Hunters in the Night (10 page)

I
turned towards the source of the waves and ran forward. I didn’t spare a look
behind me, but I guessed that my teammates were silently following close
behind. I scrambled between trees and through bushes, letting the Rift guide me
to the source of the waves while making sure my own wake in the dark pond was
nothing more than tiny ripples.

I
stopped. I felt another presence in the Rift. Not a wave, nor a ripple, but
something entirely different. It instantly reminded me of an incident from
years ago. When I went for a swim in the Florida Keys as a child, a docile
nurse shark brushed up against my leg. The unexpected sensation of its rough
skin and the taut muscles beneath sent an indescribable shock through my
system. That’s what this was like, but worse. There was something else out
there and, unlike that shark I met on that day, this was no docile creature.

“Guys,
look out for trouble,” I whispered. The Men with Guns, following me diligently
as I had expected, immediately scrambled for cover and brought up their
weapons.

“I
got visual on a target,” Brody said. I looked up to where he was staring, and
found an ephemeral creature with tentacles hanging in the air a few feet ahead
of him. I knew what it was immediately: an inkwell.

I
breathed a sigh of relief. Inkwells aren’t predators (they don’t even have
teeth). This one was barely noticeable in the dark, but it was definitely
there. I was impressed that Brody was able to pick it out. But, just as I was
about to praise him for his find, the creature made a lunge towards him and he
did something tragically stupid.

I
can’t really blame him. His whole military career was spent training to do one
thing: shoot stuff. He was hardwired with a trigger finger, and my short
tutorial on Rift-kind extermination was hardly enough to change that. So,
instead of turning on his flashlight, he squeezed his trigger finger and let
off a few rounds. Then everything went to hell in the proverbial handbasket.

Brody’s
partners instantly reacted to the sound of gunfire. They crouched low, and
scanned the area for a target. Of course they weren’t expecting a floating
monster made of shadow, so they searched ground level for enemies. Meanwhile,
Brody’s new friend with the tentacles wasn’t too happy about all the attention.
The inkwell did the one thing it’s known for — squirting out a stream of
concentrated Rift material to cover its escape. It lashed out at Brody and
covered his face in a cloud of darkness.

That’s
when Carr finally saw the creature. His eyes grew as big as eggs when he
realized he was staring at a six-foot-long ephemeral horror with more tentacles
than he could count. He froze up for just a second, which was a good thing
because we didn’t need more bullets in the air. I pulled out my own flashlight
and shone it on the creature, but the inkwell was quick. I was only able to
disintegrate a few tentacles before the damn thing darted behind a group of
trees.

“W-what
the hell was . . .
that
?” Carr said. He started trembling.

“Stay
cool,” I said. “It’s gone.”

“Man
down!”

That
was Allen’s voice. His usual icy demeanor had been replaced with pure terror. I
looked to where he was kneeling, and Brody was lying on the ground next to him.

“What’s
wrong with him?” Jackson said as he watched Brody thrash violently on the
ground.

I
ran over to Brody and immediately knew what the problem was. “He’s dying.”

Like
an octopus shooting ink to defend itself, the creature had spurted out material
from the Rift straight into Brody’s face. When he inhaled, the stuff saturated
his lungs. Now it was suffocating him from within.

“He
can’t breathe,” Carr, said. “Maybe something’s stuck in his windpipe.”

“No,”
I said. “Let me handle it.” I opened myself to the Rift and tried to draw out
the stuff in Brody’s lungs, but it wouldn’t come out the same way it came in
and I couldn’t just yank it out of him without doing even more damage.

“What
the hell is wrong with him?” Allen asked.

I
was about to tell him, but then I saw we had company. A horde of shadowy
floating creatures was approaching. Our friend with the tentacles brought some
backup. The Men with Guns must have noticed my shocked expression, because they
all turned and looked to see what I was staring out. The nasties were just
barely visible in the moonlight, but they were definitely there, and coming at
us fast.

