by Night, H. T.
ONE LOVE
Vampire Love Story #5
by
H.T. Night
Acclaim for H.T. Night:
“Vampire Love Story is a passionate story that is told from a refreshing perspective. This book was a blast. Night invents a brand new world for the Vampire genre. Great Job!”
—Summer Lee, author of Angel Heart and Kindred Spirits
“Vampire Love Story is 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 is a true story teller. Winning Sarah’s Heart is thoughtful and inspirational! I enjoyed the ride.”
—Elaine Babich, author You Never Called Me Princess and Relatively Normal
OTHER BOOKS BY H.T. NIGHT
The Fourth Sunrise
Romeo and Juliet: A Vampire and Werewolf Love Story
VAMPIRE LOVE STORY SERIES
Vampire Love Story
The Werewolf Whisperer
Forever and Always
Vampires vs. Werewolves
One Love
Divine Blood
Sons of Josiah
ENTWINED SERIES
Werewolf Love Story: Part One
Werewolf Love Story: Part Two
The Rise of Kyro
Loving Maya
Werewolf Without a Cause
VAMPIRE SUPERHERO SERIES
with Elizabeth Basque
Vampire Superhero No. 1
Vampire Superhero No. 2
Vampire Superhero No. 3
WINNING SARAH’S HEART SERIES
1. Episode One: Back to School
2. Episode Two: Boys Being Boys
3. Episode Three: Looking Good, Cody Greer
4. Episode Four: Saying Goodbye
5. Episode Five: Something Special about Silence
6. Episode Six: Junior High
7. Episode Seven: Finding Cody
8. Episode Eight: Lovesick Quarterback
9. Episode Nine: A Very Cody Christmas
WITH J.R. RAIN AND SCOTT NICHOLSON
Bad Blood
POETRY
Everlasting Love
SCREENPLAYS
Getting Yours
Jocks
WEREWOLF LOVE STORY: PART ONE
Published by H.T. Night at Smashwords.com
Copyright © 2010 by H.T. Night
Smashwords.com 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 Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
(Author’s note: All characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.)
Dedication
This book is dedicated to Eve Paludan. Her attention to detail and amazing gifts mean more to me than I can express. She is a very talented writer and editor, and I am very fortunate to know her.
Acknowledgments
Special thanks to Leslie Whitaker, Judy Thompson, Margaret Cervenkas, Liz Jones, Alberto Silva, J.R. Rain, April M. Reign, and Verna and John Hargrove for all of their help.
One Love
Chapter One
“I can’t believe we’re back in Mexico, Josiah,” Tommy said, pain and anguish in his voice.
“Where else would we go for wine, women, and song?”
He stopped me in my tracks and continued, “I’m being serious, bro. How can you justify bringing me back here?”
“I feel terrible putting you through this—it’s the last place I ever wanted to bring you back to—but I desperately need your help. I have promises to keep, promises that I made to a dear friend.”
“Those are your promises to the Deity, not mine.”
I looked at him sharply. “Hey!”
Tommy said, “Sorry, it’s just hard to accept that this is what we’ve come to, Josiah. This day is going to be…agony.”
“I know, Tommy, but a lot of things rest on our ability and willingness to give all of ourselves. This thing is bigger than just the two of us. It is for the many.”
We looked up at the compound and began our walk up the long dirt road. It would just not do to arrive in a vehicle and would be too much explaining if I flew and carried Tommy in broad daylight.
“I wonder if this is what it feels like when the guard shouts, ‘Dead man walking!’” Tommy said, shaking his head.
“Nonetheless, Tom, we need to succeed today, no matter how hard the task in front of us is going to be.” I looked on as we continued toward the compound and began planning in my head what we were going to do. I wanted to take them by surprise. And to be honest, they were going to be an extremely rough group.
“This is too much, Josiah! I’ll fight for you, but how could you even ask me to—-“
I looked at my best friend and stated the obvious, “I’m sorry. I promise that after you do me this last favor, I’ll never ask you to do anything for me again.”
“You promise? I’m going to hold you to that,” Tommy stated, knowing full well that was never going to happen.
I smiled and said, “Okay, I won’t ask for any more favors for the remainder of the year.”
“Josiah, in two weeks, the year will be over.”
“Then you should have an exceptionally pleasant Christmas and New Years. Anyhow, it has been seven months since you’ve been here, so try to keep it together.”
“I know, but still. This is asking a lot from me, Josiah. You know how I feel about going through something like this.”
“I know, man. I’ll make it up to you. If we make it out alive, I promise to buy you an enormous steak back in Victorville.”
“I want an Awesome Blossom, too.”
“You got it, Tom. You can smother those onion strings in as much catsup and mustard you like.”
I felt immensely hot as I approached the front door to the compound. “Damn, I feel itchy.”
