Night Things: The Monster Collection

by West, Terry M.

  The Monster Collection

  3 Book Bundle

  by Terry M. West

  Copyright © 2016 by Terry M. West

  Published by Pleasant Storm Entertainment, Inc.

  www.pleasantstorm.com

  Visit the author at www.terrymwest.com

  Like the official Night Things Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/nightthingsnovel/

  Cover design by RockingBookCovers.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publishers, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Terry M. West Author Page

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  HONGER

  Now available from Morbidbooks!

  Hunger knows no friend but its feeder…

  Tarrytown, NY

  Winter 1679

  Willem Tenner is a God-fearing Dutch wheat farmer. After he and his family take in a half-dead old man that has come to their doorstep, a violent and gory nightmare that will last for an eternity begins. Basilius De Vries is an undying creature. He consumes Willem's family and curses the wheat farmer with the bite that never heals. De onheilige honger. The eternal hunger.

  Piermont, NY

  Winter 1997

  Willem Tenner works at a video store and has few friends. He has lived many lives since 1679. He doesn't know what he is. He doesn't even know the name for it. When the hunger comes, he picks victims who have already given their lives away: Junkies, hookers, criminals. He will soon have to abandon this life and start again before people notice that he doesn't age. Willem had thought himself the only monster on this endless, ravenous trek through time. But he was wrong.

  An enemy has come for him. And the monster plans on tearing Willem's life, body, and soul apart.

  WARNING: This story contains scenes of graphic gore and violence.

  All of the Flesh Served Available May 5th!

  “Those who can make you believe absurdities, can make you commit atrocities.”

  ― Voltaire

  Any record of the 45th that does not recognize him as a prophet is propaganda and a lie. False history. The truth is with the 45th. His word is absolute for it is God's word…

  Hundreds of years after the great cataclysm, the Ministry of the 45th survive in a network of scientific bunkers. The last bastion of the old holy order, the 45th are bent on rebuilding the scorched earth and eliminating God's enemies. The Ministry wages a war against the mutant topsiders that occupy the dead states of the Soviet Union of America. Defending the 45th are the Red Guard, genetically engineered soldiers who are programmed to obey through their lifebrand. Dr. Morgan is a serviceman for Unit 468 of the Red Guard. His lifebrand being medicine, Dr. Morgan is the longest surviving field medic to serve. But Dr. Morgan is a deeply conflicted man with violent fantasies that contradict his pledge to preserve life. After escaping an abduction by the topsiders, Dr. Morgan's faith is cracked. During a furlough in the high Chancellor's bunker, Dr. Morgan is hailed a hero and taken off the front lines. But he soon realizes that someone has altered his lifebrand and lifted the veil that concealed the greatest deception ever perpetrated. Dr. Morgan has just become the most dangerous man in the wastelands. And when he discovers who the real enemy is, the revelation unleashes a fury strong enough to destroy what is left of the earth.

  Available 06-30-17! Pre-order now!

  "A person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it."

  Jean de La Fontaine

  Houston, Texas. Summer, 1984

  Binh Pham is a street hustler who suffers from narcolepsy. After his pimp is killed by a Mexican drug cartel, Binh realizes they are coming for him next. On the run, he thumbs his way down Interstate 45, a heavily wooded straight shot between Houston and Dallas. He meets Paul Marrane, an eccentric and charismatic road scholar. Paul travels with Binh, acting as protector and friend. But Paul's odd behavior soon turns dangerous. Convinced his road companion is a lethal psychopath, Binh discovers Paul Marrane is much worse than that. As the two men travel the dusty road, their odyssey becomes a harrowing nightmare from which there is no escape. PICARO is a bloody road trip to Hell from acclaimed author of horror, Terry M. West.

  WARNING: This story contains scenes of extreme violence and gore. Not for the squeamish or easily offended. Reader discretion is advised.

  And now for our Feature Presentation!

  Praise for Night Things:

  Dracula versus Frankenstein

  "As someone who grew up on Universal's monsters, I was blown away by Terry West's modern interpretation of not only Dracula and Frankenstein, but the Mummy, zombies, werewolves and more! Every page crackles with sarcastic wit, horror and action."-Hunter Shea, The Jersey Devil

  "Think “True Blood” in an urban setting, add a dash of “The Sopranos” and blend in a big-budget action blockbuster finale, and you have something approximating Night Things."-Tracie McBride, Ghosts Can Bleed

  "A contemporary spin on a pair of classic characters with a dose of Lovecraft--riveting action and enough plot twists to make Stoker and Shelly rise from the grave."-Timothy Hemlin, author of The Wastelanders

  "Night Things is populated with familiar monsters given new life, meaning and motivation by the skilled pen of Mr. West." -Parlor of Horror

