Moon Dance

53.



It took two nights of waiting before I saw the hunter again.



I had left the minivan parked in an alley behind a Vons grocery store. I knew the hunter would eventually investigate, and to do so he would have to physically enter the alley. A typical ambush, and I'm sure he suspected a trap. If so, he would be right. This was a trap.



I sat on top of the grocery store roof, near a huge rotating vent. My great, leathery wings were tucked in behind me. The night was warm, but the breeze cooled things down. My skin was thick and rubbery. My new hide did wonders for keeping me warm, especially in the higher altitudes. I had discovered that I could remain in this form for as long as I wished. This was a good discovery, as it was nice shedding my old skin for this new one. People should try it sometime.



The alley was dark and mostly forgotten. My minivan attracted very little interest, even from hooligans. So that's why when the bum appeared I perked up.



In my new form, my eyesight was razor sharp and eagle-like, an obvious necessity to high-flying predators. (And thinking of myself as a high-flying predator was almost too weird to, well, think about.) The bum was pushing a shopping cart filled to overflowing with what appeared to be junk. I immediately recognized the handsome face, the rugged jaw, the striking blue eyes, and the spiky blond hair shooting out from under a dirty and warped Dodger cap.



Nice costume, asshole.



As an added touch, he even dragged his leg a little behind him. The hunter was putting on quite a show, even hunching his shoulders now Quasimodo-like. I couldn't help but smile. At least, I think I smiled. It was hard to tell; plus, I wasn't even sure I had lips. At any rate, I intended to smile. Anyway, his shopping cart was, in fact, filled to the brim with soda cans. I wondered if he had purchased the cart and cans from a real bum, or collected the cans himself.



Probably just stole it, I thought.



He continued slowly down the alley, his head sweeping from side to side. Unfortunately for him, he never thought to look up. About fifty feet from the van, he removed a camouflaged crossbow from inside his tattered jacket. He armed it quickly with a bolt,. And then held it out in front of him like a gun.



He approached my van very, very carefully, leaving behind his cart full of cans. He went slowly from window to window, peering inside with a flashlight. I noted he had forgotten to limp.



I stayed put and waited for my opening.



He tried the doors, discovered they were locked, then popped one open with a Slim Jim. He goofed around inside a bit. Reappearing again, frowning. He seemed a bit perplexed. If anything, I had successfully confused the bastard.



The back door to the grocery store suddenly opened, yellow light splashing out into the alley. A kid appeared, hauling a big blue trash can. The hunter, distracted, turned toward the kid.



Now!



I leaped from my perch above.



54.



I tucked in my arms and shot down.



The hunter's back was still to me. Wind thundered in my ears. The ground came up fast. More importantly, the hunter's broad shoulders came up fast.



At the last possible second, I spread my wings wide. The leathery hide snapped open like a parachute. The hunter turned at the sound, swinging his crossbow around, but he was too late. My outstretched talons snatched him up by the shoulders. He cried out, screaming like a school girl. The crossbow tumbled away, skittering over the ground. I beat my wings powerfully, once, twice and finally lifted him off his feet and then slowly up out of the alley. He weighed a lot. More than I was prepared for. My arms and wings were strained to the max.



He struggled, kicking, as his arms were now pinned to his sides. He kicked the air futilely. We rose slowly into the sky together. I looked down in time to see the kid running back into the store. I think he wet himself.



Up we went. I was growing stronger, getting used to the added weight. The air grew colder. The hunter should be warm enough thanks to his homeless costume, which consisted of many layers of clothing.



I looked down just as he looked up. His face had drained of all color. He looked terrified. He should be terrified. A creature from his nightmares had snatched him away and for all he knew I was going to drop him into an active volcano. Not that there were many active volcanoes in Southern California.



Orange County spread before us, its hundred of thousands of blinking lights evidence that Thomas Edison had certainly been on to something. We flew over Disneyland, which glittered like its own happy constellation. Perhaps park guests would later report seeing a parade float gone amuck.



