Mortality Bites Box Set [Books 1-6]

by Vance, Ramy

  “What the hell is that noise?” Sonia asked, clasping her ears.

  Every one of us was rattled. I’d fallen on my butt. Even on the ground, I struggled to find any sense of balance, the floor tossing me around like the uncoordinated kid in a bouncy castle.

  The fae, as graceful as they were, didn’t fare much better. Jack stomped his massive feet as he tried to find his balance, and each time he brought a foot down he left cracks in the ground. Redcap and Krelis held on to one another, trying to use the other to still themselves, but all they managed to do was engage in an unfortunate game of see-saw.

  Deirdre had chosen my tact: fall on your butt, use your arms as a tripod and try not to roll around. She’s not faring much better than me, I thought, as she was flung from one side of the room to the other.

  Remi managed it slightly better than the rest. Well, “better” might be a stretch. He took large, exaggerated steps back and forth like a backup dancer in West Side Story. At least he hadn’t fallen, and he wasn’t destroying the ground to stay on his feet.

  The abatwas had all fallen off their counters. Even thought it was less than four feet to the ground, for those little guys it must have been like falling off Everest. I was sure they were goners, but they weren’t. They shook it off and, helping the one-legged Pop to his feet, scurried under a table where they would be safe from falling pots and pans, or the accidental stomp of one of the larger fae trying to regain their footing.

  Even Ankou fell on his butt, but unlike Deirdre and me, he somehow managed to stay relatively still.

  Only King Aelfric seemed unaffected by the quake, his feet slightly apart as he helped Sonia stay upright. “Steady,” he said. “Feel the movement of the earth. Let the vibrations run through you. Find its rhythm and stand.” He let go of his daughter, and Sonia wobbled at first before finally standing up straight.

  King Aelfric turned to the rest of us and whispered, “Stand.” Even though the word was soft, almost inaudible under the clamoring and clacking of the room, we all heard it and obeyed.

  It wasn’t a spell. He burned no time, and yet he still inspired us to our feet. Within seconds we were standing on a floor that danced beneath us, and not one of us lost our balance.

  We had conquered the quake, and the moment the last of us stood erect, the earth stopped shaking.

  Just as I knew it would.

  “It’s Ester,” I said as the world stilled. “She’s coming for us. And as strong as you guys might be, she’s stronger.”

  “Ester?” Deirdre asked. “Who’s Ester?”

  “A better question is, ‘What’s Ester?’ She’s a dybbuk demon. She’s the stuff nightmares are made of. Literally.”

  ↔

  I thought through the sequence of events that had happened. King Aelfric’s return, the attack in the boiler room, the stranger with the hockey stick. Being roofied and somehow dragged back into the kitchen … now that I knew the demon bitch behind it all, things were falling into place.

  The guy who hit Aelfric with a hockey stick was Justin ... had to be. Seems that, despite my hopes, he had been possessed by Ester that afternoon in the museum a few weeks back. But the thing about demon possessions—they get you, but they don’t get all of you. When Justin saved me, it was because the part of him that was still him came out. That, or Ester didn’t want to spoil all the fun and kill me too soon. Either way, Justin saved me.

  But I couldn’t run from the truth. He might have saved me, but neither of us would be in this situation if it wasn’t for me exposing him to one of the most evil creatures in creation.

  Shit, I thought, I knew I shouldn’t have taken him there. I knew he was too green, and now he’s being tormented by a spirit that literally requires an exorcism to get out.

  And given that exorcisms require gods—and those were in short supply—he was fucked. We were fucked, too, because Ester was using his body to carry her evil toward us.

  But that was one problem I’d have to deal with later. Now I needed to get my thoughts straight and that meant understanding what happened. The roofied event, with us all being knocked out … that had to be Ester. She must have seen that her hold on Justin wasn’t complete, and not wanting to spoil her fun, decided to knock us out while she tightened her grip on my boyfriend’s soul.