  "Dark, violent, quirky and inventive, Terry M. West's Night Things: Dracula versus Frankenstein features all the horror icons you love, casting them in a new light and adding dimension to their personalities and histories. Highly recommended."-Horror Novel Reviews

  "A solid horror novel that doesn't shy away from the darkness. West's monsters are of the vintage variety, true to their literary origins, while the story itself forces you to think about the nature of good versus evil, and monsters versus man."-Beauty in Ruins

  "Night Things is another amazing work of horror fiction from one of the best minds in the game. This is a horror story for horror fans."-Horror Society

  "There's really no other way to state it: Night Things is a sensational book."- DS Ullery, Beyond Where the Sky Ends

  "Most highly recommended to all fans of modern horror!"-Fans of Modern Horror

  "You'll fall in love with Night Things."-Texas Terror Entertainment

  Night Things : Dracula versus Frankenstein

  This one is dedicated to the monsters.

  Special thanks to:

  Regina & Terrence West

  Kate Jonez

  Zachary Walters

  Bryan & Sonya Anderson

  DS Ullery

  Lucy Taylor

  Donna Marie West

  Michael C. Schutz-Ryan

  Kurt Marquart

  Michelle Garza

  Mac Brewer

  Christina Cooper

  Bill Massa

  "We are unfashioned creatures, but half made up, if one wiser, better, dearer than ourselves —such a friend ought to be— do not lend his aid to perfectionate our weak and faulty natures."

  Frankenstein; or, the Modern Prometheus, Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley

  “It is a strange world, a sad world, a world full of miseries, and woes, and troubles."

  Dracula, Bram Stoker

  Welcome to the Magic Now

  Imagine a world just like yours with one startling difference: every creature of legend has stepped forward from the shadow and now e
xist shoulder to shoulder with humankind! Welcome to the Magic Now! New York City has become a macabre melting pot. Vampires, werewolves, zombies and ghouls are now the new immigrants and they are chasing the American dream. The Night Things have become part of the system. There are currently no laws that protect their rights; no rules against exterminating them. There are many people anxious to exploit the Night Things for profit and lust.

  Johnny Stücke is a patchwork creature of legend who controls most of the illegal activities on the New York City streets. The Night Things fear Stücke and this dread is the only thing that keeps the city from being devoured. Stücke's main passion and most profitable endeavor is the production of adult films with an emphasis on monster fetish movies; a form of pornography targeted at curious humans and the Night Things themselves. Stücke enlists Gary Hack, a drug-addicted, world-weary and broken exploitation film director, to helm his first production. It is an epic zombie fetish film that breaks the Horde Law, an international regulation that forbids the gathering of more than three zombies in one place. The production results in human casualties as well as the calculated massacre of one hundred zombies.

  But Stücke's indifference and cruelty toward his undead kin has not gone unnoticed by a beloved mentor turned bitter enemy. A war that has been brewing for hundreds of years is about to begin.

  Prologue

  The Northern Ice

  Many, many years ago

  The creature sought warmth near the fire. Night had fallen on the ice and this cave in the frozen mountain would serve the monster well as a new sanctuary. His old cavern had been buried that day by an avalanche. He had lost little; a bed he had fashioned from branches and dead leaves and a worn fishing spear. As he sat near the fire, he used a rock to sharpen the end of a thick branch and fashion a new lance. He had snapped the limb from a large tree near the tundra. The fiend with no name had also hauled a parcel of firewood from the timberline to birth flame and warm his new home.

  He was hungry, but the blistering wind at this time of night would cut even his strong hide. He would ice fish at dawn.

  This frozen hell continued to test him, and the cold always soaked his bones; even near the blaze of a campfire. There was no idea in him of how long he had existed in this bleak place. It could have been weeks, years or centuries, for all he knew. But it was quiet here. Quiet and too dangerous for man to intrude.

  He looked to his hands as they performed their task. Both had been harvested from strangers and sewn to forearms that he merely borrowed. His body was composed of orphaned parts and he often wondered about their origins. The stick was sharp enough to pierce scales, so the monster set it aside and warmed his uneven hands on the fire.

  When he could feel them again, he ran them gently over his face, feeling the scars that no longer bore laces. They had fallen out long ago but he still felt them, hooked beneath his skin. His long, dark hair rested on his shoulders, warming them. He wore a polar bear skin over his clothes that were irredeemably filthy. At least his reborn flesh didn't promote a beard, so there was a chore he needn't attend, though it might have helped keep his chin and cheeks a bit warmer.

  Here, he had forgotten how hideous he was, how badly his clothes reeked and how frighteningly hellish his face glowed in the fire. Here he was a man of endless days living in peace.

  "I have sought after you for months," a voice spoke from the darkness behind him.

  The creature snarled, grasped a burning log from the fire, and twisted upward. He panted angrily.

