Hunter of the Dead

Hunter of the Dead by Stephen Kozeniewski

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Authors: Stephen Kozeniewski
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mouth was stuffed with cloth, tears flowing freely from his eyes.
    Topan sat across the table from her, studying her with something in between fascination and disdain. She dabbed her bloodied lips with a napkin.
    “Not shocked to find yourself a cannibal?”
    She shook her head demurely. His right eyebrow crawled up his face.
    “No? How can that be?”
    “Because you wish me to be shocked.”
    Laughing, Topan pounded the table.
    “Cussedness! I admire it. I admire it more than almost anything else about you. And trust me, there’s a lot to admire.”
    “I see you’ve lied to me. About a great deal.”
    Her father’s breathing was becoming slower, strained. He was no longer conscious. She felt strangely disconnected from the whole scene, as though she were watching it from somewhere distant.
    “Not so much as you might think. Most of what I said was true. I just held back the secret of what makes you so appealing.”
    “And what’s that?”
    “A potential beyond all reason. There is within you a potential to become the greatest of our kind, perhaps even to eclipse my own sire, Cicatrice. You’ll meet him in time. He’ll be very excited to meet you. And that’s no small thing. Cicatrice doesn’t let a whole lot of emotion cloud his day.”
    He sniffed at the air.
    “And now that I’ve turned you, I see that I was right all along.”
    She felt her hands beginning to shake. The hunger which had abated was washing back in. The purple mist pushing in on the edges of her eyes told her that though her reason was regained, her hunger was far from sated. She saw herself devouring the old man by inches, from the toes up as he still breathed (even if just barely), and consuming every inch of his freshly flayed flesh before feeling full.
    Unable to control herself she leaned forward and began to gobble away at the ragged flesh of her father’s ruined shoulder.
    “Yes, eat, eat. This first day you’ll experience hunger like you’ve never known before.”
    She blinked, regaining her composure.
    “But aren’t you eating, Topan?”
    “Not on fare such as this. Besides, this is all for you. Aren’t you famished?”
    “I am but this food tastes…”
    “Ashen?”
    Yes. Bitter. Worse than turned. Burnt.
    She leaned in and to her surprise her tongue darted out and touched a pool of congealing blood. It tasted…off, though. Topan was on his feet as she closed her eyes. She could almost smell something, something that seemed bright like a light in her nose. Her nostrils flared and she tried to follow the source of the light.
    Her eyes opened and her lips were pressed to the severed arteries of her father’s missing arm. She felt Topan’s heavy hand on her shoulder.
    “What is it? What do you sense?”
    “A power…a source…a…”
    She suckled at the blood still dribbling from the dying man’s arm. It tasted like warm maotai , and the warmth spread through her almost instantly. Her eyes closed and she entered a state entirely unlike dreaming.
    It wasn’t until Topan began shaking her that her eyes fluttered open. She finally felt full, but she looked down and saw that aside from those first few bites through his elbow, the father who had been her first meal was largely unmolested.
    “I’m sorry, Topan, I lost track of time and…”
    “Never be sorry for who you are, little one. I would say that even if you were no one of particular import. But would you believe me if I told you that in all my years of life I’ve never seen an immortal discover the power in the blood in her first night?”
    The young girl rose and stroked the hair of the man who had raised her and who had filled her up so. He seemed so pathetic now, like a crumpled rag.
    “At first I wanted to just eat him up. Strip the flesh from his bones and gobble it all down. But then I felt something. Like a light behind my eyes but I could smell it like an odor.”
    “It normally takes months, even a few years, for our kind to transition from

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