Demon Deathchase (4 page)

But in the Nobility’s age of prosperity, that had mattered little.

Superspeed highways wound to every distant corner of the Frontier, linear motor-cars
and the like formed a transportation grid that boasted completely accident-free operation,
and the massive energy-production facilities erected in and around the Capital provided
buses and freight cars with an infinite store of energy.

And then the decline began.

At the hands of the surging tide of humanity, all that the Nobility had constructed
was destroyed piece by piece, reducing their civilization to ruins hardly worthy of
the name. Even the power plants with their perfect defense systems collapsed, a casualty
of mankind’s tenacious, millennia-spanning assault.

While the situation wasn’t so dire in metropolitan areas, Nobility in the Frontier
sectors were stripped of all means of transportation. Though there were many in the
Nobility who’d expected this day would come and had established transportation networks
in the sectors they controlled, they inevitably lost the enthusiasm and desire to
maintain the networks themselves.

Even now, silver rails ran through prairies damp with the mists of dawn, and somewhere
in colossal subterranean tunnels lay the skeletons of automated, ultra-fast hovercrafts.

Before carriages became the sole means of transportation, accidents caused by the
failure of radar control and power outages occurred frequently.

To the humans, who’d learned how to use the scientific weapons of the Nobility or
could penetrate the vehicular defenses with armaments they’d devised on their own,
Nobles in transit and immobilized by day were the ideal prey.

Due to the intense demand from the Frontier, the Noble’s government in the Capital—where
the remaining power was concentrated—constructed special defensive structures at strategic
locations along their transportation network.

These were the Shelters.

Though built from a steel-like plating only a fraction of an inch thick, the Shelters
could withstand a direct hit from a small nuclear device, and there were a vast array
of defensive mechanisms armed and ready to dispose of any insects who might be buzzing
around with stakes and hammers in hand.

But what made these Shelters perfect, more than anything else, was one simple fact—

“There’s no entrance?” D muttered from atop his horse.

Exactly. The jet-black walls that reflected the white radiance of the sun didn’t have
so much as a hair-sized crack.

Looking up at the heavens, D started silently down the hill.

The pleasant vernal temperature aside, the sunlight that ruthlessly scorched him was
unparalleled agony for a dhampir like D. Dhampirs alone could battle with the Nobility
on equal terms by night, but to earn the title of Vampire Hunter, they needed the
strength to remain impassive in the blistering hell of the day.

As D drew closer, it seemed the surrounding air bore an almost imperceptible groaning,
but that soon scattered in the sunlight.

At D’s breast, his pendant glowed ever bluer. It was a mysterious hue that rendered
all of the Nobility’s electronic armaments inoperable.

Dismounting in front of the sheer, black wall, D put his left hand to the steel. A
chilling sensation spread through him. The temperature was probably unique to this
special steel. Perhaps it was because, to render the exterior of this structure impervious
to all forms of heat or electronic waves, molecules served as atoms in it.

D’s hand glided slowly across the smooth surface.

Finishing the front wall, he moved to the right side. It took thirty minutes to run
his hand over that side.

“Sheesh,” said a bored voice coming from the space between the steel and the palm
of his hand. The voice let a sigh escape as D moved to the back wall. If there’d been
anyone there to hear it, this bizarre little scene would’ve undoubtedly made the eyes
bug out of their head, but D continued his work in silence.

“Yep, this metal sure is tough stuff. The situation inside is kind of hazy. Still,
I’m getting a picture of the general setup. The superatomic furnace inside is sending
energy into the metal itself. You can’t break through the walls without destroying
the atomic furnace, but in order to do that you’d have to bust through the walls first.
So, which came first, the chicken or the egg?”

“How many are inside?” D asked, still brushing his hand along the wall.

“Two,” came the quick reply. “A man and a woman. But even I can’t tell whether they’re
Nobility or human.”

Without so much as a nod, D finished scanning the third wall.

Only the left side remained.

But what in the world was he doing? Judging from what the voice said, he seemed to
be searching the interior of the Shelter, but, if the outer walls couldn’t be breached,
that was pointless. On the other hand, the voice explained that destroying the outer
walls would be impossible.

