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Raiser of Gales

Vampire Hunter D

Volume 2

Written by Hideyuki Kikuchi

Illustrations by Yoshitaka Amano

English Translation by Kevin Leahy

Published by DH Press and Digital Manga Publishing

A Village in Winter

CHAPTER I

intry sunlight fell from high in the hollow sky to the valley below. Bright enough to trick a smile out of you and cold enough to empty your lungs in a cloudy white chain of coughs, the rays bound for the narrow and more or less straight trail were also quite refreshing. Perhaps that was because spring wasn't so far off.

Not far from there, the road through the valley came to a modest plain surrounded by black woods and ushered travelers into a tiny Frontier hamlet.

Including the ranches and solar farms scattered about the area, there were still probably less than two hundred homes. The roofs of wooden and tensile-plastic houses were crusted white with remnants of snow, as were alleys that never saw the light of day. And the people in the hamlet, so bundled in heavy furs they might easily be mistaken for beasts, wore stern expressions. Even for the littlest of children, the single-minded determination to live made a hard mask of their features.

A narrow stream ran through the center of town from east to west. The surface of its clear waters reflected a sturdy bridge, and at this moment a silent procession of people crossed the bridge with a grave gait.

Ten men and two women were in the group. Sobs spilled from one woman's lips as she hid her face with the well-worn sleeve of an insulated overcoat. Graying hair reached her shoulders. The other woman—also in her forties, by the look of her—stood by her side, with an arm around her back for support. No doubt they were neighbors. Although this pair set the tone for the whole party, their grief hadn't yet elicited a sympathetic response from the men. The old man at the fore wore a robe heavily adorned with magical formulae and all manner of strange symbols, and his face was wrought with terror. The other men were plastered with almost identical expressions, though six of them were also plainly in physical pain caused by the abominable burden digging down into their shoulders.

An oak coffin.

However, more disquieting by far was the heavy chain wrapped around the coffin. It almost seemed like a concerted effort had been made to keep whatever rested within the coffin from getting back out the way the chain rattled dully in the wintry light echoed the desperate fear of those who bore the oak box.

The party came to a halt at the center of the bridge. That was where the structure jutted out an extra yard on either side, forming a small gathering place over the river.

The old man who led them pointed to one side.

With much shuffling of their feet, the men bearing the coffin hustled over to the railing.

Giving a shudder, the sturdy man by the elder's side reached for the weapons girding his waist—steel stakes a good foot and a half long. The man had at least half a dozen of them in a pouch on his belt. His other hand pulled out the hammer he wore on the opposite side of his belt. The old-fashioned gunpowder revolver he had bolstered there didn't even merit a glance.

Loosing an anguished scream, one of the women scrambled toward the coffin, but her neighbor and the rest of the men managed to restrain her.

"You simmer down," the old man shouted at her reproachfully.

The woman hid her face in her hands. If not for those supporting her, she'd undoubtedly have collapsed on the spot.

Casting an emotionless glance at the slender coffin, the elder raised his right hand to his shoulder and began to intone the words befitting such a ceremony.

"I am here today, my heart like unto a mournful abyss beyond description. Gina Bolan, beloved daughter of Seka Bolan and resident #8009 of the village of Tepes, Western Frontier Sector Seven, fell victim to the despised Nobility and passed away last night..."

At this, the faces of the pallbearers grew visibly paler, but the elder may not have noticed.

Six pairs of eyes restlessly shifted about, their collective gaze turning imploringly to the calm surface of the river.

There was nothing to see there. Nothing whatsoever out of the ordinary.

Within the coffin, something stirred. Not someone. Something. The men's faces inched closer to the coffin, as if caught in its gravity.

Clank clank, went the chains.

The men's faces grew white as a sheet.

The mayor shouted the name of the man with the stakes.

"Down! Put it down now!" the armed man said in a terror-cramped tone as he stepped closer. The other men didn't comply with his command. Brains and nerves and even muscles stiffened as fear stampeded through their bodies. This was by no means the first such ceremony they'd been involved in. However, the phenomenon now taking place in that box on their shoulders was patently impossible. For pity's sake, it was daytime!

Seeing the condition of the others, the man with the hammer and stake clanged his weapons together, shouting tersely, "Set 'er down on the railing!" The result was evident enough.

Whatever spell had held the men waned, and the coffin, which was a heartbeat shy of being thrown over the side, came to rest on the thick handrail. Three of the men still supported the other side of it. It was a weird frenzy of activity on the bridge that fine, prevernal day.

The well-armed man dashed over and set the sharpened steel tip of a stake against the lid of the coffin.

His granite-tough face was deeply streaked by fear and impatience. The timing of this flew in the face of his vast personal experience and undermined the confidence he drew from long years on the job.

Sounds continued to issue from the coffin. From the way it shook and the sounds it made, it seemed that whatever it contained had awakened and was fumbling around without any idea of its present predicament.

The man raised his hammer high.

Suddenly, the sounds coming from the coffin changed. Powerful blows struck the lid from the inside, shaking not only the coffin with a powerful pummeling but also the men carrying it. The elder cried something.

With a low growl, the hammer tore through the air. Shouting and the sounds of destruction melded into one.

The stake pierced the coffin at almost exactly the same second a pale hand smashed through the heavy planks and clawed at the air. The hand of a mere child!

Wildly twitching, the hand clutched at the air again and again. In a split second, the hand flew to the throat of the man who stood there, hammer still in hand and utterly dumbfounded.

"... Coffin... drop... the damn coffin!"

Blood gushed from the man's throat along with those words. This ghastly tableau did more than his orders to rouse the men's consciousness. Shoulder muscles bulging, they tilted the coffin high on the railing. It fell with the other man still pinned to the lid, sending up a splash that flowered in countless droplets across the surface of the river.

Surely the coffin must have been weighted, for it rapidly sank and merged with the ash-gray bottom. Amid the remaining ripples, crimson liquid bubbled up from one of those who sank with it, but in the world above the tranquil light of winter blanketed all creation. Only a woman's sobs remained to testify to the gruesome tragedy that had just played out.

†

lades of grass that had long borne the weight of the snow took advantage of the reverberations from the heavy footfalls to throw off their burden. After all, their day would be here soon enough.

