Venom & Vampires: A Limited Edition Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy Collection

by Casey Lane

  “Acula?!” One of the shields dropped in formation, exposing a warrior—it was my Uncle Icar. He appeared to have aged ten years or more, the lines in his face were so deep.

  Icar confidently strolled forward a few paces towards us. He squinted his eyes. “Acula, I know Zella’s death was not by your hands. You’re my blood, you are coming home with us. But first, stand aside so that we might deal with this creature,” he said, pointing his spear at Morack.

  Morack stepped forward, unafraid. ‘You see want they’ve done?’ Morack spoke to my mind. ‘They don’t want you to have this strength; they can’t even understand how powerful you’ve become.’

  “What must we do?” I asked aloud.

  “We must face this, together,” Morack said, patting me on the back.

  Suddenly, another shield dropped. A fully bronzed warrior limped towards us. He paused, parallel to Icar, looking at him. He nodded at Icar, then walked forward, closing to within several paces of us.

  Though I had perfect night vision, I strained to recognize the helmeted man before me. But I had seen those haunted eyes through narrow slits too often not to call forth his face. “Father?!” I exclaimed, suddenly confused. That was impossible.

  Slowly, I turned and glared at Morack.

  Father removed his helmet, staring Morack directly in the eyes with a fire that seared hotter than any coals. “Acula, get behind me,” he demanded.

  Morack turned towards me and conveyed in moments through thought what would have taken a minute or more out loud. ‘I lied, but only to protect you,’ Morack reasoned. ‘The sooner you move on from this life, the sooner you can step into eternity. Think of the taste, Acula, of that boy, of his sweet blood. I can give you an unlimited supply.’

  “Acula…please…” Father said, perceiving my silent conversation with Morack as hesitance. He reached his rough, callused hand out towards me as it shook. I saw a look of concern on his face I had never seen before. I could see his bottom lip quivering as he fought back the tears.

  “You see it?” Morack said, switching to regular speech as he glared at Father. “He’s consumed by fear, he’s a slave to it. Why would you abandon this freedom to become a slave again?”

  I stared at Father like a blank slate. I didn’t want that world again, didn’t want to experience the fear of loss, the fear of power. I was relieved I didn’t share Father’s burden anymore. The taste of severance was still fresh in my mouth. I imagined a bronze wall dividing the world I’d known before from the life I led now. I could only see myself in the reflection, but it lacked transparency.

  “This is quite courageous, Preturias; they’ll sing songs of you one day,” Morack said, smirking.

  “After I kill you they might,” Father said, putting on his helmet.

  “You see, Acula, so much hostility, yet they curse our nature. They’re envious of our power,” Morack said. I turned towards him while he spoke, captivated by his words. I knew what he said was true; this power was enviable indeed. One would be a fool not to search it out and covet it.

  “What have you done to my son?!” Father asked, looking at me in confusion. I could hear his heart pounding. It reminded me of the peasant father’s shortly before the death of his son. I wondered what my father saw in me now that made his heart beat as if I had just been killed in front of his eyes.

  “Preturias!” Icar yelled, shaking his head. “We’re here to do a job, brother.”

  “Acula has awoken. I’ve given him power you cannot imagine, a bond you cannot comprehend. Even now, we speak to each other through our minds. This is real. I’ve established more of a bond in fifteen hours than you did in fifteen years.”

  “Black magic,” Father said.

  “Sadly, this is no spell. He’s embracing what he is. However tragic this might appear from your limited perspective, I must applaud you. You’ve helped Acula more than you will ever know.”

  “Acula…he’s corrupted you. Please, don’t stand close to him, come over here,” Father said, gesturing me towards him as if coaxing a lamb from the cliff’s edge.

  “Hahaha! Such desperation!” Morack leaned back, exposing his huge fangs.

  Father put his shield in front of him. He walked forward, pointing his spear at Morack. Spartans to his rear ran forward to catch up. They linked up beside Father. Icar was directly to his left, and he and the other men created a wall of shields, the phalanx.

  “Forward…march!” Icar yelled as they all stepped forward in unison. The bronze armor rustled around on their bodies as they moved. Many of them appeared frightened, yet they continued on.

