The Hunt

With a dump thud, the wolf that had made a huge dart at him seconds before fell to the ground. River had pumped a good portion of bullets into his brain. For a second, he had thought it was over. He had underestimated the beast and had turned his back on it as it had lain dying (or so he had thought) with a bullet in its chest, just to hear something move behind him and turn back around to face the bared teeth of the wolf.

Wolves were a simple job, generally speaking. There was nothing supernatural about them; they only tended to run rampant when a werewolf was near – of that beast his colleagues took care right now. River had just been ordered to clean up the trail the supernatural beast entailed. He had taken the job too easily, had even been disappointed that he was not allowed to take part in the main hunt. Two years he was a beast hunter now, and still he was kept away from the really interesting missions. It upset him.

He entered the noisy rock café where he was to meet his boss as usual. River always transported his equipment in a guitar case. He sat down at the table opposite his boss, Ray, and placed the case next to himself. Ray was a guy in his fifties, yet still in good shape, with brown hair that bore the first grey strands and right now a huge scratch on his left cheek that had already been tended to. Brown ale stood in front of him, half empty.

“Tough fight?” River asked grinning.

Ray pushed the question aside with a wave of his hand. He was no man of big words. “Since you’re here, I take it everything went as planned?”

River nodded. “Was a tough one, but I managed alright.”

“I have another job for you,” Ray jumped to a new topic, at the same time pushing a small box like those in which guitar strings were sold over the table.

River knew that was his payment.

“Someone needs help with blood wraiths in the house he inherited. It has not been entered for twenty years, since two family members have disappeared who wanted to check whether the old tales about the spook were true.”

River leaned forward. “And you give me that job?!”

Blood wraiths were hard to defeat, they were class two targets, nearly the most dangerous existing. Usual wraiths were harmless, they only scared people. In single cases that could also have fatal results, but the wraiths could not directly physically harm their victims. Whatever happened to them happened because they were scared out of their wits and were not paying proper attention to their environment. That could lead them to tumble down stairs and break a few bones.

Blood wraiths, however, were filled with so much negative energy that they were in fact able to move objects, make temperature rise or fall and even make the blood of their victims boil. Messing with them was extremely risky.

“You’ll not go alone, of course,” Ray said in a harsh voice that underlined the seriousness of the job and brought River back to earth. “You’ll assist an old friend of mine. His name is Andreji. He’s a specialist in the field, more experienced than I am. He knows all the old rituals that are needed to keep the wraith in check. The location where you’ll meet up with him is noted in the box.” Ray drained his glass and stood up. “Don’t embarrass me, I warn you!”

River slumped back in one of the arm chairs in his flat. The microwave warmed up some convenience food with a buzzing sound in the background. His flatmates were still on a mission; he was alone.

He reached in his pocket and pulled out the tin box. With a faint click, he lifted the lid. A thin bundle of banknotes lay on top. River took it out and counted three fifty-pounds- and four twenty-pounds-notes. These kinds of jobs did not make wealthy. However, if he managed to prove himself during this big mission, his fortunes would change.

River seized the folded, yellowish sheet of paper that lay on the bottom of the box and held it over the candle that stood next to him. It was an old, cheap trick, writing messages using lemon or onion juice as ink, but it worked. Who would care to examine an old, crumpled piece of paper after finding it in a tin box with a few bank notes?

Slowly, brown lines appeared. “Sunday, 10p.m. No firearms,” stood there. An address somewhere in the county East Yorks was scribbled beneath.

River lifted an eyebrow. No details? How was he supposed to know what to prepare for, and how was he supposed to find this Andreji if he did not even know what the guy looked like? In addition, he was not even allowed to bring firearms? Ray had taught him the basics of sword fighting, yet he had had few opportunities to collect practical experience.

He rose from his seat and crossed the room to find a book. The old leather-bound tomes that rested heavily on the lower shelves were not his – he could not have afforded them. It was handy to have other beast hunters living with him. As he opened the volume he had sought, the bell of the microwave sounded, indicating that his meal was ready. He took it out, hurried over to the table to set it down since it was hot, and fetched a fork.

