A New Hunter In Town copyright 1998 by A. Fraser ______________________ The little town of Bladen was beset. Mayor Vera Cooper was beside herself, and she wasn't even twins. Vampires! One day you're the mayor of a typical, sleepy small town where nothing ever happens except for the librarian running off with an internationally famous polo player or the entire downtown section being flooded out when the grape juice factory exploded; next day -- or night -- you're the mayor of a typical, sleepy small town that's crawling with the undead. Mayor Vera had tried all the tricks. Every still breathing citizen of Bladen had suddenly become an ardent Catholic, armoured with enough crosses to sink a coffin. Garlic was now considered a standard household decoration, people had wreaths of it on their doors, complete with jaunty little red bows and winking lights. Holy water ran from the one public fountain in the square, the one in the shape of a little boy peeing. The hardware stores had run out of tomato stakes. Nothing had worked. Every night, the vampires drained some poor unsuspecting citizen of Bladen who thought they could get away with violating the curfew. The mayor hadn't been too proud to send for help. She'd asked for Buffy, for Blade, for D. But Buffy was serving several years' worth of detention, Blade was in Hong Kong, and D wasn't handy. No vampire hunter or slayer seemed to want to come to Bladen, and the vampires were having a field day. Field night. Whatever. The mayor sadly left her office in the Town Hall and started to walk home, wondering if she should just pack it all in and become a guerilla fighter like her Daddy had wanted her to. She probably still had the cache of semi-automatic weapons, the camoflage outfit, the requisite bandana and the ten year subscription to "Guns and Ammo" that had been Daddy's Christmas presents to her. The guns had no effect on the vampires, of course. The citizens of Bladen, though, had cheered when their mayor had stood on the steps of the Town Hall, cigar clenched in her teeth, mowing down vampires. They'd only gotten back up again, but it had boosted town morale for at least ten minutes. So preoccupied was Mayor Cooper with her thoughts of her new vocation that she did not even notice that the sun had set. It was nighttime in Bladen, when you were either safely indoors behind a phalanx of crosses and garlic, or you were the Blue Plate Special. She only looked around and realized her plight when she heard the tread of some really bitchin' boots that only a vampire could wear without serious damage to the Achilles tendon. The mayor looked up from her deep thoughts, and recognized the fact that she was in far deeper doo-doo than a privy cleaner after the cook had served bran flakes with prunes. Her path was blocked by half a dozen vampires. It wasn't hard to recognize them for what they were. Nobody else would wear long trench-coats, leather pants, high-heeled boots, and t-shirts that advertised products like "Bludbegone" and "Fangucreme for brighter, sharper canines". Somebody really ought to teach the undead how to dress, Mayor Cooper thought. "Well, well," sneered the head vampire, recognizable by the fact that he alone had no slogan on his t-shirt, and his trenchcoat didn't look like he'd been sleeping six feet under in it. The way the other vampires gave him a ten foot clearance and sat up at attention every time he spoke was a big hint, too. "If it isn't Her Honour, the Mayor. We got ourselves a celebrity dinner tonight." The other vampires giggled. "Yeah, a celebrity dinner." "We get a mayor roast." "How much a plate?" "Enough." Their leader held up a hand that hadn't seen soap and water this century. "We should be polite to our distinguished guest. Yer Honour, would you care to join us AS dinner?" He smiled, revealing his impressive fangs and a badly cut lower lip. Those fangs were sharp. "No, thank you," Mayor Cooper said. She was trying to be brave, but she wanted desperately to imitate the fountain in the square. Still, she was the mayor and all. Had to keep up appearances, and she didn't have any of the guns with her. "Aw, her Honour doesn't want to come to dinner." The leader of the vampire pack pouted. "Well, we'll just have to make her... what the hell?" This last comment was because, out of nowhere, like a bat out of... no, we'll spare you that cliche... like something really fast out of somewhere really nasty, a white van came hurtling across the town square. Travelling much faster than the posted speed limit for downtown Bladen, the van (a Ford Aerostar, Mayor Cooper noted) roared over the cobbles, smashed through the fountain of the little boy peeing, and kept on rolling. It was heading right for the vampires. The six of them, though, simply stood and stared at the oncoming headlights. Just like deer and rabbits. Mayor Cooper wisely threw herself behind the corner of Izzy Wallach's Apothecary and Gift Emporium, a store smaller than its sign, and peeped around said corner to watch what happened next. The front grill of the van raised itself, and twin muzzles of what looked like small cannon slid out. Puffs of smoke and the sound of gunfire made Vera think of her Daddy. But what the van fired out were not bullets, but wooden stakes. Three of the vampires fell clutching the wooden shafts that materialized in their chests. Two more were simply run over when the van plowed into them, falling like marionettes whose strings have been cut by the censorboard. The leader of the vampires was now the only one standing. He ran, the mesmerizing beams of light from the van having lost their arcane power over his undead mind. The driver of the van brought his vehicle to a screeching halt under the shower of water from the destroyed fountain. The door opened and a man dressed in standard hunting gear emerged, carrying a crossbow. He lined up the head vampire in his sites and fired. The last of the Bladen vampires fell, having found a quarrel to pick with this stranger. The stranger went back to his van, tossed the crossbow into the back, and reemerged with a long sword. With this, he proceeded to decapitate each and every one of the six vampires he'd just dispatched. With the sword still dripping with ichor and fountain water, the successful killer walked over to the Mayor. Vera had emerged from her hiding place, and was studying the gun muzzles hidden behind the van's front grill with a professional eye. Especially adopted to shoot wooden stakes, she noted. "They bite you?" asked the stranger, studying the mayor. "No, you came just in time," she replied. "I am Mayor Vera Cooper. You have my gratitude and that of the entire town--what's left of it. Who are you,a nd what kind of vehicle is this?" She indicated the Ford, which had obviously had some unauthorized adjustments. "Heard you needed help," came the reply. "I'm Harlow, vampire hunter." He patted the side of the Aerostar. "And this is my van, Helsing." _______ Everybody groan in chorus now... :-) gotchya!