Synopsis: April 24, 2001, and Libra is inspecting the very latest crop of newly imbued hunters in Peterleigh. He's in for a shock ...
"Tell me again why we're doing this," Libra said, walking along the basement corridor.
"These are newbies," Vestal replied, beside him. "They haven't a clue who they are, what they are, what they saw. But they're bright and eager to take a stand and join the fight."
"Great," Libra said. "So why ask me to inspect them? I don't feel like a veteran. Maybe you should be the one to look over them."
"You look like the most experienced here," Vestal said. "And besides, there's something about these new people I have to show you."
"Which is?"
"Wait and see."
They reached the end of the corridor. Libra paused, his hand on the doorknob. "What's the surprise?" he asked Vestal.
Vestal smiled, shook her head. "Open it," she said.
"All right." Libra turned the knob, opened the door, strode into the room.
Took in the imbued hunters standing in front of him.
"Oh. My. God," he said.
The first man was big, as in fat; a round, gentle blob of a man in a grey tracksuit and trainers, his wispy silver hair tousled and unkempt. The next was a short, scrawny brunette, woman in a brown turtleneck and matching skirt, who looked as if the only threat she posed was to people jumping the line ahead of her at the supermarket.
And the third ...
"It's Ash Ketchum," Libra said.
"Shut up," Vestal replied.
From his costly designer trainers and jeans with the bottoms rolled up to his T-shirt, his sleeveless jacket and his baseball cap worn backwards, the kid stood proud, facing front and centre at attention, his face displaying open defiance, as though he felt under duress or coercion somehow.
And yes, he looked like an adolescent Ash Ketchum. With peach fuzz on his top lip.
"But he's ..."
"Shut up," Vestal said, trying hard to keep the smile off her face. Libra approached the group warily, eyeing them over.
"Is this all?" he asked Vestal.
"Every last one of them came here looking for answers to who and what they are," Vestal replied. "Don't let me down, now. They're all hunters."
Libra stared into the gentle eyes of the first man. "You must be quick on your feet," he said. "To catch those hamburgers."
"Oh, no," the man said, his face breaking into a smile. "I abhor fast food and hamburgers. Awful stuff, fast food. No nutrients. But I can do you a really interesting dish with courgettes, carrots and three different kinds of beans ..."
Libra's expression was unchanged. The man seemed to shrink in on himself a little.
"You cook," Libra said.
"I was shopping for food when the thing wandered into the store," the man replied, coming a little more out of his shell. "You know the place? The little corner grocer's down near the school? The one that's been threatened with closure since the big supermarket opened out of town twelve months ago? Well, I still go to the little guy, even if his prices are a bit more expensive, because you've always got to support your local community, and ..." He quietened down a bit. "Sorry," he said, nervously, his steepled pudgy hands fluttering. "I, er, talk too much. You can tell."
"I noticed," Libra said. "The thing?"
"It looked like someone who was on drugs, you know? I heard this strange voice telling me to offer it help, and then suddenly the person wasn't an addict. It was a dead thing, which was worse. So I stood in front of it and told it about this really useful address in James Street. The neighbours send their son to it, it's a rehab place, and they treat people who go there as people, patients you know, not like prisoners, so they try to make you feel human and maybe ... that's ... what ... it ... was ... after ..."
Libra watched as the little man quailed beneath his gaze.
"It went away," the man said.
"What can you do?" he asked. "Do you have any useful edges? Did you pick up a saucepan and defend the people in the store with it? Or maybe drive it away with the force of your will?"
"I, er, asked it if it would like a cup of herbal tea," the little man said.
"A cup of herbal tea," Libra replied, stressing every word.
"Chamomile," the man said.
Libra moved on to the next imbued, the short brunette lady. He found his gaze travelling down to meet her brown little eyes.
"What do you do?"
"I organise coffee mornings," the woman said.
"And?"
"Well, I helped a woman out," she replied. "She was a member of our circle. She was acting strange one night, and she'd stopped coming to our mornings. I went over to her house and asked her why.
"It was then I discovered she'd been attacked by someone in the town. At first, I thought she'd been raped. Then it turned out it was far worse." She frowned. "She'd been turned into something else. A bloodsucker."
She tugged at the collar of her turtleneck sweater, showing the livid patch on her neck like a huge lovebite. "I offered her some of my blood, if it'd make her feel better about herself."
"You let a vampire bite you?"
"Yes," the housewife said. "It wasn't pleasant, but it gave her relief from some of the pain she felt inside."
Libra looked at Vestal, who shrugged. "What can you do?"
"I told her I meant no harm, showed her I was the same person who went with her to her daughter's christening, and I only came out of concern. She seemed to accept that." She frowned. "There was something else, too."