The book resting on his lap, he shoved a fork full of food into his mouth, at the same time browsing the pages to find the information he needed. There it was – the article about blood wraiths. After a long essay about the origins of the spectres, there was a paragraph about the hunting tactics. It highly advised to seek the help of someone who could act on the spiritual level, someone with supernatural senses. River could only hope that Ray had hired Andreji out of this reason. Yet, the tome also suggested using a special sword that was not only made of silver – as was common amongst beast hunters for obvious reasons – but also held a special combination of crystals.

River sighed and abandoned his meal to walk over to Lukas’ rooms. In fact, they were more like a flat of its own since Lukas was the eldest of them and the one who handled the hardest jobs and therefore earned the most money. The books were his, too. River hesitated. He had lent something from Lukas without his knowledge before. Lukas had not been amused; especially since River had not been able to give it back.

Offhandedly, he pulled his mobile out of his trouser pocket and dialled Lukas’ number. If he was still busy, his mobile would be switched off. Yet it rang and after a few seconds, Lukas answered.

“Hey, mermaid. What’s so important that you disturb my well earned leisure-time?” River was greeted. ‘Mermaid’ was a very stupid nickname he was stuck with ever since he had landed head first in the sea during one of his first jobs. Lukas’ sense of humour was lame, so River had long since stopped fighting against the name.

“Hey you!” he answered instead. “Cut off a few heads tonight?”

A smug laugh came out of the speaker. “Just one, but a very big and hairy one for that. Had to follow that beast for miles until we finally got hold of it.”

So he had been given the werewolf job. It was custom not to speak about their tasks, not even amongst other hunters, so River was always left guessing.

“I was wondering whether you might have a sword made of nagal, whatever that is.”

“Yeah, I have. What d’you need it for?”

“-A job,” River answered curtly.

“What? Ray’s given you the blood wraith mission? Wow, so he’s really running low on men recently. I thought he just wanted to persuade me by claiming there was no one else available.”

River’s face darkened. “When did he ask you?”

“-This morning. I told him I’d had enough dangerous jobs this month.”

River swallowed the disappointment that he felt hearing that he had not been Ray’s first choice but rather a last resort. “So, what about the sword?”

“I’ll be home by tomorrow morning. I’ll give you the sword then and a free training session on top. Is that alright?”

River agreed and hung up.

On Sunday, River took the train to the town closest to the haunted house that was located somewhere in the rural area. In front of the mirror in the train toilet, he checked his appearance. His Japanese roots on his mother’s side caused him to always look a little boyish in comparison to the men around him (especially in terms of body size), yet he had acquired some muscles in the past years. His slitted, dark eyes stood in strange contrast to the wheat-coloured hair that he had inherited from his father and fell onto his shoulders. He tied it together to a tight ponytail so it would not hinder him in action.

At six p.m. he got off the train. Half an hour later, a bus took him to the village from which he would have to walk. It was the last bus that day.

The countryside lay peaceful as River walked along the worn out street. Since it was summer, the sun stood still high despite the advanced time of the day. A cool breeze floated over the yellow cornfield, easing the stroll in the heat, and still his shirt clung to his sticky skin. He rolled the sleeves up and undid some of the upper buttons.

Around seven thirty, a grand manor came into view. That had to be the haunted house. River sat down on a nearby rock. ‘Never go near a class one or two target alone’ - that was one of the first rules that had been hammered into his mind when he had joined the force. He lit a cigarette. He smoked seldom, but there was still so much time left until the action would start.

The sun slowly sank towards the horizon and drew long shadows. The field changed from a bright yellow to a soft orange. Crickets started chirping and swallows cut through the air to catch insects in flight. A mouse ran along the border of the field, then jumped over the street past him into the high grass.

At half past nine, the sun had disappeared, leaving only the greyish blue of a darkening night sky behind. River sat bent over, his elbows resting on his knees, his head resting in his hands, and his feet shifting impatiently. Suddenly, his hair fell loosely to his shoulders.

