• “Thomas, do you think you have too many books?”
    Brushing back a few persistant locks of red hair that had escaped his long ponytail, Thomas rolled his eyes. “Do you enjoy being as stupid as you‘ve just proved yourself to be? Or is it just a phase?”
    The younger man laughed, lolling on a battered sofa that looked as if it had been handed down for many a generation, before finding its way into the cluttered room. Thomas himself was resting upon a chair that was almost hidden amongst piles of books, of assorted titles. Most were battered, with dog-eared pages and ragged covers. Many were coverless, in fact, the titles scrawled upon the flyleaves in Thomas’ slanting hand. Thomas picked one up idly. A Clockwork Orange. He had a few copies of the book, and he thoroughly enjoyed it‘s twisted language. In fact, he’d used what he’d called ’Clockspeak’ for a while, and it surfaced occasionally. He turned the book about in his hands, admiring it. However, he was not adverse to using one of his fruitful resources to silence an irritating noise, and that was exactly what he used it for. The book bounced off the young man’s head, silencing the laughter and making him glance around with a yelp, noting Thomas’ smirking face, immediately frowning and rubbing the sore spot.
    “That was…”
    “Uncalled for?”
    “Yeah…”
    Getting to his feet, Thomas stretched upwards, his back clicking. He let out a sigh as the young man glanced towards a clock, resting upon another pile of volumes, propped up upon a small stack of paperbacks. “Almost time, Thomas.”
    Letting his eyes rove towards the clock, Thomas’ face shifted into a mask of weariness. “Alas, you’re right, for once, Erik.”
    Erik was on his feet already, hands on hips, eager to move. Excitement shone in his eyes. Thomas was forced to remind himself that Erik was almost twenty. The emotion made the dark-haired youth seem younger somehow, and that made Thomas doubt about taking him on this trip. His doupts had postponed this event for a few months at least, much to Erik’s dissappointment.
    “So? Are we going to move?” Giving Thomas what he hoped was a daring look, Eric tossed his head back haughtily.
    “Evidently. Where is the equipment?”
    Erik gestured to a half-hidden cupboard, that Thomas made his way over to, around the stacks of literary material that made the room into an enclosed maze. Thomas’ collection spanned many eras, and the number of books had long passed the countable amount. Thomas had kept some of them since he was a young boy, and he knew where each one was. They all had their own place, and Thomas could find them blindfolded. Opening the door of the cupboard, Thomas removed a large case, having to lift it high over the surrounding tomes. “We’d better be on the move, I suppose.”
    Nodding, Erik moved over, taking the case from Thomas’ immaculate and pale hands. The red-haired gentleman moved through the maze of books, picking up a long, dark coat from a wooden chair and pulling it on, his long ponytail bright upon the thick material. He dug in a pocket, pulling out gloves and tugging them onto his hands. Erik was already wearing a jacket, made of a similar material to Thomas’ coat. He’d only arrived about a half-hour before, and hadn’t bothered to remove his outdoor clothing- knowing they’d be leaving anyway, he hadn’t seen the point.
    The two figures made their way down a narrow flight of stairs, Thomas leading, but waiting and locking the door as they made their way onto the street. The road was lit by gas lamps, and there was a light covering of snow on the pavement. Wheel-tracks sectioned off patches of frost on the road’s surface, and the lamps gave the area about them a beautiful glow. A few doors had wreaths set upon them, but most were as blank as they were the rest of the year. Glancing about them, Thomas lead Erik across the road, then down an alleyway, the two of them moving quickly into the maze of city streets, as most of the town’s inhabitants slept.
    “We’re further afield than you said...”
    Looking to his companion, Thomas nodded. “I think it may be spreading again, and god save us all if it is.”
    Erik had set the case down, and was staring at the building ahead of them. It was dark, and old, with boards in place of windows, and planks covering the door. It was a thoroughly foreboding place- one of the hospitals from the scientific era, filled with machines that were a mystery to the people of this time. A perfect place for it. It had been what was known as a Surgery. A sign that was now crumpled upon the floor told as much, yet no one, aside from Thomas, knew what that meant. To them, it was just another relic. They were just lucky it was small, just a house, really. Exchanging glances, they circled around the building, looking for the entryway. It turned out to be a cellar door, that would have been hidden by overgrown plants had it been summer, yet was a gaping hole in the tracked white snow. It looked like a mouth in the snow, a carven from one of Thomas’ books. Somewhere evil would live.
