Monster Hunter International, Second Edition

  I fired as fast as I could, putting shell after shell of silver buckshot into the thing to no avail. It kicked at Sam as he rolled away, claws tearing a hole in the pavement. Milo stabbed his now-empty rifle forward like a spear. The vampire tore it from his hands and batted him backwards through the rift into the waiting wights. Milo disappeared with a cry of panic.

  I grasped for the special magazine that Milo had given me and slammed it home, dropped the bolt, and looked up in time to see the Master bearing down on me, blood-red eyes filled with rage. I pulled the trigger.

  The vampire stopped, confused. Pain was an unfamiliar sensation for the ancient creature. It looked down at the hole in its chest, then opened its jaws and screamed. It tore at itself, trying to somehow pull the burning agony from out of its insides. Thrashing, screaming, falling to its knees, claws tearing into the ground. Blue flames erupted from the hole, spilling through the vampire's ribs, igniting internal gasses, spitting and crackling. The vampire let out an unearthly wail as it tried to tear open its own belly.

  "Take that!" I shouted as I pulled the trigger again. Nothing. Of course. Milo had warned me that the specialty rounds would lack the power to cycle the action.

  When I had woken up after Mordechai's death, I had been able to get a good look at his little carvings for the first time. They were simple little tops, or dreidels as he called them. Traditional little Jewish toys, each side carved with a Hebrew letter that I had no idea how to read. They were rather small. And fortunately for us, with a little judicious carving, Milo was able to cram them into a 12-gauge shell.

  I cleared the malfunction, and chambered another round. I put the glowing holographic site on the vampire. "Mordechai says hi!" It was a stupid thing to say, but I'm not really eloquent at times like this.

  Blue flame flashed on the vampire's head as the toy splintered across its skull. The vampire screamed again, rolling across the ground, driving its head into the mud, trying to put out the flames.

  The toys seemed to hurt them, but they weren't strong enough to kill them, and I only had three left. Gradually the blue flames died, and the shaking vampire stood, snarling at me, baring its teeth. The distended mouth struggled to form English words. "You shall pay for that, mortal," it hissed as smoking tissues sealed together.

  "Vampire!" someone roared. "Pick on somebody your own size!" The vampire turned, looking for the challenger. Harbinger slowly pulled himself from the wreckage of the SUV, blood streaming from dozens of cuts. He gingerly reached over his back and yanked out a blood-stained chunk of steel, which he then casually tossed to the ground with a clatter. "If you think you're tough enough." He stretched, and bones audibly cracked back into place. "Well, come on then, you stupid thing." He unfastened the armor from his torso and arms and took it off. In the flickering light of the burning Suburban, many holes and injuries could be seen on his wiry body. They gradually puckered closed. "Come on, vampire! I'm giving you a challenge!"

  The vampire stopped. Flexing its long limbs. "Loup-Garou," it hissed. "Yesss. I accept your challenge. Your kind are nothing to the vampire."

  Harbinger looked past the creature, locking eyes with me. It was the look of a desperate man. "Go! Kill the Cursed One!"

  Harbinger began to change, throwing his head back as if he were in great pain, and then twisting it from side to side. He fell to his knees, hands scraping along the pavement. Bones twisted, flowed, and re-formed. His spine pushed up and out along the top of his back. Skin stretched and ripped as pale hair exploded from every pore.

  The others did not wait to watch the transformation. Instead they sprang into action. Sam jumped into the rift after Milo. Holly threw a tourniquet around Lee's leg, and Julie ordered the other Hunters to drag Lee and Grant to safety. I stood transfixed like an idiot.

  The transformation continued as the vampire waited, patiently readying itself for a great battle. Harbinger opened his mouth and razor-sharp teeth thrust out of his extending jaw. His pants ripped as his knees reversed direction. Claws exploded through the ends of his boots and he kicked the useless things away. When his eyes opened, they were a predatory gold. He fixated on the vampire, and howled, the sound echoing for miles. Harbinger surged to his feet, clawed arms thrown wide, the last vestiges of humanity disappearing to be replaced with pure animal power. The howl continued, growing in intensity and bristling rage.

