Page 39 - Hunter - The Vigil
P. 39

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               C CHAPTER ONE: SHADOWS CAST BY FIRELIGHT
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                  in their dead flesh or it’s some kind of medical anomaly (a  pered dogs, roving the night, looking to slake a living thirst.

                  disease, perhaps), nobody’s really sure. But what’s damn sure   Theories abound as to what they are or how they got that
                  is that the walking dead are out there, hungry, desperate and  way. Speculations suggest a monstrous origin, born from Tia-
                  sometimes quite mad.                               mat’s belly or the Devil’s own head or from some curse laid
                                                                     upon the earth by God His Ownself. Less popular ideas lean
                                                     Vampires        toward the scientific: vampirism is the result of some plague,

                      In a dockside warehouse, the Rat King licks his fangs with a   or perhaps each of the Damned is the puppet of some kind of
                  pale tongue and bellows to his gathered ghouls a command: Go,   blood-hungry parasite.
                  my little mice, and hunt.                              Wherever they came from, vampires are bad mojo, the
                      In a penthouse suite, hunters tear at the metal “curtains”   undead manifestations of vice and inequity. They are driven
                  locked down over the windows, prying them back just enough to   by dark passions, stirred by the blood to give into whatever
                  get a single shaft of sunlight in: it burns the beautiful woman they   geeks them at a given moment: a mad grab for cash, a claws-
                  have staked to the fl oor.                          out cackling sex rush, a gluttonous gorge to get a belly hot
                      In a boiler room, servants of the Long Night pray over a lit-  with the red stuff. They are passionate creatures, in a way.
                  tle girl who, even now, unwittingly sups at the emotion coming   And those passions are dead and twisted.
                  off those hunters, her belly growing full with all their hopes and   To invoke those passions, a vampire can tear a fence out
                  dreams.                                            of the ground, ignore a stitching of bullets to the chest, run
                      It’s a grim cycle with these vampires. A bloodsucking   mind control on unwitting hunters, even command a whole
                  creature of the night kills an innocent human, feeds the dy-  colony of rats to reduce a victim to bones.
                  ing man a drop of its own thick and vile blood, and another   Most hunters want the vampires in the ground. They
                  bloodsucking creature rises from death and stalks the night.  don’t like the idea that humanity is a food source. But they
                      Vampires exist. Most of them feed off blood, though ru-  also recognize that some of the unliving are still very human,

                  mors exist of other types that eat flesh, drink spinal fl uid, or   indeed (or at least look that way), and hunters sometimes
                  drain brains of their memories. Some are solitary, true Lords   give them the benefi t of the doubt, especially if that means
                  of the Night, ruling over neighborhoods or whole cities, com-  forging an alliance with some group of the bastards to put
                  manding their own unliving soldiers and relishing in the power   a bigger, meaner enemy down. Vampires have power both
                  it gives them. Others work in packs: blood-spattered coteries   mystical and temporal. Some hunters know how to use that
                  that work in tandem just like hunter cells or a pack of distem-  to their advantage. Most, though, just get dead, or worse —
















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