The Tale of Two Killers, page 8
“Instructor Huntsman,” a weary voice sounded behind Hamilton. He didn’t look, but he knew it came from another teacher on the grounds who — just by the sound of her voice — was concerned about the amount of pressure put onto someone so small. “The bell has rung for supper hour. Why don’t you finally let him get something to eat? You guys have been out here since morning.”
Ignoring the words of the woman, Hamilton brought himself back to his feet, not taking the time to dry the streams of frustrated tears that shone upon his face. There was a dip in his dark blond brow, eyes never leaving the man braced before him with cushioned pads strapped to his hands. Yes, he was tired, was hungry, and not to mention trembling all over, but he hardly noticed the fatigue and shakiness. As all of Hamilton’s focus was on the man in front of him, nothing else mattered in the world at this very moment. If he was faced with a hungry vampire, his mindset would need to be the same as it was right now.
“Leave us,” William said to the woman, keeping his eyes on the blues glaring back at him. “Let’s go, Hamilton.”
With his hands raised into solid fists, Hamilton held them up and followed the turn of the man just a meter away. He might be four and a half feet tall (137.16cm) and weigh roughly ninety pounds (40.8kg), but Instructor Huntsman could still see the potential in the boy.
From everyone else’s point of view, it could be said Hamilton was just about the last person who could instill intimidation into anyone, but his posture at this very moment, his determination, and the fact that he was the youngest student on the grounds of Gregor House, told Mr. Huntsman all he needed to know about this boy. He had what it took to gain the fullest extent of the Public’s respect one day, and if by chance William wasn’t around to witness that day, he wanted to be sure Hamilton was ready to prove his worth when he was older.
A second following the man’s command, Hamilton went for the attack, each of his quick flying jabs, swings, hooks and piercing elbows striking the pads strapped to William’s hands.
Better.
Much better.
There was a rage that ignited within Hamilton then, and those who looked on from a distance witnessed as this ten-year-old drove his instructor back. With each roundhouse, thrust and promising step, they displayed all that’d been countered toward him since this morning. There was a blaze in his heart, a drive centered within him that wouldn’t allow for even one slip-up.
Hamilton breathed as he pummeled the pads before him, and the second William took a step forward instead of merely rotating their position, Hamilton couldn’t help himself when the waves of heat in his chest took full control of his actions.
After finding his opening, he ran for the other man and leaped off the ground, grabbed onto Mr. Huntsman’s neck, and he heaved himself up. If it hadn’t been for the man’s quick decision to half-guard his face — Hamilton would have driven a serious elbow into his right eye. His knees were pressed to the instructor's chest, and when he locked his arms around the man’s neck then, he flipped himself over to drag him down.
If it hadn’t been for Hamilton’s short stature and lightweight, he would have definitely flung the other man over his shoulder, but he at the very least stunned William by bringing him down regardless before backing off.
“AH!!!” Hamilton screamed out with his fists balled tightly. His knuckles were just about purple, his knees were sore as ever and even the back of his forearms and elbows showed obvious strain from the hours he’d spent with the man now looking up at him from the grass.
William smiled where he laid, taking in the shine of Hamilton’s tears and the redness touched to the whites of his eyes. Getting to his feet, the man neared his lone student, and when he raised a hand, Hamilton turned his face when it seemed William might wipe them away.
He didn’t want any show of sympathy.
Not from his instructor.
Not from anyone.
Dragging the back of his hand over his face to clear his own tears, Hamilton said, “I’m going to supper now,” and then he started off without direction to do so.
***
When Hamilton blinked, he found himself standing in the center of an abandoned building. He was in East London and when he looked down at his feet, there was a pile of bone and ash upon the concrete below. The world seemed to finally return to him, and he witnessed the shake of his hands, felt the heat of the fever rush through his body.
That’s right, he’d been getting ready for a mission. Had his mind really been so mixed up all this time? How had he made it through this without proper focus? Was it truly the instincts instilled in him that made sure he reached the end on top?
Hamilton looked over his right forearm then, seeing the three tears trailed down the fabric of his shirt. He could already smell the iron scent of blood, and while the sting of pain he should’ve been feeling was numb, it was the condition of his body that spoke of his true weariness. With the fever throbbing in his head, the ache at the center of his chest, and especially the unsteadiness of his breath, Hamilton was surprised this last fight…however it had gone…hadn’t been his last.
Feeling like the walls of this building were closing in on him, Hamilton then tore the mask of his uniform down and tried to suck in a deep breath of air. He felt an inner tremble of his lungs, the strain it took to merely fill them as much as they would, and once they were filled, Hamilton couldn’t help lurching forward and releasing a round of boisterous coughs.
As he would usually try to hide them, this time he let them continue. It almost felt like claws were raking the back of his throat, and just as the times before, he witnessed a spray of blood spatter onto the ground.
