The Demon Hunter by Kevin Emerson Page A

the doors slid closed, and the elevator lowered toward a floor unmarked and unknown to humans.
    The doors opened into the quiet, plush vampire library. The Librarian, a wiry old man in a fine suit, greeted him warmly. “Good evening, Mr. Nocturne. Right this way.”
    The long room, with its deep burgundy carpet and mahogany walls, was almost empty this early in the evening. The Librarian led Oliver to one of the lamp-lit tables. “Let me know if I can be of assistance,” he said politely, and departed.
    Oliver twisted the silver gooseneck lamp toward him and spoke quietly into the copper microphone at its end. “Blocking a zombie’s master.” There was a moment of silence, during which Oliver glanced up and found the Librarian gazing at him curiously. That always bugged him, but he was getting more used to interested stares these days.
    â€œForty-one,” the pleasant female voice of the Catalogue replied.
    â€œNagual demon,” said Oliver.
    â€œNinety-three,” said the Catalogue.
    Oliver turned to leave the table when he had another idea. He turned back and said: “Prophecy reversal.”
    The Catalogue was silent.
    â€œProph—” Oliver began again, but the Catalogue replied:
    â€œThat topic is not currently contained in any known Tome. Please refer to the Central Council for further information.”
    â€œThanks,” Oliver said, not surprised. He turned and proceeded to the end of the room and through heavy black velvet curtains. He entered the stacks, a series of floors made of grated metal, with hallways of curtained chambers, each holding an ancient vampire called a Codex.
    Codex forty-one was located two floors below where Oliver was standing. He wound down a spiral staircase, then proceeded down an aisle, past black curtains with numbers engraved in plaques beside them. He stopped before the curtains for forty-one. “Enter,” instructed the Catalogue from a hidden speaker above.
    Oliver ducked into the dark chamber and took his seat on the single pillow in the center of the room. Tendrils of incense smoke lingered in the air. Single candles on each wall cast spare light.
    â€œBlocking a zombie’s master,” said Oliver.
    Two glowing emerald eyes lit in the dark, and a pedestal slowly rolled forward with a grinding of gears. The Codex, wrapped in hooded crimson robes, inhaled deeply. Its breath rattled with difficulty as the ancient vampire began to speak.
    â€œThe zombie is forever linked to the master. There is no way to undo the bond without destroying the zombie.”
    â€œWhat about slaying the master?” Oliver asked.
    â€œWith the master slain, the zombie will return to the earth.”
    Oliver sighed. So much for that idea.
    â€œIt is possible, however, for the connection between a zombie and its master to be temporarily blocked,” the Codex added.
    â€œExplain.”
    The Codex breathed in deeply. “A master’s influence over a zombie may be interrupted by the placing of a hindrian enchantment upon the zombie. It does not break the connection, but rather makes the connection difficult to find for a time, thus blocking unwanted visitors from the mind.”
    A question popped into Oliver’s head. “Can a hindrian charm be used against an Orani?”
    â€œIts documented uses do include Orani deterrence.”
    â€œHow is it done?” Oliver asked.
    â€œThere is an ancient Skrit. When correctly etched into a channeling mineral, such as magnetite, it may then be prepared and activated with the life force of a transcendent one.”
    Oliver didn’t quite recognize that term. “A transcendent one?”
    â€œA being who has achieved awareness above his or her known world.”
    â€œFor example?”
    â€œMost common is an oracle.”
    Oliver started. Could that be … “Show me the Skrit.”
    The Codex raised a hand, and yellow smoke wavered before him. In it, a