    Thomas, as ever, went first, dropping onto the floor below with catlike agility. The first time they’d spoken of Thomas’ work, Erik had doubted that the man could handle it- he had noticed crows feet at the corners of Thomas’ brown eyes, and the deep-etched lines at the corners of his mouth and between his eyebrows. Yet Thomas was not as old as he appeared to Erik. His profession had aged him, although his hair always remained the same glossy red, with not a strand of grey. It was understandable, with the stress levels accompanying Thomas’ position, that he’d have a few worry-lines. When Thomas had told Erik his actual age, thirty one, the boy had been incredulous.Thomas had laughed at that, although it did make him feel old. Perhaps he was aging too fast.
    Erik followed, with less grace than Thomas, landing with a muted thud that they would be bound to hear. At least it would make the job faster. As they proceeded through the dusty basement, spider webs brushed Erik’s face and caught in Thomas’ hair as they moved slowly, watching the shadows, Erik occasionally starting at something that wasn’t really there, Thomas as cold and calm as the stale air that surrounded them.
    The stairs were not wooden. That was good- with stone steps, there was no chance of falling through a rotten board and becoming easy prey, alerting the creatures with the smell of blood. Once they had that scent, you could never escape, no matter how well you hid or how fast you ran. They would get you, and god help any who were caught.
    “Open it.”
    Thomas’ voice was a throaty whisper, evidently effected by the dust which they’d both inadvertently inhaled. Setting the case down, Erik manoeuvred the catches back slowly, with two soft clicks, spreading the case wide. Set within it were two pieces of dark-grey foam, holding two pipes, each separated into three short, thick lengths, and a large number of small, red-and-green striped darts. Erik removed one, placing it between his teeth as he expertly slotted the pipes together. Thomas had made him practise until he could have done the task in his sleep, let alone in the depths of a deserted clinic. He removed the dart he’d kept clenched between his teeth, removing a protective cover from the needle-like point at one end, and dropped it into the tube, bottom-first, before pressing a button upon the tube’s side, ensuring the dart would not drop out until he wanted it to. He then did the same to another, removing two more of the darts and dropping one into the pocket of his jacket. He closed the case with as much care as he’d opened it with, before straightening and handing one dart gun to Thomas, who drew back the spring, the safety still on. He didn’t want to shoot Erik, after all.
    “Shall we go?”
    “Yes.” Nodding in the darkness, Thomas began to ascend the staircase. They were awake. As he came out of the stairwell, into a large room furnished as a kitchen, all the appliances dead and forgotten, he could hear shuffling and banging from upstairs. There were at least two, maybe three. A family? He hadn’t known them to breed, but perhaps, in the right circumstances… He shuddered, glancing behind him to check on Erik, who was sticking close. Thomas could tell he was nervous. Erik was new to this, and it was to be expected.
    “We should find the stairs…”
    Erik nodded, before there was a screech from above, and a thud.
    “Thomas, they’re trying to break through!”
    An attack from above. They had tactics, somehow embedded in their minds. Even Thomas couldn’t survive three leaping upon him at once. Without Thomas, Erik didn’t have a chance. Another thud, then scrabbling, as if the thing was trying to pry up the floorboards to reach them. Erik reached out, catching the sleeve of Thomas’ coat, like a child, scared by a fictional monster. Glancing at him, Thomas shot the young man a reassuring smile, and the hand’s grip loosened, then failed. “Come along, then.”