The footsteps came from a number of people, each and every one of them looking as tough as a boulder and as beefy as a Martian steer. Even through their heavy fur coats the bulging of their well-developed muscles was plain. All were in their twenties. Not even their apparent leader, a man a bit taller than the rest, had hit thirty yet. They belonged to the village's Youth Brigade.

The reason they were breathing so heavily was because they'd already been climbing this slope for nearly nine hours. But it was clear from their expressions and the look in their eyes that they weren't here for a picnic. Faces hardened by brooding, frustration, and rage, they seemed on the verge of tears. From the look of it, they were trying in vain to hold back the pitch-black terror welling inside them. The pair bringing up the rear was especially short of breath, partly because each had a wooden crate full of weapons strapped to his back, but mainly because of the gently rolling hill they were trying to climb.

It was a weird piece of geography.

A mile and a quarter in diameter at the base and roughly sixty feet high, it looked like an ordinary hill from both the ground and the air. Those who set foot on its slopes, however, found that it took several hours to reach the summit no matter how great they were at hiking.

Black ruins rose from the summit of the hill.

That was where the men were headed. However, that simple goal, glowering down at the surrounding landscape from a scant altitude of sixty feet, was not unlike the mirages that were said to occur in the Frontier's desert regions—it taunted these men as they tried to reach it, and would do the same to anyone else who accepted the challenge.

The distance never decreased.

Their feet clearly tread the slope, and their bodies told them they were indeed steadily gaining elevation. And yet, the further reaches of the incline and the ruins they sought never got any closer.

Taking into account the reports of all who had experienced this phenomenon, it was estimated that a man in prime condition took thirty minutes to climb three feet. Ten hours to the top—even on level ground, that much walking would leave a man exhausted. Climbing the hill, it only got worse, as the slope grew steeper and the trek became ever more fatiguing. It really came as little surprise that no one had even tried to climb it in the last three years.

The man at the forefront of the group—Haig, their leader— took no notice of his companions as he scanned the western horizon. The sun would be going down in two hours, falling behind the forest and the silvery chain of peaks far beyond them. That made it roughly three o'clock Afternoon, Frontier Standard Time.

If they didn't reach the top, accomplish their aim, and take their leave in the one hundred and twenty remaining minutes, Haig knew as well as anyone what fate awaited them when darkness fell.

To make matters worse, once they eventually made it to the summit, the fact of the matter was they didn't have the faintest idea where in the ruins the thing they sought would be slumbering. Although a roughly sketched map was stuffed in the leader's breast pocket, it had been drawn decades earlier by someone who had since passed away, so they weren't entirely sure whether they could rely on it or not.

And then there was their exhausted state to consider. Though this group had been selected from the proudest and strongest of the Youth Brigade, the taxing climb was actually far more fatiguing mentally than it was physically. While no amount of struggling would bring them any closer to their goal, sheer impatience could physically destroy them. This psychological test was said to be a particularly effective defense against intruders from the world below. Once the members of the Youth Brigade set foot in the ruins, there was some question as to whether or not they would have sufficient strength remaining to search out its resting place. The only thing they had working in their favor was the fact that on the way down, at least, the hill lost its mystic hold over climbers. If they ran all the way, they could be down to the foot of the hill in less than two minutes.

Suddenly, Haig's sweat-stained countenance was suffused with joy.

He knew the distance between the summit ahead and him was "real" now. Less than thirty feet remained. Ignoring the panting of his air-starved lungs, he shouted, "We're there!" From behind him, satisfied grunts rose in response.

A few minutes later, the whole group was resting in the courtyard of the ruins. The shadow of fatigue fell heavily on each and every face, rendering them almost laughable.

"Just about time to get down to it. Break out the weapons," ordered Haig. He alone remained standing, surveying their surroundings.

The group huddled around the two wooden crates. Off came the lids. Inside were five hammers, ten wooden stakes honed to trenchant points, and twenty Molotov cocktails that had been fashioned from wine bottles filled with tractor fuel and corked with rags. In addition, they had five bundles of powerful mining explosives with individual timers. Each of the men also had a bowie knife, sword, or machete stuck through the belt around his waist. Everyone took a weapon.

"You all know the plan, right?" Haig said, just to be sure. "I don't know if we can put a whole lot of stock in this copy of the map or not, but right about now we ain't got any other options. If you think you're in trouble, give a whistle. You find out where it is, give two."

Bloodshot eyes bobbed up and down as the men nodded and got to their feet. Their grand scheme was going into action.

A wholly unexpected voice stopped them in their tracks.

"Just a second. Where the blazes are you boys off to all charged up like that?"

Every one of them moved like they'd been jerked back on a leash, turning toward the voice even as they went for their weapons.

From a shadowy entrance in the sole remaining wall of the stony ruins—a cavernous opening that faced the courtyard—a lone girl stepped casually into the afternoon light. Raven hair hung down to the shoulders of her winter coat, and what showed of her thighs looked cold but inviting.

"Well if it ain't Lina! What brings you up—," one of the men started to ask, swallowing the rest of the question. The eyes of all took on a tinge of terror, as well as the scornful hue of someone whose suspicions have proved correct. They'd known the answer to that question for quite some time.

"What the hell do you boys think you're doing? You'd better not go and do anything stupid," the girl said, as she looked Haig square in the eye. Although her visage was still so innocent it couldn't look stern if she tried, her face shone with the sagacity and the allure of a mature woman. She was at that awkward stage, a neat little bud waiting for spring, a heartbeat away from bursting open into a glorious blossom.

"Suppose you tell me what the hell brings you up here," said Haig, his words dripping out like molasses. His gaze had fallen to Lina's bare feet. "It ain't like you don't know the shit that's going on in town. The whole place's been turned inside out and we still didn't find it. Meaning this is the only place left for it to hide, wouldn't you say?"

"Well, that doesn't mean you have to haul a load of bombs up here, does it? Stakes and Molotov cocktails should do the job."

"That's nothing that concerns you," Haig said scornfully. "Now answer the damn question. Why the hell are you up here?

"We sure as shit didn't see you on our way up here. Just how long you been up here, anyway?"

"I just got here. And for your information, I came up the other side. So of course you didn't see me."