About halfway down the steel wall, the left hand halted.

“Got it,” the voice said disinterestedly.

D wasted no time going into action. Without taking his left hand away, he stepped
back, reaching with his right for his sword. The blade seemed to drink up the sunlight.

Drawing his sword-wielding right arm far back, D focused his eyes on a single point
on the wall. A spot right between the thumb and forefinger of his left hand.

But what had they got there? The instant an awesome white bloodlust coalesced between
the naked sword tip and the steel—

A pale light pierced the black wall.

It was D’s sword that streamed forth. Regardless of how trenchant that thrust might
be, there was no way it could penetrate the special steel of the outer walls. Be that
as it may, the graceful arc sank halfway into the unyielding metal wall.

That’s where the entrance was. D’s blade was wedged in the boundary between door and
wall, though that line was imperceptible to the naked eye. With the mysterious power
of his left hand D had located it, then thrust into it. Granted that there was a space
there, how could the tip of his sword slip into an infinitesimal gap?

“Wow!” The voice that said this came not from the interior, but rather from D’s left
hand. “Now here’s a surprise. One of them’s human.”

D’s expression shifted faintly. “Do they have Time-Bewitching Incense?” he asked.
That was a kind of incense the Nobility had devised to give day the illusion it was
night.

“I don’t know, but the other one’s not moving. A dead man, at least by day.”

“The girl’s okay then?” D muttered. Most likely she’d been bitten at least once, but
if that were the case, destroying the one responsible would restore her humanity.
Why then did a dark shadow skim for an instant across D’s features?

The muscles of the hand he wrapped around the hilt bulged slowly. It’s unclear what
kind of exquisite skill was at work, but the slightest twist of the horizontal blade
sent a sharp, thin line racing across the steel surface.

Blue light oozed out.

D immediately ceased all activity. Silently, he turned his face to the rear. His cold
pupils were devoid of any hue of emotion.

“Earlier than I expected,” the voice said, as if it were mere banter. “And not who
I expected at all.”

Presently, the faint growl of an engine came from the forest, and then a crimson figure
leapt over the crest of the hill.

Raising a cacophony, a single-seat battle car stopped right at the bottom of the slope.

The vehicle was an oblong iron plate set on four grotesquely oversized, puncture-proof
tires. The vehicle was crammed with a high-capacity atomic engine and some controls.
The product of humans who’d got their hands on some of the Nobility’s machinery, its
outward appearance was a far cry from what the average person might call aesthetically
pleasing. An energy pipe with conspicuous welding marks twisted like a snake from
the rear-mounted engine to a core furnace shielded by studded iron-plate, and the
simple bar-like steering yoke jutted artlessly from the floor. Churning in the air
like the legs of a praying mantis, the pistons connected to the tires—and all the
other parts, for that matter—were covered with a black grime, probably some harmless
radioactive waste.

Perhaps what warranted more attention than the appearance of the vehicle were its
armaments and its driver. Looming large from the right flank of the rear-mounted engine
was the barrel of a 70 mm recoilless bazooka, staring blackly at D, while on the other
side, the left, a circular, 20 mm missile pod glowered at empty space. Naturally,
the missiles were equipped with body-heat seekers, and naught save certain death awaited
the missiles’ prey. And finally, ominously mounted atop the core furnace and exhibiting
a muzzle that looked like it had a blue jewel set in the middle of it, was the penetrator—a
cannon with grave piercing power.

Yet, despite the fact that it had a lot of heavy equipment not found on the average
battle car, judging from the size of the core furnace and engine, this vehicle could
easily be pressed for speeds of seventy-five miles per hour. It would run safely on
ninety-nine percent of all terrain, and, thanks to its three-quarter-inch thick wire
suspension, it could be driven on even the worst of roads. It raced across the ground,
a miniature behemoth.

A figure in crimson rose from the driver’s seat and jerked a pair of sturdy goggles
off. Blue eyes that seemed ablaze took in D. Blonde hair lent its golden hue to the
wind. It was Leila, the younger sister of the Marcus clan.