River jumped up and turned around in alarm. A man around a head taller than him with a knife in his hand stood directly behind the rock he had been sitting on. He was athletic in built with snow white hair falling onto his chest. He let his gaze wander over River’s body and held up the remains of River’s hair tie. “Could have been your throat,” he said with a smooth, dark voice.

River refused to reply to that and instead dug in his pockets for a new tie.

“So you’re the assistant Ray promised?” the other man asked, putting his knife away and pushing the piece of cloth that covered River’s bag aside to eye his equipment.

“And you are Andreji, I take it,” River replied curtly, still a little agitated. “I hope Ray is right and you can do more than sneaking up behind people.”

Andreji smiled amusedly. “Don’t worry.” He cocked his head. “And don’t be mad at me. That will only distract you from work. I just could not resist, seeing you this inattentive. I apologise,” he said, putting forward his hand.

Something about the intense way in which he stared at him and the mild smile he carried made River feel that Andreji was sincere. He accepted the apology and shook his hand. Andreji had a tight grip. He tried to match it.

“An onyx-sword is a good thing, although I hope we will not need that,” Andreji said, motioning to River’s bag.

“It’s not onyx, it’s nagal,” River corrected him.

Andreji eyed him from the side. “‘Nagal’ is an old German word for onyx, no longer used these days.”

“Oh,” River cursed himself silently. That did not seem to be his day.

“Let us go,” Andreji said, leisurely walking ahead, one hand in his pocket. He wore a light cotton suit that was partly covered in dirt. In his long hair stuck a few half-rotten leaves.

River seized his bag and followed behind. “You’ve got dirt all over you,” he informed Andreji.

The older man did not seem distraught by that news. He shrugged. “Happens.” He slipped out of his jacket, shook it once, so a good portion of the dirt fell of, and threw it over his shoulder.

“You’re not just coming from another job, are you?” River asked intrigued.

Andreji smiled mysteriously.

“Where’s your equipment, anyway?” River asked on.

“I’ve got a few things on my body. I don’t think sharp weapons will be needed tonight, although it’s never wrong to undertake safety measures,” Andreji motioned once more to River’s bag.

“May I ask another question or are you annoyed already?”

Andreji laughed out softly. Somewhere in River’s lower regions something stirred upon hearing this warm, voluminous tone. “Go ahead.”

“Have you trained to become beast hunters together or how have Ray and you befriended each other?” Andreji did not actually look as old as Ray; were it not for his white hair, River would have thought him to be thirty, perhaps thirty-five.

“No, we’ve met during a hunt. I would not say that we are friends, however. We have just met that one time and Ray calls me when he needs a tricky job done.”

“I see.” They had reached the gate to the front garden of the manor. “So, how are we going to proceed?”

“Just accompany me and hold my back free. Do not move a finger unless I tell you to. Have you painted any signs on your body in preparation?”

River shook his head. “Should I have?”

“No. On the contrary – that would only provoke the wraith. Keep your sword in its sheath as well. I would not like to risk an unnecessary fight.”

River set up a puzzled face. “How else are you going to defeat it?”

Andreji threw his jacket on the fence. “Why defeat? All we try to do is stop the wraith from killing any more people.”

River frowned in wonder. “You’re the first beast hunter I meet who aims for peaceful solutions.”

Andreji smiled whimsically and shrugged. “Makes me likeable, does it not?”

The way Andreji held his gaze sent a strange sensation through River’s body. No colleague had ever flirted with him. No colleague even knew that he had a weakness for men. After all, beast hunters had to be tough – and toughness was not what people associated with fags. “We will see how you fare,” he countered, attempting to send the same gaze back.

Andreji nodded towards the door. He pulled out the keys and after using some force to open the door since it was stuck, they cautiously stepped into the entrance hall.

“Shall we go up and work our way searching the rooms downwards?” River whispered.

“No need to lower your voice,” Andreji replied. “No sneaking up this time.” He peered up the stairs. “It is not very smart to give a blood wraith a good chance to push you down a set of stairs or a balcony or something comparable. It will be best to start on the ground floor and hope to have luck. Blood wraiths do not usually play hide and seek.”

