The Midnight Manhunters

By Steven L Neff

Marie is a middle-aged woman who just lost her husband. Her grief and loneliness unlock a dormant genetic tendency to manifest as a menacing feline creaturean inherited trait. While on an antique shopping expedition, Marie purchases an ancient statue of the Egyptian Cat of Bast, despite a vague warning from the shop owner, and Maries life changes forever.

The statue awakens an inner power that triggers her feline heritage, and Marie experiences full and partial transformations that compel her to attack and injure as well as kill. Her human persona also begins to change as she becomes strong and willful, shedding her former timid personality. However, Marie is not the only powerful paranormal creature in town.

Lysandra is a centuries-old vampire living an upper class life of leisure when she becomes aware of the strange cat that stalks the night. Marie and Lysandra meet at a Halloween party. They pursue the same victim: a young man they both desire in order to satisfy their lust for flesh and blood. It is a deadly clash between a once simple woman, now monster, and a beautiful immortal, fated to meet as they indulge in a ghastly manhunt.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Archway Publishing
• Release date: Feb 8, 2018
• ISBN: 9781480857643

Steven L Neff

Steven L. Neff is a psychotherapist and long time clinical practitioner, now retired. The Unseen Adversary is his third published work. He is a graduate of Thomas More College (KY), where he obtained a B.A. in English literature. He also obtained a Master’s degree and Post Graduate Certificate from Xavier University (Ohio) in clinical counseling. Steven has been a devotee of the horror genre since childhood. Such authors as Ambrose Bierce, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Bram Stoker, Guy de Maupassant, H.G. Wells, and Oscar Wilde influence his writing. Additionally, his writing reflects many years of experience in the field of counseling and psychotherapy. As a writer, he states, “The innumerable qualities that lie as potential in each individual forms my basic approach to character development. They symbolically represent man’s astonishing possibilities.” He lives in southwestern Ohio with his wife and their dogs.

Book preview

1

THE SURREY STALKER

I n Surrey, England, on October 2, 1879, during the early-morning hours in the rural countryside, a hunting party had been organized to pursue a large, phantomlike black cat. Witnesses described it as an immense and terrifying beast that had been on the prowl for months. Once again, it had menaced another local farmer the night before.

Dammit, boy, can you see it? We can’t let it escape! Well, can you? Major Musgrove demanded.

Not since about two or three minutes ago, Major, answered a frail youth armed with a loaded rifle.

Keep a sharp eye out, lad. We absolutely cannot fail to destroy this vile beast once and for all. It’s a killer of men and livestock, he snarled.

Major Musgrove was a long-retired military officer and veteran of the British Expeditionary Forces during the India Insurrection of 1857. He was at home in the field against dangerous adversaries, but he had never expected to be on the defensive against a creature of unknown origin that defied explanation.

It’s extremely large and very black and should be easy to spot out here in the morning sun, another voice from a member of the hunting party announced.

Keep looking; keep on. We cannot rest until this demon beast is removed from this earth! he said.

Major Musgrove had felt shocked and outraged when a stealthy black feline predator suddenly appeared during the spring of that year. It roamed the countryside unimpeded, frightening all who saw it, and it preyed on local farm animals and livestock. The attacks became more frequent and gruesome, and several deaths of local villagers were also attributed to vicious attacks by some form of large animal, according to official reports. Then, unexpectedly, Musgrove’s own gardener was attacked and killed on the grounds of his estate, his body mutilated horribly.

Some reported the beast to be an amazingly large black cat that had powers to run and leap beyond what could be imagined. Those who saw it described it as terrifying, with a coat so black it defied description. It had acquired a nickname among the local people: the Surrey Stalker. It was said to move invisibly in the dark night and to attack with a fantastic ferocity.

Many officials and villagers were there on that fall morning as the hunt proceeded. They scoured the farms and fields to no avail. Musgrove’s determination was unwavering, but as the morning wore on, it seemed the beast had somehow escaped. Then, unexpectedly, an oddly dressed man of elegant appearance approached the hunting party. Two other men with rifles and a third man with a pistol and sheathed saber accompanied him. Their party also carried a section of canvas that contained a rope net.

Greetings, Major Musgrove. I am Count Munteneau from Romania, and this is my friend Saint Germain from Paris, the strangely dressed man said, turning in the direction of a man similarly dressed in expensive attire. We have heard of the problems you have encountered with some sort of beast, and we have come to offer our assistance.

Musgrove studied the strangers for a moment and then responded pleasantly, I’m pleased to meet you and your friends, and I appreciate the offer of assistance. I can assure you, however, none is needed. I am quite capable of dealing with this beast in my own way. It is only an animal and cannot avoid being apprehended for long.

You are wrong, sir, said the gentleman from Paris. This is a most unusual animal that can escape your best efforts indefinitely. I have witnessed this phenomenon for decades all across Europe, and you will need our help if you expect to rid yourself of continued attacks.

