Free Fanghunters by Leo Romero Page B

onto hard floorboards once more. He
was nearly there. Nearly. There.
    He moved further into that deathly silent
corridor, his senses on high alert, that door drawing closer. Closer.
    The glow from inside beckoned. It called.
And like a moth to light, he was drawn.
    In the next instant, he was standing ahead
of the door. He turned to face it, tightening his grip on the stake again. He
steadied himself that tingling now a burn.
    Okay, buddy, this is it. This is it...
    He reached out to push the door fully open.
He stopped.
    His ear pricked.
    His head snapped to the side. What was—
    His heart stopped, his chest seizing. He
spun to the left, his Zippo held high. It lit up a face. And this time it
wasn’t a painting because it was rushing towards him from the bathroom.
    What the—
    Something swung across the air. Dom’s
reflexes took control. He ducked his head in a flash, managing just in time to
dodge it. He heard it thwack into the doorframe behind him. The light on his
Zippo went out, plunging the area into darkness again. He staggered back, his
legs suddenly feeling like they were about to collapse. From somewhere deep
down inside him, a burst of adrenaline jolted him, stabilizing them. He used it
to spin and propel himself forward, away from his attacker. Big, rough hands
caught him around the waist, foiling his getaway. Before he could react, he was
shoved forward, control of his own limbs now completely gone. He yelped as he
flew back through the dark corridor, across the rug he’d just traversed. He
tried to shake off the hands stuck to his waist, but they were as strong as
metal clamps.
    Wind rushed past
him, his arms flailed. There was a sudden shove to the right, dangerously close
to the stairway. “Woah!” Dom shouted, his eyes wide in alarm as he found
himself staring down that set of stairs. His back straightened. His arms
thrashed on the air as he teetered on the edge of the stairs, fear juddering
through him. He threw out an arm, latching his hand onto the banister. His
forearm flexed; it held him there like a Rottweiler’s lockjaw. He wanted to
swing his stake, which he somehow still managed to hold onto throughout, and
hopefully connect with his attacker. Bu, before he had a chance, there was a
loud grunt, and then a massive jolt of pain to his lower back, winding him in
an instant. Dom gasped under the pain. His body flaked under the strain. The blow
loosened his grip on the banister. The momentum from behind pulled him forward,
and then gravity took over. His eyes bulged as the stairwell came rapidly into
view. He fell head first down them, helpless. He thudded onto the wood, pain
rocketing across his chest and shoulders. He bounced and rolled like a ball,
the world spinning. Jarring pain jolted him with every step he hit. He smacked
his head on the wall on the way down, just before he finally hit the floor at
the foot of the stairs. He smashed into the floorboards back first with a
forced grunt, the wind stolen from his chest. He lay where he was for a second,
his mind hazy, his body a heap of pain.
    He zoned in and out, barely able to make
out the huge figure now coming down the stairs toward him.
    Get up! his
mind screamed. Get up, Dom! Or you die!
    His head rolled in woozy circles, his focus
blurred. He asked his limbs to work, but they wouldn’t respond. All the while,
the guy was making it down more steps toward him.
    Come on, get up, Dom! GET THE HELL UP!
    Through his blurry vision, he was a body
looming large over him in the gloom. He saw a face; a snarl tattooed on it. A
thick hand then clamped around his throat, and he felt his tongue pop right
out. Now, breathing was totally impossible. The hand squeezed and the pressure
built in Dom’s head; he could feel it turning red.
    Fight! Fight, Dom!
    He tried to struggle. But, the guy was
thick-set like a bull; he was pinning Dom to the floor like a pro wrestler
waiting for the three count.
    He must weigh twenty stone!
    Dom struggled hard against