Chapter 01
Visible in the weak light of a street lamp, the shadowed outline of a moving body slid over the brick wall. Three more followed. With their low stances and swords they looked like hunters after their prey. A few seconds later, the street light drew more shadows on the wall, this time with wiry frames and hunched shoulders.
Up above the street, three people stood at the edge of a flat roof, binoculars in their hands.
“Mamaels,” the smallest and the thinnest of the three spat out. “They are such amateurs.”
Uriel, who with his broad shoulders and tall build towered over the two, lowered the binoculars and collapsed them. He slid them into the inside pocket of his long, black coat before he glanced at the girl, Anael. He agreed with her. Only amateurs would allow their prey to get the better of them.
“Vampire hunters, they call themselves,” Michael, Anael's brother, said, mimicking Uriel's gestures as he stored his binoculars in the pocket of his jacket. “But ‘Akilueteers’ snacks’ would be a better term for them.”
A small smile flashed on Uriel's face. His white-haired, blue-eyed companions disliked Mamaels, while he had a soft spot for them; maybe because once upon a time his mother had been one. And Tina, too. At the thought of the brunette girl he could feel a sharp pang of sorrow, but no regret lingered there. She had never been his to love.
He focused back on the alley beneath him. On the Mamaels. They were such fragile creatures and in a constant race against time. It was interesting to watch them. Yes, Uriel liked them. But they were not here for Mamaels, or for Akilueteers. His younger brother, the technical genius who made the transparent shields which they used to conceal their presence, would say they had bigger fish to fry. The Shadows. Dark blobs of energy that could suck the life force out of you and which preyed not on Mamaels -- not nutritious enough for them -- but on all Lueeshareteers, Bloodeaters. And since Akilueteers lacked the technology of shields, they were the Shadows' main target.
Suddenly, the hair on the back of Uriel's neck stood up and chills washed over his skin. He lifted his gaze and saw the darkness; it veiled the moonlight, then shot down.
Shadows. They passed Uriel on their way down and into the building the Mamaels and the creatures following them had disappeared into.
Uriel jumped down, landing elegantly on the pavement with his knees bent and one of his hands on the dirty ground. He wiped it on his coat before striding toward the door and through it.
The stairway of what appeared to be an old abandoned office building, its walls covered with graffiti and smelling of ammonia, tart and sharp.
Screams drifted up from below and Uriel rushed across the hall and down a set of stairs that led into a dark basement with rows of half-demolished shelves.
He could hear Anael and Michael right behind him as he hurried toward the source of the noise.
Beams of lights came from the opposite direction, rushing, stumbling over overturned shelves and scattered papers and registers.
Mamaels; Uriel knew even before they tottered past him, not seeing him or feeling him in their haste. Hunters, indeed. Or was it that he and his company were so good at staying unnoticed?
He focused ahead. There they were, four Shadows where the shelves ended, circling around the group of Akilueteers. One of the Shadows pounced on them, wrapping itself around one of the creatures, who started to kick and wave his arms as his high-pitched screams filled the room. The Shadows withdrew and bones rattled to the ground where they turned into dust.
Uriel took the octagonal pendant that hung on a chain around his neck and put it over his mouth. Small plates shifted from it and spread until they covered his lower face. From the sheath on his belt he drew out his katana and charged. His blade cut through the black fog and then through its solid core. A cry pierced his eardrums and the black fog shrank into a small ball and its broken shell-like pieces fell down to the debris-covered ground.
Michael jumped past him; the S-shaped sword in his hand slashing through the air and the Shadow. A new cry echoed off the walls and another crushed core ended up on the floor.
One of the remaining two Shadows attacked them, its threads reaching for their faces.
Uriel slashed them off. The Shadows couldn't hurt them, not while they were wearing masks and suits, impenetrable to the Shadows' acid touch. New tentacles shot at Uriel. He sidestepped and cut them off. The tendrils floated down like ribbons, disappearing before they reached the floor.
From the corner of his eye Uriel detected Anael on his right side, holding Akilueteers trapped against the wall, Michael close beside her.
Michael pointed his sword in the direction of a Shadow that, pressed against the ceiling, slid over them in what seemed like an attempt to escape.
