The Thrill of Anarchy

Chapter Two

"I mean, I assume you'd stake me... but you don't seem to be carrying a weapon."

The stranger eyed the table in front of him.

"Would you use the table leg?"

His questions caught me off guard. I was prepared for a fight, not an interrogation. I shifted my body so I could face him. This man was no Rocco. He was broad and muscular. Looking him up and down, I knew he had combat training. If it came to a physical altercation, I would lose.

"Hesitation isn't the right answer," he said disapprovingly.

"Vampires don't exist," I replied, hoping to somehow talk my way out of the situation.

The guy snorted, "The tattoo on your wrist says otherwise." He flipped my wrist so that we could both see the small star inked just below my palm. I winced, for the first time in months, I had forgotten to cover it with a bracelet. I mentally kicked myself. Even with that morning's events, it was a rookie mistake.

"So you're hunter," I concluded. It wasn't a question, only a vampire or a hunter would recognise my mark. The bright sunlight outside ruled out one of those possibilities, "Got a name? Or should I just call you hunter?" I asked through gritted teeth.

"You know, I once met a hunter called Hunter," the stranger said with a smile, "it was confusing for everyone involved."

I didn't smile in return.

"Wade Cain," he said, "but everyone calls me Cain."

"Well, Cain," I said brightly. "Nice to meet you. I'm going to be generous and give you ten seconds."

"Ten seconds?"

I narrowed my eyes, "Ten seconds to let go of me and get the fuck out of here before I kill you."

Cain laughed, "Why the hostility? We're on the same side."

"I don't have a side," I replied. "Nine."

Cain's eyes glinted with amusement as I counted. By the time I'd reached seven, I knew that he was calling my bluff. He'd done the math and come to the same conclusion as I had. There was no way someone my size was going to beat someone his size. I had to find a way to level the playing field. I used the element of surprise and launched myself at him before I reached four. I balled my free hand into a fist and brought it squarely across his jaw. Despite the poor angle and using my right hand - my non-dominant hand - I hit him hard enough to draw blood.

Unfortunately, Cain, like most hunters, was used to blows to the head, and from individuals a lot stronger than me. The blow fell short of its desired effect, namely knocking him the fuck out. It did, however, succeed in surprising him enough to free my other hand from his grip. Cain had been right, I didn't have any weapons in my uniform, so I grabbed a dirty fork from the neighbouring table and stabbed it into his hand.

"Motherfucker," Cain grunted as he pulled it from his hand and nursed his split lip. I took a step back to admire my handiwork.

I was not prepared for what happened next.

In one fluid movement, Cain rose from his seat, grabbed me by my waist, twisted me, and sent my body slamming into the wooden table. He pinned me down, using sheer body weight to hold me in place. I struggled for a moment, pounding my fists uselessly against his chest and trying to claw at his eyes. But Cain caught my hands and held them down. Then, I spotted the fork that Cain had just removed from his hand lying on the table, only centimetres from my hand. I reached for it and almost grabbed it. But Cain tutted and pushed it over the edge of the table. As it clattered to the floor, I conceded defeat. He was bigger, stronger, and had probably spent the past three years hunting vampires, whilst I'd barely made it to the gym each day. I wasn't able to shift him off.