Part 755 – Two Different Kinds Of Hunters

Ambrose looked down at his ring finger and imagined his father’s ring circling it day and night.

It made him smile.

It made his heart glow.

That day will come in weeks, in days, in hours, in minutes, in seconds.

In breathtaking moments I’ll never forget.

No matter how much longer my life may run.

I will always remember.

“Excuse me, sir.”

Ambrose looked at the young man standing before him. He wore his blonde hair in a long ponytail. Probably was somewhere between 20-25 years old.

But something about him made Ambrose think of Hildreth. He felt a strong desire to punch his face. “What do you want?”

“Do you have the time?”

Ambrose focused on time’s breath in the air. “It’s 12:05 with sixteen seconds left before the minute changes.”

“That’s what I thought.” He pulled out a horseshoe-shaped weapon from behind his back.

“Really? You’re going to stake me with that bit of hunter junk?”

“The DevilsDare 0.6 is not a bit of junk.”

Ambrose laughed. “Oh, please. Everyone knows that the whole line of DevilsDare products were discontinued back in 1996 for faulty worksmanship and consistent malfunctions. That thing’s going to blow up on you.”

“No, it won’t.”

Yes. He definitely reminds me of Hildreth. “Trust me. They always blow up. Maybe not right away, but after so many uses….BOOM! No more blonde ponytailed hunter. What a loss to the world.”

Doubt came onto the hunter’s face.

Ambrose extended his claws and admired them. “You really should take that bit of rubbish to a recycling center. They might find some use for it, but I sincerely doubt it.”

“You talk a lot for a vampire.”

His claws retracted. “And you listen too much for a hunter.” He stood.

The hunter raised his weapon and pressed the trigger button on the left side of the horseshoe.

The stake caught fire as it left the weapon, turning into a flaming projectile. It bounced off Ambrose’s shoulder and fizzled out on the ground.

“Was that supposed to be a warning shot? Or are you just that bad at what you do?”

“Shut up, vermin!” His next shot hit Ambrose’s chest – just a thin breath away from his heart. “That was my warning shot. Next one won’t miss.”

Ambrose nodded. “Very well.” He smiled. “I’ll dance with you.”


Barbara smiled as Bruce Springsteen’s “I’m on Fire” came on the radio. It had been a while since she had heard the song. Listening to it now solidified something she’d always believed.

The song needed to be longer.

“It goes by far too quickly. It should have one more chorus, maybe one more verse and chorus.” I wonder if Ambrose would agree with me.

Maybe he would. Although, I suspect he wouldn’t.

What if he doesn’t even know this song? Is that possible? Doesn’t seem likely.


The car petered out into a stop.

She shut the car off, waited a moment, and tried to restart it.

It made a dismal clicking sound and nothing more.

She tried again.

More dismal clicking.

“And it’s night time. Great. Now, what do I do? I wonder if The Cardboard Box has a towing service.” She pulled out her cellphone.

A werewolf sang out a howl that was so loud, Barbara could hear it with her windows closed.

She sat still and listened. “It must be nearby.”

Other werewolves joined in, slowly building up to the pure, beautiful howl of the alpha.

Even with her coat on, Barbara got goosebumps.

Goosebumps that chilled into fear.

The werewolf pack drifted into her headlight’s beam. There were so many of them. They stopped and looked to the alpha – a large black with gray ticking. He threw his head back and howled.

Barbara grabbed her phone and dialed the first number that came to mind.

The alpha finished his howl.

And they rushed into the attack.


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