The Vampire Hunter

Posted: February 26, 2014 by writingsprint in Fantasy
Tags: , , , , , ,

vampire hunting kit

Image by Abbey Bee

His name was Garibaldi. For the last six years he had been at the forefront, the very cutting edge, of the war against the vampires. There would be no murder warrants for him, because vampires destroyed themselves in fire after he shattered the cortex of evil that held them in our world. He was protected from becoming one of them by a consecration rite given him by a priest who had fallen in the war. His soul went directly to heaven, do not pass go, do not collect penance. It kept him from having his soul drunk by the vampire that killed him.

He, like the other slayers, went from target to target, sometimes planning the attack, more often happening upon one and being ready when he did. The vampires killed the same way. Many of them enjoyed wrapping mortals around their fingers, then the moment of terror and anguish when their lovers turned on them. Garibaldi knew a vampire when he saw one, and he also knew which ones were too dangerous to take out when he first saw them.

His killings had been to the vampires what theirs had been to ours. Brutal, random. It was like dancing around knives. You stumbled and were cut. You fell and you died. Then, one night, everything changed. A vampire seized his girlfriend, drugged her, and was going to use her in a ceremony to make a new vampire. Or some such shit.
There hadn’t been a way to take them out one at a time. There was no way and no time. Garibaldi had to sacrifice her to them-he could have killed her after the fact, while she was weak, in an act of love-or he had to do what he did.

It had been a massacre. Nothing like it had been seen since the Middle Ages, when mobs of villagers had summoned their courage and killed vampires, and certainly never by one man. When he remembered it, it was like reliving the moment in The Terminator when Arnold attacked the police station. He had walked in there with two shotguns loaded with wooden buckshot, an Uzi loaded with wooden bullets, and wooden points strapped to his forearms in case he had to go hand to hand. The screaming and the blood and the fire were his evil lullabies every night when he went to sleep. And he still hadn’t been able to save Julia. He’d slaughtered every last one of the vampires, but she was already dead. Not made, thank God, but her blood had been sucked out.

The vampires, of course, found out who he was. From that night on he was marked. Every night he waited for an attack that sometimes came. He slept inside a circle of protection, the only thing that kept him alive when he finally had to rest. The worst part was that the vampires could gather around themselves for help. The vampire hunters could not. It was too dangerous for them even to live as it was. The only hope that the vampire hunters had was that their deaths wouldn’t lead to the deaths of their allies.

As lonely and brutal as the work was, killing vampires satisfied Garibaldi more than any job he ever had. He slept like a baby at night. Except for their horrible spreading, vampires reproduced much more slowly than the hunters. Like the vampires, there was always one more hunter that they hadn’t caught, one more person who believed. Garibaldi had been told once that he brought five more people–five!–into the fight that night that he killed the largest gathering in Los Angeles.

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Comments
  1. A.D. Everard says:

    Wow! Love this. I particularly liked this expression: “It was like dancing around knives.” Really sums it up. 😀

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    • Thanks :). I always liked this character sketch. One of these days I’ll make it into a longer piece, probably the story about how he almost saved Julia.

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      • A.D. Everard says:

        Yes, I think that would make a good dramatic story. I believe you could write vampire stories really well – this had something extra, like an energy below the surface. Hard to explain.

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  2. Most vampire stories leave me cold. They’re pretty, elegant, magical. Ugh. Even the classic ones were gentlemanly. I first started this one as a joke. Michael Garibaldi was the name of the security officer on the scifi show “Babylon 5.” He was gritty and down to Earth, usually good for comedy relief. When I finally went to write the scene, though, I could only imagine him being desperate and alone. The character “Blade” at least his his own vampire side to give him an edge, but Garibaldi’s on a suicide mission. Losing Julia destroyed the only good thing in his life.

    Hmm. Now you’ve got me inspired 🙂 …

    Like

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