  As for us all winding up back in the kitchen. The only guy strong enough to do that was King Aelfric. As a trained warrior, he understood that our best chance at survival was unity. Strength in numbers and all that … so, when the shock of resurrection passed, he must have realized that Jack and I were on the same side, and dragged us back to the kitchen.

  That was my theory, at least. Who knows with a psychotic demon like Ester. For all I know, Justin was fully possessed when he saved me from Aelfric, and it was the dark elf’s spell that knocked us all out …

  Many fae eyes trained on me as they all waited for to tell them what I knew. “I don’t have much time to explain,” I said, bolting the kitchen door shut. I gestured for Jack-in-Chains to move one of the massive, industrial fridges, which he did as if moving an empty cardboard box. “She’s going to attack again, and soon. She’s a nightmare spirit, which means she’s probably scanning our hearts, trying to figure out the best way to hurt us.”

  “How do you know this, young lady?” Remi asked.

  “I just know,” I said as I grabbed a kitchen knife—you know, just in case. There’s always a just in case.

  “No, young lady. I need more.”

  “She knows,” King Aelfric said, “because the demon and this vampire once hunted together. Is that not true?”

  I nodded. No sense in hiding it now, since I doubted we’d survive the night. I had been Ester’s partner, but that was a long time ago when we haunted a house together and I was a soulless vampire interested in dinner theatre.

  Still, I had tormented enough humans to know how Ester worked. First she’d figure out what you loved the most, and then she’d take it away.

  “What is your worst nightmare?” I asked the room. “As a group, what is the one thing that would hurt you the most? Think about it. All nine of you risked so much to avenge your lost king. I know Ester, and I know how she thinks, what she wants. She wants to hurt all of you as badly as she can. And not just hurt you—destroy you in such a way that you would welcome death. That’s when she feeds, and that’s why I believe it’s Ester’s magic that brought King Aelfric back from the dead, not Ankou. She did it so she could kill him in some spectacular fashion right in front of you all.”

  “Never,” growled Remi.

  Jack-in-Chains smashed his fists together.

  And it wasn’t just the two warriors. All the fae stood up, ready to fight for their king. Even Deirdre.

  Especially Deirdre, who grabbed a stainless steel wok and twirled the giant pan to get a feel for its weight.

  So they were going to fight.

  Good. And then, remembering how much the dybbuk liked to toy with her prey, I thought: for Ester.

  Once More … With Feeling!

  The impromptu fae army armed themselves with whatever they could find. Redcap grabbed two peelers—nasty fellow—as Krelis armed himself with two heavy rolling pins.

  Jack, as if his fists weren’t enough, equipped himself with a meat hook from the freezer.

  And just when I thought that was it, I saw three corn cob skewers float over the counter past me. The abatwas were dressed for war.

  King Aelfric, who knew a battle was coming, picked a long knife for himself and a butcher’s cleaver for his daughter. “Redcap and Krelis,” he said, “you shall fight by Sonia’s side. Jack and Remi, with me.

  “Mentan, Coso and Quep,”—three shrieks answered; I guess their names weren’t Snap, Crackle and Pop after all—“find a way out of this place. And if that is not possible, then the best vantage point from which we can defend ourselves.”

  “What about us?” Deirdre said, placing a fist over her heart.

  “My changeling friend
,” he said, “it would be an honor if you and your human friend should fight by our side.”

  Deirdre gave me a sidelong glance and I nodded. She smiled before pursing her lips once more. “As you command.”

  Everyone was ready. Everyone but Ankou, who continued his impassive stare.

  “You might want to gear up,” I said.

  “He will not,” Sonia answered. “He is a reaper, and must remain impartial to any battles that come.”

  “I get that he used to play Switzerland, but reaper or not, he’s mortal now. We all are. And whatever Ester has planned for us will cut him just as deeply as it will us,” I said to the room. I turned to the former agent of death. “You really want to die just standing around? Or do you want to die doing something?”

  Ankou’s eyes flickered almost imperceptibly, but I was close enough to notice. Then he resumed his thousand-mile stare. “Fine,” I said, forcing my knife into his hand. He took it, but only because I wasn’t giving him a choice. “Your funeral.”

