(2)
"To do a certain kind of thing, you have to be a certain kind of person."
Anon.
"Have I mentioned how much I hate this idea?" The voice was gravelly and sarcastic, and seemed to issue out of nowhere. The words hung in the air for a moment, before the voice continued its harangue. "Because I do. Hate it, that is. It's got to be at least a hundred degrees out here... Do the words 'heat syndrome' mean anything to you, or is your brain already fried beyond repair?"
The pale rider ignored it.
"Are you even listening to me?" the voice complained, its tone hovering somewhere between plaintive and pissed off. "Look, I know we've had this conversation before, but..."
The only other sounds were the snapping of the rider's voluminous cape in the wind and the steady drumbeat of the horse's metal hooves on the hard-packed earth beneath them.
"Jeez, what am I saying-- ?" The entity, a parasitic resident in the rider's left hand --and the owner of the voice-- gave a disgusted snort under its breath. "Forgot who I was talking to for a minute, there.You wouldn't know what a conversation was if one came up and bit you on the ass."
The rider ignored the slur, though his mouth tightened almost imperceptibly. In D's palm, the parasite's demonic-looking face brightened as it sensed his annoyance. It grinned smugly to itself.
"All I'm saying is... I know the job's important. And there's a lot of money in it, which is always good. But if you get yourself toasted by heat syndrome, again," Left Hand went on, undaunted by D's growing displeasure and disgusted by his stubbornness, "none of that's going to do anyone, least of all me, any good. Okay? So, let's find a nice shady spot where you can rest for the day."
It paused long enough to utilize D's senses and have a look around at the desiccated landscape. "Hmm. Not really overstocked with trees in these parts, are they? Well, you can always bury yourself. Just until sundown, then you can--"
"Quiet."
"He speaks!" Left Hand snickered. "I was beginning to think you'd forgotten how."
D clenched his hand on the reins of his cyborg mount, effectively silencing Left Hand with a mouthful of leather. Muffled protests greeted this ill-treatment and, eventually, D relented. He relaxed his hand, allowing the entity to resume speaking.
"Ppth. Do you have any idea how bad that tastes?" Left Hand grumbled, though not too loudly. It didn't want to be silenced again. Of course, eventually it would be unable to resist pushing D too far and D would shut it up by the most expedient means. Until that time, however, the creature would make the most of airing its many opinions.
Left Hand opened its mouth to do just that, when something on the road ahead distracted it. "Hey... What's that?"
'That' was a woman, trudging alone down the center of the narrow dirt road. Hearing the horse's approach, she moved to one side. They galloped past without slowing.
"You could've offered her a ride," Left Hand said, then answered its own objection. "Of course, that would've slowed us down and she kind of looked like she might be a hunter, too. No need to aid and abet the competition. Not that you haven't done that before..."
It continued in a similar vein for some time, as D urged his mount on to greater speed and ignored his companion's irritating monologue. At the moment, there were far more important things on his mind than Left Hand.
Things like vampires.
Word had come through the usual channels that a vampire hunter was urgently needed in the isolated township of Basker's Field. Over the course of several weeks, a vampire had kidnapped a number of local children, including the mayor's own son. Some of the victims had since been found, their small bodies unceremoniously dumped on the outskirts of town. All the bodies had been drained of blood.
After the first child had turned up on its parents' doorstep as a mindless, bloodthirsty zombie, the remaining corpses had hastily been burned.
The summons offered no explanation as to why the town had not sought a hunter's services after the first disappearance. D suspected it was because the earlier victims had been the children of poorer families.
Once it became apparent, with the taking of the mayor's son, that the wealthier families could also fall victim to the predator in their midst, then and only then had the townspeople sought outside help. Now, they were offering a substantial reward for the destruction of the vampire. D had responded immediately, gathering a few necessary supplies and riding at once for Basker's Field.
Despite the parasite's repeated warnings about the dangers of sun exposure, D rode without stopping to rest. He had no time for such petty concerns as his own comfort. Though he was forced to admit, if only to himself, that he would have preferred it had the town been situated in a cooler, less sunny climate. Still, he would not let anything slow him down, not even the threatening orb of the summer sun riding high overhead.
There was no time to spare. Lives depended on it; even a single wasted second could mean he might arrive too late and yet another child would be forfeit. And that was something he did not want to contemplate. He focused instead on the task at hand, and rode as if his own life depended on it.
He had a job to do.