As the men looked at each other they had a strange glint in their eyes.

"Well in that case, I guess the hill can't fool you none—looks like we had it figured right all along. Unless I miss my guess, you're the one responsible for what's happening in town."

"Spare me your conjecture. You know I've been at home every time anything happened."

"You don't say. Hell, the whole bunch of you have been screwy since that happened. We got no way of knowing what kind of powers you been using behind our backs."

Haig suddenly had nothing more to say. He gave his cohorts a toss of his chin. All of them smiled lasciviously as they started to close in on Lina.

"We're gonna have to check you out now. Gonna peel you down buck-ass naked."

"You stop this foolishness right now. Do you have any idea how much trouble you'll get in if you even try it?"

"Ha! That supposed to be a threat?" one of them jeered. "Everybody in town knows full well what's going on between you and the mayor, missy. If we can prove you're a plain ol' woman now, the old geezer'll be happier than a pig in shit."

"And that ain't the half of it," another added. "After all of us have had a turn with you, you'll be feeling so damn good you'll lose your tongue for ratting us out."

Haig licked his lips. These young men were known to be rough customers—that was precisely the reason they were perfect for protecting the village from brutal groups of roving bandits or vicious beasts. But now, their exhaustion and the fear of the work to come churned together into a slimy mess that suffocated what little sense they'd been born with.

Lina made no attempt to escape. Haig grabbed her by the arms and pulled her close. His greasy lips savagely latched onto her fine mouth. Pulling her coat up with one hand, he groped at her thighs, while his tongue tried to force its way between her perfect teeth.

Suddenly, there was a dull smack and his massive frame doubled over at the waist. With lightning speed, Lina had slammed her knee into Haig's privates, leaving him speechless and on his knees. She didn't even spare him a backward glance as she disappeared into an entrance of the ruins.

"You little bitch!" shouted one of the three men who went niter her.

Because it was still daytime, only anger and lust managed to beat back the thugs' fear of entering the ruins.

Weird machinery and furniture seemed to float in the chill darkness, but they ignored these objects as they ran. Twisting and turning down one sculpture- and painting-adorned corridor after another, they eventually caught up to Lina in a vast room, a hall of some sort.

Stripping off her coat when they caught her by the shoulder, she stumbled and fell face first, but the three of them tackled her and rolled her onto her back.

Lina cried, "Quit it!"

"Stop your squirming. We're gonna do you real good. All three of us at once!"

Just as the men were pinning her pallid and desperately thrashing hands and closing on her sweet lips...

They were struck by the creepiest sensation. Even Lina forgot her struggles and donned a hue of terror. From that strange knot of humanity, four pairs of eyes focused on the same spot in the darkness simultaneously.

Out of the unplumbed depths of the blackness, a single shadowy figure emerged. A figure that seemed to them darker by far than the blackness shrouding this whole universe.

"One civilization met its end here," said a soft voice flecked with rust, the words drifting through the darkness. "While it's impossible to halt the progress of time, you would do well to show some respect for what's been lost."

Lina scrambled up and took cover behind the figure, but the men didn't so much as twitch. They couldn't even speak. Animal instincts honed by more than two decades of doing battle with the forces of nature told them just what this person was. It was something far surpassing what they'd expected to find here.

Footsteps rang out at the entrance to the hall, but soon halted. Haig and the rest of the men had burst into the room with enraged expressions, but then froze in their tracks.

"Wha — what the hell are you?"

Not surprisingly, it was the leader of the suicide squad who finally managed to speak, but just barely. His tremulous voice and the chattering of his teeth told volumes about how he, too, had been laid low by this ghastly aura beyond human ken. At that moment, the only thoughts running through the minds of Haig's men concerned getting down off the hill as fast as humanly possible.

"Leave. This is no place for you."

At the stranger's bidding, the men got to their feet and started to back away. The reason they remained facing forward was not so much due to the old adage about never letting your foe see your back as it was due to their terror at not knowing what might happen to them if they turned around. Some things are worse than dying, the men all muttered in their heart of hearts.

Once they'd fallen back to the hall's entrance, the men regained some of their spirit. The roof of the windowless corridor was laced with cracks that let the sunlight pour in.

Haig pulled out a Molotov cocktail and another man produced some matches. Striking the match on his pants, he put the flame to the rags. Haig heaved the firebomb with such an exaggerated throw he seemed to be trying to blast his own fears away. No consideration at all was given to Lina's safety.

The blazing bottle limned a smooth arc across the room and landed at the pair's feet. But no two-thousand-degree lake of flames spread from it. The bottle simply stood upright on the intricately mosaicked floor. There was a tinkling clink as the neck of the bottle and the flaming rag it contained dropped to the floor.

The men probably hadn't even seen the silvery flash that had split the air.

Panic ensued.

Loosing an audacious chorus of screams, the men scrambled over each other in an effort to flee down the hallway. And they didn't look back. The fear of the supernatural world bubbled from a gaping wound where their reason had just been severed, and that fear threatened now to take shape. The men drove their legs with all their desperate might to avoid having to see what shape it took.

Once she was sure their footsteps had died away, Lina finally stepped away from the stranger's back. Sticking out her cute little tongue, she turned to the exit and made the rudest gesture she knew. She must've been amazingly sedate by nature, because she no longer seemed in the least bit troubled as her eyes gazed first at the truncated bottle and the guttering flame, then up at the muscular stranger with admiration.

"You're really incredible, you..." she began to say, but her voice gave out on her.

Now her eyes had become accustomed to the darkness, and they'd taken in the face of her savior. An exquisite face, like a silent winter night preserved for all time.

"What is it?"

Shaken back to her senses by the sound of his voice, Lina said the first thing that popped into her mind. She was a rather straightforward girl.

"You sure are handsome. Took my breath away, you did."

"You'd best go home. This is no place for you," the owner of that gorgeous countenance said once more, his words not so much cold as emotionless.

Lina had already reclaimed enough of her senses to shamelessly eye the man from head to toe.

He couldn't have been a day over twenty. His wide-brimmed traveler's hat and the elegant longsword he wore across the back of his black longcoat made it clear he was no tourist. A blue pendant dangled on his chest. The deep, soul-swallowing shade of blue seemed to fit the youth perfectly.