“Use
your lights!” I said. “Shooting at them won’t do a damn thing. Keep your lights
pointed at them. I’ll handle Brody. Man up and take these things down.”

The
Men with Guns snapped to attention once I said that. Their training came back
and so did their resolve. The soldiers formed a circle to protect me and Brody,
and they fired up their flashlights. With their backs to me and their eyes
focused on the night, I proceeded to do the only thing I could to save Brody’s
life.

First,
I had to end his thrashing, so I cast a quick immobilization spell to keep him
still. I ripped through his clothing and removed his bulletproof vest. Then I
unsheathed my field knife, took a deep breath, and stabbed him through his left
ribcage.

“Sorry
about this,” I muttered to Brody, knowing that the pain had to be incredible.
Moisture flowed freely from his eyes, and his breaths came in short, raspy
spurts.

I
stuck my flashlight deep into the bloody wound. If Brody could have found the
breath, he would have screamed. But I had no time to worry about his comfort.
He would thank me later, if he lived.

I
tapped the power button on the high-powered flashlight, and its brilliant,
focused beam illuminated Brody’s insides. I could feel the dark material in his
left lung gradually start to melt away, and his breathing improved a bit. With
each intake of breath, the material in his lung was forced to move, and more of
it was shifted into the light. For maximum coverage, I had to twist and turn
the flashlight to blast away as much of the darkness as possible. Brody’s eyes
continued to stream tears. A pool of blood spread beneath him.

“We
have to move!” Allen screamed behind me.

I
spared a glance over my shoulder and saw that the team had their hands full
with trying to keep their lights on a number of different Rift-kind, including
some types I’d never seen before. My squad wouldn’t hold for long, and every
second we spent dealing with the creatures was time our real quarry could use
to escape. There had to be a nightcrafter around here. That was the only way to
explain all this activity.

I
turned my attention back to Brody. The black Rift-material inside him had
largely dissipated in his left lung, but his right was still full of the stuff.
The hole I made in his side was bleeding profusely, and his eyes were losing
focus. He was breathing better, but he’d be dead soon if he didn’t get better
medical attention than I could provide.

“Allen,
pull your men back to the van!” I shouted. “Carry Brody back and get him to the
medical team. He should be able to breathe long enough to make the trip.”

Allen
looked at me, sweat covering his face. “What about these . . . things out
here?”

I
stood, and said. “I’ll take care of them.”

Allen
didn’t need any further instructions. He barked orders to his men, and they
provided cover for each other as they scooped up Brody and started to retreat.
The Rift-kind moved in to follow. An idea blossomed in my head, but it would
only work if these creatures were stupider and less aggressive than the
nachtjäger. I stepped in front of them and opened myself fully to the Rift,
drawing as much power from it as I could. It worked. Like moths to a flame, the
shadowy creatures focused their attention on me.

Then
I ran.

* * *

I’d
never had that many Rift-kind on my tail before, and it’s an experience I don’t
ever want to repeat. I could have thrown them off my trail, but I needed their
attention on me, and not my team or the residents of the neighborhood. I
focused my mind on my connection to the Rift so that I could find the person
that caused all this mess while trying to draw as much darkness to me as
possible. It was hard since my own frantic actions in the Rift created
interference. Still, somewhere off in the distance, I could feel another
presence.

My
target had taken off at a good pace, but they were still nearby for some
reason. Most nightcrafters would be completely out of the area by now. So my
quarry was either purposely hanging around, or they just didn’t know how to get
away faster. The second possibility ignited a spark of hope in me. Maybe I was
dealing with another novice. An idea popped into my head — a great idea. I just
hoped it wouldn’t get me killed.

I
ran towards the nightcrafter as fast as I could, but I was running out of
breath. I’d never been a particularly athletic guy, and my body was letting me
know it was none too pleased with all this activity. But the frightening chills
I felt from my pursuers kept me going inexorably forward.

