Hunters

I could feel the temperature drop as I stepped across the threshold.

I looked around.

Here? An ancient predator of the human race, holed up in this light, airy, modern construction?

I stepped back outside, and the temp immediately hit me with all the force of a southern summer. I checked the capstone of the corner of the building – nineteen sixty-eight. A very good year, from all I'd been told. The newer atrium with its tinted glass and welcoming seating areas and charming café blended well with the original construction.

I stepped back inside. Yep, there it was. And I knew for sure the chill wasn't due to the two industrial A/C units chugging away on the roof. I do research on all the buildings I'll be near when I'm on “vacation.”

Was I losing it entirely? Was I losing my touch?

Disturbing thought.

I gave up, approached the troubled receptionist who had been watching my odd behavior. “My apologies, I was staring at the architecture. Force of habit, I'm afraid. Mx. Helwon, checking in, please.”

“Miss?”

“No, sorry, Mx. I'm a single woman in a man's job, it gives me a little bit of protection to push the issue and use one of the new honorifics.” An easy explanation. Too bad it was entirely false, but it worked for most social situations.

“Aw, honey, bless their hearts! Men. I see your company card's already paid for your month's stay, here's y'alls key, you're on the extended stay floor. We don't do maid service up there, so if y'all need anything, please call me here at the front desk, okay? Elevator's over there, if you need help carrying your things up, I can call one of the maintenance boys to come and help?”

“Ah, no thanks, not needed. I travel light.” Indeed, my backpack had it all. The garment bag over my arm was a decoy. “Thank you very much, I'd better settle in and see what my boss wants from me tomorrow.” I waved good-bye and turned to the elevators, wondering if her friendliness was genuine, or a front.

I know, it's a crummy way to look at people. In my line of work, it's what you gotta do. I learned that early. Family business and all.

The room was quiet and clean. Despite the reassurances that a maid wouldn't interfere, I opened my backpack and set up the wards anyway. Good luck to the maid, or anyone else, who tried to snoop! And even if they somehow got past the wards, I'd know in a heartbeat.

I was more tired than I thought. I decided to take a nap, and set a personal ward inside the room wards, just in case the tiredness was also a trap.

Yes, I have to think that way-

Blink.

Wow. Morning. More tired than I thought. A quick check of the wards showed nothing.

I was also ravenous. A hasty freshening up, and I was ready to partake of the complimentary continental breakfast. I changed clothing, and tucked a special necklace down my shirt.

Our family's learned some things over the years. I hope, anyway. It's been a while since good ol' Georg sired our family, and though his portrait and life approach still have pride of place in the family manor and philosophy respectively, his progeny tended towards brute strength and feats of testosterone over the centuries.

Dad wanted something more proactive for me, so he trained me in smarts. Not brawn.

Research. Recon. Don't come marching into town with a brass band and declarations of intent to rid the land of the murderous monsters, just get a hotel room and say you're on business and come and go at regular hours. Seriously, I did have an ancestor who traveled with a bunch of itinerant bards. I'm sure Georg was rolling in his grave over that exhibit of testosterone poisoning. Dad didn't hold back his contempt when telling me that part of the history, that's for sure.

Breakfast was – breakfast. Nothing but eggs, toast, bacon, and a large glass of orange juice. Double a normal sitting's worth. I eat heathier when I'm home, but when I'm on assignment, I bulk up. You never know when you'll get the next meal.

Stepping outside into the morning heat, I went from pleasantly cool, to dizzyingly cold at the door, to summer humidity on the sidewalk. Library time.

It wasn't far away. I like to keep central to the action, as it were. I've visited too many abandoned mansions, crumbling shacks, you name it. Beyond civilization. Beyond the sticks, where the sticks are still twigs. I like my creature comforts, thank you.

And it was blessedly cool inside the old wooden building. I could feel the little twinges of “ghost casts” - that's what my family calls the vibes given off by old things that were once loved. Like, when sentimental emotion rubs off on objects, they're echoes of being cared for. Miz Williams was on to something with that velveteen rabbit stuff, but that's the nice end of the sentiment pool. When things get thrown together – like, say, at a museum, or a local historical society – all those casts can sometimes glom together and form something that I or my cousins may have to deal with down the line. Dad was always about nipping things in the bud, so I travel a lot, and visit regional places. To make sure nothing's growing in the back rooms.

I prefer quiet for my research, but I'm also keenly aware that librarians are to be courted like the rare species they are. When I can, I bring some baked goods. I'm really good in a kitchen, when Dad lets me in. But, on trips like this, local gift cards have to suffice. And I usually check that there's no nasty local politics between the librarian and the store I buy them from, because you only have to get in one war between What Their Cousin Said About Our Darling's Engagement to appreciate monster killing.

I did butter up the librarian something fierce. She's lovely, her soft southern drawl contrasting with my German-sounding accent that our family seems to keep, no matter how many diction lessons we're given. I can pass decently up north, but down here? Everyone knows you're a stranger. Well, when in doubt, lean into it. “My work sent me here to research local architecture” goes over so much better than “I hear you had a monster problem last century, how's that going for you?” And if I prove I'm more than a talented amateur, I can at least get a peek at the back rooms under the guise of helping carry out the heavy books I'm requesting.

