VAMPIRE LOVE STORY SERIES
Five Novels
Vampire Love Story
The Werewolf Whisperer
Forever and Always
Vampires vs. Werewolves
Werewolf Love Story
by
H.T. Night
Acclaim for the novels of H.T. Night:
“H.T. Night is a riveting storyteller, capturing the essence of the vampire genre.”
—April M. Reign, author of I.O.U. and Dividing Destiny
“Vampire Love Story is a passionate story that is told from a refreshing perspective.”
—Summer Lee, author of Kindred Spirits and Shenanigans
“A hip and timely vampire novel filled with real characters and some of the coolest vampires since The Lost Boys! You’re going to love Night’s completely original take on the supernatural.”
—J.R. Rain, author of Moon Dance and The Body Departed
“Night tells story from a funny original perspective that keeps you on the edge of your seat.”
—Elaine Babich, author Relatively Normal and You Never Called Me Princess
OTHER BOOKS BY H.T. NIGHT
WEREWOLF LOVE STORY SERIES
(Prequel to Vampire Love Story)
Werewolf Love Story
Entwined
VAMPIRE LOVE STORY SERIES
Vampire Love Story
The Werewolf Whisperer
Forever and Always
Vampires vs. Werewolves
One Love (coming soon)
VAMPIRE HIT MANN SERIES
Hit Mann (coming soon)
BOY MEETS GIRL CHRONICLES
Winning Sarah’s Heart
Lovesick Quarterback
WITH J.R. RAIN AND SCOTT NICHOLSON
Bad Blood: A Vampire Thriller
SCREENPLAYS
Getting Yours
Jocks and Cheerleaders NC17
POETRY
H.T. Night’s Tormented Youth
Vampires Love Story Series: Five Novels
Published by H.T. Night
Copyright © 2011 by H.T. Night
All rights reserved.
Ebook Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to your favorite ebookstore and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Vampire Love Story
Book #1
Vampires Love Story
Published by H.T. Night
Copyright © 2010 by H.T. Night
All rights reserved.
Dedication
I dedicate this novel to my family.
Acknowledgments
Special thanks to J.R. Rain, April M. Reign and Sandy Johnston for all their help.
Vampire Love Story
Chapter One
I rolled over in my bed and looked at the time on my cell phone. It was 9:30 p.m. and my twenty-minute power nap had turned into a two-hour snooze. Oops.
I glanced out my bedroom window to check the weather conditions outside. It was completely dark with a lot of wind. Definitely not ideal jogging conditions, but it would have to do. I needed to get a workout in or Tommy was going to kill me for slacking off. My best friend Tommy often got on my case, which was ironic, because the guy was always getting into trouble.
I threw off my blankets and pushed myself out of bed. I gave one good yawn with a long stretch; then plopped back on my bed. I knew if I didn’t run at this very moment; there was no way I’d run at any other point in the night. I knew it was now or never.
I am a professional mixed martial arts fighter, and training to be the best has many drawbacks. The worst one by far is working out when my body is dead tired. The last thing I wanted to do tonight was exercise, but I knew I had to push past my desire to be lazy. Because right about now, grabbing a bowl of Captain Crunch cereal, and flipping on an episode of CSI sounded a whole lot better than running the streets of San Bernardino in the dark of night.
There was a knock at my bedroom door.
“Come in,” I called out.
“You decent?” It was Tommy, and he was just outside my door. Not only was the guy my best friend, he was also my roommate.
“Would I say come in if I weren’t decent?” I laughed.
The door swung open slowly, and there stood Tommy, wearing nothing more than a tiny towel, showing off his perfectly chiseled body. He motioned to his abs and said, “Maybe because you are secretly in love with this.” He flexed his stomach muscles and gave a sexy pose.
Damn, he was a clown
“What do you want, Tommy?”
“I want to borrow some cologne. Is that cool?”
“Go ahead. They’re on the dresser.”
He clapped his hands and strode into my room over to my dresser where I had a collection of cologne, sitting on top. I had everything from Old Spice to high-end brands that cost a plenty penny in the nicer stores.
I watched as Tommy looked for his favorite. He was like a kid in a grocery store trying to pick out a favorite cereal. “So what’s with the cologne?” I asked.
“I got a date with that box girl at the supermarket, and I want to smell real nice if you know what I’m saying.”
“You finally got the nerve to ask her out?”
“It had nothing to do with nerve, brother. I finally wanted to ask her out. She’s been eye-balling me for years.”
I rolled my eyes and started to get dressed for my run. “So it took you two years to want to ask her out? That’s the story you’re going to stick with?”
“You know me, Josiah. I like to take things slow before I go in for the kill.”
“That sounds very romantic.”
“There you go with your romance, kid. When are you going to realize that romance only gets you hurt in the end? I’m done trying to Don Juan my way around girls. I’m taking a page from the Animal Kingdom.”
“You’re just going to jump on top of women and not even say hello?” I laughed.
“No. I’m just not going to waste unnecessary time making beds in a burning house.
“Okay, that analogy unquestionably makes no sense. Which is the burning house the women or the romance?”
“Tommy thought about it and then laughed. “It made a lot more sense in my head.”
“I bet it did. Where are you taking her?”
I’m taking her to Murphy’s.”
“Wow, classy. “ Murphy’s was the fanciest place to eat in San Bernardino. It had it all: ambiance, location, and hot female clientele. “You sure you’re not trying to romance this girl. I only take a girl to Murphy’s if she earned it. All I’m saying is you better keep your eyes on your date and not the waitresses.”
Tommy picked the cologne he wanted from the top dresser. Of course, the guy picked my favorite cologne, Drakkar Noir. He sprayed his upper body and both his legs and even lifted his towel to do a meticulous squirt inside the towel.
