropped blouses. It seemed acceptable. Normal, even.

  Across the street she spied a restaurant and bar that seemed to be where most people were gathered. The clock on the town hall a few doors down stated it was seven thirty pm. The bar was her first and best option to gather information. People talked more freely with a bit of alcohol. She crossed the gardened square and moved through the people gathered on the sidewalks. A few men glanced at her as she passed and their female partners cast her glares that were meant as a warning, which she disregarded without so much as a glance in their direction.

  Aya opened the door and stopped just inside the doorway. In a split second she had surveyed the room. Three vampires, a witch and a werewolf. What a small town supernatural hub, Ashburton had really come up in the underworld. Perhaps her rude awakening wouldn’t be such a bad thing after all. This would be very interesting, but she had to be mindful of who these creatures were. The town would be claimed by one of the groups and by the intensity in the bar, she guessed it was up for contention.

  She strode towards the bar at the far side of the large open room, aware that eyes were following her progress; human and vampire. The place was not that busy yet, still early evening, but enough that she brushed past her fair share of alcohol fueled young men. Young, human men. She pulled herself up internally. This was reconnaissance only. Fresh, warm human blood straight from the source was an indulgence that too often turned her into something darker than she ever wanted to be.

  At the bar she ordered a triple scotch, straight up. The bartender eyed her with a little awe; she didn't have to read his emotions to know that he was a little turned on by the thought. On the house, he had said with a little compulsion. Strange enough, the alcohol helped with her control, but it took a lot of the stuff to make her drunk.

  As the scotch slowly disappeared from the glass, her inner compass took note of the lay of the bar behind her as she sat on a stool, seemingly studying the remaining contents. She listened to the conversations around her, trying to hear anything that would be of use. Assimilating into this slightly insane new era, or locating the source of the singing blood.

  Two vampires were seated with the witch at the rear of the bar and were throwing out all kinds of emotions. Mostly she caught apprehension and anger. She couldn't help but notice the fact that they were staring at her and not making any effort to hide it, even if her back was turned. The third vampire seemed to be with them but was flitting around talking to many young humans. She felt young herself; almost newly made. The werewolf, a young testosterone fueled male, was standing to her left ordering drinks. He was unconsciously fidgeting and leaning towards her as if he could sense she was something else. And he reeked of sweat and blood.

  To her annoyance, one of the vampires from the table at the rear was approaching in her blind spot. He leant against the bar with the pretence of ordering drinks, but she could feel the curiosity dripping from him. Tall, dark and handsome was such a cliché, but an apt description. He feigned a casual glance in her direction and caught her gaze. Green eyes assessed her from under his messy dark hair. Suddenly, she wondered how old he was. Certainly nowhere near her real age. No vampire in this country was, at least before she went to sleep. It was a new age and a lot more things seemed accessible even for the undead.

  "Hi," he smiled at her.

  She glanced at him nonchalantly and looked away, not wanting to encourage him.

  He held his hand out, flashing a warm smile, ignoring her brush off, "I'm Zachary Degaud and you are?"

  She turned her head slightly and looked him up and down, "And what am I going to do with a Zachary Degaud?" She could never help being a little smart.

  The faint trace of a smile touched his lips, "Just rolling out the welcome wagon."

  "Zachary is such an old fashioned name, is it not?" she prodded at the age card.

  "What can I say? Old fashioned parents," he leant closer flashing a wicked smile. She could tell he was one for playing games. Asking casual questions to gain morsels of information. She grinned inwardly not giving herself away to him. In other circumstances she would have had a lot of fun with this one. "But you can just call me Zac. And your name is?" he continued, the smile never leaving his lips.

  She pointedly looked him up and down, "You can call me Aya."

  "Aya," he tried her name out, seemingly pleased that she had taken the time to assess him. "Aya, what?"

  She smirked, "Just, Aya."

  "I haven't seen you here before, Just Aya. Are you new to town?" he winked. "And your accent. Do I detect a hint of British there?"

  She narrowed her eyes slightly, "Just passing through." Not new to town, I can remember being here long ago, she thought to herself. What a different place it was. She wondered if he knew how dark Ashburton's past really was. "I was born in Britain," she added before she cold stop herself. Well, her accent was unmistakable.

  "Only passing? Sounds like you'll be gone soon. Do you mind if I join you for a drink? I'd hate to miss the opportunity to get to know such a beautiful exotic lady."

  Aya unsuccessfully stifled a laugh at this. He obviously suspected she was more than human, but trying to glean information from her under duress of flattery? It was a manipulation she was well acquainted with and at least a little fond of. She was also aware that his vampire and witch friend had not stopped watching them, obviously listening in on every word.

  "I don't think so, Zachary. I'm not one for falling for cheap flattery from strange men in bars," the lack of emotion in her voice was chilling as she shot him down.

  His eyes widened ever so slightly, "Please, call me Zac." He wasn't used to being turned down. He was rather handsome in the dangerous kind of way; seduction was a weapon for him. Before he could retort, the door opened with a crash and a group of rowdy men burst in, laughing and seeming very pleased with themselves. Aya cursed under her breath. She couldn't help but breathe in their scent as the wind blew in around them. They stunk of human blood and sweat and violence. Werewolves. Werewolves that had obviously been on the hunt in their human form. Zac visibly stiffened.

  Aya raised her eyebrow at him, "Friends of yours?"

  "Not in the slightest," he glanced back to his friends, who were looking a little unsettled, but both groups kept their distance at opposite ends of the bar, giving away that they were currently on edge with each other. These were the groups fighting over the town, now she was sure about it.

  Repulsed by the emotions emanating from the wolves, she scowled. Hunting was one thing, but killing innocent humans for sport went against all that she had worked for. She seethed inwardly; it would be so easy to tear them apart, to strew their body parts through the forest. It wouldn't take long. She felt her eyes clouding at the thought, blinking she cleared her mind and turned back to Zac.
She had to be careful. There was still the issue of finding the one who had called her without revealing herself in the process.

  "Well," she declared. "This town is flavorsome."

  Zac laughed uneasily, "True story."

  "Your friends look worried, perhaps you should go and reassure them. Your adversaries look like they have already had their fun for the evening," she said to cover the awkward silence that had emerged between them.

  "That's very observant of you," he said knowingly.

  "I'm a very observant person. It goes without saying. A young woman on her own in a small town in a bar full of macho bravado... one has to look out for oneself."

  "Well said, Miss Aya. Are you sure I can't join you?" his wicked grin had returned.

  Perhaps he was the one who called her, that's why he was sniffing around. He had a witch friend hovering in the wings who could have cast the spell, but perhaps he was just trying to figure out if she was a vampire. Someone whom he could enlist in the war over territory. She glanced over towards the witch for the first time meeting her gaze. She was a young woman with pale olive toned skin, long dark hair and a warm radiance of muted power. A power that was very familiar, one to watch.

  "No," she said, answering his question. "I was just leaving."

  "Will I see you again Miss Aya?"

  She looked at him with a note of amusement. "Maybe," she shrugged. It was time to withdraw from this supernatural hotbed; all the underlying vendettas that were beginning to emerge in this place were beginning to overwhelm her still groggy senses. She'd only been awake a few hours and had obviously slept a lot longer than she had planned.

  Her eyes met the dark brown of the young witches over his shoulder and she said, "Good night Mr. Zachary." And promptly stalked across the room and slunk through the door, the three watching her smooth exit.