“Why wouldn’t you? Look at you!” Tommy said, annoyed at the very sight of me. “You look freaking ridiculous!”
“You don’t look any better. As a matter of fact, hold on. Let’s record this moment for posterity.” I took my phone out of my pocket and turned it around to take our photo.
“You’re now documenting this horror show?” Tommy scolded. “You better not blackmail me with this photo.”
I snapped the picture.
“Let me see that,” Tommy said.
I turned around my phone to show Tommy the photo on it. There we were… my best friend and I looking miserable and truly, the picture of ridiculousness. Tommy was dressed in a bright green elf suit—complete with green leotards, green slippers with turned-up toes, a tunic that came only to his hips and a jingle bell at the end of his silly red-and-green striped hat. I was Santa Claus, complete with fake itchy white beard and a red fake fur suit that was much too hot and itchy for Mexico. The boots with the buckles were cool, though. I would wear them again. They were very “street.”
I opened the door, and all the kids inside the school gym looked at us and yelled, ‘Santa Claus!’
I looked to my left, and there was the Deity grinning from ear to ear. “You’re in for it, Santa Claus.”
“Don’t I know it.” It was time to plunge into the task.
“Feliz Navidad. Ho. Ho. Ho!” I
bellowed, and the impoverished kids screamed shrilly with excitement. I walked up to the children with my giant bag full of gifts that I had lugged all the way from the Victorville Super Walmart, where Tommy and I had gone crazy in the store, filling cart after cart with cool stuff. Happy pandemonium unfolded with the opening of that Santa bag. I was almost flattened by their joy and enthusiasm as they rushed me as a group, climbed all over me, hugged me, and touched my hands and pulled hard on my fake, glued-on white beard like I was Santa himself. Tommy was likewise attacked.
It was a long and extremely uncomfortable evening, with both Tommy and I getting itchier and hotter by the minute and a hundred or so kids running around screaming in glee, clutching their gifts and wound up by extreme sugar consumption and the bounty of Christmas loot, the likes of which they had never experienced.
I grinned, watching their unfettered joy, with a pang of nostalgia in my heart for my parents. They were not alive to enjoy Christmas with my own children. I thought I’d better get used to kids because Lena was about to burst any day now, with our twins. Playing Santa should be good practice, at least to get used to the running and screaming. I was about to become the head of a household of an instant family of four. Was I daunted? Oh, hell yes, I was daunted. Not completely prepared for either event, I was almost as scared of becoming a father to two baby immortals as I was of fighting Krull.
Chapter Two
After the Santa Claus gig in Mexico, Tommy and I returned to Victorville in the early morning hours, where I removed the itchy beard, glue, and costume and got back into my comfy Josiah clothes: black jeans and black t-shirt. Tommy lumbered off to bed after wolfing down about three pounds of cold roast beef from the fridge, and I decided to check on my men, who were staying in bunkers right outside our house.
The bunkers that we built were world class, to say the least. I was pretty sure we were breaking every building code in the books with our mega man cave, one that we created right smack in the middle of Victorville. We had brought in one of the most prolific contractors and construction units to illegally build our underground playground to top-of-the-line specs for a fortress that would withstand even a nuclear attack.
Our bunkers had it all. We had enough room to house 800 Mani in sublime comfort. That was ridiculous, in itself. We also had a full-featured large gym and workout facility, even a double Olympic-size heated lap pool with twenty lanes. Not to mention a game room that could compete with Dave & Buster’s, complete with dartboards and pool tables.
I made my way down into the man cave of all man caves, one for the ages. We currently had 200 Mani and Carni men living down here. Considering the testosterone that flowed in this place, we had remarkably few problems. Most of the men in the bunkers were made up of my strong vampire and werewolf compadres. They were fighters who came back with me from that infamous night, a few months back at Romero’s compound. These guys were happy to get a new lease on life. They were not about to rock the boat, and get kicked out of an exceptionally good situation. Plus, they couldn’t beat the price. As long as they were down for the cause when I needed them, they lived here for free. It helped that the chow was really, really good. One of the big problems of hosting an army is feeding the mob. I knew that I couldn’t have some of my soldiers flying off to get a blood meal every night, so we had a professional chef, a Mani himself, who created all sorts of delicious Mani cuisine made from human blood, blood that we bought from a legal source, a large medical supply corporation that provided steady supplies of immaculate human blood for researchers. And for us. They didn’t ask any questions about what we did with the blood. They just billed us every month.
As I passed the huge kitchen, I waved at our chef, who was blending up something that smelled almost good to me. I didn’t partake of the culinary delights of raw blood concoctions that the guys raved about, but they sure looked forward to their chow time. As well, in a separate smaller kitchen, we had a Carni chef who prepared regular Tandra-type food, a little heavier on the rare meat entrees than a purely human diet. A Mani nutritionist supervised both kitchens. Nobody here had to hunt for food, hold it down, or kill it. It was just a benefit for our growing army and one that I knew gave us terrific power over our enemies. We weren’t all divided by the daily quest for food. Now we could concentrate on the training for battle.