I walked over and grabbed the cologne bottle from Tommy’s hand. “Like I said, you’re all class.” I pushed Tommy out of my room. “Now get out, so I can get ready for my run.”
Tommy stopped himself and turned around. He looked at me seriously, which he rarely did. “Don’t run too far tonight, I’ve got a weird feeling.”
“You do?” I asked, legitimately concerned. Tommy’s feelings were eerie. I shrugged. “Okay, I’ll be careful. I’ll run to the college and back.”
“Get back in an hour and you’ll be fine.” Tommy thought for a second and then added, “Yeah, an hour will be fine. One more thing, Josiah, the Commission is going to let us know tomorrow who we fight next month.”
Tommy was also a professional fighter, and good enough to contend for the title.
“I hope the Commission will
give me a real fight this time,
I said. “Maybe I’ll have a
shot to move up in the rankings.” The Commission tended to think I
was still a cherry, and they were taking me along a lot slower than I
wanted.
“Maybe if you didn’t wait till 10:00 o’clock at night to get a workout in you would be ready to have better fights.” Tommy always brought up my workout regimen. Tommy and I couldn’t be more different when it came to our workout routines. Tommy’s workouts were epic. They made pro boxers workouts look tame. I, on the hand, have always gotten by on pure talent. I have an insane ability to fight and my instincts are off the charts. I got away with hardly working out, and I finally it has caught up with me.
“You know you and I will never agree on how I should be working out, Tommy. You should be pleased that I want to run tonight.” I paused, and then I asked, “What kind of fight are you looking for with Commission?”
“I just need a tune up before my title fight. I need to work out some kinks.” Tommy was fighting for the title in four months.
“You better hope the Commission gives you just a tune-up fight and nothing more. The last thing you need is to get hurt.”
“I’m not going to get hurt; I’m 18-0, remember that.” Here Tommy goes again with his undefeated record. He wears his record like a badge of honor. It was quite amusing, especially when he brings it up in bars and tries to impress girls. They usually never even heard of mixed martial arts.
Tommy seemed to forget I was undefeated to, even though I didn’t work out nearly as hard as him. “You aren’t the only one who is undefeated,” I reminded him.
He stood at my doorway. “Yup, you sure are. Your little 4-0 record is very cute, Josiah.”
“I only have four wins because the Commission takes forever to give me a fight, unlike you who they throw on the card every month.”
“What can I say? I’m an excellent draw. Chicks dig themselves some of the ‘Tom Man’.” Tommy was now starting to get full of himself, and that was my cue to kick him out of my room.
“For the love of God, Tommy, just go on your date!” I shut the door in his face.
“Not cool, Josiah.”
“And neither is wasting all my favorite cologne.”
“Touché.”
I grinned at the exchange I just had with Tommy. I enjoyed his company. Having him around made my life easier. In our friendship, we took turns on who was the responsible one. Even though, Tommy is ‘a good’ five years older than me, you wouldn’t know it by how he behaves sometimes.
I peeled off my shirt, and I looked at myself in the mirror. I needed to lose around ten pounds before my next fight. Did I even have ten pounds to lose? I was six feet tall with very little body fat. I pinched my belly and grabbed as much fat as I could get. I got a decent handful.
Okay maybe I did have ten pounds to lose.
I studied my face. It was clean with few marks and scars. That was reasonable considering I had never said ‘no’ to a fight in my life. In fact, I had been fighting off bullies since I was seven years old. My blonde hair was an easy target for most kids to take their shots at me. In most cases, I had to fight my way for respect.
Nowadays, I looked more like a surfer than a mixed martial arts fighter. People often misread and underestimate me. That’s a good thing. Interestingly, there’s something about the way I look that makes most guys want to start a fight with me. I don’t know if it’s the fact that I look as if I should be in a boy band or that I’m extremely confident; anyway, there’s something about me that makes random strangers want to mix it up with me constantly.
Too bad for them.
An ex-girlfriend once asked me why I love to fight. My answer was simple: Some guys were born to fix cars or play football. Some guys were born to be astronauts or to hit a fastball. I was born to fight. It’s the only thing in this world that ever made perfect sense to me. When I’m in a fight, time stands still. I see everything in slow motion. My brain goes into Good Will Hunting mode, and I’m able to quickly determine what I want to do to inflict the most damage to my opponent.
Anyway, I put on a pair of sweats, a t-shirt, and my running shoes. Once done, I headed outside the house that Tommy and I shared, and did some stretching next to the tall sycamore tree in the front yard.
I was still stretching when I heard a familiar squawk from above. I looked up, and there was Daphne. Daphne was a beautiful red hawk that seems to have developed a fondness for me over the past couple of years. She made herself known each day by squawking or flying low enough, so I could see her. I still have no idea where she came from or why she seemed so interested in me. I named her Daphne one day after watching an episode of Scooby-Doo. They both had red hair, so it seemed to fit.
“I’m off for a run, Daphne, try to keep up with me.”
I gave Daphne a wink and took off running. The beautiful bird let out an amicable loud squawk as I headed down the street. At first, I went fairly slowly with my run. Daphne followed me for about a block or two and then pulled back. I kicked up my heels and began to run at a faster pace. I quickly ran out of the neighborhood and headed for the main street that led up to Cal State San Bernardino. I liked running at the college. It was peaceful at night and as long as I avoided campus police, I usually had no problems.
I turned left and headed down University Way towards the college. I could hear loud music, which meant I was approaching the Gamma Phi Beta frat house. They always had a party going on, and this Thursday night was no different. Their frat house was a massive two-story white house that stood out like a sore thumb in a neighborhood filled with smaller houses.