  If Mr. Huffman had been a normal werewolf, Harbinger had to be some sort of mutant super werewolf. I could sense the power, every ounce of his human form turned into a perfect killing machine. Coiled strength, steel masquerading as muscle. I slowly reached up and felt the scar on my face. It was the most terrifying thing I had ever seen.

  Harbinger launched himself forward, leaping into the air. The Master did so as well. The two titans collided in midair with a crash like thunder, nearly twenty feet above the ground. They plummeted to earth in a spray of mud, claws and fangs flying, impossibly fast, shadows spinning and lashing out, backlit by the fire. Red blood and black ichor sprayed as they tore into each other's flesh. It was a contest of wills, immortal speed and primal strength.

  "Owen!" Julie shouted. "We've got to move!" The others had already jumped through the rift. A moaning Lee was being fireman-carried back toward the National Guard. I hurried after her, turning one last time to watch the magnificent battle: Harbinger suspended in air, tearing down at the vampire, and the Master driving its claws upwards into its foe. It was an astounding display. Julie grabbed me by my armor and pulled me through the rift.

  DeSoya Caverns were quiet. The last of the wights were twitching on the ground—shot, chopped or pulverized into nondangerous pieces. Sam extended his good arm and hauled Milo to his feet. Holly was splattered with Lee's blood, and there was far too much of it.

  The rift closed behind us. I swore and jumped aside, just barely missing being caught as it scissored shut. I did not want to dwell on what would have happened if part of me had still been on the other side.

  "Well, we're committed now," Sam grunted, holding his broken arm tenderly.

  "Earl's a werewolf?" I blurted.

  "Well, yeah, I'll explain later. What's our status?" Julie ordered, settling subconsciously into command mode. She scanned her flashlight across the vast interior chamber, illuminating the huge area beyond the pale glow of the light sticks. The stone glimmered wetly.

  "Heck if I know," Milo wheezed.

  "Lee was hurt pretty bad. I tried to stop the bleeding, but he's going to need a real doctor real fast," Holly said. "Poor Gus. His head just came off . . ."

  "I know . . . but we can't do anything for either of them now. Holly, are you okay?"

  "Fine. I'm fine."

  "Sam, how's that arm?"

  "Done broke it," he said. "Stupid vampire. I ain't broke a bone since I gave up bull-riding."

  "Can you fight?"

  He snorted. "I got a spare." His forearm dangled in such a crooked direction that it made me slightly ill just looking at it. Sam had to have been in horrible pain, but he ignored it.

  "Let's sling it up at least so it isn't banging on things. Milo?"

  "Sore, but otherwise all right. Lost my carbine though," he answered as he wiped the blood from a cut on his shaved head.

  Sam tossed over his .45-70. "Not gonna do me much good with one arm anyhow. Careful, that there's a man's gun. Got recoil that'll put hair on your chest. I still got my pistol."

  "Owen?"

  "Good to go," I answered. I saw from the still-twitching remains that the wights had once been federal agents. I picked up an FN SCAR off of the floor and checked the chamber. The government guys got all the cool new gear. It was loaded. Full mag in the gun, 20 rounds of their composite silver .308 on tap. The mounted flashlight worked as well. I kept the Fed gun in hand and let Abomination hang. I only had a few of Mordechai's magic shells left and I wasn't about to waste them on a wight. If we were to run into one of the Masters, I wanted to have some of the good stuff available.

  "Where
's Grant?" Milo asked as he quickly shoved extra shells into Sam's gun.

  "Still on top with the others," Julie said. "Probably safer up there . . . unless Earl eats him . . . Where's Trip?"

  "We lost track of him when we had that big explosion," I answered. I hoped that he was still alive, but I was starting to have my doubts.

  "I think I killed him." Holly spoke quietly.

  "It isn't your fault," I snapped. "You did what you had to do, otherwise that thing would have done to all of us what it did to Gus."