Like hell I'm leaving. I'll go wherever I damn well please, Lina wanted to say, but the words she hastily uttered were the exact opposite of what she actually felt.

"If you insist, the very least you could do is walk me out."

At this unexpected request, the youth headed toward the exit without making a sound.

"Hey, wait just a second, you. Aren't we the hasty one!" Flustered, Lina hurried after him. She thought about latching onto the hem of his coat or maybe his arm, but didn't actually go through with it. This young man had an intensity about him that completely locked him off from the rest of the world.

Mutely trailing after him, the girl stepped out into the courtyard.

To Lina's utter amazement, the youth quickly turned around and headed back toward the entrance. She jumped up again.

"For goodness sake, would you just wait a minute? You didn't even give me a chance to say thank you, you big dolt!"

"Go home before the sun sets. The way down is normal enough."

The shadowy figure didn't turn to face her as he spoke, but his words made Lina's eyes go wide.

"And just how would you know that? Come to think of it, when did you get here, anyway? It couldn't be you can walk up here like normal, could it?!"

Just shy of the entrance, the young man halted. Without facing her, he said, "So, you can climb the hill normally, too, I take it?"

"That's right. My circumstances are kind of special," Lina said, sounding strangely resolved for once. "Wanna hear about it? Of course you do. After all, you came all the way up here to see these ruins—the remnants of a Noble's castle."

The youth started to walk away again.

"Oh, curse you," Lina cried, stomping her feet in anger. "At least give me your name. If you don't, I'm not heading home— come sunset or not. If I get attacked and maimed by monsters, it'll be on your conscience for the rest of your days. I'm Lina Sween, by the way."

Apparently her badgering paid off, for a low voice drifted from the silhouette as it melded with the darkness filling the doorway. He said but a single word.

"D."

†

ater that night, a Vampire Hunter paid a call on the home of the village's mayor.

"Well I'll be..."

Having pulled a dressing gown over his pajamas and come downstairs, the sleepy-eyed mayor forgot what he was about to say when he saw the beauty of the Hunter standing at the other end of the living room with his back to the wall.

"I see now why our maid's walking around like something sucked the soul out of her. Well, I can't very well put you up here in my house. I've got a daughter for one thing, and the women's groups are always coming and going through here."

"I've already put my horse and my gear in the barn," D said softly. "I'd like to hear your proposition."

"Before we start, why don't you set yourself down. You must be coming off a long ride, I'd wager."

D didn't move. Nonchalantly drawing back the hand he'd used to indicate a seat, the mayor gave a nod. The valet, who'd just thrown a load of kindling and condensed fuel into the fireplace and was awaiting further instruction, was ordered out.

"Never show the enemy your back, eh? Indeed, I suppose you've got no proof I'm on your side."

"I was under the impression you hired Geslin before me," D suggested. It almost appeared he hadn't been listening to a word the mayor had to say.

By the look of him, the mayor was a pushy man, but he didn't let the slightest hint of displeasure show on his face. In part, this was because he'd heard rumors about the skill of the super Grade A Hunter he was dealing with. But more than that, it was because just having the Hunter standing beside him made the mayor feel in his flesh and bones that the Hunter was a being from a whole other world. Though he had exquisite features far more beautiful than any human, the ghastly aura emanating from the Hunter shook to the fore something mankind usually kept buried in the deepest depths of its psyche—the fear of the unknown darkness.

"Geslin's dead," the mayor spat. "He was a top-notch Grade A Hunter, but he couldn't find us our vampire, and he went and got himself killed by an eight-year-old girl to boot. Got his throat ripped clean open, so we don't have to worry about him coming back, but we paid him a hundred thousand dalas in advance— what a fiasco!"

"I understand the circumstances were somewhat unusual."

The mayor pursed his lips in surprise. "You know about that, do you. Well, that's a dhampir for you! Seems there might be something after all to them rumors that you can hear the winds blowing out of Hell."

D said nothing.

The mayor gave a brief account of the disaster that had occurred on the bridge roughly two weeks earlier, saying in conclusion, "And all of this happened in broad daylight. By the look of you, I'd wager you've seen more than I have in my seventy years on this earth. But I don't suppose that'd happen to include victims of vampires who can walk in the light of day, now would it?"

D remained silent. That in and of itself was his answer.

It just wasn't possible. The Nobility and those whose lives they'd claimed were permitted their travesty of life by night alone. The world of daylight had been ceded to humanity.

"I think you have a pretty good notion why I've called you here. Think about it. If those damnable Nobles and their retinue were free to move not just by night but by light of day as well, do you have any idea what would become of the world?"

The darkness and chill of the room seemed to increase exponentially. To save wear on their generators, it was commonplace to use lamps fueled with animal fat for lighting at night on the Frontier. The old man's eyes seemed to smolder as he stared at the hands he held out to warm. D didn't move a muscle, as if he'd become a statue.

Really set my hooks into him that time, the mayor snickered in his heart of hearts. His words had been chosen for maximum effect on the psyche of his guest, and surely they would've dealt a severe blow to the beautiful half-breed Hunter. Oh, yes — come tomorrow, things are bound to be a bit more manageable around here.

However, all did not go quite as expected.

"Could you elaborate on what's happened in this case so far?"

D's voice carried no fear or uneasiness, and, for a moment, the mayor was left dumbstruck. So, the horrifying thought of bloodthirsty vampires running amuck in the world by day had no impact on this dhampir? Wrestling down his surprise a split second before it could rise to his face, the mayor began to speak in a tone more subdued than was necessary.

It all started with the ruins and four children.

Even now, no one knew for sure just how long the ruins had stood on that hill. When the village founders had first set foot in this territory nearly two centuries earlier, the ruins were already choked with vines. Several times the hill had been scaled by suicide squads who produced roughly sketched maps and studied its ancient history, but while they were doing so a number of strange phenomena had occurred. Fifty years ago a group of investigators had come from the Capital to see it, and they were the last—after that, there were very few with any interest in surmounting the hill.

It was about ten years earlier that four children from the village had gone missing.