As I ran toward the house, I noticed that the party was raging. There were a lot of cars parked out front, and people milling around outside. Music thumped from the open front door. I hurried past the house, so I wouldn’t have to hear drunk frat boys yelling out things like “Run, Forrest, run!”
But as I was about to pass the house without incident, I heard a chilling scream. The scream was so distinctive and piercing that it made me stop in my tracks.
I turned around, and as I did so, I heard it again. It was coming from behind the house. The gate was open, so I walked toward it. I thought it could just be college girls having a good time, but then I heard it for a third time. This time it was louder and more uneasy.
As I neared the back gate, I saw movement in a window. A young, dark-haired woman wearing a black dress was desperately opening a window. I picked up my pace, running now. She wrenched up the window, looked over her shoulder, and then jumped from the upstairs window.
Holy shit.
She dropped behind some hedges, where I heard her scream and crash through something wooden. She reappeared a moment later, limping badly and bleeding from fresh scratches along her face and elbows.
She and I reached the side gate about the same time. Amazingly, I recognized the girl. In fact, we had gone to high school together at Eisenhower. She was one of those girls who was into Goth and kept to herself. I saw that she was barefoot, and her black dress was torn at the right shoulder. Blood oozed from the opening. Her jet-black hair was messy, and she appeared to have been crying.
I would be crying, too, if I had just jumped from the second floor.
What the hell was going on?
Chapter Two
The girl’s eyes met mine for the first time, and her first reaction was to shrink away from me, but then they widened with what I could only describe as hope. “I know you!” She shouted at me. “Please! Help me, please!”
But before I could respond, she threw herself into my arms, nearly knocking me over. I tried to look at her face, but she held me tight.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. “Are you hurt?”
She released me and grabbed my arm. “Please, just get me out of here!”
“What’s going on?”
“Just get me out of here!”
“I don’t have a car. I’m on foot—”
“I don’t care! Just help me leave!”
I had just watched her jump from an upstairs window, and unless she was on a bad trip, she needed some serious help. But who was she running from? I wasn’t very good at this sort of thing, but then again, who is.
“Okay, then.” I grabbed her hand as we ran back around to the front of the house. The party was still raging. For the most part, her scream had gone unnoticed, although a few guys were watching me. Maybe they noticed her blood.
And just as we hit the sidewalk, a plump redheaded guy burst through the front door and down the porch, chasing us.
“Lena!” he screamed. “Where you going, baby?”
“I’m getting the hell out of here, Ron—or Ronnie—or whatever the hell your name is. You and your friends can kiss my ass.”
I was still holding her hand. A crowd was gathering.
What the hell had I got myself into?
“Well, that’s what we were trying to do until you decided to be a tease,” the red-headed goon said. This guy was a piece of work. He had more freckles than any twenty-year-old man I had ever seen. He was heavy set and could use some time in the gym.
Ron smirked and started to walk towards us. Ron was about my height, but he outweighed me by seventy pounds. He looked like an oversized Raggedy Andy doll. Or, maybe the guy who ate an oversized Raggedy Andy doll.
“Don’t come near us!” Lena grabbed my arm.
“Who is this guy?” Ron said, ignored Lena. In fact, he walked right up to my face.
I said, “I’m going to take her home.” I was unusually calm and in control. Deep breaths. I could feel myself flustering. I didn’t like guys coming up to my face.
“Who the hell are you?” Ron asked.. He stepped closer to me. I could smell alcohol on his breath.
“Just go back inside,” I said to Ron. “Go back to your party.” I took a step back to appear less confrontational.
“And what if I don’t want to go back to my party?” Ron took another step towards me. A bigger step. An extraordinarily stupid step.
I looked at this guy. I would get kicked out of Mixed Martial Arts for even entertaining to fight a guy this out of shape.
One problem: It’s hard not to entertain punching a punk like this face into a pulp when you love to fight.
I felt my heart rate increase. Blood throbbed in my temples. My left hand, my free hand, opened and closed. It itched to make a fist. It itched to connect with this douche bag’s face.
“Look, Spanky,” I said, taking a deep breath. “I’m sure there’s a whole plethora of girls inside just begging for you to slip them a roofie. Why don’t you just let us get out of here and then you can go back to raping and pillaging.”
“Raping and pillaging? Oh, you’re funny, Back Street. You’re not going anywhere. I took Lena to this party. If anyone’s taking her home, it’s going to be me.”
“I don’t see that happening,” I said. The throbbing in my temple increased. Adrenalin was flooding my bloodstream. “You seemed to have lost that privilege the second you and your frat buddies decided to commit a federal crime.”
“The last time I checked it wasn’t a crime when a girl was asking for it.”
“That’s why her hair is messed up and she has a ripped dress.” I didn’t know if she had ripped her dress on the fall from the upstairs’ window, or if he had done it, but Ron answered my concerns soon enough.
“What can I say? I guess the bitch likes it rough.”
“You’re a fucking pig, Ron!” Lena yelled out.
“Look, whore, you know you wanted it, and you got scared once you saw how fat my cock was.”
My stomach turned. I stepped towards Ron. “Get the fuck out of here, you fat piece of shit.”
“And what if I don’t?” As he spoke, spittle flew from his mouth and hit my cheeks. I hate that.
I said, “Then this night will not end well for you.”
By this time, twenty party members had now made their way outside to see the commotion. Among them were four or five of Ron’s frat buddies. His friends were of all shapes and sizes, none of them remotely intimidating. They walked over to us, eager to get in on the fun.
Fighting was fun. Sometimes too much fun.
Anyway, now they stood next to him in a display of solidarity. Ron said to them, “This guy thinks he’s going to kick my ass.”