Uriel nodded, understanding that Michael was claiming his prey, and slashed off another claw of dark ribbons that threatened him. He jumped forward, his blade aiming at the centre of Shadow.
The Shadow moved backwards like an octopus, evading Uriel's sword.
Uriel imagined himself under the Shadow. He crossed the blackness like a train through a tunnel and found himself at the place below the dark blob. He thrust his sword up and the blade crushed the Shadow's core. It cried out before it folded into itself.
Another cry followed, this time from behind Uriel.
In the silence that came after, Uriel heard growling and sobbing. He was aware that the growling came from Akilueteers, but where was the sobbing coming from? His eyes met Michael's before he looked around, searching among the ruins for the source of the sobbing.
“What shall we do with the Akilueteers?” Anael asked.
They were not going to release them, but then, they never did, so Anael's question meant Can I snack on them now or do I have to wait? “Whatever you want,” Uriel said.
He noticed movement at the pile of paper in the corner. He sheathed his sword before he stepped closer and examined the trembling mass. A Mamael; a boy. He squatted down and his eyes slid over the boy's curled body. Through the tears in the boy’s jacket and pants he could see shallow wounds, none of them life threatening, but the horror that shook the boy’s body and wet his pants must have rendered him immobile.
A hiss that became a whimper, then a sigh, told Uriel about the feeding going on behind his back. He stood up, giving a last glance to the boy who was going to be just fine, before he joined Anael and Michael. They had already turned all but one Akilueteer into dust.
“Here.” Anael pushed the last Akilueteer in his direction.
“Thank you.” Uriel caught the creature, wound his arms around it and pressed its back against his chest. Holding it tightly and ignoring its thrashing, he bent its neck. He noticed the grey skin was soiled with dirt as his fangs dropped down, and for a second his face distorted in distaste. But this was about blood, thick and rich with an earthy taste that slid down his throat and made his body sing with appreciation, not like a Mamael's greasy blood that rarely satisfied.
He bit into the skin over the pulsing vein in the neck, his teeth penetrating it, and a copper taste spilled into his mouth. He closed his eyes and his body relaxed.
There were more Akilueteers around, he could feel their presence in the back of his mind, but they were too weak and too disorganized to pose any real danger.
“We are going to look around,” Michael said.
Uriel nodded. Despite their main mission being to obliterate Shadows, leaving behind an Akilueteer nest would be sloppy. Uriel was a lot of things, but never sloppy.
The distant sound of crunching reached his ears. His eyes opened and though he couldn't see anybody in the darkness, he knew that somebody was at the entrance of the room.
The body against Uriel started first to solidify and then to crumble to the ground. He swept the dust away from his coat and then moved against the wall. When he noticed the niches cut into it, he slid into one of them.
Footsteps drew near, hesitantly, slowly, as if listening to surrounding sounds, searching for danger, a beam of light gliding over wreckage. The silhouette sneaked to the end of the room.
He had courage, Uriel thought; then he noticed the curves. She had courage, he corrected himself.
The sobbing became louder.
The girl rushed to the boy, the light from the flashlight skimming over the boy's body and her hand touched the boy's limbs, most likely looking for injuries.
Incomprehensible words tumbled out of the boy’s mouth and his fingers raked over the girl's arms. It looked like he wanted to climb over her.
“Get a hold of yourself.” She slapped him.
“Jen,” the boy bawled as his hand flew to his cheek.
“Shut up and get up.” The girl hooked her arms under boy's armpits and tugged him up, then hauled him toward the stairway.
Uriel's ear caught a few murmured curses and his lips widened into a small smile. Strolling back into the building like she had was foolish and dangerous, and if not for their presence, it would have cost her her fragile, short life. But he could still appreciate the loyalty and sense of fellowship that had brought her back to collect her terror-stricken friend.
He sensed his companions’ presence and he joined them.
“All clear,” Michael reported.
Uriel nodded.
“What are we going to do with the Mamaels?” Anael asked, her gaze on the light dancing up the stairs.
“The same as always. Nothing.” From the pocket of his coat Uriel took out a packet of wet wipes, tore it open and gave it to Anael. “You have blood on your face.”