River smiled faintly, looking about. He turned to the right. They searched one room after the other. At first, at the far end of the house, there had been several empty rooms. Apparently the last inhabitants had had no use for them. Then they entered a huge kitchen area holding three old hearths made of bricks.

In the pantry, there was a trap door. River knelt down to open it.

“No,” Andreji held him back. He stood in the far corner of the room.

“What’s up?” River asked concernedly.

“Do you not smell that stench? It is sickening me already with that door closed.” His face was contorted to a grimace.

River inhaled deeply. Andreji was right – there was a thick, sweet stench in the air, although he did not find that as sickening as Andreji claimed it was. “There are two people missing…”

Andreji nodded. “Yet that has been twenty years ago. We would not smell that. This is fresher death.”

River remembered something. “There was a broken window in one of the rooms…”

Andreji smirked. “Exactly what I have been thinking. I guess someone has been breaking in to check what is to gain here. His excursion into the cellar to have a look at the wine collection has not done him any good. He should have known better. Drinking was never a solution.” He smirked smugly.

“Is that the kind of humour one develops after a year or two of hunting too much?”

Andreji held up his hands, his smug smile only broadening. “Touché.” He turned towards the door. “Must have been the fumes. Let us move on.”

As they re-entered the entrance hall, a door near the stairs crashed shut.

“Well, if that is not a polite welcome…” Andreji stood still, apparently listening for something. “Do me a favour and do not mutter a single syllable from now on.” His voice had instantly gained back its serious tone.

Of course, a flood of questions entered River’s brain exactly at that moment. He felt helpless without a weapon in his hands. However, he followed Andreji’s commands.

Andreji did something strange. He stepped into the middle of the hall and started putting his clothes in the right order, brushing away the filth on his trousers, combing with his fingers through his hair so that the leaves fell to the floor, and actually braiding it. Finally, he stood up straight and called something out with his voluminous, deep voice. It was a strange language; River could hardly tell one word from the other.

The door flung open again and a cold storm emerged from it, tearing at Andreji’s clothes and hair. Andreji stood perfectly still. After a short while, the storm stopped abruptly. Andreji bowed into the door’s direction, although there was nobody to be seen. Straightening up again, he approached it with confident steps.

River followed him reluctantly.

The door led to the library, a huge room spanning two floors. The upper shelves were only accessible through climbing the ladders. Even though River searched every corner of the room with his flash light, he saw nothing unusual. On the other hand, he did not know what a wraith looked like anyway.

Andreji meanwhile had recommenced speaking in that unfamiliar tongue. River froze when he heard a second voice, a mere whisper but clearly audible. For a few moments Andreji conversed with it.

Suddenly, without any warning, Andreji turned, walked up to River and tore open his shirt. For a millisecond his eyes rested on River’s bare chest. He totally ignored River’s protests. “Sword,” was all he said, or rather commanded in a harsh tone, when the storm flared up again.

Andreji jumped into the middle of the room, already several items in his hand and started to draw strange signs onto the floor.

River drew his sword, his heart beating wildly. What was happening? Had Andreji not said he would solve the problem by other means?

The white haired man now threw some liquid into the air. In the dim light of the pocket lamp, River could not make out any details. Yet, something stirred in the air over Andreji’s signs. “Target,” his companion shouted curtly, indicating the place River was already eyeing.

River put the torch light on a shelf so it pointed in the right direction and headed forward to strike. It seemed totally stupid to him, suddenly, to fight a ghost with a sword. Yet he had no alternative. He struck once and felt a physical resistance against his blade, but it was awkward nonetheless. This was no usual sword fight; River did not see where he could hurt his enemy the most. It would be pure luck if he succeeded.

He felt a presence, something that pressed cold and tightly against his chest and kept him from breathing. He struck out once more into the blind. He had no idea where Andreji was and what he was doing. A hiss sounded, and River was thrown backwards. He collided hard with a shelf. He yelled out in pain. The sword slipped from his hand. River tried to get up again, but the hard impact had stunned him momentarily. He hardly managed to take in any air. On all fours he gasped to stay conscious at all.