One winter's day, four children vanished from the village— farmer Zarkoff Belan's daughter (eight at the time), fellow farmer Hans Jorshtern's son (aged eight also), teacher Nicholas Meyer's son (aged ten), and general-store proprietor Hariyamada Schmika's son (aged eight). There was some furor over the possibility that it might be the work of a dimension-ripping beast that had been terrorizing the area at the time, but then there were villagers who had seen the four children playing partway up the hill on the day they went missing. Their disappearance forced the community to eye the ruins with suspicion.

For the first time in fifty years, a suicide squad was formed, but, despite a rather extensive search of the ruins, no clue to the children's whereabouts could be found. Rather, toward the end of a week of searching, members of the suicide squad started disappearing in rapid succession, and the search had to be called off before all the passageways and benighted subterranean chambers that comprised the vast complex of ruins could be investigated.

The grief-stricken parents were told that their children had probably been taken by slave-traders passing by the village, or had been lost to the dimension-ripping beast. Whatever fate awaited the children in either of those scenarios, it was a far more comforting hypothesis than the thought of them disappearing into the remains of a vampire's mansion.

One evening, about two weeks after the whole incident had started; the tragedy came to its grand—if somewhat tentative— finale. The miller's wife was out in the nearby woods picking lunar mushrooms when she noticed a couple of people trudging down the hill, and she let out a shout fit to knock half the town off its feet. The children had returned.

That was to be both a cause for rejoicing and a source of new fears.

"For starters, only three of the kids came back." The elderly mayor's voice was so thin, it was fairly lost to the popping of the logs in the fireplace. "You see, Tajeel—that would be Schmika's boy, from the general store—never did come back. To this day we still don't know whatever became of him. Can't say it came as any great surprise when his father and mother both passed away from all their grieving. I'm not saying we weren't glad to get the rest of them back, but maybe if he hadn't been the only one that didn't make it—"

"Did you examine the children?" D asked as he turned his gaze toward the door, on guard, no doubt, against any foe who might burst into the room. It was said that even among Hunters, there was an incredible amount of animosity, with hostility often aimed at the more famous and capable. D's eyes were half-closed. The mayor was suddenly struck with the thought that the gorgeous young man was conversing with the night winds through the wall.

"Of course we did," the mayor said. "Hypnosis, mind-probing drugs, the psycho-witness method—we tried everything we could think of. Unfortunately, we used some of the old ways, too. I tell you, even now the screams of those kids plague my dreams. But it was just no use. Their minds were a blank, completely bare of memories for the exact span of time they'd been missing. Maybe they'd been left that way by external forces, or then again maybe it was something the kids' own subconscious minds had pulled to keep them all from going insane. Though if it was the latter, I suppose you'd have to say that as far as Jorshtern's boy went, the results weren't quite what you'd hope for—to this day, Cuore's still crazy as a bedbug.

"The upshot of this is, exactly what happened in the ruined castle and what they might've seen there remains shrouded in mystery. I suppose the only saving grace was that none of them came away with the kiss of the Nobility. Cuore's case was unfortunate, but the other two grew up quite nicely, becoming one of our schoolteachers and the village's brightest pupil, respectively."

Having progressed this far in his story, the mayor seemed to be finally at ease. He walked over to a sideboard against the wall, got a bottle of the local vintage and a pair of goblets, and returned.

"Care for a drink?"

As he proffered a goblet, his hand stopped halfway. He'd just remembered what dhampirs usually consumed.

As if to confirm this, D replied softly, "I never touch the stuff." The Hunter's gaze then flew to the pristine darkness beyond the window panes. "How many victims have there been, and under what conditions did the attacks occur?"

"Four so far. All close to town. Time-wise, it's always at night. The victims have all been disposed of."

Just then the mayor's voice gave out on him. Surely the ghastly task of their disposal had come back to haunt his memory, for his hand and the drink it held trembled. After all, not every victim had been given a chance to turn into a vampire before they met their end.

"Finding missing kids and putting 'em down —this is a nasty bit of business to go through, with spring so close and all."

With a strident clang, the mayor slammed the steel goblet down on his desk. The contents splashed up, soaking his palm and the sleeve of his gown.

"It's by no means certain that Schmika's boy Tajeel had a hand in this. There's a very good chance one of the remaining Nobility has slipped in here, or a vampire victim run out of another village is prowling the area. I'd like you to explore those possibilities."

"Do you think there are Nobles who can walk with their victims in the light of day?"

At this softly spoken query, the mayor clamped his lips shut. It was the very question he'd posed to D earlier. Suddenly, the mayor donned a perplexed expression and turned his eyes toward D's waist. Though the sound was faint, he could've sworn he'd heard a strange voice laughing.

"Sometime tomorrow, I need all the information you have on how the victims were attacked, their condition following it, and how they were handled," D said without particular concern. His voice was callous, completely devoid of any emotion concerning the work he was about to undertake. Apparently, this Vampire Hunter knew no fear, even when confronted with a foe the likes of which the world had never known—demons who could walk in the light of day. With an entirely different kind of terror than he felt toward the Nobility, the mayor focused his gaze on the young man's stunningly beautiful visage. "Also, I'd like to pay a visit to the three surviving abductees. If it's any great distance, I'll need a map to their homes."

"You won't need a map," a feminine voice cooed.

The door swung open, and a smiling face like a veritable blossom drew the eyes of both men.

Eyes that shone with curiosity returned D's gaze, and she said, "Not the least bit surprised, are you? You knew I was standing out there listening in the whole time, I'm sure. I'll tell you all you need to know. Lukas Meyer will be at the school. After classes I can take you to where Cuore lives. And you needn't look far for the third. So, we meet again, D."

Farmer Belan's daughter, now the mayor's adopted child, made a slight curtsy to D.

†

ay, are you sure this is okay?" Lina asked the next morning, gripping the reins to the two-horse buggy she drove toward the school.

"Sure what's okay?"

"Going out like this first thing in the morning and all. Dhampirs don't like the daytime, right, on account of having part Noble blood in them."

"Just full of weird tidbits, aren't you?" D muttered, looking over the backs of the six-legged mutant equines. If a telepath had been there, they might've caught a whisper of a grin deep in the recesses of his coldly shuttered but human consciousness.

Inheriting characteristics of both their human and vampire parents, dhampirs were physiologically influenced by both parents in different respects.