And as I sat there, letting my eyes cross after the seventh or eighth book, I lost count, I realized that I was getting nowhere. No records! Sure, lots of grisly murders, the pattern was there, and then, it suddenly vanished – in the Year of Our Lord, nineteen sixty-seven. The year the local newspaper started gushing all about the new hotel going up.

The librarian chose that moment to check on me. “Are you finding anything?”

“I'm... I'm not sure. This is a funny correlation. You had all these awful murders, then the hotel went up in town, and the murders stopped. Almost sounds like that Ghostbusters movie or something. That's weird, isn't it?”

“Oh, Mister Harker was quite firm that he'd figure out what was going on, and celebrate by putting in the rail and hotel. Lovely man, really, he still luncheons in the café every Sunday.”

“He's still alive?”

“Land sakes, yes! Still pretty spry after all these years. He lives in a suite on the top floor, and lots of town folk work there. You've likely met many of our families, the mayor's granddaughter's the receptionist, and the great-grandsons and grandaughters of the founders do the cooking and cleaning and maintenance-”

I tuned out, thinking hard. I didn't expect to walk right into the lion's den! The way she was gushing, her adoration bordered on hero worship. This may not be good for me. I could be in over my head here-

“But your family is from the same small town in Prussia, Mx. Helwon, so why is that a surprise?”

That brought me back with a thump! “What?”

“Come now, Mx. Helwon. You researched us, we researched you. You're not the first monster killer to come galloping into town, and I'm sure you won't be the last. The others were at least easy to distract and move on, but you didn't change your name enough, and I've read the book. I'm the librarian, after all. Prepaid extended visits to sleepy towns with no discernable features in the name of 'architectural research'? Mister Harker got rid of our vampire, and we would do anything, anything, to prevent anyone coming to kill him by mistaken identity.”

I should be alarmed, but I was smiling. It suddenly all made sense, and I grinned in relief. It startled my threatener-librarian, but I heroically refrained from laughing. It would spoil the effect.

“I came here looking to chase down a serial killer. I didn't expect to find a real, live strigoi-alima! A Harker no less, eh? Is this Quincey himself, or a descendent?”

The librarian blinked. “Er, a descendent, of course...”

I patted the huge books in front of me gently, amused at the use of dry history as a distraction. I closed the book I had been reading, stacked them neatly. The librarian took an alarmed step back, but I just smiled and shook my head. No one was sneaking up behind me, and she hadn't called in anyone to threaten me. My necklace would have warned me on both counts. “My family lost track of his centuries ago. Which is a shame, I think. Would you kindly facilitate a reunion? Escort me back to the hotel for a proper introduction?”

But word still spreads faster than wildfire in a small town.

There were people everywhere as we strolled back. People with narrow eyes, and things hidden behind their backs, and crowding behind us. The librarian wasn't dumb enough to grab my hand or elbow, but she did keep waving away the mob ready to take me out if I made any foolish moves.

I'm not that dumb. Almost, but not quite. I'd never had to go up against a whole freaking town before. Normally I'm the hero, you know? If I survived, I'd have to rethink my “smart” strategy.

As we crossed the threshold of the hotel, I didn't supress my shiver this time. The librarian looked at me strangely, and did the receptionist, who looked ready to beat me with the baseball bat laying in plain sight on the counter in easy reach.

A hunched man sat in a wheelchair in the café. The family look was unmistakable.

His eyes, though, looked younger than mine. He only squinted a little in the bright sunlight. “You look so much like Georg, the resemblence is uncanny. So long, so long ago...”

“I was born Georg, twenty-third of the line. But if taking estrogen since I hit puberty makes me look more like a victim to my prey, I can get closer for a kill. I go by Galena now.” Some situations call for trickle truth, and estranged family or no, this person didn't deserve my real reasoning for my life choices.

He chuckled. “The lead ore that you no doubt use in those hidden bullets of yours.” With one wave he dismissed the crowds, and with another offered me a seat. “I am Jonathan, fifth of the name, first child of the second son. My cousins hold the ancestral seat, leaving oddities like me to our own devices, as long as we do no harm. Come, let's catch up properly on family matters.”

I sat in the chair he indicated. “I thought Jonathan and Mina's children decided to forget the horrors their parents experienced and rejoin the human race. What happened?”

“Ah, vampires have long, vindictive memories. My siblings' children were spared, but only because the vampire got to me first. He bit me, true, but instead of becoming his thrall, I went immediately to Georg, seventh of the name, in your family. Why that dratted Stoker fellow used a pseudonym for your ancestor, and not mine, in that pernicious book, I will never know. Tracking us down was child's play.”

“Abraham Van Helsing never existed, but Georg Andreas Helwing most certainly did. Though he never put aside his first wife, he did take another in order to have children to fight the monsters. And so we have, through the centuries. But you're not a monster, are you?”

