Hunters in the Night Read online

  Hunters in the Night

  The Nightcrafters - Book 1

  by

  RAMSEY ISLER

  copyright Ramsey Isler. © 2016. All rights reserved.

  www.ramseyisler.com

  cover design copyright

  2015 Ramsey Isler. Photography (altered) by Viodek

  Creative Commons license CC BY 2.0

  (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/)

  All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Epilogue

  CHAPTER 1

  Real magic can only be done in the dark.

  That’s the first thing they teach you. I learned that lesson some years ago, when I was young and ambitious. My teacher was a charismatic man — handsome, confident, and brilliant. He was also extremely manipulative, but most good teachers are in some way. Headstrong boys often have to be manipulated to learn life’s most important lessons.

  My teacher taught me magic, but not the kind that entertainers in Vegas peddle to fat tourists. I’m talking about the real stuff. It’s the kind of magic that makes something out of nothing — the magic of legend and myth. I learned it well until I cracked.

  I’m not ashamed to admit that I failed as a nightcrafter. In fact, I’m proud to say I got as far as I did. Not many people would last long knowing the kinds of things that I knew, seeing the things I’ve seen, and doing the things that I’ve done. My teacher didn’t mind that I washed out. The graduation rate had never been high. Failure was always the more probable outcome. But he tried his best anyway. I loved him for that even after he kicked me out. He was just doing what he was supposed to do . . . mostly. He was supposed to wipe my memory clean of all the things I’d learned in the dark. But he didn’t, and his motivations have been a frustrating mystery since the last time I saw him. Maybe it just slipped his mind. Maybe he took pity on me and hoped that one day I’d return and be able to complete my training.

  Maybe he just didn’t want me to forget him.

  His lessons made me the person I am today. Most people spend their teenage years afraid of the darkness they saw in the world, but he taught me to embrace it. But the most important lesson that I learned from all that time in the dark was this: the nightcraft is dangerous and it needs to be brought to an end.

  There are . . . things in the dark. They are horrible, unspeakable things. The nightcrafter magic attracts them, and leads them out of their natural habitat like bloody bait tempting a shark. These creatures aren’t really a threat to the nightcrafters themselves, but they’re a big problem for everyone else. Innocent people become collateral damage.

  When I was a student of the craft, I didn’t care about the repercussions. I didn’t care about putting other people in danger. I just wanted the power. But, when my mentor left me alone and abandoned, I had some time to reflect on it all objectively. A few days back in the sun reset my moral compass to true north. I knew what I had been learning was dangerous, and I knew the magic had gotten innocent people killed.

  I had a new mission in life after that. I made a vow that one day I was going to stop the nightcrafters from putting innocent lives at risk. One day, I was going to expose the things that went on in the dark.

  How? I had no idea. But nothing would stop me. For whatever reason I’d been given a chance that no one else had. I’d seen the world behind the veil and come back with the knowledge intact. I didn’t have the details of a plan figured out, but I knew the gist of what I had to do.

  Sometimes shining a light on something is the best way to make it disappear.

  * * *

  I got a new job some months after my career in magic ended. It was a remarkable opportunity, and if I hadn’t just spent years learning magic I might have considered it a dream job.

  The interview process for my new career started on a wintry night in New York City. At the time, I was already working as a night watchman at a warehouse. It was a mindless job, but it afforded me lots of time alone and in the dark. In my solitude I practiced a few of the lessons I was able to master before my budding career as a nightcrafter came to an end, so I was able to keep my meager skills honed. But I never used the more powerful spells at work. Bad things can happen when you draw too much from the Rift. I understood that fact, and I acted with appropriate responsibility. But the vast majority of nightcrafters didn’t give a damn, and a lot of those assholes lived in New York.

  On this particular night it was snowing hard; the kind of snowfall that looks like white ash pouring from the sky. The snow and the biting cold meant that the usually busy New York streets were vacant. There was a foot of snow and slush outside, and the plows hadn’t even made a dent in it yet. I wasn’t looking forward to my trip home.

  My shift ended at five in the morning and thankfully Bob, the morning guard, lived close and was able to get to work on time. When I left the warehouse, the skies were still murky and full of flurries. The blanketing snow cast thick shadows against the limelight from the streetlamps.

  Dark mornings always make my skin tingle. The sensation is like an electric excitement that gradually grows stronger as the sun’s time to shine approaches. It felt like something wild was about to happen.

  It was freezing outside. I had a very warm knit cap, but I hated wearing it. I’d just gotten a buzz cut because I feel like a bum when it gets long, but I’ve got disobedient wiry Asian hair so when it gets short it juts out at 90 degrees instead of lying flat against my scalp. That makes the knit cap uncomfortable to wear. But it’s not as uncomfortable as having my body heat sucked away by cruel winter air, so I put the damn thing on.

  I trudged through the fresh, untouched snow as quickly as I could until I got tired of doing it the normal way. After I took a quick look around and saw that no one was watching, I cast a little spell to help me out. Although there was weak light from the streetlamps, the darkness was deep enough to let me conjure up a featherweight effect. Soon, my footsteps barely made a mark in the snow and I walked along at a brisk pace.