Ron had no idea what he was up against, obviously. If he had any street smarts, he would take in how I was holding myself. How I was prepared, at a moment’s notice to strike, and strike hard. Any fighter worth his salt knew immediately what he was up against, by the way his opponent held himself. Ron wasn’t a fighter. He wasn’t anything.
And he’s not worth getting suspended over.
I took in a lot of air. I had sized up my opponent and knew immediately what I was up against. Ron was doughy and out-of-shape. I could knock him out in seconds. His friends, on the other hand, might cause some problems if they decided to make this a group affair. I didn’t shy away from group affairs. I shied away, in fact, from very little.
I looked at his friends. Some looked cocky. Some looked confused. Most looked drunk. One or two of them were yelling for Ron to kick my ass. My best guess was that his friends were probably not going to jump, that they were going to allow this to be a fair fight, so I put all my attention on Ron.
Fair? I thought. You’re a trained fighter. There’s nothing fair about it.
Ron rubbed his soft-looking knuckles, sizing me up. He didn’t like what he saw. I saw the fear now in his eyes. Ron and I both knew he wasn’t tough. A guy like this got through life barely fighting because he was usually bullying people into thinking he was tougher than he was. He couldn’t bully me, and he knew it. Tonight, he was about to be exposed for the fraud he was.
As he continued to stare at me, I said, “Look, Ron, I’m not falling in love looking at you. If you’re going to do something, do it; otherwise, I’d like to make it home in time for Jimmy Kimmel.” I knew this would piss him off.
Ron continued rubbing his knuckles. He also continued not doing anything.
I gripped the girl, Lena’s, hand tighter. “All right,” I said. “Let’s go, Lena. Ron is apparently a nice guy and is going to let us leave.” I turned around, knowing Ron would push me in the back, and Ronny boy didn’t disappoint.
Like I said, when I get into a fight, things always go in slow motion for me—and they did so now. The moment I felt Ron’s hand on my back, I turned and grabbed his hand. Ron wasn’t prepared for me to turn. I’ve been told my reflexes are off the charts, my anticipatory skills are unrivaled. I credit it all to the slow-motion thing. How it works, I don’t know, but the world seems to slow down around me while I go to normal speed. So while Ron’s eyes widened in fear as he saw me spin around, he was helpless to do much about it. I grabbed his right hand and pulled him forward using his own momentum. Ron stumbled forward and hit the side of an oversized SUV parked on the street near us. He bounced off the door and fell straight to his ass. I heard chuckling from the crowd.
Ron got to his feet slowly, watching me. People were still laughing behind us, and I could see that their laughter was making Ronny-Boy increasingly angrier. There was a red mark on his forehead where it had bounced off the side of the SUV.
And that’s when he charged at me in a clumsy, uncoordinated motion. I wasn’t sure if he would try to punch me or grab me. Regardless, I turned my body to the left and got into a perfect position to throw a vicious uppercut with my right hand. And that’s what I did. My punch landed directly on his chin, and Ron flew backwards onto the sidewalk, landing hard on his ass and back, his head bouncing off the concrete like a basketball. To my utter surprise, he scrambled quickly back to his feet, where he stared at me unsteadily. I think his eyes might have crossed a little. He staggered once, twice, and then fell backward.
I looked over at Lena; her eyes and mouth were wide open. I couldn’t tell if she was scared or excited. Then she pointed, and I turned quickly and saw four of Ron’s frat buddies surrounding me. I’ve been jumped before. Being jumped isn’t a big deal if you know how to fight, and there are no weapons involved. As far as I could tell, these guys were packing nothing but their soft fists. And since the crowd was composed of a lot of women, the guys would be less inclined to fight dirty. At least, that has been my experience. Then again, these were the same scumbags who had just tried to take advantage of Lena, so all bets were off.
The group backed up a little. And once again, I marveled at my propensity to get into fights. Some guys attract money and girls. I attract fists.
The guys were staring at each other, trying to decide what to do. They were waiting for a signal. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw one of them nod, and I thought: Here they come.
And they did, all four charging me at once. Except, of course, they charged at me in slow motion, my brain once again slowing things down like it always did. The first two guys tried to throw punches in the direction of my head. I easily ducked and sidestepped and gave a sharp left cross to the guy on the right—and broke his nose on contact. Blood spurted down his face and over his shirt, and he screamed and fell away. Nearly simultaneously, I gave the second guy, coming up behind me a back kick that hit nothing but manhood. He fell to the ground, holding his gooseberries. The next guy jumped on my back. I threw him over my shoulder, and he landed on the guy with the bloody nose. The last guy just charged me like a football player. I took a step back and gave him a high kick to the chin that made him stagger back. He came at me again and I gave him a four-punch combination with my last hit breaking his nose.
My adrenalin was pumping, and I felt as if I could do this all night. By the looks of it, these four couldn’t. They were done. Unfortunately, the Gamma Phi Beta’s brother weren’t. The whole Fraternity or at least what was left of them had surrounded me. There must have been twenty-five guys out there. I was good, but I wasn’t that good.
I was about to say something that would call attention to how unfair the numbers were. When something excruciatingly painful exploded in the middle of me back. I fell to my knees and then to the ground. I turned around, and sure enough, Big Red Ron was standing there holding a baseball bat, sporting a shit-eating grin. He raised the bat again.
I hate when that happens.
Chapter Three
Ron looked like a kid ready to hit the crap out of a piñata. A deranged kid and I was the piñata. Already, I figured he had done some serious damage to me. He either chipped a vertebra, or ruptured my kidney, or both.