Humans slept by night and were awake by day, while the opposite was true for the Nobility. When the genes of the respective races came into conflict, it was generally the physiological traits off the Noble half—the vampire parent—that proved dominant. A dhampir's body craved sleep by day, and wanted to be awake at night.

However, just as a left-handed person could learn through practice to use either hand equally well, it was entirely possible for dhampirs to follow the tendencies of their human genes and live just as mortals did. And, while they might have nearly half the strength, sight, hearing, and other physical advantages of a true vampire, it was that adaptability that was their greatest asset. With that fifty percent, they had a measure of power within them no human being could hope to attain, allowing them to cross swords with the Nobility by day or night.

Still, while it was true they could resist their fundamental biological urges, it was also undeniable that operating in daylight severely degraded a dhampir's condition. Their biorhythms fell off sharply after midnight, reaching their nadir at noon. Direct sunlight could burn their skin to the point where even the gentlest breeze was pure agony, like needles being driven into each and every cell in their body. In some cases, their skin might even blister like a third-degree burn.

Ebbing biorhythms brought fatigue, nausea, thirst, and numbing exhaustion. Fewer than one in ten dhampirs could withstand the onslaught of midday without experiencing those tortures.

"Still, it looks like you don't have any problems at all. That's no fun." Lina pursed her lips, then quickly hauled back on the reins. The horses whinnied, and the braking board hanging from the bottom of the buggy gouged into the earth.

"What's wrong?" D asked, not sounding the least bit surprised.

Lina pointed straight ahead. "It's those jerks again. And Cuore's with them. Yesterday was bad enough, but now what the hell are they up to?"

Some thirty feet ahead, a group of seven men walked past a crumbling stone wall and turned the corner. Three of them, most notably Haig, Lina and D had met in the ruins the day before.

A young man of seventeen or eighteen dressed in tattered rags walked ahead of the group as the others pushed and shoved him along. He was huge—over six feet tall and weighing more than two hundred pounds. His gaze completely vacant, he continued down the little path, pushed along by a man who barely came up to his shoulder.

"Perfect timing. We were just going to see him. What's down that way anyway?"

"The remains of a pixie breeding facility. It hasn't been used in ages, but rumor has it there's still some dangerous things in there," Lina said. "You don't think those bastards would bring Cuore in there?"

"Get to school."

By the time the last word reached Lina's ears, D was headed for the narrow path, the hem of his coat fluttering out around him.

As soon as he rounded the corner of the stone wall, the breeding facility buildings came into view. Although "buildings" wasn't really the word for them. It appeared the owner had removed all the usable lumber and plastic joists, leaving nothing more than a few desperately listing, hole-riddled wooden shacks that were on the edge of collapse. The winter sun glinted whitely on this barren lot, which was surrounded by naked trees frosted with the last crusts of snow.

The men slipped into one of the straighter structures. They seemed fairly confident that few people passed this way, as they never even looked back the way they'd come.

Perhaps thirty seconds ticked by.

Shouting exploded from within the building. There were screams. Lots of screams. And not simply the kinds of sounds you make when you encounter something that scares you. Startled, perhaps, by the ghastly cries, the branches of a tree that grew beside the building threw down their snowy covering. There was the cacophony of something enormous shattering to pieces.

Just seconds after the reverberations died away, D entered the building.

The screaming had ceased.

D's eyes took on the faintest tinge of red. The thick smell of blood had found its way to his nostrils.

Every last man was laid out on the stone floor, convulsing in a puddle of his own blood. Aside from a few steel cages along one wall that evoked the building's past as a pixie breeding facility, the vast interior was filled only with the stink of blood and cries of agony. For something that had been accomplished in the half minute the men had been inside with Cuore, the job was entirely too thorough. There could be no doubt that some sort of otherworldly force had completely run amuck.

Two things caught D's eye.

One was Cuore's massive frame, sprawled now in front of the cages. The other was a gaping hole in the stone wall. Six feet or more in diameter, the jagged opening let the morning sunlight fall on the dark floor. Whatever had left the eight strapping men soaking in a sea of blood had gone out that way.

Without sparing a glance to the other young men, D walked over to Cuore. Crouching gracefully, the Hunter said, "They call me D. What happened?"

Muddy blue eyes were painfully slow to focus on D. His madness was no act. The boy's right hand rose slowly and pointed to the fresh hole in the wall. His parched lips disgorged a tiny knot of words.

"The blood..."

"What?"

"... The blood... Not me..."

Perhaps he was trying to lay the blame for this massive bloodshed.

D's left hand touched the young man's sweaty brow.

Cuore's eyelids drooped closed.

"What did you see in the castle?" D's voice sounded totally unaffected by the carnage surrounding them. He didn't even ask who was responsible for this bloodbath.

However, could even his left hand pull the truth from the mind of a madman?

A certain amount of "will" seemed to sprout up in Cuore's disjointed expression.

The boy's Adam's apple bobbed up and down, preparing to spill a few words.

"What did you see?" D asked once again. As he posed the question, he reached over his shoulder with his right hand and turned.

The half-dead men were rising to their feet from the floor.

"Possessed, eh?" D's gaze skimmed along the men's feet. The gangly shadows stretching from their boots weren't those of any human. The silhouette of the body was oddly reminiscent of a caterpillar, while the wiry, thin arms and legs were a grotesque mismatch for the torso. Those were pixie shadows!

A single evil pixie who'd been kept here must have escaped and remained hidden somewhere in the factory all this time. Unlike the vast majority of the artificially created beasts the Nobility had sown across the earth, most varieties of pixies were exceptionally amiable. But other varieties, based on goblins, pookas, and imps from ancient pre-holocaust Ireland, kept the people of the Frontier terrified with their sheer savagery. The redcap variety of pookas lopped off travelers' heads with the ax they were born holding, then used their victims' blood to dye the headgear that gave them their name. Few of these creatures possessed the ability to manipulate half-dead humans, but with proper handling they could help make otherwise untamable unicorns clear vast tracts of land, or they could boost the uranium pellet production of Grimm hens from one lump every three days to three lumps a day. In light of this, some of the more impoverished villages on the Frontier were willing to assume the risks of breeding these sorts of creatures. The blood-spattered and still unconscious men were being animated by an individual of the most atrocious species.