  "I just wish that I hadn't been so mean to him. . . . He was such a sweet guy," she muttered. "Damn it. He deserved better."

  "No time for that." When the chips were down, Julie was all business. "We need to hurry. Owen, which way to this secret portal?"

  I glanced around, getting my bearings. Everything looks different when you have eyeballs. "That way." I gestured. "I'll take point," I said as I started between the rock formations.

  She hesitated, probably thinking about having somebody else do it. Being the tip of the spear was the most dangerous position. "Just don't get killed," Julie admonished. "I would miss your charming personality."

  "Why thanks," I replied.

  "Plus we need you to open the door."

  I went forward, stabbing the light ahead and also occasionally upwards, looking for any suspended vampires. There were millions of spots in the cavern where danger could lurk. Visions of Gus's tottering headless corpse flashed unbidden into my mind. I stepped over the smashed remains of a historical display and kicked the severed guide ropes out of the way. The five of us moved quickly but cautiously. Every pass of the flashlight illuminated new formations, age-old deposits, twisted clumps of rock and sediment. Every strange shape that revealed itself caused me to jump. The walls shone as our lights struck smooth surfaces.

  There was something ahead, a darker shadow on the already dark floor. I held up my fist, the signal to freeze. The rustling of armor let me know that the others had responded. I gestured ahead with my flashlight. There was a hole in the ground, a pit. It was a natural formation, and the guide ropes that had surrounded it to keep the tourists from falling in had been torn and tossed aside. I leaned forward, letting the Surefire illuminate the gash in the rock. I was struck with a sense of foreboding.

  "Oh no . . ." I gagged as the smell of torn open bodies hit my nostrils. "Oh no."

  Julie drew alongside and shined her flashlight into the hole. She grimaced. "Vampire pen." A look of disgust crossed her face as she stared into the pile of corpses. "Poor things."

  I recalled the patients of Appleton Asylum. One of the survivors in their sharing circle had spoken of such a thing. Human captives held in a hole, serving as a vampire larder. Fed upon until they were almost dead, but then being left barely alive, as the undead rotated through their food. Allowed to regain their strength just enough to be bled again. There had to be ten people crammed in the hole, though they were all obviously dead now. The vampires must have feasted in preparation for this day.

  Holly shoved her way past me, looking downward, biting her lip.

  "Are you okay?" Julie asked her softly.

  She held her glove under her nose to block the smell, then stayed focused on the bodies as she slowly spoke. "You have no idea what it's like."

  "No, I don't."

  "The weakness, the fear, the pain, the humiliation. You just want to die. Most folks do after the first couple feedings. They just give up. Then the fuckers pull the body out and chop it up and send it back down to you, and the thing is by then you're so hungry you don't care. You can't see. You don't know how long you've been in. No light. No air. Strangers pushing on you." There was a small crack in her hard emotional shield, but instead of sadness, there was only anger. "Trying to hide when they come down to feed. All of them scared, just cattle, stupid meat. And when they bite you, it hurts so bad. But at the same time you can feel them, and part of you wants to join them, you want to be them, and that's the worst part of all."

  "But you're okay now," Julie assured her. "You made it out."

  Holly removed an incendiary grenade from a pouch on her armor. "Damn right I did." She pulled the pin and tossed it into the pit. "And when I eventually die—" The grenade exploded with a puff of flames, spreading out over the corpses, igniting their clothing and hair, burning skin and crackling fat, destroying them beyond the point of return. "—I'll need you guys to do this for me."

  So that was Holly Newcastle's story.

  "Good luck, friends," she whispered.

  I patted her gently on the shoulder. She grimly hoisted her rifle and stepped away from the edge as oily smoke began to fill the cavern.

  We pushed forward, away from the smell of burning hair and bone, deeper into the cavern, moving faster as nothing appeared to attack us. The portal was near. I could feel it. The section that we were entering had been roped off from the public, and it looked as if some sort of excavation had taken place. I illuminated a small information plaque.

  I scanned the words. Some of them caught my eye. "Well, I'll be damned," I exclaimed. "Check this out." The others drew close.

