A gaunt. Nicholas muttered mild oaths as he jogged down the concourse, absently snatching the nearest absorbent-seeming item—a pink Care-Bear—from the floor and wiping his blade clean as the power he’d summoned faded from his body. There was a gaunt, here, in the middle of a freaking shopping mall. That was impossible; if a gaunt had migrated anywhere close to this kind of urban area, the Watcher should have already known. A Hunter squad should have intercepted it before it got this far. Where were the other Hunters? Did any of them even know?
Nicholas achieved the stairs and sheathed his sword on the first landing, snatching his gun out as soon as his hands were free. There was no time to call for backup, he thought as he began switching empty shells for fresh ones dug from his duster’s pocket, and even if there was, it would do him little good. He had never registered with HunterNet, preferring the autonomy of working solo unless Providence dictated otherwise. He had no call sign, like the others did, only the snide ones he made up on the occasions he hacked the Net to see if anything was happening in his area. He had never even called for assistance before. He had never had to call; if he had needed help in the past, it had generally happened to be there already, and no Hunter in his right mind would turn away aid from a comrade.
And now he was facing a gaunt, alone, with no tactics, no plan, no allies, and very little armaments—and his faith, on which Nicholas was by now accustomed to having to depend. Safely back on the upper level, Nicholas jogged back towards the intersection, keeping his footfalls as light as possible and praying for inspiration to strike him.
The gaunt was just ambulating around the corner of the junction below when Nicholas arrived. A quick glance into the other aisle confirmed Nicholas’ suspicion: the beast had been gorging itself on the blood of the dead its smaller counterparts had left mostly intact, which had slowed its pursuit enough to allow Nicholas the time to double back.
It stopped beneath him, apparently confused by the ghast corpses. Nicholas wasn’t surprised; gaunts were known to feed only on blood, of any kind and any species, but they craved it fresh and would pursue live prey relentlessly. It was tracking him, and his scent lay heavy and tangled here. The monster would need a few moments to muddle through, giving him time to plan out at least the beginning of his attack.
He was drawing his revolver when the gaunt unexpectedly shifted its attention to the upper concourse. Nicholas froze, forcing down a quiet panic. It couldn’t have seen him; had it honed in on the fresher scent? It must have, he realised as its massive head swung to him—and he still had no plan.
Time to improvise.
The beast gathered itself and jumped, clearing the height of the upper level easily; thumbing back the pistol’s hammer, Nicholas drew its barrel across his forearm and sighted, tracking the creature as it dropped towards the railing. He took a steady breath, held it, and squeezed the trigger.
The Blackhawk roared, and the gaunt’s left ankle exploded in a spray of blood. The gaunt reeled, its balance stolen, and it tumbled flailing to the floor below, rending the air with a terrible scream.
Nicholas was already racing left, exchanging gun for sword as he darted wide right around the corner. Two steps and he was leaping from the railing, sword upraised, bellowing his battle cry.
“Invictus!”
He landed in the former bed of a mall sapling—now uprooted across the aisle—the force of his fall and his empowered swing driving his blade cleanly through the arm the gaunt had flung up in hasty self-defense, taking off the appendage well above the elbow. The gaunt screamed again and lurched to its feet, knocking Nicholas backwards with a lucky shoulder. The Hunter took the blow in the chest and was lifted clear off his feet, almost crashing through the same lingerie display into which he had sent a ghast flying not ten minutes before. Undaunted, he regained his footing and charged, ducking low under another flying trash can, pushing forward hard and fast to break inside the beast’s range—
Sudden pain seared his right side and his world spun as his body sailed through a pair of jewelry kiosks, bounced past the stairs at the end of the thoroughfare and collided solidly with the wall. The ground slapped his body when he fell, and he lay there dazed, a weak, involuntary groan escaping him.