  “You see, Acula, they leave us with no other option. In their envy, they want to force you to do things you don’t want to. They want you to remain mundane, weak, and expendable. Is that what you want?” Morack asked as we backed up slowly.

  The Spartans marched right up next to us. Suddenly, Father lunged forward, but instead of striking with his spear, he grabbed my wrist. He began to pull me towards him.

  I glanced down at his grip around me; I couldn’t believe how weak he felt to me now. I shrugged him off me with ease, shoving him to the ground. Morack leaped into the air over me, landing near Father as he attempted to stand.

  Father covered himself with his shield, only exposing a small bit of flesh on his lower back. Morack stabbed with his claws, and his strike was accompanied by the squelch of punctured flesh. “Aaaaaarrhhhh!” Father shouted in pain as blood flowed from him. Icar knocked Morack back with his shield as the other Spartans surrounded him.

  I could only watch. Morack was like a shadow, darting around the Spartans. They moved down an incline, away from me and Father. He broke their phalanx, forcing them into open combat using his speed. I heard them scream as Morack tore through them like leaves in a whirlwind of claws and fangs. I had never seen so much death in such a short duration. I was in awe of his power on full display. But then, in all the carnage, I heard a voice, weak and soft.

  “My son…ahhh…look at me.” I slowly moved my head towards Father, who lay defeated, pathetic, bleeding on the ground. His sword and shield lay to either side as he held his wound. “You listen to me. He…may be able to speak to your mind, your desires, your bloodlust, but I speak to your heart. I speak to who you really are.”

  “Please, don’t,” I said, cutting my red eyes at him.

  “Your mother, seconds before her death, handed you to me. You were only this big, you’d fit like this,” Father said, showing me his bloody hands. His brief smile turned into a frown, showing me a face of sadness I had never witnessed from him. “With her last ounce of strength—she gave you to me,” Father said haltingly. Enveloped in the memory, he began to weep.

  “You remember what I told you in the slave camps…at the fire…about corruption?” He took a juddering breath, and falling tears made his cheeks damp. “Sorrow almost killed me, Acula, but you, you gave me that fire to carry on…My life’s mission since then, and I tried, has been to…to protect you,” he said. His voice began to fade as he lost it, weeping uncontrollably.

  “I f-failed you, my son. By the gods, one day…one day maybe you can forgive me. I-I failed,” he said.

  I watched Icar and Morack fighting it out down the hill. I thought more of the wasted blood split upon the ground than Father’s words. Morack was killing them like flies. Only Uncle Icar remained. He yelled out in anger with every strike, attempting to avenge his beloved Zella.

  “Acula!” Father yelled, but I ignored him. A piece of me wanted to help him, but it wasn’t enough. I peered over at him as he attempted to stand. He fell down, more blood seeping through his fingers. “Oohh, oohhhh!” he groaned, his eyes scrunched up tight.

  I glanced back down at Icar. He fought much like Father, but in his years he had slowed down. He nearly clipped Morack with a spear lunge, but Morack was far too fast. Morack knocked his shield out of his hand and watched it roll down the hill. Icar looked up at me. Then his neck gushed blood as he screamed out, “The g
ods failed me! Nooooo!!” Icar words echoed off the cave walls. Father wept loudly as his brother screamed in terror. Father reached out for Icar from the ground, his fingers dripping with blood, “Brother. No. My… brother.”

  Morack dropped Icar’s corpse. Then he waved his hands around at all the dead Spartans. “You see, this is the power that awaits you,” he said. I looked on as Morack slowly walked back up the hill towards me and Father. I could hear the sound of armor knocking around beside me. “Just look at this, one more,” Morack said, gesturing towards Father.

  He was still trying to stand, using his shield as a prop. His blood ran down the griffin he had painted on it. He stood up, almost falling back down, but still resolutely holding his shield at the ready. He looked very pale. He wiped his eyes, looking for his spear.

  “See how miserable morality is?” Morack mocked him.

  Father pulled out his short sword and hobbled towards us, using his shield like a crutch. “Sometimes their persistence is admirable, though,” Morack noted.

  “It’s not just persistence…” Father said. He raised his sword, pointing it Morack.