  Sam read the inscription aloud: "This section of the cavern is believed to have been a burial ground for the ancient peoples of the region . . . Blah, blah, blah, over two thousand years old, yada yada, great significance, evidence of ancient writing that may be an indication of an even older civilization . . . excavated in 1984 by, no shit . . . Dr. Jonas Turley and a team from the University of Alabama."

  "That's what the seven were looking for. That's why they attacked his home," Julie said. "Of course . . . Dr. Turley probably found the portal, but didn't know what it was or how to open it. The Cursed One must have known about this place all along . . . but then why did they need my dad?"

  "Hello there, honey." A sweet voice sang from the darkness.

  I spun around and shined the flashlight on the spot. Nothing.

  "Mom," Julie hissed. She swung her M14 around in an arc, searching for a target. Milo, Sam and Holly did likewise. Five sets of lights crisscrossed the cave. I could not hear anything over our nervous breathing. "Come out and fight!" she shouted into the dark, her voice echoing over and over.

  "No. I don't want to fight you." The voice came from one side. I thought that perhaps I had caught a tiny bit of movement as the light flickered past. "You're my daughter. We don't need to be enemies." Now from the other side. I swung back around. Damn Masters are fast.

  "What do you want, then?" Julie demanded. Milo cracked more glow sticks and tossed them into the dark, giving us a little bit larger circle of illumination.

  "I want us to be a family again, me and you and little Nate. I know he's up there, too." Her voice came from the ceiling above our heads. Holly cranked off a shot into the rocks, it ricocheted across the cavern, and Susan's laughter rose behind us.

  "Wait until you've got a target," Sam ordered.

  "All of us, even your daddy. One big happy family," Susan said pleasantly. I began to shiver as I felt her probing our minds.

  "Too late for that. You killed him. The Feds have probably already burned the body." Julie's eyes narrowed as she searched the shadows, cheek resting on the stock of her rifle.

  "Oh, honey. Once again, you think you know what's going on. You always thought you had everything figured out. Do you really think somebody like good old Myers would cut your daddy's head off if he thought that there might be some information in there of use? I've known Myers since he was a Newbie. He was always a cold-hearted son of a gun. Always practical. You know your daddy trained him, right? You would think he would be sentimental just once and would have done his old mentor a favor and finished him off."

  "What are you saying?"

  "Your daddy's alive." She put the accent on alive, almost as if she was singing it. "Well, not really alive, as you know, but something so much better."

  "Lying bitch!" Julie shouted.

  "Wait, there's more," Susan laughed. "The Feds were expe
cting some easy-to-handle, wimpy, new creation . . .

  A weak new vampire. You had your daddy for two nights. I visited him the first night and you never even knew. He was so happy to see me. He would have done anything I asked of him. He even partook of my blood. You know what that means, don't you?"

  "I'm going to stake you if it's the last thing I do," Julie vowed.

  "You didn't answer my question, but of course you know. As soon as he died, he rose again, far stronger than they expected. He's already escaped. He's returning to me as we speak. His mind will heal. He'll be whole again. Isn't that wonderful, honey? One big happy family." There was a whoosh of air, and then Susan's laughter sounded from back the way that we had come.

  "Owen . . . find that gate," Sam whispered. I turned back to the wall, desperately running my hands over the cool rock, looking for some indication of the Place of Power.

  "Oh, my darling Sam. I can hear you. No need to whisper. That's impolite amongst friends. I always loved you for your heart and your courage. You can come with us too. Join my family."

  He scowled and spit tobacco juice on the ground. "Susan, you were a mighty fine woman when you were alive and all, but personally I'd rather be gang-raped by giant, rabid, syphilitic porcupines, than join your shithead, hippie-commune, undead family, you scrawny-ass, vampire skank whore." He wiped his good arm across his mustache. "It's gonna be a cold day in hell before you've got the balls to come down here and take an ounce of red American blood out of Sam Roger Haven, you slack-jawed, hare-lip, monkey-humping pus bag."