The guys had all been great. But why wouldn’t they be? They were entertained, they were housed, they were trained and exercised, and they were fed well. With all of the creature comforts supplied, we had very few problems. Aside from the constant musky smell of sweaty men who embraced being gym rats, it was as if we were all part of some paranormal fraternity. Which we were.
I made my way down to the game room where Sion was cleaning up, beating everyone at “V-Day,” on the Xbox. A couple of months ago, Sion, a successful young game programmer, a genius at probability theory, and a relatively new Mani by our standards, had just showed up one day; he had become one of the most valuable members of my team. First off, he was built like Urkel from Family Matters and resembled him. A young African American male whose body must have been no older than fifteen, he had actually walked the earth for thirty years. Sion’s value wasn’t in his physical stature; it was his mind and ability to manipulate the paranormal world and bring the vision to Xbox and into the real world as well. He did it in a way that it played out like a science instead of random probable outcomes. He was my resident genius and extrapolator. If Stephen Hawking was smarter than this kid, I would have liked Dr. Hawking to prove it. When he wasn’t playing the game, Sion busied himself by creating many battle add-ons for the game, and he was both prolific and brilliant. He also made the game extremely addictive, not through any nefarious means; it was just that much fun to play it.
I wasn’t very good at video games, but I enjoyed the camaraderie with the guys. I often spent hours just hanging out and getting to know them. Lena complained that I spent too much time hanging out with the fellas, but I had a blast with the guys. I loved hearing their stories and working out with them in our world-class gym. In a weird way, it fulfilled a part of me that had been lacking for years.
On this night, the room had about twenty guys sitting around an incredibly large flat-screen TV, playing a multi-player combat strategy video game that most of them could now physically do in their sleep.
“Sion owning the room again?” I asked, laughing.
“You know it, Josiah,” one of the men said. “Those who can’t, play video games.”
“Maybe that is why I’m so bad at them,” I agreed, laughing. “Don’t give Sion a hard time just because he invented the game.”
Sion looked up at me and smiled. He was a good kid, and he knew his value to me. Sion even created all of the music and sound effects on the computer and the game was rich with lifelike detail and plausible supernatural battle scenarios. I let Sion know it daily, that I valued him. He even helped me put together a workout regimen and combat strategy that maximized all of our skill sets and incorporated the same elements into the simulation game, so that when the men weren’t physically practicing fighting, they were probably playing each other on the simulation, learning even more about defense and offense, strategy and even about Mani honor and ethics. Sion was as driven to make the game simulation a learning tool for us as I was driven to make physical fighters out of every Mani in the bunker. We were building something great. Together.
“Do you want a crack at me, Chosen One?” Sion asked, and another man got up so I could take his place and play against Sion. I took a shot at the game and did as pathetically as I usually did, because I was more attuned to fighting in the flesh, but I was learning the game, day by day. I liked it and sometimes played until I was so exhausted that I had to go to bed. Also, I was currently playing against the inventor of the game—there was no finer opponent.
Suddenly, I had to pee. I looked at the time and saw that three hours had gone by while we played “V-Day.” It felt like minutes.
“What
? You’re done for the night?” Sion said as he watched me give someone else a turn.
“Lena’s probably waiting up,” I said. Yawning, I said good night to the guys and made my way to the house to see my very pregnant girlfriend. I went to the bathroom, took a shower to get rid of the eau de bunker smell, and quietly crawled into bed beside her while she laid on her back. Lena was an exceptionally peaceful sleeper. I kissed her lightly on her cheek and whispered, “I love you.”
I was pretty sure she always heard me when I slip into bed. She always nuzzled up to me, although she never seemed to wake up when I came to bed after a long day and night of being with the Mani men.
The following evening, I woke up and made Lena some breakfast. She didn’t like to eat the Tandra-ish food in the mess hall of the bunker because it meant eating with the Carni. I think she was a bit of an elitist that way. So we ate at home. Our own breakfast was scheduled during the time of most people’s dinner. That was the life of a vampire. Lena never was a large blood consumer. She had mentioned on more than one occasion that she didn’t have the cravings that others had. This was a good thing in my book because who wanted to kiss a girl with blood breath? It was odd how her normal Tandra appetite came back to her, the second that she had the babies in her.
“Good morning, sweetie,” I said holding a tray with eggs, hash browns, and French toast.
“All that for me?” she asked.
“It sure isn’t for the other vampires. It’s bad enough they all mad dog me whenever I eat a burger. Now that you have become the same way, I swear they are plotting against us.”