A scratching noise beside him caught River’s attention, and he managed to look up to see how Andreji disappeared with the sword up one of the ladders out of the lamplight. His gasping mingled with the hissing of the wraith and the noises of the sword cutting through the air.

Moments later, Andreji landed smoothly on the floor in front of River. He straightened up, his hair enveloping his upper body. The sword fell clinking to the floor. “Be glad I was the first to seize that,” Andreji said coolly.

River managed to get a little more air into his lungs with every breath. “You…,” he inhaled a few times, “you must regard me as totally incompetent, now.” He dared to shift into a sitting position, so he could look up at Andreji.

“No, I don’t - but I dispute the competence of your trainer.” Andreji bent forward, seized River’s arm, and helped him up.

“The sword,” River objected as Andreji started to lead him out.

“You can fetch that later.”

By the time they exited the garden, River could breathe normally again. Andreji examined the place on his back where he had made contact with the shelf. There were some large bruises, but there were no broken ribs or any similarly severe injuries.

“What went wrong?” River asked as he turned around to face Andreji. “What was that with my shirt?”

Andreji looked seriously at him. “Your tattoo.”

River gazed at him questioningly.

“Do you know what it means?” Andreji asked, still with a strict tone.

River shook his head, puzzled. “That was the present to my sixteenth birthday, eight years ago, of my mother’s brother. He said it was some sort of protection sign.”

Andreji smirked. “It is. It is the Japanese sign against yûrei, dark spirits.”

Slowly it dawned on River what had gone wrong. “The wraith was provoked by it, as you had foretold.”

Andreji leaned with crossed arms against a nearby tree. “Yes.”

“I fucked up.” River drew his hand through his hair.

“One could say so.” Andreji’s voice had a playful note.

“How can I make that up to you?” River asked.

Andreji’s eyes roamed over his body. “I am sure you will find a way. You seem quite the creative type.”

River’s heart pounded faster. Did the man just insinuate what River thought he was? “What are you playing at?” he asked, eyeing his colleague intently. “Are you flirting with me?”

Andreji smiled smugly. “Would you like me to?”

River shook his head, grinning. So the guy liked to play. And it made River feel queasy. He tried to keep up with the elder man in their little wordplay. “Is that how you pull your bed mates? Requesting some youngster to help you out from Ray and then showing off during the mission so that the boys melt?”

A low chuckle rose out of Andreji’s throat. “You are melting? I was not aware you were that taken with me…”

River fought hard against the blush that threatened to rise to his face. God, the man had self-confidence! And now he was actually inching towards him.

River managed to lift his head and hold the icy, captivating gaze.

The tall man brushed a loose strand of River’s blond hair behind his ear. His touch was soft and sent sparks over River’s skin. He had goose bumps, despite the mild temperatures.

As if hinting at what he was planning to do, Andreji moved his thumb over River’s full lips. –hearing no protest, he bent lower, and breathed the smallest of kisses on the expectant mouth.

Sweet agony, River could not help but think. He took the initiative and deepened their encounter. He had to reign himself in not to moan as their tongues did a slow dance, their lips meeting softly every now and again. Did he actually swagger, so that Andreji caught him and pulled him into a strong embrace?

And whose damn mobile rang at night in the middle of nowhere?

Andreji ended the kiss (No!) and reached into his trouser pocket. His voice was surprisingly controlled as he answered the call and let go of River.

The younger man covertly wiped his mouth while he watched the other man speak. River was confused, but at the same time he could not help but want more of this.

Andreji hang up and turned back towards him. “I’m sorry to have to end this so abruptly, but I have another appointment,” he informed River. “Nice to have made your acquaintance,” he added smugly and eyed him up once more.

River was disappointed and perplexed. It took him a moment to answer. “How do you get away from here? Do you have a car? Could you take me along?” He then babbled.

Andreji shook his head. “Sorry, impossible.” He bent down and brushed his lips once more against those of the young man. “Good bye,” he whispered seductively into his ear and headed off. Within seconds, Andreji had disappeared behind the manor.



Slightly edited version.
Please review!


Edit 18/12/08: I've changed the scene in which they get intimate. The first version always felt wrong. Adjustments in later chapters that refer to this scene will be made.