  I grabbed another knife. Armed, I turned to my commander in this battle. “Now what, my king?” I said with far less sarcasm than I’d intended.

  “You said we are under assault from a nightmare demon?”

  I nodded.

  “It is my experience that malevolent spirits such as these must be nearby. We must find her and end her.”

  Again I nodded, seeing where he was going with his plan. But as good as the plan was, I couldn’t let it happen. Not the way he intended, at least. “Yes, but there are two problems with your plan.” I lifted a finger. “She’s possessed my boyfriend—”

  “Your betrothed?”

  “Fine, my betrothed.” I sighed. “So killing him is a no-no. Got it?” I scanned the room. They had all heard me, but with the exception of Deirdre, every single one of them would do what was needed to protect the king. So be it. I’ll do what I must to protect Justin.

  “And second,” I said, displaying my other nine fingers, “Ester has unlimited magic—don’t ask how, long story—and is seasoned at this kind of game, and is as evil as f—”

  But before I could finish, there came a groan I’d heard before—back when I was with Ester.

  “Great,” I said, staring at the barricaded door. “Zombies.”

  Do Zombies Dream of Undead Sheep?

  The thing about Ester’s zombies: they’re not your typical groaning, rotting flesh, humans-ravenous-for-brains type (as if that’s not scary enough). Sadly, this dybbuk prefers something with a lot more ahhh!

  And as the zombie mass banged on the barricaded door, I heard their cries … cries that made this particular brand of zombie special. It started simply enough, with a voice yelling, “I just wanted a taste of yer twat. Surely that was nae worth mee death.”

  I recognized the old Inverness accent immediately. Gareth. First guy I made out with—as in ever—on the night a vampire turned me and killed him. And he wasn’t the last guy to die after kissing me, I sighed.

  The next voices were a hodgepodge of memorable victims I’d eaten as a vampire, as well as friends, foes and a smorgasbord of people who died by my hand.

  But that was what I heard. From the pained expressions on the others’ faces, I knew they’d all gotten their personalized version of hell. And from the way most of them were covering their ears, I knew the cries they heard on the other side of the door were simply awful to them.

  Part of me wondered what they were hearing. A bigger part of me hoped I’d never find out.

  “You killed me with a kiss,” said the voice of a beatnik poet I met in Soho decades ago. He was talented, and after I killed him, I sent his poetry for publication. It was picked up right away, which just made me all the sadder. I had ended a great talent.

  “I trusted you,” said another.

  “I loved you.”

  “All I wanted was to be with you.”

  And on and on it went.

  “Great,” I muttered to myself, “my nightmare is a family reunion of lives I ruined and can never make up for.”

  “Milady,” Deirdre said, her eyes wide as she heard the voices of what she most regretted or feared. But although her eyes glistened with the sheen of trapped tears, she was remarkably well-composed. Whatever she heard she took in stride.

  Come to think of it … so did I. I wasn’t falling apart or raging with world-crumbling guilt. I heard the groans and anger, the laments and curses of people who had died directly or indirectly by my hands, and it didn’t really affect me.

  For one thing, I knew Ester’s tricks. These weren’t the real people I had hurt, just Ester digging around in my brain, trying to find something to break me with. Knowing this took away a lot of the sting.

  But it shouldn’t have taken away all of it. And given that I was more annoyed than anything, I knew what was happening: my missing piece, my lost soul—without it I could meet the pain and guilt in stride. As if the pain was being dampered by the emotional equivalent of morphine.

  My emotions were stunted, dulled, muted. And that pissed me off more than anything else. I wanted to feel this. I deserved to feel it. This was an agony I should have bathed in, relished every punishing moment of.

  “The voices,” I said, “they’re tricks. Your worst nightmares are behind that door, but they’re not real. Those voices are the lies she’s using to try to paralyze you.”