And as he wheeled back to take another swing, and as I was about to dive under the nearby SUV, we both heard a commotion coming from down the street. He stopped in mid-swing, and I stopped in mid-dive, and promptly coughed up some blood.
And while I coughed, a van appeared around the corner, screeching on two tires. Three guys in black trench coats were hanging out of the open doors, whooping and hollering at the top of their lungs. I had just propped myself up on a knee when the van burst over the curb. It bounced and skidded to a halt, tearing up the lawn next to me.
You have got to be kidding me. What the hell did I just get myself into?
All the doors to the van seemingly opened at once, and three guys poured out of the van. All wearing trench coats and looking as if they had just gotten back from a Marilyn Manson concert. Oddly, they looked alike: tall, pale, with long, greasy black hair.
I coughed, and more blood came up. I stood slowly. I think Ronnie boy had cracked a rib. And as I stood, I felt a gentle hand under my elbow helping me. I looked, surprised. It was Lena. She smiled at me, but the smile quickly faded. Her eyes flashed warningly over to the death rock trio.
As I steadied myself, the tallest of the van freaks—easily seven feet tall—rushed over to Lena, who was still holding my arm. He grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. She pulled me with her a little, and I spun, too, nearly falling.
The giant weirdo said, and none too politely: “What the hell are you doing at this meathead party? I warned you to stay away.”
She stood her ground, looking up at the guy. “You think I wanted to come to this party, Atticai? One of these assholes drugged me at the club and brought me here.”
A woman got out of the driver’s side. She had dark reddish maroon hair and was paler than all the guys put together. She was stunning. She too, wore all black, but it looked like a jumpsuit, and she had a bull whip in her hand. This was just getting better and better.
“They drugged you?” said the tall guy. Atticai, I assumed.
But before she could answer, one of the frat guys yelled out, “Hey, Freak Show! Get your fucking van off my lawn or I’m calling the police.”
“Who said that?” Atticai said, scanning the crowd, which was pretty easy for him to do, since he was the tallest guy I had even seen up close.
A real muscular guy came forward. “I did,” he said. “Now get your fucking van off my grass or I’m going stick my foot deep in your bony ass.”
Atticai turned away, ignoring him. He took both of Lena’s shoulders in his abnormally large hands. “Did they hurt you?”
Lena looked away. There were tears in her eyes. Hell, there were tears in my eyes, too. I looked at Ron. He was standing with his back to me, holding the bat loosely, completely absorbed by the three strangers.
The tall guy said, “So which one of these young men thought it would be okay to drug a young woman and take advantage of her?”
Without hesitation, Lena pointed at Ron, who stepped back a little and gripped his bat. “Hey, man, I don’t know what she’s talking about.”
“Of course not,” said Atticai. “Lena, get in the van and shut the door.” He looked back at Ron. “My little ginger-haired friend is going to be taught the correct way to treat a lady.”
Lena grabbed the tall guy’s hand. “Atticai, please. Someone already took care of it. Just let it go.”
Ron, hearing this, took a step back. He also raised the bat again. Atticai continued looking at Ron. “Yes, I can see that someone did some damage to the boy.”
“Who are you calling boy, punk?” Ron jutted the fat part of the bat in the direction of the tall figure.
Atticai’s face hardened. He looked back at Lena. “Get in the van. Now.”
Lena looked at me one more time, tried to smile, and then hurried over to the van. I want to say something, but I’ll admit, I was awkwardly caught up in the scene. Besides, Lena seemed to know these weirdos and didn’t seem afraid. Or, at least, she seemed less afraid.
I had been in enough brawls to know one was about to go down, and I was pretty fought out for the evening. Getting hit in the back with a bat has a way of doing that to you.
This is none of your business. Leave now before this gets ugly.
Easier said than done. For now, it was all I could do to suck in a deep breath, let alone walk away. Besides, there was the small matter of a little payback.
Let it go, I thought. And get the fuck out of here.
“So you play baseball, Fatty?” Atticai asked to Ron. From somewhere deep inside the tall man’s trench coat, he removed a length of chain.
A woman in the crowd gasped. A lot of people did. Lena was watching from the front seat. She looked sick.
Ron dropped the bat. “Look, no harm no foul. You guys can just go.”
“Oh, we can?” Atticai began circling Ron. The chain hung limply from his long arm. “How very generous of you.”
“Please—”
“If only life could be so simple, Red.”
“My name is Ron.”
“Thanks for clearing that up, Red. So you met a pretty young girl at a bar, got her loaded, and thought that you and your buddies would do the unthinkable to her. But, somehow, your plans didn’t quite go as planned.” Atticai smiled at his little play on words. He continued circling Ron. The gaunt figure, easily a head taller than the cherub-faced Ron, looked at me and caught my eye. He nodded perceptively, and I understood the meaning. He was thanking me. Atticai looked back at Ron. “Unfortunately, for you and your sick plans, you didn’t count on others helping her. You sick rapist fucks never figure that in...that some people truly love these girls, you hurt.”
“Look, man. I’m sorry. I didn’t do anything. You can even ask her.”
“I don’t need to ask her. You want to know why? I can see through you. I can see your heart. I can see your soul. And you know what? You aren’t a righteous person. So that is why I’m going to continue giving you the beating that someone else started.”
Ron seemed whiter than what I remembered his skin looking like. Then again, that could have just been a play on light. Either way, he started walking backwards—and promptly tripped over the hose. He screamed as if he had been shot, scrambled to his feet, and made a mad dash toward the front door of the house.
Atticai watched him with a bemused expression on his face, and I thought that was going to be it. Ron would run to his room, and everyone would disperse, and I would limp my way home.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.
