- Chapter 2 -
The boy jerked awake. No, not a boy: a man. He was a man now, and the boy was just a haunting nightmare that pursued his restless sleep. For the last 13 years the events of that terrifying night had played out in his dreams, like some twisted horror movie being played over and over in his head. He had learned to block out the pain, eventually, although for many years it had driven him almost insane with grief and terror. Now he used that pain, the anger and grief that bubbled inside him at the very thought of that night, to fuel his vendetta against all things that belonged to the Dark. For after realising what the creature that killed his family was; that Vampires actually existed, he had decided to exact his revenge, and hunt down every last one of them. And so his life as a Hunter of the Dark had begun.
He got up and staggered towards the tiny bathroom. He flicked on the dim light, relieved himself and splashed some water on his face, then stood hunched over the sink, staring at his himself in the cracked and dirty mirror. He had a deep cut over his right eye from the Raging Demon he had fought last night – he had discovered that more than just vampires existed in the Dark – and a large bruise on his side where the demon had tossed him across the cellar of the old derelict house he had tracked the demon to.
He dragged himself back into the bedroom and glanced at the clock: 4:30pm. He had gotten home just as the sun had started to rise, and had instantly thrown himself onto the bed and fallen asleep. That was how he lived: sleeping during the day and hunting during the night. He had to. Night was when the creatures of the Dark came out to feast. To hunt a creature of the Dark, he had to live like one. He pulled the First Aid kit from out of a drawer next to the bed, then set about cleaning and bandaging his wounds. When he was finished, he lay back, running over last night’s hunt in his head.
He had been tracking the Raging Demon through Manchester for the past fortnight, where it had left a trail of missing people, until finally cornering it in an abandoned house in Gorton. He had wasted no time rushing into the house to slay the demon, following it down to the cellar, but there he had made the mistake of going head to head against it, instead of setting a demon trap, and that was how he had gotten injured. He had had no choice, however; the demon had been on the hunt, and had captured a human, so he had not stopped to think, he just wanted to save the poor man’s life. But the demon overpowered him, and threw him across the room. Then, instead of finishing him off, it had fled, leaving the human too, which didn’t make any sense. Demons weren’t afraid of anything, except perhaps stronger demons, so why had it fled? But that didn’t matter. Now he had to track the thing down again and finish what he had started, before another person lost their life. But first, he needed something to eat.