The old soldier stepped back in surprise, as if to consider what he had heard. Who are these oddly dressed strangers, and what do they know of this beast? he thought. Then he said, Go ahead, I suppose; go on and help us with the hunt. But I warn you that I am not responsible for any harm that comes to your party. You may proceed, gentlemen.

The gentleman from France then gave a direct look of concern to Musgrove and leveled a stern warning. I fear it is you who is in the greatest danger, as you have no idea as to the nature of your adversary. Please abandon this futile hunt of yours before you or others with you are killed. Heed my warning. Don’t be foolish! He spoke with a demeanor of authority.

The commander glared at the Frenchman and responded with stern consternation, Preposterous! You are talking to an accomplished military officer who has served the queen and whose experience and skill are without question. I will succeed, and you will be informed of our success. Now, go—get on with the search. Musgrove spoke firmly with a measurable degree of contempt and then gave a disdainful wave.

You have been duly warned, sir; may God keep you safe, replied the Romanian nobleman as his group stepped away.

The Major moved on with determination and conceit, as if he were hunting something dangerous yet natural and ordinary. The varied hunting parties dispersed and spread out through the fields and patches of thickly wooded areas as they attempted to cover a wider area.

Eventually, the intrepid major realized he had lost sight of his own party. He stopped and studied the terrain but saw no others. He called out, but there was no answer. Then he paused to light his pipe so as to relax a bit before continuing his tiresome endeavor. The sun shone brightly. A cool fall breeze rustled the leaves along the ground and in the branches above; he stood on the edge of a clearing next to a thickly wooded stand of trees. For the next few minutes, he could hear only the sound of the breeze and the cheerful songs of birds. All seemed calm and at peace.

Suddenly, the calm was shattered by horrible, shrieking screams coming from his right, just through the trees. The major quickly advanced toward the sound, and after a brief run, a large black shadow engulfed him. It descended from above him and, with great force, drove him to the ground, where he lay unconscious.

Musgrove did not regain consciousness until later that day, in his own bedroom at his family estate. As he slowly awakened, he winced from the pain he felt in his chest, back, and legs. As he returned to full awareness, he found he had multiple wounds that had been dressed, and his physician was carefully attending to him. He cried out in pain.

There, there, old fellow, responded his kindly doctor. You’ll live, but you have some nasty claw marks on you. The thing that attacked you could have killed you quite easily but spared you for its own reasons.

The town constable, who was also in the room, then said, Not so lucky for the Smallwood lad, though. He was shredded like a piece of raw butcher’s meat.

The major’s face contorted with shock. I was with him. He was my right-hand man on the hunt! Musgrove tried to rise from his bed but fell back and groaned in pain. I must get back out to find and destroy that thing, that terrible black shadow of a monster, he said as his voiced faded into a weak sigh.

The constable said, Did you see it? Did you see it, man? What did you see?

Musgrove replied, I heard the boy screaming for his life and ran immediately toward the woods. Just as I stepped into the trees, a creature of amazing proportions leaped directly over me and knocked me headlong to the ground. It was an animal, and it was as black as the darkest night in hell. We must find this thing—we must! The intrepid old soldier turned and buried his face in his pillow so as not to reveal his look of pain and anguish.

The constable then spoke in a determined and resolute tone. We’ll get to the bottom of all this. We’ll deal with this posthaste and keep things safe; that’s what we’ll do. There’s a large party out there right now, and I’ll wager that this beast or whatever it is will be caught by nightfall. No hiding place will be overlooked; we’ll scour the entire countryside. This creature is soon to take its last breath on this earth. I swear to that, Major!

Then the exhausted Musgrove fell onto his pillow in a swoon and slept through the entire night. The next thing he was aware of was his wife awakening him the following morning, along with his brother. Although he still was in pain, he felt some of his energy had returned.

Good morning, Osgood, said his wife gleefully. The doctor says you’ll be fine in a couple of weeks, but there must be lots of rest until then.

Musgrove lurched forward in his bed. What time is it? I must organize a search. That wretched beast must be destroyed.

Lie down and relax, Osgood, responded his brother, Alfred, with a cheerful smile. It seems that two rather odd foreign gentlemen who stopped by very early this morning have done that rigorous task for you. They left this letter for you, explaining everything in its entirety. Alfred handed the letter to his brother.

Mrs. Musgrove said, Such grand gentlemen they were, so very elegant. The Frenchman wore a lovely perfumed essence, and he was well powdered. I thought I would never get Alfred to take his eyes off the Romanian count’s sister. He flirted with her shamelessly. She giggled slightly.

Alfred sighed. Mary, I cannot remember when a woman of such countenance and exquisite beauty has visited our home. Yes, she was truly remarkable, he said, pretending to sound breathless.

Lysandra Munteneau is her name. I invited them to return again, and they said they would seriously consider it, Mrs. Musgrove said.

