R. L. Edinger
Night Kill
Chapter 1
The shimmering moonlight danced across the fields of white which were etched with black shadows of forest trees. The cold winter night lay still with nary a breath of wind, or sounds from the forest creatures.
A dark manor at the end of the long, winding road, quietly nestled, seeming snug and warm, waited for those who had been invited to come safely inside.
Natasha, and her husband Jonathan, were putting the finishing touches on their dining room table. While Jonathan arranged the place settings, Natasha lit the candles and dimmed the lights. Tonight they were celebrating the winter solstice. Soon their guests would arrive to partake of the rituals set forth by the clan. It would be a celebration for both kindred and those whose life blood was freely offered for the taking.
The doorbell interrupted as it announced the first guest to arrive. Natasha told her husband she would get it and that he should finish with the settings. She excused herself and left the dining room to go answer the door.
Natasha brushed aside the tussles of her long, flowing auburn hair. She paused briefly in front of the hall mirror to check her looks. Satisfied, Natasha walked up to the door, and grasped hold of the knob. She flung it open with dramatic flair, though not necessary, but it was just her way.
A lone, hooded figure greeted her with silence. Sadly, Natasha never had time to ask who they were, or to react. A single sharpened wood arrow ravageously pierced her body. Natasha stumbled back a bit, but was able to catch herself against the wall. The hooded figure had already loaded a second arrow in the crossbow. Natasha was about to cry out, but the second arrow struck next to the first! The force of the blow sent Natasha crashing into the hallway table.
Jonathan heard the crash, and immediately flew out from the dining room and into the hallway. He saw his beloved lying amongst the splintered, broken wood and remnants of a shattered vase. He rushed to her side, knelt down, and drew her close to him in his arms. Jonathan’s mind screamed as he gazed upon the lifeless, bloody face of his wife. He howled out his agony at seeing the twin arrow shafts protruding from Natasha. Jonathan gently laid Natasha back down whilst he brushed her lips with one last kiss. Suddenly Jonathan caught a glimpse of something moving in the shadows of the front porch. He stood and turned to face the shadowy figure.
Jonathan took a step towards the shadow. He saw that the person wore a hood.
“Coward,” Jonathan hissed. “You murdered my wife. Why do you hide your face from me? Let me see who you are, so that when I kill you I will see death on your face.”
Jonathan exploded at the person, who at the same time reached beneath their long, black leather overcoat. Jonathan felt the sharpened points of the three throwing stars strike his chest. He torn them away and kept going. The hooded figure leapt into the air and with a round house spin kick, slammed a boot heel into Jonathan, whom tumbled to the snowy ground. Jonathan stood defiantly and spat blood from his mouth to the ground.
“Do you think you’re fast and strong enough?” Jonathan cursed. “Or smart enough to take on me and not some poor defenseless woman?”
Jonathan charged again and lunged into the air; however, the hooded figure was ready and leapt again, this time drawing two blades of sharpened steel. As both came together in a mid-air death dance, Jonathan winched as the blades struck him without regard in the chest, back and neck. Jonathan plummeted back to the snowy ground in a heap. The hooded figure instead landed back down without as much as a sound.
Jonathan rose to his knees and looked up at the hooded figure. He brushed aside his blood-matted golden hair. Jonathan felt his life ebbing away. The hooded figure stood in front of Jonathan forming an ‘X’ with his two swords.
“Let me see your face,” Jonathan coughed.
The hooded figure took the two swords in one hand and with the other removed the hood. Jonathan’s eyes drew open wide and before he could utter a word, the hooded figure struck!
Peter was in the kitchen finishing up with the tray of appetisers. He was listening to his favorite tunes on his Ipod. He liked to pump up the volume. Oh sure his parents complained that he was ruining his hearing, but he didn’t care. His mother told him to have plenty of nourishment for the blood partners. Peter was glad that the rest of the clan was going to be here tonight. The winter solstice was the one gathering that he looked forward to every year, unlike his sister.
Peter walked from the kitchen into the dining room. His parents weren’t there. Where could they be? Peter tuned off his Ipod and removed the ear buds. That’s when Peter heard his father shouting at someone. Peter put down the tray and sprinted out into the hallway.
“Mother!” Peter cried out. He rushed to her and knelt at her side. “What the hell?” he was shocked upon seeing the arrow shafts. She felt so cold to the touch. Peter trembled as the realization of his mother being dead finally hit home. Peter lay her back down and continued outside. Just as Peter stepped onto the porch, he saw his father hit the ground. A darkened figure stood with his back to Peter. He heard his father ask to see the person’s face, which they did. Peter watched in horror as the figure replaced the hood and without remorse, killed Jonathan. “No!” Peter bellowed. He flashed his fangs and tore off in the figure’s direction.
Peter hadn’t gotten far when the first throwing star slammed into his neck. He stumbled to his knees, but quickly recovered. Peter went on, but was hit with two more throwing stars with lethal force in his chest. Peter flashed his fangs and ripped them out. He crouched down and sprang forth. Peter did a forward hand flip and with both boots drove the figure to the ground. Peter instantly spun around and grabbed the figure by the collar. His eyes reflected the rage in his soul. Peter threw the figure against the tree not far from them. Peter retrieved one of the swords as the figure dropped.
“Nice blade,” Peter said running his finger tips across the unsharpened surface. “Its now time for you to die.” The hooded figure had loaded his crossbow while Peter was preoccupied admiring the sword. Peter raised the blade and rushed to strike, but was hit instead with the arrow. Peter dropped the sword as the arrow perforated the flesh of his chest. Peter tumbled face down in the snow, driving the arrow further in.
The hooded figure rose and walked over to where Peter lay, and bent down to retrieve the sword. There was one more left.
Storm was chilling out in her bedroom. The music from her boom box was blaring and she chatted away on her laptop. Her parents complained all the time that she could never hear them or what was going on downstairs in the house. She thought it was best to stay out of the way as her parents made preparations for the winter solstice. Like the rest of the coven, to her parents this was a really big deal. She on the other hand, wasn’t as traditional as the rest of the clan.
Storm noticed the time on her laptop screen. It was nearly 9:30 p.m. The rest of the clan and the blood dolls would be arriving soon. She did wonder though why her mom hadn’t come up to get her. Her mom was very strict about being there when the rest of the clan arrived. So, Storm shut down and put away her laptop on her night stand. She bounded of the bed and over to the boom box which was on her desk by the wall across from the door. Her back was to the door when she heard it open. Not bothering to turn around Storm just said, “Yes, I know mother.” Storm jerked and felt an uncomfortable pressure from her chest. The force from the pressure slammed her against the wall. Storm couldn’t speak as she collapsed backwards. Storm heard a sound like when you snap a twig, and everything went black.
Storm awoke to the sound of her heart beating in her ears. She tried to stand, but was too weak. She looked at the front of her blouse and noticed the strangest thing. A wooden tip was protruding out. Storm started gasping for air, but only blood spittle flew from her mouth. She couldn’t call out for help. Tears rolled down her cheeks smearing the dark eyeliner she wore. With every bit of strength she had, Storm lay down and pulled herself towards the door.
Storm took a short break when she reached the open doorway of her room. When she looked back, Storm saw a trail of blood. She didn’t have time to panic; she needed to find her parents. With new found strength, Storm