  The funny thing about nightcrafting is that you don’t need to do it in complete darkness. Sure, it helps a lot if you can kill every single bit of light around you, but your average nighttime scene is plenty to do some nifty stuff with. But you’ve got to make extra sure to avoid direct streams of light. It has to do with something about the frequencies of visible light weakening the forces that make the magic work. I have a rudimentary understanding of it, but that’s about it. I’m like a schoolboy trying to wrap his brain around quantum dynamics with only freshman physics as a reference point.

  I headed towards the nearest subway station to get my cold, skinny ass back to the Bronx and in a warm bed. I turned a corner and found a black Lincoln sedan stuck in the snow. The car had diplomatic plates. That’s not an uncommon sight in this city, but it was odd to see one of them alone in this neighborhood and at this hour.

  Next to the car, a stocky man in a black trench coat dumped kitty litter into the street for traction. The poor guy didn’t look happy about his situation. He reached into his pocket to fish out a cell phone. I didn’t make much of it and kept walking. I was halfway to the car when I realized I still had my featherweight spell on.

  God dammit.

  I could have just walked past the guy and hope he didn’t notice that I was prancing on top of a foot of snow, b
ut that would’ve been risky. I’ve seen my fair share of ex-military grunts who went into the security business, and this guy fit the profile exactly. There was no way I’d escape his notice. There was a remote possibility that he might just scratch his head and figure his eyes were playing tricks on him, but I didn’t feel like taking that chance. I couldn’t afford stories about me getting spread out here. There were still unpleasant people looking for me.

  So I canceled the spell and sank halfway up to my knees in cold, cloying snow.

  Son of a bitch.

  I grit my teeth and grumbled as I kept plodding through the wet, white mess. In about two minutes, my quads started to get sore. As I got closer to Mr. Black Trench, he gave me an icy stare. I gave him one back.

  Don’t ask me to help you, goddammit.

  He didn’t.

  I kept walking. I minded my own business and wondered if I would have the chance to bring up another featherweight spell once I passed this guy. Then that tingling feeling came back. It was stronger this time, and it was immediately followed by a sick feeling in my gut.

  Then the streetlights went out.

  “Oh hell,” Mr. Black Trench groaned. “What is this shit?”

  “Just a power outage,” I said as my vision struggled to discern shapes in nothing but the dim moonlight filtering through the clouds and snow. “The storm must have knocked down some lines.”

  “Wonderful,” Mr. Black Trench said. Then he rapped a knuckle on the tinted rear window of the car. “Ma’am, we’ve got another problem.”

  At that point, I realized two things. One, there was someone else in the car. Two, there was something else with us in the street.

  It was something . . . nasty.

  That sick feeling in my stomach grew to an almost overwhelming nausea. The tingling on my skin became a fierce burning. I couldn’t see the black-furred, four-legged creature that I knew had just arrived, but I didn’t need to. I was sure what it was. Nachtjäger.

  “You need to get out of here, now!” I yelled to Mr. Black Trench.

  “What are you talking about, man? Are you looking for some trouble?” I could see him reaching inside his trench, and then there was a glint of metal in the moonlight. A gun wouldn’t help him and he’d be too stubborn to listen to me. He would be dead in a few seconds. The best I could do was try to help the person in the car.

  I focused my mind and let the shadows envelop me. I disappeared fully into the night, confusing Mr. Black Trench. He drew his gun and he reached for a small flashlight on his keychain. That wasn’t a bad idea, but he’d need a lot more light than that. The nachtjäger was closing in. It growled — a deep, gurgling rumble that would fill any sane man with fear. Mr. Black Trench turned his little light towards the sound, but the rays weren’t bright enough to penetrate more than a few feet of the darkness.

  He was distracted now, which gave me the opportunity to approach the black Lincoln. I quietly lifted the door handle on the rear passenger door furthest from Mr. Black Trench. It was locked. That usually wouldn’t be a problem for me, but as I looked at the car doors I noticed this was a fancy new model and there were no key holes. That was a problem. I’d have to try something else. I placed a hand against the cold glass of the left rear window and whispered a spell I hadn’t cast in ages.

  “Rock to sand, sand to glass, glass to air. Sand blowing in the wind. Not solid at all. Glass to air. Not solid at all.”

  The glass dissolved into nothingness. I reached inside the car, unlocked the door, and went inside.

  The car’s sole occupant stared outside the other window, and she didn’t notice me slip in. That was probably a good thing since she most likely would’ve freaked out if she had seen me pull that little stunt with the window. Luckily for me, the whole process just took a few seconds. Mr. Black Trench wasn’t having as much luck. The nachtjäger had caught up with him. The woman in front of me jumped when she heard him scream.

  “We have to go,” I said. She spun around and gave me a shocked stare. She was a middle-aged black woman with a short haircut and a few crow’s feet. She dressed fairly fashionably, but she wasn’t wearing any makeup. Her eyes were wide and her mouth was open for a scream.

