HOBO Kyle - chapter 2

Several miles from the strange and horrible events at the White’s homestead, in a truck stop diner, a large, red-faced man began to squirm in his seat. The faint reverberations of an animalistic howl tickled his ears and sent ripples of instinctive understanding cascading through his brain.

Nerio Agliata had heard the call of his complement, signaling her discovery of the Gonimi Mitera, the Fertile Mother.

Adristya was Nerio’s oldest and fiercest complement. She was the size of a large bear, had the cunning of a fox, the zeal of a wolf, and the vicious appetite of a parasitic worm. Her strength was unrivaled. Her power and energy, unparalleled. Her beauty was beyond compare.

Adristya was only 16 when she accepted the change from Nerio, trading her humanity and mortality for power and servitude.

Nerio had sent 7 complements from his formidable menagerie to find the Gonimi Mitera when the first whiffs of her existence were detected.

Adristya the Courageous, the greatest among Vrykes.

Themia the Growler.

Nyx the Black, Feng goddess.

Hermia and Eunike, Teef twins and keepers of The Malice.

Sark Gladiator Chryseis, the most belligerent.

Zosime The Unnamed.

All of Nerio’s complements had been carefully chosen throughout the centuries and all were apex predators with adaptable skill sets, but these 7 represented the elite.

Their power, guile, and obedience made them the most deadly monsters on Earth. A lofty moniker that matched the weight of their tasks: Find and track the Gonimi Mitera. Feed on or destroy anything between them and her.

It had taken 29 years to finally locate her after the first trace of pheromone was caught on the winds. The complements were keen and able, but the fluctuations of scent and the subtlety of pursuit has a compounded difficulty when measured on a global scale.

Nerio swelled again at the thought of the conclusion of the hunt. The conclusion, and culmination of not only the last nearly 30 years, but his entire life. All 2,376 years of it.

Just as the last bits of Adristya’s howl echoed into the night, a waitress passed by Nerio’s table. He was vibrating at a low frequency, almost purring, and the sweet smell of amaretto was seeping through his skin. The waitress stopped and stared at the large man in the booth, a grin spread across his face and his eyes unfocused.

She was immediately transfixed. Her eyes glazed over and the harshness of the long, late shift evaporated from her face, and she beamed. Her knees first locked, then turned to rubber, and she began to wobble. The large carafe in her hand tipped forward and fell as her fingers relaxed, then the rest of her body followed suit.

Nerio quickly leaned out and caught the steaming hot coffee pot in one open palm and the swooning woman in the other. He shuffled the carafe unto the table, taking no notice of the skin blistering heat, and simultaneously guided the waitress into the bench across from his.

His hand was softer and warmer than any other the waitress had ever encountered. The diner and indeed the rest of the world blurred in Nerio’s eyes, and she couldn’t blink if her life depended on it. The buttons on her blouse strained with deep heaving breaths and mountain ranges of goosebumps rose from her skin. She gushed figuratively and literally.

Nerio flared his nostrils, smelled the potpourri of musk coming from the waitress and began to drool. Not only at the prospect of the snack in front of him but the thought that he would soon be mounting the Gonimi Mitera.

Planting the seed for the next True Vampire.

He reached across the table and stuck several fingers in the waitress’ mouth. He drooled copiously and again thought about Adristya and the portent of her resonating alarm howl. He loved to watch her work and despite his own gifts of strength and speed, probably wouldn’t catch up to her before she could capture and prepare the target for his arrival.

Nerio decided to take a moment and enjoy this last meal before meeting his destiny.

. . .

The beast leapt at the stranger, covering the distance between them in an instant, claws and teeth eager for another kill.

The stranger matched the speed of the beast and dodged under the swipe from its razor sharp claws. He balled up his right fist and delivered a devastating uppercut to the beast’s jaw, the jangle of misaligned dentition snapped closed, scattering shards of broken stained teeth.

The stunned beast paused for a moment, its expression wavered to surprise at the stranger’s counter attack. Taking advantage of the brief pause, the stranger jumped up and grabbed the beast by both ears and forced its head down while thrusting his knee rapidly up, catching the beast with another violent blow to the jaw. The already broken teeth shattered further and sliced multiple cuts inside the beast’s mouth and tongue.

Taking advantage of the beast’s shock, the stranger pummeled its muzzle with a torrent of blows. Forearms and elbows rained down with hard, wet smacks, punctuated by the flashes of lightning and thunder claps just outside. The beast’s black blood spattered across the floor, walls, and the stranger himself.

