The Hunter
By Ash Miller ©2001
Jonathan Rypdal was in a good mood, a sense of high expectation was flowing through him. The crate that he'd been patiently waiting for had finally arrived earlier that morning. Reading the label that stated it contained ancient artifacts, Jonathan couldn't help smiling to himself - well, it was almost true, he thought. The long awaited crate had been in transit from New Orleans for the best part of three weeks. During that time Jonathan had been preparing things for its arrival and, more importantly, making sure that he was ready to deal with the precious contents. The company that he used to transport his captures knew him well and asked no questions; they were extremely well paid to guarantee against their curiosity. The arrival of the crate, on time as usual, had finally set things in motion.
Once the massed ranks of deliverymen had left, it had taken six of them to carry the heavy crate up the stairs to the studio, Jonathan quickly set to work. Slipping the small silver key into place at the foot of the crate, he slid open the hatch to reveal a small control panel. His laptop computer was already on, so he quickly plugged the cable into the socket on the panel and double clicked on the reanimation icon. It took several minutes before anything happened but finally the small red light next to the socket began flashing. Jonathan now knew that the sequence had started up without trouble; after the crate's long journey, he was always worried that things might not start smoothly.
Unplugging the laptop and stashing it safely away in a drawer of his ornately carved desk, Jonathan began examining the room carefully. He wanted to be sure that everything was ready for the night to come; if he was to survive it safely, nothing could be overlooked. Once he was happy with the preparations, he left the studio, double locked the heavy steel-lined door and headed down to his bedroom to get some sleep. A long strenuous night lay ahead of him and he wanted to be completely rested, so that he would be thoroughly alert for anything. He knew that he couldn't afford to take any chances when he was dealing with a creature like the one concealed in that crate.
Patience
© Christine M. Griffin
As he lay there on top of his bed, Jonathan couldn't help thinking back to the hunt and final capture of his elusive quarry. He'd known for some time that Amanda was there, living somewhere in the French Quarter of New Orleans; the reports about her activities had been reaching his ears for months. The seedy allure of the French Quarter, with its wild mixture of poets, musicians and drunks, fitted a creature like Amanda perfectly. At first it had just been a couple of bloodless corpses found in the swamplands of Bayou Sauvage. It didn't take long before reports started coming out of more bodies being found badly concealed in several derelict, termite infested buildings. The corpses were beginning to mount up. Something had to be done and Jonathan was the best man to do it; he had a reputation for being the number one vampire hunter.
From the moment that he spotted her fleeting figure crossing Jackson Square, while he was sitting in the Café Du Monde, the hunt had been an exhaustive one. Over the next few days Amanda led him a merry dance through the strip joints and jazz clubs of Bourbon Street. The final trap, in the depths of the St Louis Cemetery, had been sprung perfectly. Jonathan finally ran her to ground close to the grave of the voodoo priestess, Marie Laveau. Many of the chicken bone talismans that had been placed around the grave were smashed during the battle to subdue her and Jonathan hoped that wouldn't mean bad luck. As usual he'd used himself as the bait in the trap; it was his job after all. Jonathan was determined to rid the world of the foul creatures, although he had some sympathy for them; it wasn't their fault, after all, they were just following their instincts like any wild animal would.
As the evening drew on, the house slowly became shrouded in darkness and finally Jonathan climbed the stairs to the studio, locking the steel-lined door behind him. Lighting the dozen large candles that were fixed to ornate wrought iron stands, as the creatures seemed to dislike the intensity of electric light, he placed them in a wide circle around the crate. After a final check to make sure that everything was secure, Jonathan walked over to the crate and saw that the flashing red light had changed to a steady green; the reanimation process had finished. Pressing the button underneath the green light, he released the six catches that ran down either side of the crate and was finally able to slide the aluminum-lined lid off to one side. As the lid clattered noisily to the floor, Jonathan finally got a look at the creature that he'd captured.
Amanda was well secured inside the crate, the strong leather bounds having been put in place as soon as she'd lost consciousness in the St Louis Cemetery. Her hands were tightly bound behind her back, so that the viciously sharp nails would be well out of harms way. Jonathan still bore four faint scars on the right side of his face that had come from one of his earlier captures. The creature had managed to free one of her hands and get a good strike at him but it was a mistake that he wouldn't make again. Laying there in the crate, naked other than the specially designed leather harness, Amanda stared up at Jonathan through stony jet-black eyes and hissed violently, baring her teeth at him.