  "You would be wise to leave this cave," he warned. "I am a murderer stitched from dead men and I will add you to my victims if you do not depart at once."

  The trespasser stepped slowly into the light of the fire. He was an attractive and pale man with dark hair and features. His height rivaled the creature's. Though it was cold enough to kill a man wrapped in several layers of clothing without a fire nearby, the stranger wore a dark greatcoat and breeches that spoke aristocrat and his breath was invisible on the freezing air. The man should have been dead, dressed as he was, in this temperature.

  "What are you called?" the man said, with a calm smile. "I deserve to know the name of my executioner, yes?"

  "I have no name," the creature said. "I have been labeled demon or monster. Linger and I will show you why."

  "Why do you seek seclusion in this God forsaken place?"

  "Because I am done with man," the creature said. "This is their world, so let them have it. Now leave, mortal. This is your final caution."

  "But I am not a mortal, my good fellow," the stranger insisted.

  "Then what are you, besides one who places little value on his life?" the creature asked.

  The man's eyes suddenly blazed and fangs grew from his mouth. He hissed.

  The creature drew back. "What are you?" he asked again, his voice fearful.

  The stranger reverted back to a friendly countenance. "I am vampyre. The oldest of my kind. And, like you, I have been unjustly pursued by superstitious mortals. We are kin, my friend. And there are many like us out there, hiding in shadow."

  The vampire slowly came nearer.

  "I have heard the tale of your creation," the vampire said empathetically. "Your father, he abandoned you. He left you alone the very day of your birth to perish in the night. You arrived naked and unloved and no creature should have to endure such a thing. But you survived. Because you are superior. Like me. We deserve better than caves and coffins and dreary castles to be stormed by angry mobs. We deserve a place of our own. A world of our own."

  "My father died. I hated him. But still I mourned," the creature said. "I have nothing now. My vengeance has been exhausted, and that was my only motivation in this life."

  The creature didn't know why, but his apprehension toward this unexpected guest began to die away. Humanity was his enemy and he had thought himself a tribe of one. But now here was a cousin. And the creation of mad science began to entertain the thought of belonging. It was a dream he had dare not consider before that moment. It was an aspiration that would have driven him mad in the lonely cold.

  "Let me be the patriarch you deserve. Trust in me, and you will know happiness. You needn't be alone. I can guide you to a glorious fate."

  The creature returned the log to the fire and stepped closer to the vampire. "What do you want of me?"

  "I want you to join me. We can build a peaceful world that accepts our kind. But I need soldiers who are willing to fight for this. You are the first I have sought to enlist and I have a place for you high in our new society. But liberation, true liberation, rarely comes with clean hands."

  "Blood washes away," the creature assured his visitor. "And it isn't a stranger to these hands."

  The vampire reached out and gripped the monster's shoulder. The monster felt a chill. But it wasn't a chill, really; quite the opposite. It was the first kind touch the creature could recall and its tenderness nearly made him misty-eyed. To have such a trivial squeeze of the shoulder elicit such a response. He was ignorant to a proper reaction so he merely stood there, dumbly.

  The vampire smiled and removed his hand, breaking the creature's heart. "Then I count you as my first. But I need to call you something other than fiend."

  The vampire thought on it, and then nodded. "Yes, I have it. I shall call you Primul. I see you have no possessions to carry so I can easily sweep you on the wind from this place. Swear your allegiance to me and let us begin our journey of conquest, Primul."

  The creature grasped the beautiful vampire's cold hand. He felt power and destiny in the grip. And he never wanted to let go of that icy appendage. "Then I, Primul, swear by the limbs on this wretched body and my black soul, if it dwells inside, to serve you."

  "Then come, my brother, my son, my friend," the vampire said. "Our future awaits."

  1 .

  New York City

  Now

  Darkness fell across the city. The Night Things emerged from their shaded havens. The man who ruled them
and most of New York's organized crime of both the human and undead varieties gazed down at the dimming metropolis. He looked through the window of a penthouse few could afford.

  He stared through his own gray reflection and liked how his face glowed in the purple and black sky above the streets. The mug that stared back at him was one of several masks that he had worn. This one had belonged to a striking enemy he had encountered in Budapest some fifty sixty?- years ago. He had forgotten what his original stitched visage had looked like when he was first lashed to life by the chemicals and lightning. He had been born without a name; created by an indifferent God who rejected the monster as his first mewl still rang from his throat. So the being had fashioned his own identities throughout the years; an endless parade of faces and names and other new parts as he needed them.

  These days, he went by the moniker of Johnny Stücke. It was a joke, of course, and though only a few understood it, it was still a name that circulated a lot of fear in the city to both the Night Things and the human criminals. To the normal law-abiding day dwellers, he was largely unknown. But anything that schemed and hungered in the night knew who Johnny Stücke was.