A Moonlit Night Saga: Episodes 1 - 4 (10 page)

The werewolf grew tired of waiting and darted
towards Samuel, his thundering paws tearing up the earth below him
as he went in for the kill.

Samuel’s sword sliced downward, but the wolf
managed to evade the blow and went quickly for his throat.

His sword was knocked out of his hands as the
powerful beast crashed against his body. Thrown onto the ground,
Samuel clasped his hands around the werewolf’s jaw.

The wolf’s sharp canines dug into Samuel’s
head, trying to close his mouth around the head of his prey.

“This… isn’t quite how I planned things to
go,” grinned Samuel, trying to remain calm under pressure. The
werewolf could smell his trepidation, and Samuel feared the one
drop of sweat and the wolf’s jaw could lock tight around his head.
“Usually I make someone wine and dine me before I let them get this
close—.”

The werewolf jerked backwards, a pair of
scorched hands grasped around his throat, pulling him off Samuel.
It was Xander, barely alive, but still he managed to exact his
fiery vengeance.

Xander stared down Samuel, his skin slowly
started to heal from the ghastly burns. Extending a hand towards
the vampire hunter, he appeared willing to put aside generations of
hatred in order to save the summoner’s life.

“Keep your fangs in your retracted and we’ll
be just fine,” warned Samuel, as he accepted Xander’s help and was
lifted to his feet.

“That… coming from the man who almost killed
me,” mumbled Xander, his lips still charred.

Their victory was short-lived, as the rest of
the pack started howling in the distance. The werewolves’ shrill
cry pierced through the night sky, signaling that they had found
their prey and would soon descend upon them.

“I hope you’re ready for this,” said Samuel,
looking to his side as the two of them took defensive
positions.

Xander laughed heartedly, now almost
completely healed, as he looked back at Samuel, and said, “…Says
the vampire hunter facing down a pack of werewolves. Yeah, I’m
ready for this.”

Chapter Three

A shadowy figure emerged from a dimly lit
passageway, shrouded in a dark hooded robe; the only identifiable
part of the man was his icy blue eyes and long wiry beard.

Walking into a large chamber, the man passed
by dozens of other individuals all clad in the same black robes.
They were aligned in a semi-circle, all residing around a golden
throne. The man passed by everyone, and took his place on the
throne. He slouched, tired from years of tireless vigilance, as he
peered out across the room. That’s when he noticed that one of the
seats was empty.

“Elders… Councilors… I see that one of us is
missing from the proceedings. Does anyone know where Councilor
Gemeti is?” asked the man, his hoarse Russian accent booming across
the room.

“Lord Korolev, Amata Gemeti hasn’t been to
the castle in months now,” replied one of the councilors.

“She’s off plotting her little schemes!”
shouted another one of the councilors. “She’s nothing but a
rat—.”

“My lord, I have reports that she’s even sent
her first prime, Simeon Agathon, to the summoner’s last known
location,” said a third councilor. “My sources are completely
reliable—.”

“That’s what we get for allowing a 300 year
old vampire Elder status among our people,” commented the first
councilor to voice his concerns, his snide comments resonating with
the other vampires. “She’s too young, and the prestige has gone
straight to her head!”

“Would you like to be the one to tell her
that?” another councilor asked, all of the Elder vampires seemingly
wanting in on the discussion. “We’ve all seen what she can do.
There isn’t a single one of us who could stop her on our own,
regardless of her age.”

“Enough!” shouted Lord Korolev, raising his
hands to quiet the crowd. They all hushed instantly, both
respecting and fearing the eldest vampire in existence. “Do not
tell me things I already know!”

“We have not convened to discuss the matters
of one rouge councilor!” boomed Lord Korolev, continuing his speech
to the crowd. “I have called you all here for a much more serious
matter. You’ve all heard the rumors, that the last summoner has
been found. I am not going to hide behind the rhetoric any longer.
She exists… and is living in south east of the United States of
America.”

The crowd began to murmur their discontent
between one another, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily
on their cold chests.

