#7 - Nightstalkers Reunited

By Adam Koeth

This issue is recommended for Mature Readers only!

A small group of men huddled around the table, cards scattered across the hard wooden surface. Each of them held a small bunch of cards in their pale hands. One of them threw a bit of bloody meat onto the table, then said: "Ante up."

Suddenly, their card game was interrupted as the building's wooden door smashed inward, showering the six men with chips of wood. The men, their game forgotten, jumped to their feet. To their astonishment, four people stood in the doorway.

"Just like old times, eh Blade?"

Blade, in front of his three companions, shook his head. "Not quite, King. Not quite."

The men who had been, until recently, playing cards grinned maliciously. One of them, a large man with long dark hair, took a few steps forward. "Well, well, the great Blade. To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"You get to be the first," Blade replied, drawing his longsword from it's sheath, "To be taken out by the new Nighstalkers." Blade waved a hand towards his companions. Frank Drake and Hannibal King stood there, glowering at the vampires, while Petra stood behind the three men. "Congratulations."

"Gee, thanks!" the vampire replied sarcastically, flexing his muscles. He took a quick look back at his five compatriots, only to recieve a short knife in his thick throat. Grasping at the knife, trying to pull it free, the vampire stumbled backwards.

Blade leapt into action, wading right into the small group of vampires. They tore at him with their claws, but not a single one actually connected.

One of the vampires yelped as strong hands wrapped around his throat. Lashing out, the vampire connected with Frank Drake's stomach, causing the newly-turned vampire to loosen his grip.

"Betrayer!" the vampire said as he recognized Drake. Forming a fist, the vampire slammed his hand into Drake's mouth, causing the Nighstalker to stumble backwards.

Meanwhile, Hannibal King had turned into a fine mist, literally shoving himself down his opponent's throat. The vampire merely stood there, grinning. "I don't have to breathe, King. Why waste your time?"

Suddenly, violently, the vampire burst into a million pieces as King turned himself back to his solid form. He dispassionately kicked at a few of the pieces before they crumbled into dust, then picked out another vampire to take on.

Petra stood off from the battle, watching. A vision pierced her mind, causing her extreme pain for a few brief minutes. Shaking her head, Petra made her way toward the door and the outside air.

Two of the vampires rushed Blade, their teeth gnashing, thinking about the feast they would have upon the half-vampire, half-mortal. Blade swung his sword easily, lopping off one of the vampire's arms. It cried out in pain and fell to the ground, it's limb crumbling to a fine dust. The other vampire paused, looking at it's companion.

"If you're going to fight, then do it," Blade growled, the tip of his sword pointed at the vampire. The creature looked at Blade uncertainly for a few moments before a mask of anger flowed over it's face. It resumed the charge, roaring at the top of it's lungs. Ducking out of the way, Blade swung the sword again, slicing the vampire cleanly in half. It fell to the dirty floor and dissipated into dust. "Weak. More quanitity, less quality."

"Was that a joke?" Drake called out, ripping his opponent's throat out with razor-sharp talons. The vampire crumpled, clutching it's throat, and was soon a pile of ash on the ground. "Did your sense of humor come along with that sword you've got?"

"Can it!" Blade said, watching as the armless vampire got to it's feet. It looked at the vampire hunter once, a look of intense fear on it's face, then rushed out the door. "Wise move, bloodsucker. But I'm sure we'll be seeing each other again."

King, meanwhile, had picked the first vampire up off of the floor. The knife was still embedded in it's throat, a small trickle of blood leaking out from around the object. "What clan are you?" King asked, jamming the knife deeper into the vampire's throat.

"#@%$ you!"

"That wasn't very nice," Drake said, walking up to the pair. Drake reached out with two fingers and viciously jammed them into the vampire's eyes. The vampire cried out as Drake rolled his fingers inside the creature's eyesockets. After a few moments, Drake withdrew his fingers and licked his fingers clean. "Now that's nice. Nice and tasty, anyway."

Blade stared at his companion in mute shock, not believing what Drake had just done. Drake caught his former partner looking at him, took another sampling from his fingers, and said: "What?"

"What clan are you from?" King repeated, ignoring Drake's actions. He shook the vampire once, roughly, but still recieved no response.