“So, we meet again,” said the girl.

Perhaps it was the animosity radiating from every inch of her that made her vermilion
coverall seem to blaze in the daylight. Her body, jolting to the incessant groaning
of the engine, seemed to twitch with loathing for D.

“You might’ve thought you beat my older brothers just fine, but as long as I’m around
you can’t steal a march on the Marcus clan. Seems I ran into you at just the right
spot. Is my prey in there?” This girl referred to the Nobility as her prey. She spat
the words with a self-confidence and hostility that was beyond the pale.

D continued to stand as still as a sculpture, sword in hand.

“Out of my way,” Leila said, in a tone she used for giving orders. “It was unfortunate
for my prey that they had nothing but this broken Shelter, and fortunate for you,
but now I’ll be taking that good fortune, thank you. If you value your life, you’d
best turn tail now.”

“And if I don’t value it, what’ll you do?”

D’s soft voice caused a reddish hue every bit as vivid as her raiment to shoot into
her face.

“How’s that? You seriously want to tangle with Leila Marcus and her battle car?”

“I have two lives. Take whichever one you like. That is, if you can.”

The serene voice, unchanged since the first time she heard it, made Leila fall silent.
The tomboy hesitated.

She hadn’t realized yet that the blade piercing the wall of the Shelter was there
due to D’s secret skill alone. From the very start, it never crossed her mind that
anything alive could perform such a feat. Still unaware of D’s true power, Leila’s
hesitation was born of movements in her heart to which she was as yet oblivious.

The man in black standing before her left her feeling shockingly numbed. Like a mysterious
drug, his presence worked like an anesthetic that violated her to the very marrow
of her bones. As if to strip the movement from her heart, Leila roughly jerked her
goggles back down.

“That’s too bad. This is the way we Marcuses do it!” Just as the crimson coverall
settled back in the driver’s seat, the engine howled. She’d purposely cut the muffler
to antagonize her opponents. The instant her hands took the controls, the massive
tires flattened the grass. Not so much coming down the hill, the battle car was closer
to flying, and her wheels kicked up the earth even as it touched back down. In less
than a tenth of a second it’d taken off again. Its speed didn’t seem possible from
a mechanical construct.

It made a mad rush straight for D.

D didn’t move.

A terrible sound shook the air, now mixing with a fishy stench. The smell was accompanied
by smoke. White smoke billowing from the burnt tires, the vehicle stopped just inches
short of D.

“You’re gonna feel this to the bone. Here I come!” Leila’s hysterical shouts were
just another attempt to conceal the uneasiness of her own heart. The foot that had
floored the gas to run down D had hit the brake a hair’s breadth from crushing him.
But why hadn’t D moved? It was as if he’d read the ripples spreading through her chest.

Without saying a word, he pulled back on his stuck sword. It came free all too quickly.
Sheathing it without a sound in a single fluid movement, D turned.

“I thought you’d see it my way. You should’ve done that from the get-go. Could’ve
saved us both some trouble by not trying to act so damn tough.” Leila kept her eyes
on D until he’d climbed the hill and disappeared over the summit. An instant later,
tension drew her feline eyes tight.

With a low groan, the earth shook violently. Though it weighed over a ton, the battle
car was tossed effortlessly into the air, smashed into the ground, and was tossed
up again.

Now that D had gone, the Shelter’s defense systems sprang into action.

Though it looked impossible to steady, Leila stood impassively in her car. She had
one hand on the yoke, but that was all. She remained perpendicular to the car throughout
its crazed dance, as if the soles of her feet were glued to the floorboards.

In midair, Leila took her seat.

The engine made a deafening roar. Blue atomic flames licked from the rear nozzles,
and smoke from the spent radioactive fuel flew from exhaust pipes off the engine’s
sides. The battle car took off in midair.

As it touched down, the penetrator over the engine swiveled to point at the Shelter.
Unhindered by the wildly rocking earth, bounding with each shock, still the car never
lost its bearing.