    These stairs were wooden, the guardrail smashed and several steps rotted through. There was no way they could go up, so Thomas decided to stay where they were, back to the boarded-up front entrance, watching the gap in the ceiling. All was silent, apart from Erik’s panicked breathing. They didn’t seem to be coming. Ears pricked, Thomas edged closer to the stairwell, turning his gaze upwards, before leaping back as a long, lean, grey limb, tipped with long claws, flashed where his head had been a moment before, catching a few long red hairs as Thomas jerked out of range, eyes wide, dart gun raised as he backed quickly towards the door. It dropped, catlike, without so much as a sound, regarding them with eyes that were little more than amber slits. It was entirely grey, as if it had been rolled in ashes, and it’s body was humanoid, although it seemed stretched until there was a vaguely insect-like look to it‘s body. It’s head was mostly round, and entirely bald, with a long, wolfish muzzle protruding, nostrils that looked like tears in the skin at the end of it. It’s mouth was open, and seemed crowded with glinting, hook like teeth. A scarlet tongue lolled, bleeding from scratches caused by the beast’s numerous fangs. It stared at them like a cat watching a mouse hole. Thomas’ heart triple-timed. These were the things he had to stop, the creatures which had taken away the world he read about and shifted the whole world back upon itself, destroying civilisation.
    They were created, by old-day scientists, to fight wars for them so countries didn’t have to lose men, engineering the beast so their senses were heightened, their reflexes quicker, the beasts themselves stronger, faster and more vicious than any human could ever be. They neglected the fact that every so often, some went feral, abandoning their units and living in the wild. Soon, there were areas where people would vanish, and then they began to multiply. As they were sterile, genderless beings, the scientists had given them the opportunity to create more of themselves through their bite, using saliva to attack the human genes and replace them, alter them…Thomas had seen his own father die, becoming a creature, writhing and screaming upon the floor of a dilapidated cinema. He’d begged Thomas to kill him, to jab him with one of the darts and stop him from becoming a danger to the world he’d tried so hard to protect. Thomas had refused, and his father had ripped the dart from his son’s trembling hand and stabbed it into his leg, howling as the serum began to kill him. By that time his eyes had turned, yet he’d saved his son with the little humanity he had left. Thomas had sworn that day that he would not be killed by them, to hunt them all down and destroy their twisted race for eternity.
    His eyes narrowed, and he slowly raised the dart gun, aiming between the eyes, turning the safety catch off. Slow and steady, don’t startle it into attacking just yet… To provoke it would be fatal. He fired, and the dart was launched, bullet-like, as the creature jumped, catching it’s neck and knocking it backward, gibbering and yelping. Thomas was already loading another dart, his back now firmly pressed to the decaying wood of the door. Eric’s dart gun was pointed at the stairwell. Thomas wasn’t surprised to see that the boy was shaking. The creatures were terrifying. Thomas knew what it was like to be faced with something so fearsome at that age. Eric would never forget this night, just as Thomas never forgot his first hunt.
    The other creatures attacked together, dropping and moving as they hit the ground. Thomas had hit one within moments, but he had to jerk Eric sideways by the collar. He’d kept the safety on his gun, and the creature had been almost upon him before Erik’s fingers could find the little button. A razor-sharp claw slid across Eric’s unmarked cheek, leaving a white line that slowly filled in scarlet. The scent of a wounded creature, fear and blood, made the creature stop, sniffing. That was it’s undoing-Thomas jerked the gun from Erik’s inexperienced hands and pressed the safety catch and fired, hitting the narrow left eye. The noise of the beast was louder than any Thomas had hunted so far, almost ear-popping in its intensity. The creature was evidently in great pain, and as the serum contained within the dart slid into the bloodstream, it began to convulse. Bloody foam spilt from between it’s jaws before it keeled over, back legs drumming a fierce beat upon the floor, Erik gasping, blood dripping onto his jacket from his jaw line, a curtain of red streaming down the side of his face as Thomas got him to his feet, supporting him as they moved back through the house, Thomas having to dismantle the weapons and replace them, as well as carry the case. They would have made a confusing sight for anyone out, but it was still night, and only the few hunters strayed from their relative safety at night.The creature’s threat was too great to even think of setting foot outside after twilight.
    Thomas got Erik out of the cellar with difficulty, having to convince him to move in his shocked state, and then fling the case out, scrambling up, snow dampening his thick coat as he hauled himself out of the hole, arms straining. Removing a handkerchief from his pocket, he wadded it up, before helping Erik press it to his face, removing a pocket watch from the depths of his coat and consulting it, before turning his gaze to the stars, a small smile upon his face. Erik stared up at him, curious.
    “W-we did it…”
    “Yes, Erik. And… Another thing.”
    “What, Thomas?”
    “Merry Christmas.”