“I was determined not to be, or die properly. The many Georgs had done extensive research by then, of course, as you know. The vampires are not the top of the food chain, though they wish they were. Various experimental injections and infusions later, I became a strange creature that feeds on vampires. Their essence keeps me alive. I had thought Georg would help me capture some, and I would farm them, but he thought it was far too dangerous. He was satisifed killing the one that transformed me, not in exploring other ways to contain them. We parted ways, though not acrimoniously. I experimented on my own once I learned to hunt them. It took time to discover what worked as effective containment.”

“This vampire is... captured? Not dead?”

“Dead enough, to humans. As long as this structure stays intact, at least. I encased him in cement.”

I have never been so happy to not be taking a drink at that moment! I know myself, I would have done a spit-take. I looked around to the main door, and its foundation.

Jonathan was grinning at me when I turned back. “Has the monster been vanquished to your satisfaction? Water flows within the structure of cement, but slowly, so slowly. It cannot move, cannot feed on blood to stay strong. In its weakened state, the people entering and leaving the hotel are enough to keep it alive – barely. It feeds on the trickles of their life essence, and I in turn feed on it. A weekly lunch here in my hotel lobby is enough to sustain me. I'm much stronger than I look, but the wheelchair and frail demeanor are excellent disguises. And the town loves me for what I've done for them, ridding them of the horror and bringing tourism and money to town. They do not know how, and I prefer to keep it that way.”

“Are there emergency clauses in your plan?”

“Indeed. If I die, the hotel immediately shutters. A plot of land I own on the far side of town , along with the fund I've set up for construction, will give them a new and better hotel to keep business afloat. Now that you know, and will report back, I can add clauses that the Helwons will immediately inherit this building, and you can finish the job. Routing away humans and their life essences is enough to starve him, slowly. A fitting punishment for his centuries of crimes, I think.”

“Elegant, though highly unorthodox.”

“A vampire took away my humanity. It is only fair that I take away their invulnerability. No human suffers. I have aged slowly over the years, but I will far outlive these people. I pretend to be frail, and they take care of me. They tell their children why I should be held in high regard, and I am left alone. Boring, but sufficient. And now, I am glad to thank one of your family line for this chance at a strange half-life. I have seen much, and am content to retire here. I had hoped that Georg the seventh would join me, but...”

“That would have been a great temptation, but probably a step too far for his morals.”

“Exactly. We quarreled, I left, but oh, how I longed to look back and see him galloping to join me.” He sighed, shook his head. “Regrets hang heavy when you are centuries old. Remember that, friend's-child, when the temptation makes you question your choices.”

“I will. Am I allowed to leave?”

“Of course. You and I are no threat to each other, and I wish you great success in your future monster killing.”

“Then I should go.” And get away from any town-mob wannabes who think I got off too lightly, I thought, but certainly did not say aloud.

“What, like that? Nothing to retrieve from your room?”

My backpack was still on my shoulder. It hadn't left since I'd packed up my wards that morning with my dirty clothes. “The only thing up there is a bag of clothing I bought at a secondhand store on the way here, in a different size than I wear, and not even packed by me. I travel light.”

He laughed. “So cautious! But you need to be. You know the real enemy. And you have lived and learned from your experience here. Go well, Galena, and record this experience well, like I know you will. For those meticulous family records, of course.”

“Says a child of Jonathan and Mina? Go well, also Jonathan, enjoy the life you've taken from the death bringers.” The old phrases sounded so strange translated into English. But he nodded, and I saluted him as he waved, and I got out of Dodge.

Luckily I had some protein bars in my trusty knapsack. Because breakfast was a long time ago, and I wouldn't give a ship's peanut that lunch wasn't doctored in some way, Jonathan Harker V's wishes on the subject or no. And I wanted Dad's input on this; I'd never seen vampire-like control over a region's inhabitants exhibited so graphically before. I don't think Mister Harker even realized just how great some of his non-human legacy truly was. And it sounds like he tried it on my ancestor, and was rebuffed. Or maybe it was just infatuation, and I was reading into the situation? Perhaps, but perhaps not. Something to document. Something to watch out for.

But a threat? Unlikely. I was only a threat to him if I'd decided to take out his food source anyway. Why disturb a system in equilibrium? The vampire had been contained for sixty years with no hiccups. Me and my fam would now know the situation existed, and we could move on to real threats. If I got back to report.

And, well, if circumstances changed, there were ways to get rid of strigoi-alima. Not in my little backpack, though. And definitely not through an entire town full of adoring people.

Luckily my rental car hadn't been messed with. I'd left a discreet warding in case, as always. I still returned it a few towns over, and got another, complaining about something strange rattling under the hood.

I thought about the situation, and what was most likely a narrow escape. If I had barged in like some of my ancestors, I'd be dead by now, adopted family or no.

I was disturbed. The townspeople weren't the problem. Even their deal with the devil-wrangler wasn't the problem.

The fact that I now knew, deep down, that an ethical life after death existed... Oh, that temptation! The urge to turn around and learn the secret while I was still young was strong.

I prayed I would make the right choice, like Georg.

And not look back. Ever.

Regrets...