The shadow held an ax in its hands.

Smoothly, the weapon rose.

The men each raised a pair of empty hands over their heads.

As the nonexistent axes whirred through the space D's head had occupied, the Hunter leapt to the side of the room with Cuore cradled in his arms.

With mechanical steps, the shadow's marionettes went after him.

Unseen blades sank into the wall and dented the roof of an iron cage. Cutting only thin air, one of the men fell face first and set off a shower of sparks a yard ahead of him.

This was a battle for control of the shadows.

A stream of silvery light splashed up from D's back, then mowed straight ahead at the invisible ax one of the unconscious men raised against him.

There was no jarring contact, but a breeze skimmed by D's cheek and something imbedded in the wall.

These weapons weren't just invisible, they were nonexistent. But deadly nonetheless.

Three howling swings closed on the Hunter, all from different directions. The blades clashed together, but D and Cuore flew above the shower of sparks that resulted.

Twin streaks of white light coursed toward the floor. The men went rigid and clutched their wrists. Thud after thud rang out in what sounded like one great weight after another hitting the floor. Actually, it was the men dropping their weapons.

Having sheathed his longsword, D headed over to one of the men who'd collapsed in a spray of blood.

Going down on one knee by the man's side, he asked, "Can you hear me?"

As the man's feeble gaze filled with the sight of D, his eyes snapped wide open. The fallen man was none other than Haig.

"Dirty bastard... How the hell did you...?"

His pitiful voice, which hardly matched his rough face, ground to a halt when he noticed something on the floor.

Now pinned to the stone floor by two stark needles, the unearthly shadow stretching from Haig's feet was rapidly fading from view. Stranger still, it wasn't just the twice-pierced shadow that was affected. The shadows of the other men contorted and writhed in the throes of intense pain. And yet the movements of all remained perfectly synchronized!

It must've taken incredible skill to hurl those needles from midair and nail the shadow precisely through the wrist and heart, but it seemed doubtful someone like Haig could ever truly grasp the amount of focus D needed to perfect such a technique.

Because, amazingly, the needles stuck in the stone were made of wood.

Soon enough, the disquieting shadows vanished and those of the men returned.

"I'm hurting... Damn, it hurts! Hurry up, call the doctor... please..."

"When you've answered my question." D's tone conjured images of ice. Not surprising, as he was dealing with the same guys who'd already tried to gang-rape an innocent girl. "What happened after you got Cuore in here?"

"I don't know... We was thinking one of them's to blame... so we planned on taking 'em one by one, smacking 'em around a little to see if we was right... and then..."

The light in Haig's eyes rapidly dimmed.

"And then what?"

"How the hell should I know...? Get me a doctor... quick.. As soon as we got in here and had 'im surrounded... all I could see was blood red... like something was hiding in there..."

The last word out of Haig's mouth became a leaden rasp of breath that rolled across the ground. He wasn't dead. Just unconscious, as the rest of them were as well. Though thin trails of fresh blood leaked from their ears, noses, and mouths, their condition was quite bizarre, given they showed no signs of external injuries.

D turned around.

Cuore stood groggily in the doorway, but much further outside there was the sound of numerous footsteps getting closer. Either Lina or one of the villagers who had seen the Youth Brigade with Cuore must have summoned the law. Apparently the bullying these young men did was far from appreciated in these parts.

D glanced at Cuore, then quickly spun to face the hole blown through the wall.

"What's wrong? Aren't you gonna keep grilling him? You'll never get to the bottom of this mess if you're afraid of stepping on the sheriff's toes," chided a voice from nowhere in particular.

The voice didn't faze D in the least. He and his black coat melted into the morning sun.

The One Who Gets To Leave

CHAPTER 2

ina, you have something on your mind?"

Sensing the ring of suspicion underlying his mild tone, Lina hurriedly turned her attention to the teacher before her. His youthful, gentle face wore a smile. Who would have believed a boy that disappeared into the ruins of a Noble's castle for a fortnight would grow up to be such a man?

"I called you into the teachers' room because you've been staring off into space all day long, and then you go and pull the same thing in here—what the heck's going on? We haven't got the official word yet, but the exam board from the Capital will be here in less than a week."

Along with Lina, he was one of the three children who'd returned safely after the four of them had disappeared—Lukas Meyer. Following in his father's footsteps, he worked as a teacher for the Department of Higher Education in the village. He was Lina's homeroom teacher, though there was actually only one class in the department of higher education and less than fifty students in that.

"It's, uh, nothing... really." Lina pawed at her hair and worked at concealing the blood rising in her face. Wild horses couldn't drag out of her the fact she'd taken a fancy to a certain man.

"I certainly hope so," Mr. Meyer said with a nod as he held his hands over the decrepit atomic heater whining before them.

Suddenly, both his tone and the look in his eyes became grave. "You mustn't forget the responsibility you bear," he said.

His earnest pitch left Lina in reverent silence.

"You're the hope of the village. When winter's over, you've got to take your chance to leave. We're all pulling for you, you know."

"Yes, sir."

"So, the test itself shouldn't be a problem, but have you decided what it is you'll study at the academy in the Capital?" Mr. Meyer's tone had changed. He knew the answer, and though it was a field he'd helped choose, he asked as if not wanting to know.

Lina made no reply.

"Mathematics, wasn't it?" He uttered the words like an admonishment.

"Yes, sir."

"That's fine. You can't allow yourself to be distracted before the day of the exam. Better you just focus on the future," the teacher said cheerily. Lina smiled as well. There was a knock at the door. Her classmate, Harna, came in.

"What is it?"

The girl's face was flushed crimson, and her eyes were glazed with dreams. Mr. Meyer rose instinctively from his chair of hardwood and hides. For some reason, Lina snapped to attention.

"There's someone here to see you. Someone... Well, he's very good-looking..."

That meant nothing to the teacher. Knitting his brow for a moment, Mr. Meyer told Harna to send the visitor in. Looking at Lina, he said, "Well then, be careful on your way home. What, is there something else?"

"Not really. It's just the weather's so nice today." Standing by the windows, which had been specially treated to block the blinding glare from the snow, the girl tried to think of some ploy to remain in the room.