Anael wiped her face and gave the dirty tissue back to Uriel.
Uriel pocketed it, sighing. He wished Anael would be less brutal with her knives, or at least more careful, so the blood wouldn't spray all over her clothes. Mamaels had a few good stain- removers, but Uriel was fed up with doing laundry after every mission. “Come on,” he said before he used space distortion to disappear and reappear a distance away.
With Michael and Anael right behind him, he continued to use it to pass the two Mamaels unnoticed.
When they arrived at the entrance to the building, the raised sword of the Mamael, part of the vampire hunters’ group, awaited them.
Uriel pulled out his katana and blocked the blows with ease. A short diagonal stroke of his blade and a flip of his wrist and his opponent’s sword clattered to the floor. Then, with a sweep of the blunt side of his sword against the man's leg, he toppled the man to the ground.
Anael took care of the other one. She twisted his arm high against his back, forcing him to slump down to his knees. A wooden stake rattled against the pavement. She started to laugh. “This is supposed to stop us?”
“Anael,” Uriel said and tilted his chin up, in the direction of the roof.
Anael shoved her fingers into the man's neck and his body become pliant. She let him fall to the ground and then vanished from sight. Michael followed.
Uriel looked down at the man before him who, half-lying on his back, crawled away from him. He looked young, young like Uriel’s brother Haniel, not a teenager any more, but not adult yet.
Uriel stepped closer and pointed his blade at the man's neck, hoping that the boy would remember the fear displayed in his eyes as he stared at the sharp blade. They could lose their lives so easily, why were they so careless in protecting them? “Stop involving yourself in things that are of no concern to you.”
The boy swallowed.
A thud sounded from behind Uriel.
Uriel didn't need to look backwards to see the girl at the entrance of the building, her friend lying at her feet. He could see that clearly enough in the steel of his blade.
“Don't you dare harm him.”
“And what are you going to do?” A smile flashed on his face, hidden under the mask, before he replaced it with a lift of his eyebrows as he watched the girl start to sprint toward him, the sword in her hand lifted high, a war cry on her lips.
“Jen, don't!” the boy before Uriel yelled.
Uriel sidestepped at the last second, kicking the boy out of the way before the girl's brandished sword could cut him. He sheathed his katana.
She wheeled around, thrusting the sword at his belly.
He caught the blade with his hand and pulled it forward, past his hip, giving her two options: to step closer or to release the sword. The blood dripping from the cut on his palm dampened the sleeve of his T-shirt. He had forgotten to put on his gloves again.
She stepped closer.
He heard a swish. He grabbed the girl's collar and moved her aside.
A knife plunged into the ground.
Anael should know better, Uriel thought, looking up and shaking his head in disapproval.
“Let go of me.” The girl kicked him.
“Listen to me,” he hissed through the mask as he pulled her closer until their noses almost touched. Green eyes, determined and stubborn, glared at him. He inwardly smiled, but on the outside his gaze burned into her. “Jen, was it?”
She pinched her lips, her scowl deepening.
Yes, she had courage; too much of it, actually. “I could snap your neck, it would be so easy.” He towered over her, delighting in the way she froze. She should be afraid, very afraid. “I might next time, so you better make sure that our paths don't cross again. Stop chasing Aki -- vampires.” Akilueteers, Bloodeaters, vampires; those things had too many names. His gaze slid over the pale face of the boy who lay on the ground as if numb, staring at him with his wide eyes and jaw slack. “And I mean all of you; you are no match for them.”
He shoved her away, hard enough to make her stumble, but not enough to make her fall. He pressed the sole of his boot onto Anael's knife, fixed into the pavement, and looked up at the rooftop, imagining himself there beside Anael and Michael. Blackness embraced him for a short second and then he stood on the roof, looking down on the group of Mamaels, his coat flapping in the light breeze.
“Stop wasting your weapons,” he said to Anael as he stepped off the knife, which was now sticking out of the cement. He pressed the symbol on his mask and it shrank back into the pendant which fell against his chest. Then he turned on his heel and strode toward the three bikes standing in the middle of the roof, clenching his fingers, testing the almost healed wound. “Let's go.”