“Be calm!” bellowed Lord Korolev, retaking
control of his councilor chambers. “I have considered our actions
for many days now, and refused to speak on the matter until I have
made my decision. Make no mistake; this council will not repeat the
mistakes of the past. The summoner shall not be harmed.”

The reserved councilors had heard enough.
Many stood and shouted out in discontent. Some even spat and spewed
obscenities. Clearly, this was not a popular choice among Lord
Korolev’s followers.

“The summoner can destroy us all at any
moment… and you suggest we let her walk away?” asked one of the
councilors, throwing his hands in the air. “This is
preposterous!”

“Silence!” shouted Lord Korolev, his hand
grabbing hold of his hood as he tossed it behind him. Barring his
monstrous fangs, he stared them all down with his frosty eyes. They
cut sharply through the tension, none of the other councilors
willing to test his limits.

As Lord Korolev began to speak to the
bewildered councilors, a large commotion rang out behind the main
entrance to the council chambers. Alarmed, the councilors all
turned their heads in unison towards the door, their superhuman
ears picking up what their eyes could not.

The large mahogany doors flew open, crashing
against the stone walls as the sounds of battle engulfed the large
room.

Amata Gemeti emerged from the entrance,
brandishing a sword in each hand; she was armed to the teeth and
ready for war. The blood splattered on her face suggested that she
had already, in fact, seen much war inside the vampire’s holiest of
locations.

“What is the meaning of this?” asked Lord
Korolev, rising for Amata’s insolence. “Speak now, before you lose
your head for this treachery!”

“Oh, dear Korolev,” said Amata, grinning from
ear to ear. “I believe we have a difference of opinion. You see, I
figured you would fold on the matter of the summoner. I may not
have been around during the first culling, but had I been, we would
not be having this problem. Call this an insurrection… or
rebellion. It matters not what you choose to call it. The end
result is that I am going to lead our kind into the promise
land.”

Lord Korolev laughed heartedly, his gruff
chuckle echoing through the chamber. He looked back at the
attempting usurper, and asked, “And how do you plan to accomplish
this?”

“My esteemed colleague,” began Amata, running
her tongue across her razor-sharp fangs. “I plan to cut off all of
your heads… with a large axe… one by one.”

“You…,” growled Lord Korolev, saliva spewing
as he frothed at the mouth. “And with what army?”

“My newborn army, to be precise,” replied
Amata, raising her swords above her head as a swarm of sickly
looking vampires rushed into the council chambers. They were the
forgotten; the drug users and the homeless, the perfect army for
Amata’s needs.

Their eyes were bloodshot, overindulging on
their victims as they tore through the chamber. The Elders were the
most powerful vampires in existence, but even they were no match
for the sheer numbers Amata had amassed.

The councilors fought back valiantly, but for
every newborn they put down, another five would take its place.
Sharp claws and fangs descended upon them from every angle as the
younger vampires tore through them, gorging themselves on sacred
blood.

Amata smiled, as she watched the chaos unfold
around her. She looked back towards the hallway as the ground
started to shake. Slowly, a dark silhouette emerged from the
shadows. A giant of a man, his mere presence made the ground behind
him tremble in his might.

“Mr. McAlister, what took you so long?” Amata
asked.

“The royal guard… took longer than I had
anticipated,” replied the lumbering vampire, carrying a large war
axe on his shoulders.

The man stood at seven feet tall and his
broad shoulders enveloped the mighty axe he was carrying. With
long, scraggly hair and unkempt beard he was a rough looking man,
but his chiseled cheekbones and piercing green eyes gave him rugged
good looks that Amata liked to have around.

“Go fetch me their heads, William,” ordered
Amata, pointing towards the carnage in front of them. “And be quick
about it, will you? We’ve got a summoner to find.”

“Yes, my lady,” replied William, his large
hands gripping the axe tightly as he hoisted it off his shoulders
in preparation for battle. “…As you command.”

Chapter Four

Xander and Samuel stood together, their backs
pressed up against one another while the stared down their
attackers. The rest of the pack had arrived, the werewolves’ growls
reverberating through them.

A dozen werewolf’s had descended upon them,
stalking their prey as they ran circles around Xander and Samuel,
trying to confuse and disorient them.

