My roommates aren’t that bad. Sure, one’s a literal witch, and the other is an actual vampire, but other than that they’re tidy and they pay their shares of the rent and buy food. Neither of them brings back unexpected guests. Well, cats and other weird familiars aside, no guests. My only job is to watch out for Hunters. Good thing I used to be one.
“Mikey! Someone’s at the door,” Matilda, the resident witch, calls from the kitchen.
I groan and get up from the couch. “You sure that it isn’t your familiar again? I know for a fact that it hates anything that moves.” I put down the book I was reading, and despite my annoyed words, walked towards the door.
“He doesn’t like it when you talk like that, darling,” Matilda shoots back with her shrill voice.
I roll my eyes and look through the peephole. There was a suspicious looking man right behind it. Most of his head was covered with a hood, but I could see a frightening scar stretching from his chin to what I might be his eye. Honestly, can’t they send someone who isn’t so conspicuous once in a while? It’d be funny.
Opening the door, I give the Hunter a grin. Upon seeing me, he steps back.
“Hello. I think you have the wrong door,” I tell him without opening the door fully. I don’t think he’d like seeing all the strange decor that Matilda put in here. It’s lucky that Robert, the resident vampire, doesn’t put weird stuff in the apartment.
The Hunter doesn’t reply and only stares at me. I can’t really blame his reaction. I doubt anyone would think a Hunter would look like me.
I was a 5’ 6’’ Japanese man with messy dyed red hair and amber eyes. And I’m told that my demeanour is pretty different from other Hunters. I see that for real in the many Hunters that visit my apartment. Also, I don’t see many Hunters wearing v necks or studded boots. The only scars I have are on my right forearm. They were from a really annoying werewolf. Sigh. I thought when I tore up my certificate, I’d have a moderately normal life.
“Michael Noda?” The Hunter asks in disbelief.
“That’s my name. Don’t wear it out,” I say with a wink. “What’s yours?”
To this, he stands straight and takes off his hood. “Matsuharu, Maurice Matsuharu.”
The Hunter, Maurice, had two scars on his face. The one that was on his chin did stretch to one of his hooded white eyes. The other stretched over his nose, making another bridge. Maurice looks like what a normal Hunter looks like.
“Well, Maurice Matsuharu-” I move to close the door “- I hope you have a nice day.”
Then, unexpectedly, Maurice places a gloved hand on the door before I could close it fully.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” he says, somewhat threateningly.
I’ve seen a million of these Hunters before. It amuses me that they never say a different thing.
I give him my best stink eye and say: “I’m afraid I couldn’t care less.”
Maurice attempts to push past me, but I pride myself on strength more than my other attributes. I stand my ground even though Maurice was a head taller than me. The surprise in his eyes wasn’t that amusing the tenth time this week.
“Hey, beat it, buddy.” I move my hand in a ‘shoo’ gesture. “My roommates don’t like it when people come over.”
“Your ‘roommates’ are meant to be dead!” Maurice yells, and I dread to think that the landlady hears him. If there was one thing I was afraid of, it was that gnarled old lady.
The Hunter tries to push past me yet again. I let out a sigh and pushed him backwards into the hallway. This is starting to get annoyingly repetitive. I had thought that this guy would’ve been at least a little bit different.
“Ah. Another one came again?” asks a prim voice.
I look to the side to see a pale teenager that looks to be only 14 years old. Truthfully, this is Robert Wilson, the resident vampire. It’s a little unfortunate and very funny that he got turned as a teenager. Anyways, Robert was holding a bag of groceries in one hand and a polka dotted umbrella in the other.
I grin at him before turning toward the Hunter. He was staring-well, glaring is more accurate-at both Robert and I. Before I could do anything, Maurice takes something wooden and sharp from inside his pocket. Quickly, he throws the wooden stake in Robert’s direction. Robert, who could have seen it coming a mile away, ducked, still wearing his monotone expression.
“I’ll leave you with this, then?” Robert says to me as he heads towards our apartment.
“What have you been doing the past couple of weeks?” I whined at his retreating back.
Robert shuts the door with an annoyingly loud slam. Oh dear, he’s going to spit in my Chinese food.
Turning my head back to Maurice, I notice something. The wooden stake he had thrown was stuck into the wall. A grin appears on my face.
“Oh, miss landlady!” I call down the empty hallway. “Someone messed up the apartment’s very beautiful paint job again!”
Maurice raises an eyebrow at me. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Are you calling for help from the old lady downstairs?”
I step backwards and to my apartment’s door. I try my very best to be as dramatic as possible. I think that should have been a class that we had to take to become a Hunter. Every single one of them needs a little bit of drama.
“Have fun, Maurice,” I tell him and slip into the apartment as a ticking sound echoes through the hallway. “Don’t get blood on the carpet.”
I shut the door and hear the Hunter speak again. It would do him good to escape from this apartment building instead of asking foolish questions. Matilda and Robert aren’t the only ‘monsters’ in this building.
The precious landlady for example is a Tiktik. A Tiktik is very similar to an Aswang, the monster that preys on pregnant women’s fetuses. The main difference between a Tiktik and an Aswang is that a Tiktik makes a terrifying ticking sound whenever it locates prey. Contrary to common sense, the ticking is louder when it is far away. When it is almost unnoticeable is when it is right behind you.
I do hope that the landlady doesn’t take all of her rage out on poor Maurice. I would have to scrub the blood out of the carpet then.
“Did you set Miss Davis on the Hunter?” Robert asks me.
He was sitting cross legged on the couch with a carton of Chinese food on his lap. I’ve asked him before why he doesn’t just only drink blood like the rest of the vampires. The disgusted look he had given me was hilarious to say the least.
“It’s his own fault for vandalising,” I tell Robert and sit next to him and eye his food.
Robert rolls his eyes.
If you don’t know why Matilda was in the kitchen even if Robert brought us Chinese food, then you’ll find out in a bit when-
A cat hisses from inside the kitchen. I crane my head over the couch to see Matilda’s familiar practically bolting across the room. Its black silky fur was covered in cat food and tuna.
“Wait, Porridge!” Matilda runs out after the cat. “I’m sorry, don’t run away from me!”
I grab my carton of food and bring it to my lap before little Porridge either eats it or kicks it to the ground. Eating it, I sigh and watch as Matilda and Porridge run around the coffee table. Robert and I know better than help. The amount of times little Porridge shed our blood is excruciating.
Anyway, this is a retired Hunter’s life. I don’t necessarily enjoy it, but I can’t not like it. Robert and Matilda really aren’t that bad. Other Hunters just make it all the more fun. Yeah. I’m fine with this life.
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