Fall Prey: The Hunt Read online

  Fall Prey

  The Hunt

  Dallas Massey

  Dedication

  To my Dillon Massey, my brother in Heaven, and Beau Massey, my brother on Earth

  Acknowledgements

  I thank everyone who encouraged me to finally take up writing and helped me to develop, edit and breathe life into my story. I thank God for granting me the time and the ability to write, my mom, Cindy Rambo, Beth Ann Porter, a librarian and long-time family friend, Marilyn Holt, my cousin and mentor, and my editor, Caroline Giammanco. I would also like to thank all those who provided me with additional motivation, and my cousin, Amanda Martin, who turned Blade off on me that one time, whether she remembers it or not.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Epigraph

  Chapter I

  Chapter II

  Chapter III

  Chapter IV

  Chapter V

  Chapter VI

  Chapter VII

  Chapter VIII

  Chapter IX

  Chapter X

  Chapter XI

  Chapter XII

  Chapter XIII

  Chapter XIV

  Chapter XV

  Chapter XVI

  Chapter XVII

  Chapter XVIII

  Chapter XIX

  Chapter XX

  Chapter XXI

  Chapter XXII

  Chapter XXIII

  Chapter XXIV

  Chapter XXV

  Chapter XXVI

  Chapter XXVII

  Chapter XXVIII

  Chapter XXIX

  Chapter XXX

  Chapter XXXI

  About The Author

  "Whoever sheds human blood, by humans shall their blood be shed; for in the image of God has God made mankind."

  —Genesis 9:6, NIV

  Chapter I

  From The Dark Realm

  The Near Future

  Four dark figures made their way down the snow-laden sidewalk, their shadows like long, outstretched fingers under the low light of the street lamps. The pack moved with a strange gait as they effortlessly glided over the snow, where others would have trudged through the high yet compacted drifts. All wore black leather, though the tight-fitting clothing offered little protection from the cold. The woman in front was their leader. Her short, dark hair gave her a look of both authority and pent-up aggression. While she kept herself well-controlled, the man beside her emanated an aura of wild derangement. Slick, black bangs partially covered his snarling, twisted face, hiding a portion of his instability underneath. Where his companions walked in straight lines, he moved in a zigzag fashion. His unnatural stride conveyed a hostile, shark-like quality.

  The strange man growled, causing the shorthaired woman to roll her eyes in annoyance with his antics. Behind them followed two less noticeable dark-haired individuals: one a well-muscled man of average height and the other an attractive woman whose hair grew to her waist. All four were of a deathly white pallor, their eyes glazed an impossibly bright blue, their countenances like that of dangerous predatory animals. The group continued through the white-frosted snow-scape, crossing the slick, sludge-mired street onto another length of sidewalk. They strode through a rundown inner-city St. Louis with purpose. Like a pack of wolves striving to find a vantage point from which to run down their prey, their eyes shone through the night like dark-possessed crystal balls.

  “Here we are,” said Anoura, the lead woman, stopping the rest of the group.

  They stood in front of a relatively small and unremarkable house; its outside walls painted an ugly shade of yellow. The structure was in disrepair, its porch in shambles, and most of the siding falling off. All the lights were off, and the curtains were closed, so nothing was visible through the windows. The premises appeared ripe for a break-in.

  “I feel like I shouldn’t have to say this, but,” Anoura continued, her words directed mainly at the deranged-acting man, “in case any of you missed it, we are only here for the children. We are to ignore the adults, grab the children, and get out of there as quickly as possible.” Her canine teeth, much longer and sharper than average, gleamed in the low light.

  Anoura looked at the wild-faced man once more and frowned, unable to remember his name. She knew who he was, of course. The man had a degree of notoriety within their organization as the spoiled son of one of their most prominent monetary backers. A loose cannon, many refused to work with him. Anoura simply needed to know who to blame should something go wrong.

  “What was your name again?” she asked, trying to keep her voice level.

  “Icarus,” he snapped at her.

  The woman found the man’s new chosen name both tired and unoriginal. She reached out and grabbed him by the shirt collar.

  “You haven’t been listening, Icarus,” she snarled. ”We are here for the children only. We don’t want to harm them either. You will not do anything contrary to the instructions. If you do, there will be consequences, ones I know you will not be prepared to handle. You got it?” She pushed him away, sending him stumbling backward.

  “Got it,” he growled with an irritated scowl on his face. “Don’t know what your problem is,” he muttered.

  “We are to follow the instructions to the letter,” said Anoura, “We don’t have time for a loose interpretation.”

  Anoura turned away from Icarus, jumping onto the porch railing and then effortlessly leaping up onto the house's roof.

  “I still don’t get why we don’t want anything with the adults,” Icarus sneered. He leaped onto the roof after the woman, sure to keep his voice down so she couldn’t hear him. “They would go so much farther than those stupid kids will.”

  The other man and woman followed him, each bounding across the roof to land on the other side of the house. Anoura reached out to twist the knob of the back door, not surprised when it refused to turn.

  She gave the door a sharp push with both palms, sending it flying off its hinges and into the house, where it hit an interior wall. The four slipped through the doorway into the kitchen, their inhumanly swift shadows illuminated by the flickering light hanging above the sink.