Hamilton dropped to a knee then, unable to keep himself up, and he allowed his weight to fall over. When his exhausted gaze met the tall, dark ceiling overhead, a current of loathing surfaced in him when a blur of tears met his eyes. He hated crying. It was only natural to cry in your most dejected and weakened states, but such a thing had always been so frowned upon when he was younger. He didn’t want these emotions to show that such a thing as weakness resided in him. Crying was for the weak, the undisciplined, for children, and Hamilton refused to believe he was any one of those things.
Why, he questioned silently to himself, why did it feel like the world was catching up with him in such a blatantly cruel manner? This grip over his heart, this crimson varnish living within, all of it spoke a truth he was ignoring…
And he wanted to continue to ignore it.
Ignorance was bliss…wasn’t it?
Hamilton bit back on his lower lip when it began to tremble then, and he worked himself to his feet.
He didn’t have time for this.
Raising his mask back over his face to guard his mouth, he headed out of the abandoned building. It was like this was his first time laying eyes on the location. He could see the River Thames from where he was and many more buildings. This was a storage facility and when he glanced off to his left, he saw the drop-off van several meters away beyond a tall gate. The driver was standing outside the vehicle smoking a cigarette and waved in his direction.
Hamilton lowered his head and started over. When he was in the rear of the transport, he left his mask on and let his head rest back.
“Mr. Hamilton,” the driver said when he got the vehicle moving, “We’ll be making a stop at Headquarters. I have some paperwork to drop off before heading back to the House.”
“Alright,” Hamilton said in return.
When several minutes passed, the van came to a stop and the driver got out. The Public library looked closed down just like every other business on the street at this hour, and as Hamilton waited, he let his eyes gaze out the window toward the main entry only to catch the sight of a tall and familiar figure moving out the lofty doors.
That flowing hair, those broad, set shoulders fitted into dark attire, and that cool stride could only be one person, and Hamilton found himself rushing from the van. He practically threw open the sliding door and almost tumbled out if he hadn’t been able to catch himself. A frantic burst pushed him on as if the man walking along the boulevard might vanish at any moment.
I need to see you!
I need you…
“Demiesius!” Hamilton called out.
The far off figure halted in his steps then and turned on the pavement, having nearly disappeared into the alley alongside the Public library. Hands tucked in the pockets of his trousers, when his crow black eyes met the shining stare that seemed to request his own presence, the immortal held a beckoning hand out in the slayer’s direction.
Feeling accepted in that instant, Hamilton ran as if the most blistering of fires burned under his feet, and the second he was within arm’s length of the vampire, he threw himself entirely into the embrace he wished to disappear into.
Demiesius said nothing as he allowed the minute to pass. There was a question of Hamilton’s well-being on the tip of his tongue, but from the manner the blond man was dressed, and of course the unmistakable scent of blood wafting up at him, he’d recently finished up the task that’d been scheduled for the night.
“You can tell me,” the elder said then, “I will hear you, Hamilton.”
The slayer closed his hands into fists at the back of Demiesius’ coat, shaking his head, and he released a breath that finally stole the faintness in his lungs. “I — I’m alright. I just needed to see you tonight.”
Hamilton let his eyes remain closed at the soft touch that settled at the back of his head, such a fond gesture as a run of fingers traced through his hair. When he looked up into Demiesius’ mild gaze, he felt as the elder took hold of his right forearm to examine where such a strong scent of blood originated from. Hamilton winced when the sleeve was rolled up, and he almost felt as if Demiesius was more hurt by the sight of his wounds than he was.
“Did you struggle?” Demiesius asked, “With the task?”
Given he still managed to succeed, Hamilton shook his head, “It always looks worse than it is.”
“Hold still,” the immortal said, and when he released the slayer’s arm, Hamilton watched as Demiesius then extended the length of his nail at the tip of his thumb. He sliced deep into the palm of his right hand and a rise of almost blackish blood showed through the self-inflicted wound. Puzzled, Hamilton kept quiet when the elder closed his bloodied hand softly around his gash-littered forearm. There was a sting felt due to the disturbance of the gashes, but he winced for just a moment until any sign of agony faded.
When Demiesius stole his hand away, what would have left behind three additional scars to Hamilton’s collection of them, were gone as well as the blood that’d once been present.
“I don’t believe you need anymore,” Demiesius said.
Rather astounded, Hamilton looked over his forearm and flexed his fingers to see that the pain had vanished, and when he switched his eyes to where the elder had afflicted himself, his own wound was gone as well. “Thank you,” he said, “As I’m clearly in the middle of returning from a task, I hope…you and I will be able to see each other again soon.” There was a plea for such a thing behind Hamilton’s words, especially with the shakiness still present in his being. He was positive the elder could hear and see such a thing overtly as ever.
“I wish for it as well,” Demiesius seemed to promise, and since he could see the obvious fatigue within the other man, he reached out as if to cup Hamilton’s face, but retracted his gesture when another voice rose from a distance.
“Mr. Hamilton?”
The slayer looked in the direction of his name and met the eyes of his driver.
“I’m ready if you are.”
Looking back into the alley before him, Hamilton breathed out a sigh of desolation. Somehow the elder had vanished in the blink of an eye, but he felt it was a good thing the other man hadn’t stuck around. Neither of them needed to be caught in the presence of one another by anyone else.