  “Wait,” I said. I put my hands up defensively. “I’m here to help. Your bodyguard is being eaten by a very big, very hungry creature. You’re not safe in this car. We need to get out of here.”

  She blinked. “What the h—”

  “There’s no time for argument. If you stay here, you’re going to die. If you go with me, at least you’ll have a chance. Decide fast. I’m not hanging around for long.”

  She was scared, but she wasn’t terrified. I could tell this lady had some experience with stressful situations. As her emotions gave way to cold logic, I could almost see the internal battle play out on her face. Her wide eyes narrowed. Her gaping mouth closed. When she spoke again, I could tell she was ready.

  “What should we do?” she said.

  “Run,” I said.

  “In this snow?”

  “I’ll handle that,” I said. “Just hold my hand and run. Whatever you do, don’t let go.”

  I’d never cast a featherweight on two people at once before. But I figured it couldn’t be much different in principle. I kept my mind focused on making myself light as a feather, and I imagined that the spell’s effect ran along my arm, across my hand, and over to the woman that I was trying to save from becoming dinner. Her expression changed. I could tell she felt something, but she didn’t say anything. We slipped out of the car as quietly as we could, and our footsteps left no marks on the deep snow.

  “How are you doing this?” she whispered to me as we scurried away.

  “Magic.”

  “Is that . . . real?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Surprise.”

  It was so dark I couldn’t see much as I led her away. We heard a sharp howl behind us. I felt my companion tighten her grip on my hand. “What is it?” she whispered.

  “A nachtjäger,” I said. “A hunter in the night. Very nasty creature that will start chasing us very soon.”

  “Can’t you get rid of it?”

  “Kind of,” I said. “I can get it to stop following me. But not you. I can’t hide you from it. Nachtjägers are smart hunters, and they go for the easiest prey.”

  “So just kill it then.”

  “I can’t,” I said. “At least not without some help. I never finished my training. Killing that kind of creature with just magic is way out of my league.”

  “So what are we supposed to do?” she asked.

  “We improvise,” I said.

  I had walked around this neighborhood many times since I started my night watchman gig. I always liked to have detour options to avoid trouble or annoying construction. I used to joke with Bob, my co-worker, that I could navigate this area with my eyes closed. Tonight I was going to test that theory. Of course, nightcrafters have other senses besides sight at their disposal. The craft provides a sort of sixth sense that I imagine must be a lot like how bats “see” the world through echolocation.

  I recalled the small professional photography shop about a block ahead. It was owned by an old guy named Oscar — a nice man who had given me some discounts on stuff when I was broke. I hoped he wouldn’t mind what I was about to do to his place.

  I ran to Oscar’s photo shop, dragging my new ward behind me. Her palm was so sweaty and slick I had to squeeze extra hard to make sure she stayed with me. I could feel the nachtjäger’s presence — still far behind, but getting closer.

  The store was locked up tight with one of those pull-down metal gates and a huge padlock. I took a moment to compose myself before casting a simple spell that solidified the darkness inside the lock and depressed the locking pins. Through the Rift I could feel the tiny pins rise. I twisted, and the lock popped open.

  The woman next to me started lifting the gate before I even got the lock off. I still felt no real terror from her, but she definitely had a sens
e of urgency. I couldn’t blame her for that. I could hear the nachtjäger’s heavy footfalls approaching.

  I slammed the gate behind us, hoping that it would delay our pursuer for a little while. The shop’s door required another quick unlocking spell. It swung open, we scrambled inside the shop, and took deep, relieved breaths. We’d avoided death so far, but I knew that the thin metal gate was too flimsy to stand for long against a nachtjäger.

  Sure enough, seconds later, the gate started to rattle. Then it started to crumple.

  I flicked a light switch on the wall. As I feared, nothing happened. The power outage had affected this block too. My female companion tried to feel her way in the dark, and she headed away from the creature as quickly as she could manage. “Where’s the back door?” she asked.

  “Don’t worry about it,” I said. “We’re not leaving.” I started rifling through the shelves of photography equipment in search of what I needed.

  “Didn’t we just come in here to lose that thing?” she asked.

  “No,” I said. “Trying to lose it would just slow it down a little. It would keep chasing. Even if we could somehow throw it off our trail, it would just find someone else to munch on.”

  “So what did we come in here for?”

  “These,” I answered. I held in my hands several boxes of modeling lamps.

  My new lady friend’s face twisted into a scowl as she said, “What the hell are you going to do with those?”

  “Just trust me, and help me set them up.”

  Oscar had a white tarp set up for budding fashion photographers to test out their equipment. It was in an open area in the back of the store. I walked to it as I ripped open the boxes and shoved a pair of the lamps to my companion.

  “So what’s your name?” I asked her, realizing that we hadn’t had time to do basic introductions.

  “Dominique,” she said.

  “Well, Dominique, I need you to screw the stands into the lamps, and then plug those cables into this box here.”