  “Delusion, falsity, weakness,” Morack said. However, to me, the opposite seemed the case. Whatever it was, it made him stronger; it propelled him forward when nothing was left. He didn’t have any special powers or gifts, yet a force moved him forward. As he drew nearer, I began to feel warmth.

  “So you’re coming over here… to kill us with your parables? Is that it?” Morack laughed wickedly at Father’s display. We watched Father as he approached me; he was within a few paces. “Humiliating,” Morack spat.

  Father looked up at me; his eyes seemed to be smiling back at me, and it reminded me of feeling the sun’s warmth again, a distant, but familiar sensation.

  “It’s just not persistence or will that propels me, monster,” Father said. He lunged forward at me, embracing me with his arms. “It’s love.” With his last ounce of strength, he hugged me with all his might. This time though, I was surprised by his strength. I felt paralyzed between the light and darkness. “No one, no evil can take my love away.”

  And for a moment, Father wept, burying his face into my chest.

  “Do y-you feel it?” he whispered, tapping my chest where my heart was. “That’s your fire. It can change a man, unlike the sword…do you remember? You remember when you pulled away from the girl, the witch’s daughter? You fought corruption.”

  “…Yes…I-I do, Father, I remember…”

  “That’s who you are. I love you more than you know, from the first day I laid eyes on you,” he said softly. I closed my eyes, imagining his pain when he’d seen Morack bite me in the camps.

  Then, I heard a snarl. I felt a wet sensation. Blood. It spewed all over my face. I opened my eyes to see Morack moaning in pleasure as he bit Father’s neck.

  I looked into Father’s eyes. He smiled, thrusting his shield into my chest as he fell backwards. His sword clanked on the ground as Morack draped over top of him, his purple rope pooled around father. Time slowed down.

  I looked down at the griffin on his battered, bloody shield. I turned it around, gripping the handle. After pulling away his fangs with a sickening suction sound, Morack dropped Father’s body, glaring back at me over his shoulder like a hound caught mid-meal.

  I began to circle Morack with my father’s shield held between us, my eyes glaring him down.

  With arrogant nonchalance, the man swiped away blood—Father’s blood—from his chin and licked the finger clean. “That was a lot of planning,” he said. “So much, power.”

  “Planning?” I echoed.

  “I knew he’d come back, of course. I saw your father at the market way back on that day, the way he protected you…I was there, hiding in the shadows. I even tried to get in the slave camps, but when I heard you Greeks were up for sale, I couldn’t resist.”

  “You stalked us,” I said.

  “The strength of your bond was irresistible to begin with; what I did was make it stronger by biting you. I created a sense of urgency and desperation, which incubated, strengthening the bond even more. Think of it as an investment, this is what I will teach you to do,” Morack said, seeking more blood from around his mouth.

  “…we’re not like the wolves at all,” I said. I felt the lust for blood losing its grip around my mind, as if a fog was being burned away.

  “Well, not really. They don’t do this. But I can show you how to strengthen these bonds between people, and when you kill them, you absorb even more power, Acula. You saw what I did to all these Spartans. In time, you can—”

  “I don’t want any of it!” I snarled, instinctively showing my fangs. I still felt like a monster, but not the one he had hoped for.

  Morack paused, momentarily frozen from licking his fingers.

  “Careful,” he said, as I picked up Father’s sword. “Acula, I’m beginning to think you lack appreciation of my sacrifices for you. I risked all this to show you how it’s done.”

  “You’ve manipulated me, you mean. But you made a fatal flaw,” I said.

  “Oh really? What is that, my little mayfly?”

  “You allowed the bond to strengthen too much. You allowed the alloy to set in, to harden before you could corrupt it. You’ve made bronze. Allowing my father to get that close to me chipped away the mold, and here before you is the finished product.”

  “Hahaha! What is this nonsense? Are you suggesting that his little display of affection tainted you?” Morack asked.

  “I’m saying you failed to taint me. You should have never allowed him to see me again. You should have killed him sooner, because now, you’ll have to kill me as well,” I said, readying my shield. I walked towards Morack slowly. I held the sword behind my shield.

  “You’re not backing down, are you? Hm. Very well. I hate to reprimand you,” he said.

  The sun began to rise, shining through a few holes in the room. “We’d better resolve this tomorrow,” Morack said, turning his back on me casually.