Ignoring her protests, Jonathan took the two thick braided leather ropes that ran through pulleys attached to the ceiling. The clamps at the end of the ropes snapped shut on the harness's D-rings situated on either side of Amanda's ample breasts. With the clamps secure, he was able to haul her, kicking and spitting out of the crate. Lowering her down so that she was able to take her own weight, Jonathan tied off the two ropes and walked round to get the first really good look at his latest specimen. She was stunningly beautiful, with the athletic body of a twenty-five year old sports fanatic, although he knew that she could quite easily have been older by centuries.
As he gazed at her luxuriously opalescent skin in admiration, she tried to leap at him, only to find herself ending up swinging wildly on the end of her tethers. Darting forward before she could settle and gain her equilibrium, Jonathan grabbed the short strap that was attached to her right ankle. Snapping the strap's clamp onto the ring that was set in the floor to one side, he left her suspended slightly off centre. Amanda jerked about for a few moments but soon realised that she now had little room for manoeuvre. With a great deal of care, Jonathan then set about unclipping the straps that bound her long athletic looking legs together.
Jonathan could sense from Amanda's sudden stillness that she was planning another attack but when it came, it still caught him unexpectedly. Somehow she managed to twist and free her left leg before the strappings were totally off. Bringing her knee up sharply, she caught Jonathan a glancing blow to the side of his chin. Quickly rolling back onto the floor, he stared up at Amanda in surprise, feeling slightly dazed by the suddenness of the blow. Once he was able to compose himself, he grabbed her free ankle before it could do any more damage and attached its strap to the appropriate floor ring. Amanda was now totally helpless, Jonathan had her completely in his power and she acknowledged the fact with another violent hiss.
Jonathan could feel his erection straining against the fabric of his jeans and quickly undressed, leaving his clothes in an untidy pile on the floor where they fell. He could tell that Amanda realised what was coming, her erect bullet-like nipples told him that she was anticipating it too. As he stepped closer to her, Amanda drew back her perfectly shaped lips to bear two over-long canines, glistening brightly with saliva. He could just make out the tiny drops of blood at their needle-sharp tips, waiting to be injected into his blood stream if he gave her the slightest chance to do so.
Running the fingers of his left hand up between her legs to the warm mound, Jonathan felt her shudder as his index finger entered her. Then dropping to his knees, he let his tongue continue what his finger had started. Every now and then Amanda jerked back on her restraints, although she was also beginning to moan with barely concealed pleasure. As he regained his feet, Jonathan slowly ran his fingers around her hips, up her back and finally round to her perfectly formed breasts. Glancing up into her jet-black eyes, he still couldn't sense any emotion in them and quickly turned away.
Taking one deep brown nipple in his mouth, Jonathan sucked heavily then bit down, causing Amanda to gasp. He wanted to draw blood, to taste her blood. Of course he knew that he couldn't afford to get too carried away in the passion of the moment; just a taste of vampire blood was all that he needed, one small taste taken from each of his captives. The sharp coppery taste of vampire blood was unlike anything that he'd ever tasted before. He hoped that the old stories and legends were right, that taken in regular small doses, the blood would help to protect him if he was ever bitten while out hunting these creatures.
Finally he couldn't wait any longer, his erection was becoming almost painful with the anticipation and he entered her. Pumping into her again and again, Jonathan continued until he was utterly exhausted; Amanda had been everything that he'd expected her to be. When he was almost too tired to move, Jonathan finally staggered away from Amanda and leant back against his nearby desk. How he wished that he could hold on to this specimen, keep her captive for yet another night's passion, but he knew that it would be far too dangerous. No matter how security conscious he was, creatures like Amanda would find a way of escaping, given time.
Turning away from her, Jonathan pressed a button on the small handset that was laying on top of the desk. At the far end of the studio, the two thick black drapes slowly began to slide apart and daylight flooded into the room, drowning out the remaining candle stubs. The moment that the sunlight hit her, Amanda screamed and then, as it began to do its terrible work, Jonathan walked out of the studio; he didn't want to watch Amanda's death.
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Contact Ash Miller at: ash@homewithyourpc.net