Alfred jokingly sang, Lysandra, Lysandra, you have purloined my heart.

Alfred and Mary laughed and continued their discussion about their ostentatious visitors.

Old Musgrove scowled and asked for his brass letter opener. He then extracted the letter from its envelope with a look of anguish. It read,

Honorable Major Osgood Musgrove:

Both le Comte de Saint Germain and I send greetings and news of the capture of the beast that has been terrorizing your local population. We are profoundly sorry for the deaths that have resulted from the presence of this creature as it prowled your surrounding towns and farms. The beast was captured last night, and your town constable was immediately informed. Fortunately, I was able to incapacitate and cage the creature and prepare it to be shipped to France and then on to Romania, where it will be scientifically studied in the greatest of detail. It is a splendid specimen that deserves attention from the best men of science. I believe it to be unique among all creatures. Its origin is entirely unknown, and you are fortunate to have survived your encounter with it. You can now rest and recover, assured that the danger is eliminated, and you can continue on the mend from your wounds. Le Comte de Saint Germain; my sister, Lysandra; and I all wish you a swift and full recovery and God’s many blessings.

Sincerely and respectfully,

Count Lucian Munteneau

Upon having read the letter, the tormented old military veteran was immediately overtaken by a fit of sheer rage and struggled unsuccessfully as he tried to drag himself from his bed. What is this outrage? I’ll strangle that stupid constable. The monster is still alive—still alive to kill again! It must be recovered and destroyed. It must!

The major tried his best to rise but slumped back onto his bed again, unable to gather enough strength even to sit upright. He remained there in his bedroom, sore and frustrated, recovering for the next month. Sadly, he was soon after diagnosed as suffering from a severe nervous disorder. Nightmares and visions of the black beast he desperately wanted to kill haunted him incessantly. Eventually, his disorder greatly restricted him, and he never fully recovered a true state of health or sane rationality. He was obsessed with and tormented by the monstrous image that had overwhelmed him during that fateful encounter. He attempted to contact Count Munteneau to no avail. He sent letter after letter to a variety of possible locations across Romania, but none were ever acknowledged. He attempted to contact le Comte de Saint Germain in France, but that too was unsuccessful. The major weakened and languished over the following years, obsessed with and haunted by his encounter with the phantom cat.

In contrast, on the vast Munteneau estate in Romania, the beast of his worst nightmares thrived and lived in seclusion under the care and protection of Count Munteneau. There the magnificent creature was free to roam in all its beastly grandeur.

2

BEREAVED

T here are times in the life of every living soul when a foreboding falls like an ominous shroud and cloaks the person with feelings of anticipated loss, dread, and horror. Who among us has never experienced that dark night of the soul? It comes like a premonition and persists, showing the way to a possible bleak future where all is loneliness, isolation, and despair. Such feelings may manifest like a strange and evil stillness, much like the calm before a storm—a storm that will violently break apart the illusion of contentment and the anticipation of fond hopes.

Just as a heavy fog encircles a church bell tower and softens the sound of the chimes, so too are lofty hopes and ambitions quieted. Like the distant thunder of an approaching storm, the changes of our lives are often heralded by some far-off impression that brings a feeling of trepidation into the lives of those of us who are unwary and unsuspecting. So too were these pronouncements of fate as they began to work their way into the life of another unsuspecting soul.

Ted Allison died suddenly, unexpectedly, and tragically. He left behind friends, family, and, most importantly, his beloved wife, Marie. Marie Allison was a middle-aged woman who had been living a routine and contented life with her husband in the middle-class midwestern USA. Before Ted’s death, she began to sense a change in her routine. She experienced it as an indistinct and vague mental impression accompanied by unfamiliar feelings of strange impulses and fitful dreams. It was like some dark premonition of the inevitable changes that were about to transpire. She realized that for many years, her life had proceeded thoughtlessly, almost automatically. She began to feel she had lived like some dutiful automaton without full awareness of her thoughts and actions. Some inexplicable form of maturation seemed to take hold of her, and from that enhanced maturity grew a new perspective. Perhaps it was a bitterness that grew from old, unfulfilled dreams. Things looked and felt different. She began to imagine and dream of fantastic changes that could only emanate from deep within her spirit. She knew she was changing, but she could not fully realize or anticipate the immensity of the metamorphosis she was destined to experience. How could she possibly imagine the extent of the fantastic changes that would alter her life and her very being? Now, after Ted’s sudden death from a massive stroke, life would never be the same.

Marie Louise Camilli was born in the quiet suburbs of a large mid-twentieth-century midwestern city. Her early years were much the same as those of many other midwestern girls of her time. She was the child of responsible and kind parents. She was the oldest of two children, who were both healthy and well nurtured. Her childhood was stable, happy, and relatively free of negative events. She had just one sister nearly two years younger. Marie attended Catholic school from kindergarten through high school. She was well behaved and