We reached the beach cities and finally the black ocean itself. Without the city lights, we were plunged into darkness. He stiffened here, and I think he might have whimpered. No doubt he thought I was going to drop him in. I still hadn't ruled it out.



Much later, perhaps assuming he was safe, the hunter relaxed and sagged onto my talons. He spoke to me now, his voice rising up to me along with the smell of sea salt and brine, "How is your shoulder, Samantha Moon?"



The sound of my own name startled me. That this flying creature had a name was hard to believe. I didn't bother answering. Even to my own ears my voice was nothing more than a shriek.



He went on, "I suppose you can't speak in your changeling form. That's fine, I'll do all the talking. I know you've had a hell of a shitty week. I saw your children get taken away from you. And probably the last thing you needed was an arrow in your shoulder. So I guess what I'm trying to say is I'm sorry."



Apology accepted, I thought. I was nothing if not forgiving.



I continued at a steady pace, wings flapping smoothly and effortlessly, propelling us over the eternal black ocean. I adjusted endlessly to the varying wind conditions.



"I've never seen a vampire with a family before. You have two beautiful children. At first I thought the family was just a facade. Perhaps you were just courting these mortals for your own nefarious means. A new angle, you know, to acquire blood. So I assumed you were hideous and vile to formulate such a scheme. Until I saw that this was indeed your family. The little girl is your spitting image."



He stopped talking, and the silence that followed was filled with the rippling of water over the ocean's surface, and something else, something deep and unfathomable, perhaps the sound of millions upon millions of megatons of water turning and roiling and moving over the face of the earth. The ocean's song, if you will, and it was beautiful and haunting.



The hunter told me about himself. His name was Randolf, and his brother, years ago, had been killed by a vampire. Randolf devoted his life to finding his brother's killer, and in the process to kill every vampire he came across.



Ambitious, I thought. But problematic for me.



His search eventually led him to an old vampire living in a mansion in Fullerton. Randolf ambushed him, killing him with a bolt through the heart. In going through the old vampire's papers, Randolf had come across my name.



He had, in effect, found the vampire who had attacked me.



Not just found him. Found him and killed him. Saved me a lot of trouble.



Randolf continued, "But he was not my brother's killer. I still have some unfinished business." He paused. "You are not like other vampires, Samantha. May I call you Samantha?"



I nodded; I'm not sure he saw me nod.



"In your hotel room I found packets of cow and pig blood in your refrigerator. You are not a killer. Not like the others."



I glanced down. He was still wearing the dirty Dodger cap. His spiky blond hair trailed over his ears. His face was purple with cold.



I continued steadily out to sea. I found that distinguishing the black water from the black sky was difficult, but my innate compass kept us on a clear course, and my equally innate horizontal balance kept us from plunging into the ocean. I thought of the old joke: I just flew in from Chicago, and boy are my arms tired....



But my energy seemed limitless, even hauling a full grown man. Still, I didn't want to fly too far out to sea; I needed to provide for enough time to safely return before the sun's ascent.



In the far distance, on the surface of the ocean, I spied the twinkling of lights. I altered course and headed toward the lights. Randolf snorted from below. I suspected he had been dozing. A hell of a rude awakening for him, no doubt, hanging from the claws of a flying beast.



The lights turned out to be a ship. In fact, it was a cruise ship.



"You're taking me to the ship," he said.



Smart boy.



"I get the hint," he said, laughing. "You want me to stay away. And thank you for not killing me."



There was a lot of activity on the deck of the cruise ship, so I circled the control tower, and set the hunter on the roof of the cabin. Whether anyone saw a black shape descend from the sky remained to be seen.



Randolf scrambled to his feet, no worse for wear. As I hovered above, as he held down his baseball cap against the downdraft of my wings, his astonishing blue eyes caught the starlight. He really was kind of hunky�Deven to a creature of the night.



He called up to me, "Have a safe flight home, Samantha Moon. Oh, and any idea where I'm headed?"



I had no idea.



I circled once and headed back home.