"No more so than usual."

"This room's filthy. I could start tidying it up for you today."

When Mr. Meyer's expression became one of deepest concern, Lina thought, Damn! A tall figure came through the low doorway, though in doing so he was nearly forced to stoop.

Lina gave a gasp of wonder and caught an involuntary round of introductions while they were still deep in her throat. Watching her, the reason for her suspicious behavior and her scheme to linger became apparent to Mr. Meyer. Sending off Harna, who stood absentmindedly in the doorway, Mr. Meyer inquired if their guest was an acquaintance of Lina's.

"I'm enjoying the hospitality of her home," D said, as he stood by the wall. He was exactly the sort of visitor unwelcome by an educator entrusted with coeds. "I'm D. A Vampire Hunter. And I suppose you can guess from that what brings me here."

Not surprisingly, Meyer's warm, intellectual countenance stiffened. As he invited D to have a seat, the look in his eyes was one he might give to any envoy dispatched to lay bare the dark secret he'd long concealed in his heart.

"No thanks," D said tersely, declining to take a seat. His manner was curt but not entirely disagreeable.

"Lina," the teacher said urgently. What was set to begin was not a tale for a young girl to hear. Lina glanced imploringly at D, then, with a slightly sullen look, she left the room, displeased by D's indifference.

As soon as the door shut, Mr. Meyer looked gravely at D. There was nobody else in the room.

"If you're staying at Lina's, then I guess you've heard all the particulars from the mayor. To be honest, there are a few things I'd like to know myself. Personally, if there's some sort of connection between these recent events and what happened to us in the darkness-shrouded days of our youth, I want to be there when you find out who or what's behind it all. That's just the way I feel."

Somehow D managed to parry his earnest tone.

"If you have any memory of what happened ten years ago, I'd like to hear it. I only know what the mayor told me."

That he nodded without hesitation testified to the fact that Mr. Meyer's hard expression was in fact without substance.

"I'm sorry to say it, but what you heard from the mayor is probably all there is to tell. One day ten years back we were all playing at the bottom of the hill. Lina said she wanted to pick flowers and make some garlands, and I remember Tajeel—that would be the boy who still hasn't been found—being against the idea, saying it was no fun. In the end we boys had to give in—even at that age women just have this strength—and we set to our irksome task. Even I got a bunch and handed them to Lina, and then..."

"What then?"

"I wandered off someplace else, picked a bunch more, and then turned around. That's it. Next thing I knew it was two weeks later and we were halfway down the hill and headed for the bottom. You're aware that every conceivable technique was used to try to restore that portion of our memories, aren't you?"

"There's something I'd like you to have a look at," D said, changing his location for the first time. Approaching a sturdy-looking desk made of thick logs, he took a harpy-quill pen from a penholder fashioned out of a greater dragon's fang. He also tore a page from the block of recycled notepaper.

"What is it?"

"Just something I have trouble with, too." D's expression didn't change as he made two swift strokes with the pen, then thrust the stiff recycled sheet before the teacher's eyes.

"What... what exactly is it?" Mr. Meyer turned to give D a dubious look.

"It's nothing. Sorry about that." D balled up the memo page on which he'd scribed a huge cross and tossed it in the trash. The barrel was also of greater dragon bone. A beast like that was sixty or more feet of unrivaled ferocity, but not a bit of bone or a single tendon went to waste when they fell into human hands. In a small village like this, the greater dragons were seen more as a way for the villagers to earn their daily bread than as a threat to their lives.

"Have you been up the hill since?"

"No, not me. Nor have I discussed the incident with Lina."

"One more thing. Cuore Jorshtern went mad. Is there anything unusual about you?"

Mr. Meyer forced a smile. "Perhaps my students could give you a more credible response to that. I believe myself to be an ordinary person, but, to be perfectly frank, I can't prove I wasn't at the scene of these recent crimes. I live alone, and it's possible I've been slipping out at night without knowing it. Once the deed was done, I could've destroyed all evidence of my crime, then returned to being an average schoolteacher asleep in his bed till morning. I can't say for sure that's not the case. If Nobility who can walk in daylight really do exist, the victims of such a Noble would have the same physiological characteristics as the assailant—isn't that so?"

D nodded.

When a human fell to the vampire's baleful fangs and was transformed into a demon of the night, common sense dictated that by and large the victim would inherit the characteristic abilities of that Noble when they rose again. The victim of a Noble with the power to assume lupine form would likewise be able to take that feral quadruped shape at will; the Noble who could command certain savage beasts would gain a new servitor with a mastery of animals.

However, just as a newborn baby isn't a carbon copy of one of its parents, there were certain obvious differences in the genetically linked powers. A victim couldn't remain transformed for as long a duration as their master. In addition, while in that altered form physical attributes such as speed, strength, and regenerative ability would all be several ranks lower. These newly made vampires weren't true Nobility, but rather they were little more than pale imitations.

As far as the people of the world were concerned, the most important thing about these pseudo-Nobles was that, whenever one was captured, they could be used to discern the full strength of the true threat—the real Noble. A hundred and fifty years earlier, an official named Summers Montague investigated several hundred cases while traveling across the Frontier. During his investigation, Montague divided the victims of the Nobility into different classes, and also left behind precise statistics relating to the powers of their masters. Another tome on the subject, Methods of Discerning Nobility Levels Via Victims and Defensive Countermeasures by Nobility scholar T. Fisher, was widely read and handed down by the Frontier people, despite the fact the Capital's Revolutionary Government had banned the book.

However, the threat of the Nobility now assailing this small village would add an astonishing new page to humanity's shared knowledge; or, rather, the threat was so grave, it would shake the most basic beliefs people held about the Nobility, undermining the sense of security that allowed people to go about their daily lives. Nobles who walked by day!

"I'm aware that Vampire Hunters have their own special techniques of identifying and classifying the Nobility. I'll spare no effort to assist you. Ask what you like, or try what you will. You see, I still want to know what happened up there on the hill, just as much as you do."

There seemed no cause to suspect the sincerity of the young schoolteacher. D's left hand moved.

The teacher pulled away reflexively as the hand moved toward his brow. The movement was stopped when a knock sounded and a girl with golden tresses came in without

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