  Anoura raised a hand, bringing her companions to a stop as she listened for signs of movement down the hallway. Then, content with what she heard, she waved the other woman and the muscular man onward. The two of them rushed past her and Icarus, their smooth, swift stride unhampered by the darkness.

  Icarus took a step forward, but Anoura barred his progress with a stiff extended arm. The lead vampire bared her teeth and let out a soft hiss. A look of pure venom filled her eyes. Icarus snarled at her but remained in place.

  The sound of a struggle echoed throughout the house, halting the growing confrontation. Both the man and woman reappeared seconds later, dashing back down the hallway, each carrying a wriggling child, their hands cupped over their captives’ mouths. The children looked up at Icarus and Anoura, their faces aghast and filled with confusion. The captors held up their prizes for their leader to inspect.

  “Hmm…” Anoura examined the children, giving each a sniff. Finding nothing to dissuade the ongoing abduction, she nodded toward the door, signaling the two to leave with their newfound burdens. Both captors stepped around her, slinking out the door and back into the night. Only Icarus remained beside her.

  “Time to go,” Anoura whispered to him. Icarus’s distorted smile met her command.

  A giant shadow filled the kitchen and diverted their attention. The vampires looked up to find a tall, heavily built Black man towering over them, his face burning with rage.

  “You’re not taking those kids!” he bellowed. He balled his hands into fists as the
veins in his forehead pulsed with unrelenting fury.

  Icarus snapped and snarled, foaming at the mouth, unwilling to let Anoura hold him back any longer. He pushed through her arm block and lunged at the angry man, unintimidated by the difference in size.

  The man took up a boxer’s stance, throwing a well-timed punch intended for the intruder’s face.

  Icarus dodged the man’s blow as though it were in slow motion, grabbing hold of the man’s arm and violently throwing him into the wall. Debris flew when the vampire sent him through the first layer of drywall. The large man remained there against the wall, in no hurry to stand back up.

  “Icarus!” shrieked Anoura, “What did I tell you?”

  “I don’t care what you said!” He growled back, “I’m through listening to you!”

  A young Black woman came from the far bedroom and screamed, horrified by the presence of intruders.

  “We need to get out of here!” the shorthaired woman raged. “Before someone sends for help!”

  “I don’t care!” Icarus growled. “I’m hungry and will leave when I want to!”

  Anoura met Icarus’s protests with her fist, the bones in his nose breaking on contact. Icarus grasped his bloodied nose, giving his leader a look of hurt mixed with confusion. He stood for a moment and considered yielding to her authority after all.

  Instead, Icarus broke into an irritating cackle, wiping the blood from his face, his eyes glinting with derangement. He pushed his leader aside and jumped at the woman. Anoura could only stand with her arms folded in frustration.

  The frightened woman screamed her last, crossing her arms in front of her face. Icarus laughed, opening his mouth to bare his razor-sharp canines as he grabbed her by the shoulders. He drove his fangs through the skin of her neck, bright red blood spewing from her artery onto the wall. Icarus held the woman’s body upright as he drank from her neck, her eyes open wide as her dying body convulsed, the red fluid staining the floor.

  Anoura lost what remained of her composure, looked through the open backdoor, and then back at Icarus. Her body tensed with anxiety. They needed to finish the assigned task and leave before the police arrived.

  “Icarus!” she shrieked again. “You have had your snack! We need to leave this instant!” Icarus ignored her, preoccupied with relieving the dying woman of her blood.The man in the wall groaned, slowly rising from where he had fallen and staggering to stand up.

  Finished with his meal, Icarus released the woman, letting her body fall, her life’s blood drained away.

  “No!” The man howled, seeing the body of his murdered wife hit the floor. Then, lowering his head, he charged down the hallway at Icarus.

  The vampire cackled anew, putting his arms up in a mock fighting stance, blood dripping from his chin. He quickly dodged to the side as the man rushed him, slashing at his throat with sharp claws as he passed and tearing open his jugular.

  The man grasped for his lacerated throat as blood surged from the wound. He stumbled and dropped to the ground, his body convulsing in a fast-growing pool of dark crimson, his eyes wide with shock. Icarus jumped to the floor beside the man, lapping up the blood as it flowed from his victim’s neck. Not entirely satisfied, Icarus turned his attention back to the man’s neck and bit off a chunk of flesh, licking his lips as he chewed. His bloodlust was unquenchable.

  “Icarus!” Anoura screamed, her voice nearly drowned out by the cries of police sirens from down the street. “We need to leave!”

  The severely deranged man continued to ignore her, squatting down beside the dead man to tear into his arm with wicked, sharp claws.

  Anoura saw the red and blue flashing lights dance through the hallway now. She readied herself to bolt.

  Icarus continued to cut into the man’s arm, severing the limb at the elbow, causing even more blood to spill onto the floor. Content with his handiwork, he sat crossed-legged on the floor and bit into the forearm as though it were a turkey leg.

  Anoura tensed, hearing slamming car doors accompanied by the sounds of booted feet on the cheap, wooden porch. Icarus continued his meal, not at all worried by the approaching officers.