The tall man swirled his long chain like a lasso and what he did next defied logic and reason. He threw the chain, which whipped through the air, humming as it went. The chain wrapped around Ron’s legs perfectly and the burly dope pitched forward onto the house’s concrete steps. My mouth had barely dropped open, when this Atticai character somehow, miraculously appeared on top of Ron.
Then Atticai opened his mouth, and in the ambient street and house light, I could see that he had filed down his teeth. What the hell? A second later, he buried his teeth and face into Ron’s neck. Ron screamed like a girl. Someone else screamed, too. Ron kicked once, twice. More people screamed.
Was I being Punk’d? Was this happening?
A moment later, Atticai pulled his face off—a face now covered with blood. Ron was lying perfectly still, with blood pouring down his neck; his blood splashed over the concrete stairs.
This is real. The seven foot tall freak fucking bit into fat boy’s neck. Unbelievable.
Atticai casually picked Ron up by his neck, lifting him entirely off the ground. Ron’s legs dangled like a five-year-old’s. And with a primeval growl, the tall freak threw Ron off the stairs and into the bushes nearby.
And that’s when complete pandemonium broke out.
Chapter Four
Most of the party goers took off running, but there were some unfortunate bastards who stood their ground trying to defending their frat house turf.
Like I said, unfortunate bastards.
The three guys in trench coats were moving so fast that they appeared more a blur than anything. I was beginning to wonder if I had been the one who had been slipped a ‘roofie’. Anyway, time skipped a bit. One moment the tall, freaky guys were here. And the next, they were over there. In a blur, a blink and sometimes even instantly. And since I no longer had a dog in this fight. Not to mention I was seriously questioning my sanity, I decided to duck behind the Jeep and see how this all played out.
And then get the hell out of here.
The red-headed woman had now joined the three trench coats. All four, as best as I could tell, were laying beat downs with their chains and whips in a scene that could only be described as surreal, and one that made prison riots look tame. No one here had a chance.
The red-headed woman, who had just disposed of a man twice her size by throwing him hard against a tree trunk, suddenly stopped and looked straight at me. I wanted to duck, but too late. Her eyes narrowed and then she did something unexpected. She nodded slightly and motioned with her head. I frowned and was momentarily overcome with an impression that she recognized me somehow, although I was damn sure I had no clue who she was. She motioned with her head again, and my foggy, dense brain finally understood the gesture. She wanted me to get running.
Well, that sounded like a hell of a good idea, and so that’s what I did. Well, as I best as I could pull off. With a sharp pain ripping through my injured back—and pain that was eclipsed by a powerful surge of adrenalin—I bolted down the driveway.
And that’s as far as I got.
Before I could even get to the sidewalk, one of the trench coats guys had tripped up my feet. I fell to the ground. I tried to fight him off, but it was no use. He had the strength of ten men. He was impossible to move. I was a world-class mixed martial arts fighter, and this Goth dude was keeping me down? I rolled over, and he bit down on my neck. What the hell was this crazy asshole doing?
He was freaking biting into my neck! Really?
I had been in at least 200 hundred fights, in my life. Not one time did my opponent think a smart move was to bite my neck.
I tried fighting him off, but it was no use. With everything I had—and using every wrestling technique Tommy had ever taught me—I broke his grip on me and heaved him off me. All in one motion. And as he went spinning and stumbling, I leaped to my feet and grabbed my neck. He regained his balance and turned and faced me, eyes wide with wonder and confusion. He didn’t plan on me being that strong. It was if that would be the first time anyone ever got the best of him.
I looked at my hand. There was a small amount of blood on it. “What the fuck did you do that for?” I said to the man who just took a bite out of my flesh.
“You should have never come,” he hissed, and lunged towards me again, his mouth wide. This guy also had his teeth filed.
What the hell was going on? They all had some crazy vampire fetish.
I landed a punch that did him little harm, although it slowed him down some. He just shook his head and kept coming. The blow I had landed would have laid out most people. People being the operative word here.
And in a move that would have made any MMA fighter proud, he grabbed my hand in a blink and pulled me forward. The movement was so sudden and powerful that I lost my balance. He yanked me again and now I pitched forward onto the grass. Not the world’s most graceful take-down, but it worked. Not to mention he still had me by the hand, which he had yanked awkwardly behind me.
Awkwardly and painfully. Too painfully. I turned my head and saw that the son-of-bitch had bitten down on my wrist. I tried to free myself, but I was in a hell of an awkward position.
He bit down harder, tearing away some of my skin.
This man was now drinking the blood from my wrist. I could see the crazy motherfucker swallowing my blood. I looked towards the grass, and the other two guys were biting their victims, too. I began to feel faint.
“Don’t hurt him, Wyatt!” a voice shouted, in the night. It was hard to be sure from where, exactly. Blackness had seriously started encroaching along the edges of my vision. The voice might have been coming from the van. “He’s the only one who helped me!”
And with that, the man lets go of my wrist. My hand dropped, and I fell forward on my face. I was completely drained of all energy. I lost all desire to move.
As I laid there, feeling as if I had been attacked by a grizzly bear, I could hear the sounds of approaching sirens. I’m no stranger to sirens or even being arrested. If you grow up a street brawler like me, you get used to both; however, I was too weak to move.
Now I seriously felt drugged, and my neck and wrist hurt like hell.
Suddenly, Atticai was by my side. He knelt down, which took him a heartbeat longer than most people, since he was so damn tall. He lowered his face to mine, and I was struck instantly by the strong scent of coppery blood. Indeed, blood was dripping in large globs down his chin. My stomach turned.
“Is this true?” Atticai asked me.
“Is what true?” I could barely muster out.
“Did you help Lena?”
“Yes,” I said. “Of course.”