“I hope you’ve got another blade under that
coat,” said Xander, looking over his shoulder.

“I’m a vampire hunter,” replied Samuel, his
hand slowly reaching into the coat. “Of course I’ve got a spare
sword.”

Samuel drew a short sword and handed it to
Xander. Together, they raised their weapons towards the wolves, and
waited for the chance to strike.

The first werewolf to charge them darted out
from the rest of the pack and headed straight towards Xander. He
lunged high in the air, his jagged teeth trying to find Xander’s
throat.

Xander ducked, and drove his sword directly
above him. Slicing through the werewolf as it passed by in the air,
Xander rose to his feet. The blade pushed in deeper as it emerged
from the back of the wolf, now shrieking in pain.

Another used the commotion to launch his own
attack. Approaching from the side, the werewolf tried to take
Samuel’s legs out from underneath him, but a well-timed boot
stunned the wolf. Dazed and confused, the beast never saw the end
coming as Samuel hammered him in the spine with the blunt end of
his sword. A horrifying snap could be heard through the countryside
as the wolf dropped to the ground, his back shattering in half.

“We might actually pull this off!” grinned
Samuel, wiping the sweat from his brow. “I could do this all
night—.”

“You’ve spoken too soon,” barked Xander, his
lip curling as several werewolves dashed towards them. “Here they
come!”

Meanwhile, inside the house there was a
completely different battle going on. A frantic Emily was trying to
wake her brother, still unconscious from his barroom brawl.

“Wake up… you have to wake up!” pleaded
Emily, shaking her unconscious brother violently.

She clung to her shirt, which was covered in
blood, and cried. The tears streamed down her face as she
desperately tried to continue to wake her brother, Steven.

“C’mon, we’ll be safe inside,” said Tyler,
placing his hand on Emily’s shoulder. “I thought they couldn’t
enter anyone’s home without invitation?”

“That’s for vampires, Tyler!” shouted Emily,
wiping the tears from her cheek.

“Are you serious?” Tyler asked. “…Who makes
up this shit?”

She placed a quivering hand on her knee,
picked herself up and headed cautiously towards the front bay
window. Noticing something on the window sill, she bent down and
wrapped her hands around a large wooden stake. Samuel must have
left it in the house, she thought, running her fingers down the
smooth pine.

Suddenly, the sound of a window smashing sent
chills down Emily’s spine. Turning her head to the back of the
house, she hesitantly shifted towards the kitchen.

“Don’t do it, Emily!” yelled Tyler, looking
back at her from the living room. “Come back here!”

It didn’t matter where Emily went, she knew
that if one of those things had gotten inside there wasn’t anywhere
they could run.

A ravenous werewolf had busted through the
window beside the back door. With blood dripping from his mouth, he
tracked Emily across the kitchen with ill intent in his eyes.

Emily gripped the stake firmly in her hand
and braced for the charging wolf’s attack. Her hands trembled and
her heart raced a mile a minute; she had faced down ghouls and
vampires, but she had never been more scared in her entire
life.

The snarling hound dashed towards her, his
powerful claws tearing up the floor as he quickly approached. He
lifted off with his hind legs and went for the throat.

The stake was knocked out of Emily’s hand as
she fell to the floor, her hands wrapped around the jaws of the
beast. It slid across the tiled floor, far out of Emily’s reach as
she battled for her life.

The werewolf growled ferociously as he dug
his sharp claws into the meat of her thigh. The blood poured out of
Emily’s leg, but still, she refused to flinch. The slightest
weakness and the werewolf would be having her for supper; his
deadly canines now only inches from her throat.

“Take this, you filthy beast!” shouted Tyler,
standing over the wolf with the wooden stake in his hand.

He drove the stake into the back of the
vicious animal. It may not have been a vampire, but the stake tore
through the spine of the werewolf, sending him to the floor in
screeching pain.

The werewolf bled out in agony, panting and
wheezing as he looked back up at Tyler with heartrending eyes,
completely mystified as to how he was vanquished by such a normal
man.

Chapter Five