"Let me..." Drake said, stepping closer. Blade watched in horror and astonishment as Drake plunged a hand into the vampire's chest, dug around for a few moments, and ripped out the vampire's shriveled heart. "Hurts, doesn't it? I can keep this up all night, if you don't tell us what clan you're from."

"What the hell's wrong with you?" Blade cried out, pushing Drake away from the vampire. Drake steadied himself immediately, snarling at his former companion. "You were never like this, man."

Drake made a visible effort to control himself, then spoke. "I was never a vampire before, 'man'. Do you know what it's like, all day and all night, looking at people, hearing the blood rush in their veins? Do you know what it's like to suck someone dry? Do you?"

King, still holding the vampire, chimed in. "Frank, relax, please. Just give me a few minutes to find out which clan this maggot's from and..."

Without warning, the vampire raked his talons across King's chest, opening up a deep gash. King cried out and dropped the vampire, who promptly made a dash for the door.

"Hell no," Drake whispered, leaping into the air. He fell right on top of the vampire, and they both tumbled to the ground. Drake was the first one to right himself, and sunk his canines deep into the vampire's throat. After a few seconds, Drake's enemy shrivelled up, dessicated.

Astonished, Blade could only stand and watch as his former friend, now a vampire, sucked another vampire dry of it's borrowed blood.

"He won't join you."

Elizabeth Van Helsing whipped around, one gloved hand automatically drawing a silver pistol. Standing before her was Petra, wrapped in a tight white cloak and wearing a white dress. "I know you...you were at the motel last night."

"Go back whence you came," Petra said, ignoring Elizabeth's words. "Tell your leader that you have failed. Blade is, at heart, a lone gun. He will not join you."

"A lone gun, huh?" Elizabeth smirked, drawing another silver pistol from it's holster. She pointed both guns at Petra's head, taking a few steps forward. "I don't know who you are, sister, but I can tell you this: Blade does well working with others. What about those two guys he's with now?"

Petra smiled calmly. "A temporary, and fragile, alliance at best."

"Enough of you," Elizabeth said, annoyed. "I suggest you turn around and mosey back whence YOU came, before you find yourself without a head." Cocking the hammers on both pistols, Elizabeth cocked her head. She gazed intently at the other woman, who didn't move an inch. "Did you hear me, woman? Get lost!"

"Jean Paul is here," Petra simply replied, her smile gone.

Elizabeth's eyes widened. "What the hell did you just say?"

"You heard me," Petra said, backing away from Elizabeth. After a few moments, darkness surrounded her. Only her voice could be heard. "Which comes first, young woman? Your search for allies or your search for vengeance? It's almost time to decide."

"Where is he?" Elizabeth cried out, but recieved no reply. Turning back around, she peered into the building's windows, Petra's words dancing in her head. Blade, Drake, and King were gone. "Damn," Elizabeth whispered, her emotions in turmoil. An ally in Blade, or vengeance in the death of Jean Paul-Nevau? One or the other, not both. "Only one. Damn," Elizabeth repeated, reholstering her guns.

Myriad smells drifted to the vampire's nose as he wandered through the French Quarter of New Orleans, hands clasped rigidly behind his back. His complexion was darker than usual, but still abnormally pale. A few others, mostly dressed in vests and dress pants, followed behind.

Suddenly, the vampire stopped, a new smell assaulting his nose.

"Lord Ra-Tet?" one of the followers asked, a look of feined concern on his face. Ra-Tet simply stood, immobile, his nose sniffing the warm air. He didn't answer his subordinate.

After a few moments, Ra-Tet let out a low, gutteral chuckle. He turned on his heels, facing the other vampires. "Jean Paul and his sewer urchins are here, my loyal followers. A great opportunity unfolds before us," the Egyptian said, ignoring the mortals walking past his small group. "We have the chance to bend Blade to our will and, at the same time, destroy the Dwellers." Ra-Tet's vampire followers were nodding, real excitement on their faces. "However," Ra-Tet continued, his red eyes narrowing, "If we fail, I will destroy you all."

Turning around, Ra-Tet continued down the street. His followers looked uncertain for a moment, before hurrying to catch up to their master.

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