  “Open up!” ordered one of the officers. “St. Louis Police! We were told that an assault is occurring at this residence! Open up, or we’ll force entry!”

  Anoura groaned, turning to rush toward the door. She was through with Icarus and his needless aggression. She truly wanted to kill him and end his rampage, but she wouldn’t dare attempt it knowing who he was. She also knew that if she killed him herself she couldn’t just leave his body behind. There were repercussions for such things. Anoura flew through the kitchen and out the door. She escaped into the protection of the night, hoping to meet back up with her remaining companions.

  “You have been told to open the door!” The officer continued to yell. “You have one last chance to do so, and then we’re coming in!”

  Icarus snickered, dropping the arm to stand up, a blood-splattered smile on his face. He proceeded down the hallway on cat’s feet, turning away from the bedrooms and peering around the entryway to find the living room. He darted for the middle of the room and positioned himself there, ready for the officer’s incoming attack. Icarus was bored with killing the unarmed and wanted to test his speed, strength, and stamina against the fire of guns. He would give the officers a nasty surprise.

  The flimsy door hit the floor as four officers entered in rapid succession, their guns drawn, shining their flashlights in Icarus’s eyes.

  “Get down on the ground!” The lead officer commanded. “Put your hands on your head and get down on the ground!”

  Icarus stood with a psychotic smile plastered on his face, not at all intimidated by the show of force.

  “Get down on the ground, scumbag!” yelled the officer closest to Icarus.

  Icarus snarled, agitated by the officer’s tone. He lunged for the man’s throat like a lightning bolt, his claws tearing into flesh, blood spraying from the wound and onto the walls.

  The three remaining officers opened fire, none of their shots landing; none of them prepared for their adversary’s speed.

  Icarus retained his hold on the dying officer and used the body to shield himself from the bullets. He laughed his arrogant laugh, suddenly launching the body at the nearest officer. The corpse struck the living man, sending him toward the wall with tremendous force. Both fell onto the couch with a crash. Wooden debris flew everywhere.

  Icarus leaped through the gunfire toward the last two standing officers, savagely slashing through the neck of one as he rushed for the other, the man falling to the floor in a blood-spewing, convulsing fit. The vampire lunged for the next man, sinking his fangs into his neck. He tore deep into the man’s throat, ripping out most of his windpipe before throwing him to the ground.

  The house went silent as the gunfire ceased altogether. The last surviving officer lay winded, pinned between the destroyed sofa and his dead partner.

  Icarus spat the piece of trachea onto the floor. He looked very much like a demon now, his face drenched in blood. He rounded on the single remaining officer, eyeing his prey as he waited for him to crawl out from under his deceased companion.

  The last living officer pushed the corpse away and struggled to stand back up.

  Icarus charged at him, picking him up by the front of his uniform to slam him back down on the ground. He laughed, grabbing the officer by the leg, dragging the man toward the middle of the floor on his stomach.

  “Oh, you’re in for it now, blood bag!” Icarus taunted. He pinned the officer to the ground as he straddled the small of the man’s back, clasping a bloody clawed hand over his mouth.

  “Don’t worry. It will only hurt a little at first!” Icarus whispered into the officer’s ear before cackling uncontrollably and grabbing the man by the hair. He beat the officer’s face against the floor, the man’s bones breaking with each powerful blow. Icarus hammered the officer’s face to a bloodied pulp, a mess of blood, brains, and visce
ra littering the floor, only stopping when the body went limp. He continued to laugh maniacally as he rose to his feet, completely covered in dark-red blood and gore.

  Icarus smiled, his bloodied face illuminated in the darkroom by the red and blue from the lights of the police cruisers parked outside the house. He looked down at the feast laid at his feet, deciding to stay around awhile.

  * * *

  A single police cruiser made its way down the desolate, snow-mired street, the words “St. Louis Metropolitan Police” printed on its side illuminated by the dull, yellow-orange of street lamps. The whole city was oddly quiet this evening. The harsh chill of winter and half-melted, slurry-slick roads kept all but the stouthearted from venturing out. The cruiser moved at a meticulously slow pace past the many other snow-covered cars parked in the street. Two officers occupied the vehicle, one a middle-aged man with greying hair and a mustache who sat behind the wheel, and the other a clean-shaven, tall, young man with dirty blonde hair.

  Asher, the young officer in the passenger seat, yawned, bored by the uneventful patrol.

  “Be quitting time here real soon,” said Ward Nelson, the older officer in the driver seat, not at all concerned by his partner’s exaggerated fatigue.

  “About time,” Asher perked up slightly. “Not sure if I can take any more of this.”

  “Wanna grab some coffee?” asked Nelson. “Keep you awake until the shift is over.”

  “Only if it comes with a donut.”

  The cruiser continued down the street, passing several dilapidated, snow-plastered houses before turning into the parking lot of a deserted gas station, the sign out front calling to them like a homing beacon. They skidded to a stop in one of several empty spaces out front, both officers climbing out of the vehicle to stretch their legs. Nelson walked into the glass-plated building. Asher stayed behind, leaning against the side of the cruiser as he waited, protected from the elements by his heavy coat.