  I closed my eyes, imagining the exits. I leaped forward, slashing at the ice walls, collapsing them. This blocked our retreat into the icy sanctuary.

  “What are you doing?” Morack demanded. “You do know that is our only escape; we can’t go outside; the sun has filled the basin. We have to dig through the exit, now! Help me with this mound of ice, hurry!” Morack said as the sun encroached.

  I walked over to my father’s corpse. I picked up his helmet and, after a moment of silent reverence, slowly slipped it over my head. His spirit was in that helmet, and now it was with me. I jumped into the air, in between the exit and Morack, landing softly. I pointed my sword at Morack. He snarled at me. “I’ll run you through just like the others, don’t make me,” he warned.

  He moved like the wind, attempting to exploit my right flank and get around my shield. He swiped at me with his claws, but I moved nearly as fast, lunging backward like a cat.

  “Well, at least your faster than them,” he said.

  “That’s your own fault,” I replied. I snarled back at him as he leaped into the air, hanging above me on the ceiling. A moment later, he dove down on top of me, slashing at my shield. The force from his strikes pushed my entire body backwards, knocking the shield aside. He cut my face badly. Black blood flung into the air.

  Cruel laughter rang out as a wicked smile curled his lips. Then, suddenly, he disappeared.

  I looked around the room frantically for him.

  As I told you, I can show you powers beyond what you’ve known, but you didn’t trust me, clinging on to that petty bond to your father, he spoke telepathically. It felt as if his voice was coming at me from everywhere at once, bouncing off the walls of the cave, disorienting me as I tried to locate him.

  I felt my shins smoldering in the sun as the rays pierced through the walls. “Ahhhhhhh!” hissed out an anguished cry from the shadows. I looked down at my shield; the reflection of the sun bounced off it, shining into the dark room.


  I angled the shield up, scanning the ceiling, then the side walls, using the deadly rays like an arrow of fire from Apollo. “Clever,” said a twisted voice spoken aloud.

  “What, this?!”

  “Aahhhhhhhhh!” Morack yelled as the reflection met him, exposing his invisible form. Fire ignited around his body as he dove into a mound of snow.

  He disappeared again in the shadows. I hunted for him with the reflection. I could hear him panting and hissing in pain. Then, I heard a sound behind me, but I was too slow to react. I yelled as he stabbed me in the back with his claws.

  I bashed him with my shield, knocking him back. Blood flowed down my legs. He lunged back in, cutting my shoulders, then slicing my right arm off completely. “Ughhhh-hhhhhhh!” I yelled as my arm and sword fell to the ground.

  It didn’t feel real. It couldn’t be real. I was staring at my own arm lying on the ground, black blood pooling from the nasty opening where it should’ve been joined to my shoulder.

  “Last chance, Acula.” Morack growled, his voice snapping me back to reality. I readied my shield, scanning the room. Even with my enhanced strength, it felt awkward without the counterbalance of my father’s sword in hand.

  He appeared in front of me, slowly walking towards me as my back pressed up against the wall. He walked around the sun’s rays within a few paces from me.

  “Now, put down that shield.”

  “Come and take it,” I said. Morack’s face morphed with an anger I had never witnessed.

  He sprung at me, fangs out, claws ready to strike. He latched on to my back, biting and clawing my neck and shoulders. I smashed the ice wall with my shield repeatedly. Sunlight beamed through, exposing the horizon. I lunged forward with all my might, diving out over the cliff into the open sun and taking him with me. We tumbled down the hill for what seemed like forever, burning, smashing into trees and rocks until we came to a stop in an open field of grass, far from the snowcapped mountains.

  I could hear Morack moaning in agony. I was on my backside, as was he. We were about twenty paces apart. Our eyes met as flames ignited our bodies. I had held on. Father’s shield was in my left hand. I put it over my body, retreating like a turtle into its shell, the bronze shield protecting me from the sun’s deadly gaze. Drawn by a tingling sensation on my side, I cast my gaze at my shoulder. Astoundingly, new flesh had begun to grow there, and it was expanding even as I watched. My meal from before the battle had more than sated my hunger, and the arm Morack severed just minutes ago was already starting to grow back. I felt my stomach twinge with renewed hunger as the pale flesh of my new arm sewed itself into existence.