I
felt the nightcrafter’s presence grow stronger. It was close now, and no longer
moving. Then the sensations shifted. The presence was now quickly diminishing,
and those waves in the Rift were becoming tiny ripples. My prey was trying to
hide. But where? I saw a group of hedges ahead. They were tall and overgrown;
some gardener had been lax on their duties. Perfect place to hide.

Energy
from the Rift still surrounded me and drew my friends with the tentacles
closer. With nothing but strength of will, I collapsed all that power into a
compact sphere. It was heavy like a massive little cannonball. I heaved it like
a shot putter, throwing it towards the fading presence in the distance. The
Rift-kind followed it, and ignored me. As they raced forward, they parted the
tall hedges.

Then
I saw her.

She
was around my age. Slender. Short. She was dressed in an oversized sweat shirt
and some loose jeans. Her face bore an expression that I could best describe as
“fucking pissed”. We locked eyes for only a moment, then my little ball of
Rift-material landed at her feet, and she had some inky new friends to deal
with.

The
girl was quick. As the dark creatures descended on her, she drew power from the
Rift with a deftness and confidence that I still lack. She brought up a
defensive wall that the creatures slammed right into. Like puppies that had
just bumped their noses on a glass door, the creatures yelped and turned tail.
She made it look all too easy, and I could tell by her expression that she was
quite satisfied with herself.

But
she forgot about the little ball of darkness at her feet.

I
couldn’t help but smile as I reached out and unraveled my trap. The
softball-sized sphere of condensed material from the Rift silently exploded as
I released the pressure inside, all at once. The force of the explosion was
incredible — far more than even I expected. The shock wave knocked me right on
my ass, and I was forty yards away. At the point of explosion, a crater two
feet deep blossomed into existence. The explosion blew the leaves off of nearby
trees and their branches twisted and splintered. It all lasted just a couple of
seconds, but it seemed to take forever. When it was over and I recovered
myself, I surveyed the scene.

“Well
I’ll be damned,” I said. “I really outdid myself this time.”

I
saw the limp form of the young woman I had chased. She was lying face down,
thirty feet away from where I last saw her. For a fleeting second I thought I
might have miscalculated and actually killed her. But I could still feel her
presence through the Rift, even though she was unconscious.

I
heard a series of chirps and buzzes amidst static, and realized that somewhere
along the line I’d taken out my radio earpiece, and it was now dangling in my
jacket. I fished it out and listened.

“Kal,”
Allen said. “Pick up if you’re there.”

“I’m
here,” I said.

“Where
are you? What happened?”

I
looked at the young lady I’d defeated, and felt the presence of the scared
Rift-kind diminishing as they fled toward the ocean. I steadied my voice and
said, “Mission accomplished.”

The
worst part of nightcrafting too much is the hangover. I’m not talking about
anything like the aftermath of my beer binge with Newton in the Netherlands.
This is way different.

Imagine the
worst you’ve ever felt after a night of drinking, and then multiply that by three.
That’s what I was feeling. Had I been more versed in the ways of the dark, I
wouldn’t have felt this way. My tolerance would be higher, so to speak. But I’m
still a lightweight, and the events of the previous night left me drained. I
was exhausted, had a horrible headache, and the smallest sounds bellowed in my
ears and made the pain in my head even worse. There was no cure for this. Only
isolation and rest would put an end to my suffering.

But
I would find neither at my current location.

I
sat slumped over in a chair at Dominique’s office. The light coming through the
windows was killing me. Each shaft of sunlight felt like a hot laser boring a
hole directly into my soul. I just wanted to crawl into a dark, quiet place for
a few days and be oblivious to the world. Eventually, I realized that Dominique
was talking to me. It took considerable effort to focus on the words coming out
of her mouth.

“You
really screwed this up,” Dominique said.

“Really?”
I muttered. “I thought I did pretty well, all things considered.”

“You
and I have a very different view of success then,” Dominique said. “You almost
got your men,
my
men,
killed.”

“I
never said this would be a walk in the park.”

“You
also never said that you’d nearly obliterate a half acre of suburbia in New
Jersey.”