Libra nodded solicitously.
"I asked her what it was like being a vampire, and she buried her face in her hands," the woman said. "I knew, then, that she was in real pain from the attack."
"So you staked her," Libra said.
"No," the woman replied. "We talked all night, and the woman asked me if I'd stay with her till sunup. She no longer wanted to be like this. I asked her if she wanted to do this. She stayed true to herself all the way through, and then I helped her out into the sunlight.
"There's nothing left of her now, only dust." The woman sighed. "She was my friend. Can you tell me why monsters do these things to good people?"
Libra was sombre. "That's what we're all trying to find out," he said, moving on.
Ash Ketchum, he thought, looking at the youngster. Peach fuzz.
"What did you face when you were imbued?"
"A dead thing, sir."
"What did you do?"
"Followed it back to its lair, sir."
"And then what?"
"Vestal had been after the same thing. She'd lost it, but saw me following after it. She told me to wait outside, went into the lair, disposed of the thing and thanked me for my help. She then brought me here, sir."
"She brought you here," Libra said.
"Yes, sir."
"How old are you?" he asked.
"Fourteen, sir!"
Libra's eyebrow went up. "Heralds like to start 'em off young these days, don't they?"
"I wouldn't know about that, sir!"
"At ease," Libra said. The lad snapped into a slightly less awkward posture.
Libra stood back, looked again at the lineup.
"Well," he said, taking in the people before him. "The Heralds have chosen, and it seems that they have chosen ... er, you chosen," he added.
A muffled sound from nearby caused Libra to cast Vestal a hard glance.
"Have you chosen handles yet?" he said, looking to the trio. "Sound out."
"Chef666," said the man with wispy hair.
"Domestic670," said the brunette woman.
"RogueDemonSlayer675," said the Ash Ketchum kid.
"What?" Vestal and Libra said, simultaneously.
"Er ..." the young lad replied, glowing.
"Shaver675," Libra said.
"Aww, no," the lad groaned.
"Front and centre," Libra murmured gently, a smile on his lips. The boy snapped to attention.
"You're Shaver675," Libra said, "until you can come up with a better name than RogueDemonSlayer. Got it?"
The lad nodded, the motion of his rigidly held head ever so slight.
"All right," Libra said. "Dismissed."
The newcomers broke rank, filed out of the room with sighs of relief. Vestal came up to Libra, who stood watching them go, his hand over his mouth.
"There," she said. "As intros go, that wasn't so bad, was it?"
"And they're all imbued," Libra said.
"All three of them," Vestal replied. "Ready and able to go out there and face the monsters and ..."
"Cook them a nice goulash?" Libra said. "Swap knitting patterns? Fight them off with Pikachu?" His expression was unreadable. He looked at Vestal, who was now visibly cracking up with laughter.
"We haven't got a hope," Libra said, as he and Vestal roared with laughter. "We're doomed," he finished, as they collapsed against each other for support.
After a while, they stood apart a bit, looked again at each other.
"They were chosen," vestal said. "Just as much as you and I. Which probably means something for the hunt, for imbued as a whole, for ... something, anyway."
"But they're so ..." Libra began. "I'm used to handling hardarses. Even when I work topside with clients, everyone's a mandatory referral from the dole, and everyone seems to have done time for violence. At least, so far," he said.
Vestal was nodding. "These are the gentle side of the coin," she said. "The ones who will probably manage to kill the monsters by overfeeding them with Ben and Jerry's ice cream, mother them to death."
"Especially Saucepan666 there," Libra added.
"Chef666," Vestal corrected.
"I know what I mean," Libra said, smiling. "Let's go get a cuppa." They went back through the open door into the corridor.
Vestal turned, looked Libra in the eye. "Really, though, Libra, did you have to come down hard on them like, like, well ..."
"Inspector Burnside off The Bill on the telly?" Libra said. He shrugged. "Why not? I do everything for myself. Cook, shop, clean my house, do the laundry, fix the car ... my old life trained me well. I still think that everyone has to be able to do at least the basic things in life, have some sense of discipline, some sense of self - respect."
"Scratch those people," Vestal replied, "and you'll find that it's something they all have under the skin. Maybe that's what the Heralds look for in the people they choose to imbue."
"Not courage and a steely eye and a readiness to fight, then," Libra said.
"Not to fight," Vestal replied. "To stand. Sometimes just to stand is enough."
They walked the rest of the way in silence. As they reached the elevator, Libra grinned.
"Especially if you're a Pikachu trainer," he said, and his smile was pure mischief.
By: Fiat Knox
Copyright © Fiat Knox, 2001