Ilva stood in disbelief just a few feet away. A thin line of pink ran down her neck from the beast’s cut. The stranger was a marvel to behold. The impact of his strikes were like the beats of a timpani drum. He was fast and graceful. The beast recovered following a volley of brutal punches and swiped its large right hand full of knives at the stranger’s head, which he ducked, and the claws hit the nearby wall tearing free the structures within, further emphasizing their destructive capability.

The left arm of the beast followed with a downward slash and the stranger raised his arm to intersect the blow. The eviscerated bodies of the Whites scattered all around attested to the slicing potential of the beast’s claws, but when they connected with the stranger’s arm, he was able to deflect away and down, leaving his shirt sleeve a bit worse for wear but only small cuts visible on his skin.

The two exchanged blows and parries just inside the doorway to the large kitchen of the White’s farmhouse for several more seconds, the flurry of combat was difficult to follow given the size of the beast and the speed of the stranger. The cabinetry and the heirloom butler’s table along the south wall and the walls themselves were being obliterated in the fray.

The advantage shifted for just a moment to the beast and it was able to grab the stranger around his trunk and fling him across the room into a lovely china cabinet filled with generations of decorative place settings and collectible knick-knacks.

Ilva flinched and covered her face as the stranger whizzed by her, muffling another scream. The cabinet exploded into wood and porcelain shrapnel with the stranger’s impact, but he rolled out of the crash and settled on the floor, resting on one knee, eyes still focused on the beast.

Brushing debris from his hair and clothes the stranger rose to his feet and assumed a fighting stance, unfazed and undeterred by the beast’s attack. He smiled, wide and slightly askew, using the brief lull to properly size up his opponent.

The beast was doing the same. Despite its obvious animalistic nature, the beast’s eyes and manner suggested a high level of study and understanding. It considered the next move as the situation was unfamiliar and for the first time in its long life, dangerous. The stranger though, moved and postured as if facing off against a monster like this was an all too familiar experience.

Ilva’s eyes darted from the stranger to the beast and back in rapid succession. She dared not move or even blink while the combatants were engaged in each other’s attention. The beast was still clearly interested in her for some reason, and the stranger, though he did save her from the beast, seemed to be more interested in the fight itself and not the continued preservation of her life.

The ambient temperature in the room was rising as the stranger and the beast stared each other down, their collective energies filled the space and a rapid increase in pressure caused Ilva’s ears to pop. She winced and slowly began moving herself away from the center of the room. Her feet were slow to respond, being nearly glued to the floor with the coagulating blood and guts.

The beast broke the stillness by taking a step back and expanding its chest, preparing to let out another roar. Its foot brushed against the bindle that the stranger had left by the door when he arrived. The contents shifted and the attached pole rolled onto the floor with hard reverberating tang. The beast turned toward the noise and seeing the stranger’s kit on the floor snorted in realization, and anger.

The stranger reached into one of his many pockets and pulled out a pair of fingerless gloves. He put them on carefully, flexed his fingers several times, banged his palms together, and rubbed his hands vigorously for several seconds. They seemed to give him a boost of confidence, though his performance during the fight so far would suggest that it was unnecessary.

The beast snarled. Teeth and blood overtook its face. Its eyes glowed redder and hotter. Sneaking out on the same breath as a low growl, the beast spoke a single word: “Hobo.”

The word was long and drawn out and accusatory. The stranger reached into another pocket, removed a set of dentures, placed them in his mouth and flashed a gleaming white, and knowing smile. “That’s right, BITCH” he said, punctuating the last word very loudly.

Hot vapor rose from the beast’s eyes and curled around its ears. Its massive arms swung around and down, burying the claws into the hardwood floor. Its toes flexed and the beast rocked back. The muscles in its forearms swelled with tension and with a burst of power, the beast launched itself at the stranger like a missle, much faster and more vicious than the previous attacks.

Ilva shrieked and flinched at the violent lunge of the beast, her hair and dress whipped around in the wake of its movement. She tripped over some bloody piece of one of her family members and fell back into the corner. It was the same corner she would run to as a child when her parents would fight, or her brothers would fight, or when anything upsetting happened.

It was her small sanctuary in the large house. Normally, the light would be partially blocked by the butler’s table on one side and the china cabinet on the other, and the shadows were a comfort in bad times.

Now, both of those pieces of furniture, those silent guardians, were destroyed and their bones scattered around the room, along with the rest of her family. The corner was exposed to both the light and the violent horror of the fight unfolding in front of her, and now she was trapped in the corner, alone and terrified. Everything in her life that had caused pain, despair, confusion, joy, grief, and solace had been destroyed. There was nothing left but the empty corner and she was stuck in it. Her sanctuary was now a prison.