Taking one last look over his healed forearm, he smiled faintly beneath his face mask and started for the van again.
It was time to get some rest.
Chapter X
The Worst Punishments Can be the Best Teachers
Waking up in a bed drenched in sweat was not how Hamilton had wanted to start his day. The sheets and blankets all around him were soaked, and nearly his entire body was dripping wet. Sitting up, he pushed the wet tangles of hair out of his face, fatigued, and he still suffered from the chest pain that’d crept up on him the other day. With the way his body had been acting lately, Hamilton’s worst fear was seeing a doctor that would know what was wrong with him. He feared hearing anything that wasn’t “it’s just a bug”, or being told that this was serious.
From coughing up blood to sweating copiously at night for the past week, Hamilton knew for himself this wasn’t going to be something that went away with some good bed rest. He could hardly even get that.
He was freezing when he got out of bed and stepped into the shower to wash up. Today he had to get ready for a solo task given to him yesterday, and if he was honest with himself, he was worried about being able to get it done. He wasn’t going to back down from it though. This was his job, this is what he was born to do, to keep the streets of London safe from brutal vampires, and he wasn’t about to let this, whatever it was, hold him back.
He was Hamilton H. Hamilton, the most capable slayer of today. Nothing at all was going to stop him from keeping to his obligations.
Exhausted, he stood beneath the shower head for several minutes, wanting nothing more than to sleep for a couple more hours, but given this task was taking place during the day, he hadn’t much of an option than to get ready now.
Over the last week at Queensland University, there had been a handful of murders taking place against attending students. Each attack was reported the same, details all saying the three students discovered were found off-campus with their throats ripped open and dry of blood. Though classes are still taking place at the university, there was a large section of the main building cut off for postponed construction, and that was where informants had pinpointed the location of the vampire committing the fatal acts. Blocked off from public use during the day, it was the perfect spot to hole up until sundown.
With the assignment of attending the university under the guise of an actual uni student, Hamilton was to find a way into the restricted zone, take out the vampire and call it a day. Despite the others he’d been on that involved sneaking around a number of humans, this sounded like one of the easiest he’d be able to accomplish in a long time.
Since this wasn’t a night obligation, Hamilton threw on a pair of denim jeans he could move around in, and a black and gold scarf print halter top with a warm brown cardigan. When his hair was settled and teased up a bit, he listened outside of his bedroom door when he heard a persistent tapping coming from the living room.
The same raven that’d been delivering letters on the days he and Demiesius didn’t see each other was at the window, and in its beak was another handwritten letter. After letting the bird inside, Hamilton took the paper and rolled it open.
Hamilton H. H.
Happy 29th Birthday. This may sound absurd coming from someone like myself, but I wanted to be the first to wish you it. Being just about two months since we met, I thought it appropriate to treat you to something special tonight. Given you have a task today, and I must attend an important meeting once the sun sets, I am sorry to say I will not be able to. Still, I invite you to my home to retrieve the gift I wanted the opportunity to give you. I do hope you like it.
Demiesius
After tucking the letter in a small box where he kept all the others he’d received, Hamilton opened the window to let the raven out, not intending on sending a reply back. With how stressed and agitated his body had been, he hadn’t remembered his own birthday was coming up. It certainly was April 10th, wasn’t it?
Twenty-nine, he thought, one more year until the big three zero. Almost thirty years old, Hamilton was genuinely surprised he made it this long. Living a life of constantly putting it on the line night after night, one did not think to live past their early twenties, and that was what usually happened to new recruits.
Becoming a vampire slayer was the deadliest job in the world, but…someone had to do it.
Securing a leather fanny pack around his waist that wielded his stake, Hamilton slid into a pair of brown boots and left his room in the instructor’s quarters to a van waiting for him outside. Before hopping in, he was stopped by Kingston and Julius. They were dressed in black running uniforms and jumpers, jogging in place with smiles on their faces.
“Morning,” Julius said, “We heard it’s your birthday.”
“Yeah,” Kingston added, “Happy Birthday, sir.”
Hamilton offered the two boys a smile, bringing a hand to his mouth as if to hide a cough if it surfaced. “Thanks, lads. If you don’t mind my asking, where is Samuel?”
“Right here!” the Austrian boy ran up. “Happy Birthday, Hamilton.”
“Thank you, Samuel. You boys be sure to listen to Teresa while I’m gone. She’s got a great set of skills to teach today, and I will be testing you all on them tomorrow.”
When they all nodded and jogged off to the track, Hamilton entered the van and closed the door behind him. The drive wasn’t too long, definitely not long enough to catch even a pinch of shuteye before arriving at the scene of the crimes.
Founded in 1842, it wasn’t a surprise the building needed a few renovations here and there. The main building was a gray bricked fortress all around, a clock tower reached into the sky, and the campus grounds were even and sustained, the trees surrounding tall and bare from leaves. Students attending the spring semester didn’t bat an eye in Hamilton’s direction when he strolled onto the locale. Although Hamilton was a man almost into his thirties, he could easily play the role of a student in their senior year if he wanted.