He glanced over his shoulder to the others. “Then let’s get the hell out of here.” He looked back at me and grinned through all the blood. “And you’re coming with us.”
Amazingly, he gripped the back of my shirt and lifted me clean off the ground. I found myself briefly dangling—and gagging for air—before he threw me into the back of the open van like a sack of potatoes. Everybody followed in behind and the side door was slammed shut.
Wyatt, the same guy who tried to feast on my arm, started the van and threw it into reverse. Dirt and grass and mud kicked up and soon we were bounding over the sidewalk and back onto the street. There, he shoved the gearshift into ‘drive’ and the van literally squealed away, briefly slewing sideways.
Most of the seats had been removed. The others freaks were hanging out the windows. Only Lena and the red-headed girl were looking at me.
I wanted to ask where the hell they were taking me, but I was still weak and oddly drained of energy. And so I did the only thing I could think of, I closed my eyes and hoped I would awaken from this nightmare.
Chapter Five
I must have passed out.
When I opened my eyes again, the redheaded woman was lying next to me. She had my wrist in her hand and was putting rubbing alcohol on the bite marks. “Does it hurt?” she asked.
“A little,” I said.
“Wyatt is terribly sorry for biting you. He thought you were one those pricks at the party.”
“Yeah, sorry about that, dude. That was totally my bad.” Wyatt said to me from the driver’s seat. “I thought you were making a run for it.”
I had no idea how to respond to a guy who had just bitten my neck and drank blood from my arm. I’m sure my expression said it all. It was a cross between What the hell? And Seriously? You drank my blood?
Instead of answering, I turned back to the redheaded girl and asked, “Where are we going?”
She looked at me with a softness that was a complete one-eighty from what I had seen earlier, when she was whipping dudes into submission. “We’re headed to the Flatlands. It’s just north of Arrowhead.”
“We’re in the mountains?” I asked.
The girl nodded. “We weren’t about to stick around and allow you and Lena to get arrested.” She grinned a little. “We’re not complete monsters.”
Being arrested was nothing new to me. Then again, explaining the bite marks on my wrist and neck to the police might be hard to do. Yeah, it was probably best to get the hell out of there. Then again, getting the hell out of there with these weirdos might not have been my best choice, though.
Atticai was sitting up against the inside of the car door. With his long limbs bent sharply, he looked a bit like a praying mantis. He had his arm around Lena. A protective gesture. It reminded me of a father protecting his young daughter. Anyway, Atticai was staring at me, and it was making me feel extremely uncomfortable. I’m not used to feeling uncomfortable. I decided I didn’t like the feeling..
He stared at me for another few seconds and then asked, “Did you seriously beat the shit out of those five guys before we got there?”
I thought about his question. I wasn’t sure if the king freak would be impressed by that or threatened. Finally, I shrugged and said, “Yeah, I did.”
“With only your hands?” he asked.
“And my feet,” I said.
Atticai nodded. “Impressive,” he said. He was now stroking Lena’s hair, who was sitting there impassively. I couldn’t see if she liked his touch or not. Anyway, he was treating her more like a pet than a human being, which I found creepy as hell. He looked back at me. “So what’s your name?”
“Josiah.”
“Well, thanks, Josiah. I’m not sure what would have happened to Lena if you hadn’t stepped in.”
Was this guy for real? Was he truly acting this normal?
He and his buddies just got done literally ripping the flesh and drinking the blood of the party goers, and he was just sitting there, calmingly petting Lena.
Something seriously strange and terribly wrong was going on here. And I was trapped in the van, still weak as hell from having my own blood feasted on.
The third guy spoke up. “What are you?” he asked. “A superhero?” He was sitting in the front passenger seat next to Wyatt. He was as thin as the others and just as pale, but he had a Middle Eastern look to him.
I sat up a little more, feeling some of my strength coming back into my body. Or maybe I was just willing my strength to come back. The redheaded girl and Atticai were still staring at me. I guess I was just going to have to get used to these creeps looking at me and not talking. Granted, having a beautiful redhead staring at me was certainly not as creepy, but not by much.
I said, “I just wanted to help Lena.” I looked over at her again. Now she glanced at me and smiled, even while Atticai continued running his fingers through her hair. She had a zen aura about her now that she was obviously extremely safe.
Or maybe she’s just as freaked out as you, I thought. But I doubted it. She knew these people. And she wasn’t afraid.
“Well, you guys seemed to have things pretty well under control,” I said, purposely not mentioning the part where they also seemed to have enjoyed a late night snack.
Seriously. Who were these people?
The red-headed woman wrapped a bandage around my wrist. “My name’s Yari,” she said, taping the bandage on. Her touch was gentle, pleasant...and oddly cold. As if her fingers had been dipped in a bucket of chilled blood. The contradictory nature of all of these individuals was making my brain spin.
“Yari?” I asked, trying to pronounce it correctly.
She smiled at me. She was incredibly beautiful. I felt like her bright, searching eyes could see right through me. “Yes...Yari; it rhymes with Atari.” She smiled.
As creeped out as I was, I smiled, too. “Wow! You made an old-school game reference. I’m impressed.”
“Oh, you have no idea how old school I am.” She grinned, then flicked her gaze over to Atticai, who was still staring at me. “The freakishly tall scary fellow here is Atticai.” She nodded toward the driver. “You already know Wyatt. And in the passenger seat is Hector. Hector likes to smile a lot and doesn’t say much.
I nodded and tried to smile at everyone. I guessed introductions were in order considering I was being kidnapped.
Wyatt suddenly turned the van hard to the right and hit the brakes. “We’re here.”
