The Hunter and the Vampire のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 21 - チャプター 30

As I took Cyrus’s hand, I made a split-second decision. I’d not yet met his family, but with each passing second the likelihood of that shrunk further. And, even if I did meet them, would I be able to discern their true nature? A chef at work or a barman would be unlikely to do anything that would suggest something one way or another, and Cyrus was willing to tell me the truth. About what I didn’t yet know, but I had a feeling I wanted – needed, even – to hear it. So I took his hand, and I followed him out into the dark. He drove. It was a nice car, more understated than I’d expected for a man of his arrogance and wealth. The seats were plush and comfortable, but the dashboard was relatively low-tech. Actually – I squinted through the dim light – was that a tape cassette player? I thought they’d become obsolete years ago. I nodded to it. We’d been sat in comfort

I stumbled backwards, my hands moving automatically to my waist, wanting to grab a stake. Realising that I was unprepared – unaware of the danger I faced – my hand slipped further down, and I quickly crouched to grab the switch blade I kept in my sock for emergencies. I’d never been more relieved to feel a sharp piece of metal before. It wouldn’t do much against a vampire – and we’d come in his car, so I didn’t even have my supply of stakes in my boot with me – but it was better than being completely empty-handed. I swung into a defensive stance, my right knee bent and my arms raised. Cyrus rolled his eyes at me. “I’m not going to hurt you, Callie.” I snorted. “How can I believe that? You know what I am. That means that you know what I think of – of things like you.” I swung at him, all of my prior attraction having d

“And you’re sure you don’t remember anything out of the ordinary?” Trigger asked, tapping her sleek purple boot against the linoleum floor. Her boiler suit – orange today – shifted with the bouncing movement, tightening at her waist only to tug loose again immediately after. I swung my own legs haphazardly from my seat on the desk. Tonight we were in my old school – they often hired out the assembly room and larger classrooms, and it was a good second best for us when the town hall was booked solidly. We’d dragged in tables and chairs, though most of the chairs were left unused and had been discarded to one side, as the majority of us had opted to sit on the tables or stand. I’d settled myself down next to Sierra, who had been alone and off to one side. Though she was well-liked, there was still some unease between the other hunters and her, especially since the mishap with Old Tim. I&rsq

I leant back in my chair and stretched. My legs, outstretched and resting on the desk, shifted and jostled my latest stack of unhelpful documents. “I forgot what it was like to read this much in one go,” I groaned, resting my current book on my lap. “How do you do it?” We’d been working all day, and, as of yet, we’d found nothing of substance. It was exactly what I’d expected – I’d had a hunch, nothing more, and the hunch would always remain just that. It was a vague idea, an uneasy feeling, and there was no literature anywhere in Sierra’s collection to back it up. The sky had darkened hours ago, which made me feel even more separated from the outside world. Sierra’s flat was cosy and warm, with huge bulbs dotted across the walls, slung over her small, ancient television, and wound up the sides of her multiple bookcases. There was enough light for us to wo

The diner was crowded, full of locals who were full of gossip. I had to push my way through to get to the staff room at the back of the building, and I immediately regretted coming in through the front. It was early afternoon, which wasn’t usually a busy time for Ella’s, and, though it was bright and sunny outside, creeping through the wet leaf mulch and around the bins out the back felt less dignified than entering through the front doors, with the flickering neon sign overhead. “They say he jumped,” one old man was saying to another. "I heard that he was pushed," the other man retorted. “Ben, his name was,” said a middle-aged woman, before taking a tiny sip of her coffee. She looked up at me as I passed, and I smiled at her politely. Mae was behind the counter, and, despite the crowd, she was leaning against the bar and chatting idly to an older couple, who had l