  Everyone was scared. Remi kept pacing, looking over at Sonia every few seconds. Redcap and Krelis held each other as they backed away from the door. Sonia was probably taking it the hardest, because she stood perfectly still. Fae are creatures who love to dance and sing, and just generally to move. If you ever encounter a fae who is perfectly still, they’re either terrified or dead.

  Even Ankou wore a frown, which was the most expression I’d seen from the reaper since meeting him.

  Redcap and Krelis, who stood hand in hand, cried out, “We had nothing to do with her death! We never let the mortal in. Leave us in peace.”

  King Aelfric put a hand on each, and their fear immediately left them. “I know that is true,” he said, “and those voices are liars.” He addressed the room. “The human vampire is right: those voices are tricks by a witch who wishes to use our fear to create chaos. I hear the voices of a hundred human soldiers I once killed. They can no more be outside that door than ogres can fly.”

  “Your version of flying pigs?” I asked.

  The dark elf lifted a curious eyebrow. “Human humor?”

  “Very good. Deirdre there could take a few pointers from you, and—”

  I was cut off by an all too familiar voice. “Kat, my child, you should never have disobeyed your mother and me by sneaking away that night. If you had only listened, we would all be alive today.”

  That last voice stung. My father’s. Normally hearing him would destroy me, but it didn’t. The fact that I could hear his voice and not break down hurt. A lot.

  I loved him. Love him. And I killed him.

  He deserved my tears.

  Growling at the door, I yelled, “We wouldn’t be alive today because we would all have died of old age two hundred and fifty years ago!” I punched the fridge blocking the door.

  “An old voice?” King Aelfric asked.

  “My greatest regret,” I replied.

  The Elf King turned to the others. “Ignore the voices. They are lies, voices of those long dead.”

  Sonia, who had been standing still, said, “But you are a voice that was silenced long ago.” Then she turned as though she’d heard something unexpected. “You shouldn’t be here, and yet you are. Back from the dead. If you can come back”—she turned her head once more, now giving the door her left ear—“maybe others can, too.”

  I was so focused on Sonia and Aelfric, I didn’t notice Jack-in-Chains crying and wringing his hands in the corner. The silent giant had not uttered a word for hundreds of years as part of his penance for failing to guard Heurodis, King Aelfric’s wife and Sonia’s mother.

  I sh
ould have known whose voice he’d heard. Whose voice he was resisting.

  And Ester was a devious bitch who loved to stack nightmares. Of course, Sonia would be hearing the same voice. That became crystal clear when she pointed at the door. “Jack, this is your chance. Save her. Save my mother.”

  “No, Jack,” King Aelfric cried out with a voice that could have stopped a tsunami.

  But Jack was no tsunami. He was a giant who had spent hundreds of years wishing he could undo a single moment.

  And once Ester promised him a second chance, I doubted there was a force in this world or any other that could have stopped him.

  Here’s What Happens When a Volcano Meets a Tornado

  With a single word—“Heurodis!”—Jack broke his centuries of silence as he ripped through the stainless steel refrigerator, tossing it aside with such force it cracked the kitchen’s back wall.

  Free of the obstruction, the door burst open and zombies piled in. Not that they stood a chance against Jack’s tornado; he ripped through them, smashing zombies against stone walls, stomping them into the linoleum floor, bashing their bodies into each other.

  The giant made his way through them, rushing toward Heurodis’s voice. But even a giant of unimaginable strength has his limitations, and when he finally made it to Heurodis, what he saw broke him.

  There was no beautiful human with long, cascading amber hair. There was no young woman with bright eyes and a wondrous smile. There was just death.

  Although Death comes to us all, she approaches each of us differently. In that way, Death is an artist, taking each of us with a unique touch.

  Death touched Jack first by showing him Heurodis’s putrefied body. Her bones were covered in flesh so dry and taut, the simple act of moving tore her apart. She pointed an accusing finger at Jack, and I can only imagine what she said to him in his final moments. Lies, I’m sure. He was the reason she’d died. His failure had led to Aelfric’s death, to Sonia’s blinding.