The Witch Hunter (3 page)

Zac sat next to Alistair at the bar. Gesturing to the bar tender for a drink, he caught the glass that slid down to meet him. 

"You don't know what's good for you, friend," laughed Alistair, lifting his own glass to meet Zac's.

"What can I say? I have a knack for trouble," he replied with a note of irony.

"Are you ready to tell me what I want to know?" he glared out the corner of his eye.

"Well, gosh darn it, Alistair. I can't tell you what you want to know, because I don't know anything about it." Zac took a mouthful of scotch.

Alistair downed a mouthful of his drink before saying, "I see the werewolves aren't too pleased about your little brother and his mate running about their forest."

"It's not their forest, or their town," Zac snarled, not wanting to play games anymore.

"I believe they would beg to differ," he swirled his drink around the bottom of the glass, ice clinking. "And I believe they would like to do something about it, given the right persuasion."

"Be careful what you say Alistair," he stood abruptly, his expression dark with anger.

Alistair stood gracefully and stared at his adversary with disdain, "Do you know how old I am, vampire? I am over five hundred. I could squash you like the pathetic ant you are. Be very careful."

Zac stood eye to eye with the vampire and snarled, "Maybe you shouldn't come to my town and threaten the people I care about." 

"Oh, I see, this is
your
town? We shall see about
that
." Grabbing Zac by the scruff of the neck, Alistair dragged him through the kitchen, no one paying them any attention, and out the back door to the service lane. Before he could try and wrench himself free, he was thrown clear across into the fence opposite, the chain link rattling.

Zac groaned, rolling onto his front, "I see you pre-compelled the staff so they wouldn't piss in your soup."

Ignoring him, Alistair walked over to the chain link fence and effortlessly pulled free the iron cross bar. Weighing it in his hands he nodded in appreciation. He approached Zac, who was trying to drag himself to his feet. The vampire swung once, an audible crack as it broke both of Zac's legs, and swung again, breaking his spine. 

"Consider this a warning," Alistair said as Zac groaned in pain. "Piss me off again, and I will put this through your heart." The iron bar clattered to the ground and he sauntered off, hands in his pockets.

CHAPTER TWO

T
he half moon had risen high in the sky by the time Zac reached the gates of the manor. It had taken an hour before he could drag himself to his feet, his spine healing enough to restore feeling to his broken legs. Limping all the way from town to the house on the outskirts was a seven-mile journey and he fumed all the way, anger filling each step. He could have run, but he wanted time to think about the revenge he would have on Alistair before Sam could talk him out of it.

His thoughts travelled to memories of the many fights he had gotten into with fellow soldiers, conscripts and volunteers alike, when he was in the army. He'd given his fair share of black eyes and bloody noses and received just as many, but fighting as a vampire was a different experience all together. His ability for healing made for more painful injuries. Gashes, broken bones, pulverized flesh, internal bleeding. Painful, but irrelevant. His body would heal all but a severed head and a torn out heart, among other things. 

He trudged up the driveway to the manor, feet dragging in the dirt. The house that they had once lived in as children and young men and had been the location of so much death. They had reclaimed it from disrepair and despair alike, spending much time and money renovating and restoring the interior. Sam still held the deed as he was more responsible with those things, and with little effort they could claim to be the rightful owners. Despite all of this, the grounds and the house were of historical significance, so as they wanted to do things by the book, they were unable to do much to the exterior. Two vampires who never locked their door couldn't argue with the fact that the house didn't look lived in because of this. It kept visitors away, along with the locked gate.

The parlor was where the action was. It was also where Zac kept the alcohol, so they tended to gravitate here because of it. Sam sat by the fire waiting for his brother. The night was getting late and he hadn't come back from the bar yet. He hoped he hadn't pissed Alistair off too much. 

Zac slammed the front door closed behind him and barged into the parlor, throwing down his jacket moodily, glaring at his brother who gave him a familiar look of disapproval. His clothing was covered in dirt; mud caked into the knees of his jeans. All glaring signs pointing to what he'd been up to all night.

Sam eyed him up and down, "What happened to you?"

"What do you think happened?" he sneered, pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace, seething. The walk had done nothing but fuel his anger into a burning inferno.

Sam sighed and placed his head in his hands, knowing that Alistair had beaten him up. They had a nice peaceful life for the past year. It shouldn't come as a surprise that it was now ending. It was part of being a vampire, getting into trouble. 

"I'm not going to let that bastard get away with it," Zac raged, waving a finger wildly at Sam.

"We can't afford any trouble, Zac. If anyone found out who we really are."

"Yeah, yeah," Zac waived him off. "He broke both my legs and my spine. I want to beat the crap out of the bastard and stake him to a tree."

"Did you even try and talk reasonably with him?"

"He came there looking for a fight, I didn't have to do anything. It's down to him or us. And I'd rather it be us," he said pointedly. Zac couldn't begin to understand himself most days, let alone vampire politics. He supposed he'd become a little mad as well once he hit five hundred. Couldn't wait for
that
. 

Sam sighed deeply, thinking over the situation. The werewolves would keep for the moment as long as they kept clear of the woods. The vampire, that was a more pressing threat he wasn't sure how to deal with. "What do you suggest, Zac?" he asked, knowing full well what the answer would be.

