Killing Nikovage Bloodhunter

Chapter 2

June 19th, 2003
Denton Valley, New York
Sheriff Station

"I work up in the hospital with four fractured ribs, several fractures to my ulna, a bad concussion, and multiple contusions and cuts to my face and arms," I finished. "That was the first time I met Nikovage Bloodhunter, and after that encounter, I swore that I would find a way to kill him. And I did."

Congratulations, Elodie, you just confessed to murder! I chided myself. Nice going.

"You're telling me you were that gravely injured and six months later, you're fine?" Doctor Reid asked in disbelief.

"Look up my medical record, it'll give some insight. I was treated at Massachussetts General, if that helps. But to answer your question, yes. Fast healing is one of the perks of being a Slayer, not that it always does any good. Sometimes, when you're too hurt, it's best to die. When your superhuman healing is trying to fight your will to live...it's painful. Anyway, I was back on my feet in about a month and a half. While I was recovering, my watcher and all of his contacts, including Ramsey, started going through the archives for any information on Nikovage. They were having trouble turning anything over, so I started doing my usual patrols around town.

"In mid-April, we got our first lead, but it turned out to be a dead end. The Watchers try to keep track of everything in the archives, and they had recorded an encounter between Nikovage and a vampire known as Sir Frederick of Dale. We just call him Dale now, but he was killed two Slayers ago in this massive fight. He ran a vampire clan down south and they were a nasty piece of work. We believe the Slayer's body count that day was in the upper thirties, which is pretty impressive for one girl," I explained. "We were disappointed, but the Watchers hit the books again and turned to their connections. There are quite a few people in the Demon World that know a thing or two about what's going on around them. It's all about self-preservation. You look out for number one.

"I was sent on a few wild goose chases and even ended up in Ohio when I was supposed to be taking my AP Biology test, but we didn't get anything good until a month ago. Her name was Katia Kirchoff, and Ramsey was the one that turned up the information."

April 23, 2003
New York City, New York
Ramsey Donnellen's Apartment

Alban knocked on the thin wooden door. Moments later, I heard the bolt scraping back and the chain being released. Then the door swung open and Ramsey ushered us inside, closing the door quickly.

Ramsey Donnellen was one of the Junior Watchers and though he was one of the few Watchers that had left England to serve their post, we'd only met a few times to exchange information, usually under the cloak of darkness. This was the first time I'd been to his apartment, and the first time I'd seen him in decent lighting. He was in his early thirties and preferred a cleanshaven look. Everything about him was exceedingly average. Average height, average weight, average nose size. He was one of those people that blended into a crowd.

I surveyed the apartment while Alban said his hello and chitchatted about traffic, which had been brutal, especially across the Bronx Whitestone Bridge. Despite the old, run-down impression I'd gotten from the outside of the building, the apartment was quite neat and orderly. The white walls were almost completely blocked by stacks of books and manuscripts. The only furniture in the main room besides overflowing bookshelves was a large wooden table with two matching wooden chairs and a plush recliner stuffed into the far corner. Papers covered every inch of the tabletop, but there seemed to be some sort of method to Ramsey's madness. The kitchen was orderly. Stainless steel appliances shone dimly, and the counter tops were clean. Coffee was brewing in the coffeemaker, which appeared to be the most used appliance.