Atticai leaped into motion, his long limbs unfurling in a blink like some weird alien life form awaken from a slumber. He threw open the bay door, and he and Lena jumped out. I slowly followed with my bandage around my wrist and no doubt a damn big hickey on my neck compliments of Wyatt.
The Flatlands was a giant gravel parking lot that was surrounded by trees. We were obviously in the heart of the San Bernardino Mountains. The sky was lit-up by stars that you just can’t see in the city. There were several trucks and cars parked throughout the gravel area. Beyond the cars were fires and voices and many dark-clad figures. It appeared to be a giant party, a rave of some sort, except everyone was dressed in black.
A freak convention, I thought.
There were bonfires everywhere and the sounds of old-school Suicidal Tendencies blaring. A quick scan and guestimate told me that there were at least a hundred or so of these “emo” characters.
I was led over to one of the bonfires. Atticai still had his arm around Lena. He was still giving off this protective vibe when it came to her. It was surreal, to say the least.
Anyway, as we walked up, there was no doubt who was the alpha male in this group. A swatch opened for him, and he walked down the middle of it. Everyone seemed to turn and watch him. I stopped at the edge of the fire with Yari and watched as Atticai took off his trench coat and then his T-shirt. He was pretty ripped. He was damn pale, granted, but the dude had some serious game in the abs department. His stomach looked as if it was carved out of alabaster by Michelangelo himself. No wonder Lena liked this guy. Even though, he was a colossal freak, he was a man among boys in this adoring crowd. Anyway, as he turned his back to me, I saw that he had a pretty strange tattoo covering the upper half of his back. It was, in fact, writing. Big black Old English letters spelled out the acronym “C.O.N.”
Okay, whatever.
One of the guys at the party walked up to Atticai and handed him a wooden jug that looked like something out of 1800’s. Atticai grabbed the jug and immediately jumped on the hood of one of the trucks and took a long drink from whatever was in the container.
He then turned and looked straight at me. “Hey, Josiah! Want a swig?”
“What is it?” I asked from the other side of the fire.
“A little of everything. Tastes like shit, but that’s not the point.”
I was about to ask what the point was, but I decided I didn’t want to know. It was probably laced with God-knows-what. Whatever it was, I know I didn’t want it in my body. Not with my big fighting coming up.
“I’ll pass,” I said. “I’m in training.”
“Training?” Atticai laughed. “Training for what?”
“For a fight I’m having next month. I’m a professional fighter.”
“Seriously?”
“Yep.”
“No wonder you kicked so much ass tonight. I didn’t realize I was in the presence of Muhammad Ali.”
“I’m not a boxer. I’m a mixed martial arts fighter.”
“You mean that crazy Royce Gracie crap?”
“It’s evolved since him, but, yeah. That is exactly the sport I’m in.”
Everyone at the party was now looking at me. They seemed impressed that Atticai was taking a liking to me. As if we were old friends or something. I still wasn’t sure what I thought about all this.
I was just about to relax a tad when someone shoved me hard in the back. I took a couple steps towards the fire and turned around and immediately dropped into a fighter position. Standing there was a bleached-blonde idiot about my size, staring at me.
“You think you’re a badass?” the guy asked.
You have got to be kidding me. Was I seriously about to have another scuffle?
This dude looked ridiculous. This guy had a Danzig shirt on and had several piercings in his face. One punch to his face would tear him to shreds, not to mention ruin about five hundred dollars worth of jewelry.
“No,” I said. “I’m just hanging around like everyone else.”
The bleached-blonde guy got up in my face. “I don’t like you.”
“Back the hell off, Rubidoux!” Atticai shouted.
“Why? If this guy is so tough, then let’s have him prove it.”
“Rubidoux, you’re tanked. Trust me, you don’t want anything to do with this guy,” Atticai insisted.
But Rubidoux didn’t listen. He took a swing at me, and I instinctively ducked. When you fight, you always go by instinct. You also have to account for your surroundings, and especially friends. In this case, I knew that I couldn’t strike this guy or I might have dozens of guys on me. Punching out friends always has a way of getting other friends riled up. But friends will let a fight play-out if it goes to the ground. Of course, what happens after that is anyone’s guess.
Anyway, I knelt down and shot my shoulders straight into his legs. In one smooth motion, I picked him up and threw him hard to his shoulders, pinning him down on his back, while holding down both his arms.
A perfect take-down.
I was particularly careful not to touch his face. Had we been alone, he would already have been knocked out.
“I don’t know you!” I said to Rubidoux. “I have no problem with you! You need to calm down!”
“All right, man, get the fuck off me.”
“Are you going to be cool?” I insisted.
Then without warning Rubidoux turned his head and puked all over the rocks. I jumped back as the dumbass wiped his mouth.
As I stood back, Atticai did a whooping warrior-scream at the top of his lungs. When he was done acting like a crazy man, he pointed at me and shouted, “I knew this guy wouldn’t disappoint!”
Everyone yelled and cheered and many mimicked his ear-splitting rebel yell. I was apparently caught up in a Goth pep rally, in my honor.
“On second thought,” I said to Atticai. “Give me some of that.”
I walked around the fire and over to him. He grinned and handed me the wooden container. I sniffed the contents and almost lost my own lunch and dinner. It smelled like dead fish and dead everything else. But it was too late to turn back. Everyone was watching me. Holding my breath, I downed the disgusting contents as if it was water.
Yeah, it was the worst thing I had ever drunk.
But I was fired up. As I pulled away from the wooden jug, I yelled at the top of my lungs—the same Braveheart yell that Atticai seemed to prefer—and everyone immediately cheered.
And as they bellowed and whooped and hollered, I could only think: What the hell have I got myself into?
Chapter Six