"The only option there is," Zac said, deadly serious. "We kill him."

"What's this we business?" Sam scoffed. "So, we kill him and then what happens when his friends come looking?"

Zac stared his brother down, "Next time I won't look away."

Liz wiped her brow, grimacing. That was the billionth time she'd dropped coffee grounds all over the floor. Distracted wasn't the right word for it, off the planet was closer to the truth. Ever since the day before, being threatened by the local werewolves, she had been skittish. Sam had dropped her off at work that morning before going to the gardens across the street with Alex. Gabby was coming to get her soon, so she wouldn't be alone if there was trouble. It was silly, as a vampire she should be able to take care of herself, but it was something she struggled with since day one. She was
too
kindhearted, which contradicted everything she had become.

Working at the coffeehouse was not the most glamorous job in the world, but it was something to take her mind off the fact that she was A; a vampire and B; a vampire who was undecided if she was going to college or not in the spring. At 21, it was later than most, but last year she'd had to defer because she was busy learning how to control her bloodlust. The year before was spent working full time at the same job making coffee, earning money for tuition. Her family thought she was just ill, with a little help from some vampire persuasion.

Liz had spent the entire day worrying about the werewolves. So much so, that she kept dropping things and messing up orders. Mixing up caffeinated with decaf, cream, and non-fat. There would be a lot of people hyped up today. The last thing she needed was for one of the wolves to come into the cafe. She might not be able to explain herself if they did. Mrs Greene, the owner had asked her if anything was wrong. Most of the staff asked her of she was okay, even some of the regular customers. She had to get a handle on it. 

She was cleaning the coffee machine as Gabby opened the front door, the bell ringing merrily. They'd closed for the day already, but everyone knew her friend, so they didn't mind that she ignored the closed sign and barged right in. 

"Are you ready yet?" she asked, grinning. "I'm starving!"

"It's only 5 o'clock!" Liz laughed at her friend.

"Yeah, but I had to skip lunch today. My stomach is eating itself I'm so hungry," she grinned.

Giving the bench a final wipe, Liz waived to Mrs Greene and they made their way along the three blocks to Max's bar, laughing about her uncoordinated day. 

It was great to catch up with her friend; it had been ages since they had the time for dinner. She didn't need the food, but it was still nice to indulge in something human. Nothing bad would happen to her from eating a burger and fries, she'd just get no sustenance from it. She frowned as Gabby stiffened as she caught sight of someone coming through the entrance to the bar.

"What's wrong?" Liz asked, turning towards the door, catching sight of a blonde man she suspected was a vampire.

"That's Alistair," she said evenly. "He's the one who threatened Zac."

"Oh," Liz bit her lip, frowning. Sam had warned her about him this morning when he'd picked her up at home. The fact that he was lurking about must have been the reason the werewolves were absent. The thought made her blood run cold. 

He caught her eye and she looked away quickly, glancing at Gabby, wondering if she should text Sam. Before she could decide, the vampire slid into the booth beside Liz, trapping her against the wall. Gabby eyed him uncomfortably, steeling herself for whatever stunt he was about to pull.

"Ladies," he grinned. "I believe you know who I am."

"Alistair," Gabby grimaced. She was not in the mood for games, especially the games of vampires.

"You're the witch," he pointed at her before turning to Liz. "And you must be the new born."

Liz couldn't help shuddering as his cold eyes raked over her body.

"What do you want, Alistair?" Gabby asked firmly, her strong brown eyes staring down the five hundred year old vampire.

"I'm just coming to examine my prize," he put his arm around Liz's shoulder, grinning at her. "When I'm finished with that annoying Zachary and his brother, you and I will have some fun."

"Unlikely," Liz spat at him, trying to shrug his arm away.

Alistair laughed, "I can show you things you never dreamed of."

"Back off, Alistair," Gabby's eyes narrowed in warning as Liz slid away from him as far as she could get, which wasn't very far at all. The wall was hard on her back, trapping her against him.

"Oh, my dear," he said silkily, leaning closer to Liz. "I will have you at least once before I'm through." Alistair slid his hand up her leg, coming to rest on her upper thigh. Her body stiffened at his touch, making her shudder in revulsion.

She glared at the vampire and snarled, "Get your hand off me, or I'll..."

"Or you'll what?" Alistair's grip hardened on her thigh, his fingers beginning to bruise her. 

Liz stared him down, refusing to betray her fear at the sudden malicious gesture. She wouldn't be the damsel in distress. Suddenly, Alistair grasped his head, grimacing in pain, his fist banging against the tabletop in frustration. Gabby was scowling at him in deep concentration, her eyes narrowed. 

"Argh," he growled, his voice betraying the pain that was exploding in his head. "Alright, alright. You've got this round, witch." 

Gabby relaxed and Alistair gripped the table, his knuckles white, glaring at the witch in front of him. "Leave," she said. "You have no claim here, vampire. Leave before it's too late for you."

The vampire laughed, then, as if he knew Gabby was bluffing. Her expression was darkness, but Liz knew that her power was limited and no match for a five hundred year old vampire. What she had just done, that was the extent of what she had learnt to protect herself.