Bloodline Awakened Supernatural Thriller Series: Books 1-3

by Jason Paul Rice

  His neck craned around, searching for a nearby spirit, until he focused on me. While he was confused, I developed three more invisible fireballs, hoping he couldn’t detect them. Because of the great pain, I missed with the first two and barely connected to the side of his midsection with the third. However, it ripped another large chunk of flesh from his body.

  The man went down to his knees. “What happened?”

  “You sold out. Plain and simple.” I gathered in all the heat I could with mixed emotions as I approached him. “You gave your soul away for the shallow wish of killing me. You put your life in someone else’s hands.”

  His face contorted in horror, “How did I lose to a sissy boy? They promised me I would get to kill you. They promised.”

  I kept sucking in all the heat I could, thinking my suit and clothes would burst into flames at any time. “I remember someone promising me that they would take care of me too. Sound familiar.”

  Tears formed in my eyes as I stared at the battered, bleeding body of my father. Pulling in even more heat, I had to stop him. If not for me personally, for all the people he would kill in the future and those he’d killed in the past. Just look at the helicopter he had just taken down.

  But he was my father. Could I really kill him?

  “Come on, Mikey. You know I was just kidding bout all this. I just wanted to make you a man. You gotta believe me. This was all a set-up for you. I did it all for you, Mikey.” He coughed, and blood oozed out the corners of his mouth.

  That sealed the deal. Even in his most vulnerable moments, he was a con man liar. I didn’t see my father in that instance. I saw all the horrible things he had done to my mother and me.

  I remembered when he had grabbed my mom by the hair and thrown her to the ground. Then he had yelled at her for knocking over a chair on the way down. I remembered him putting a cigarette butt out on my shoulder and laughing at me when I cried. I was eight years old.

  I had to do this.

  I blasted my father with a volcanic blast, engulfing my father in flames, and instantly turning his body to ashes. The human form held for several moments, allowing me one last look at my father.

  I didn’t see a man. I saw all the evil things he had done over the years, like flipping through a picture book. The album ended with images of my father trying to kill me tonight. Tears formed in my eyes. What a waste.

  A wind gust came sweeping through carrying away the ashes of my father. With all the dirty magic inside him, I had to destroy my father’s body completely so he never came back.

  I looked up at the sky and another helicopter came swooping in. “He’s gone, mom. I did it for you. He can’t hurt anyone again. I’m sorry I had to do it, but we’re safe now.”

  A hail of bullets rained down from the chopper, nearly missing my feet as I scurried across the roof and into the exit door. I hobbled down the steps to the 64th floor and found the nearest elevator. No way was I walking all those flights down.

  The elevator’s doors opened in the lobby and I drew my sword in case Felix needed help. I came around the corner just in time to see Felix’s sword rip through the final red Sendal Spirit. How fitting. The mage collapsed to the ground. I ran over to make sure he was okay.

  I leaned over him. His face and hands were darker, indicating that the spirits had burned him internally. I gently helped him up as a chorus of police sirens blared. I leaned down, hooked his arm around my neck and walked slowly toward the entrance.

  I carefully helped Felix get through the broken glass and bumped into my crew. Satoku was safe. My heart breathed a sigh of relief. The stone men and men in black were all lying on the street and sidewalks because their power source had been destroyed.

  Aka Manah and the Jersey Devil raced by and the former yelled, “Good job, Merlino, thanks for the knife.” He held up one of my enchanted blades. I checked my beltline and a rotten feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. It must have slipped out when I was squeezing into the building.

  Felix could stand on his own, so I raced after Aka Manah until I noticed a group of officers on foot coming my way. I made a quick U-turn and my friends and I hightailed it out of there before we had to answer a bunch of questions from the authorities.

  My body felt numb despite the serious injuries. I’d just killed my father and I don’t think I’ve fully processed it. It was the right thing to do, right? He was a maniac who would have killed more people if given the chance. I had to do it.

  So why was I feeling so torn up inside? It was like part of me was dying, but maybe that was a good thing. Maybe all the bad tendencies and shortcomings that were caused by my father will die too. Perhaps I had to do this, so I could finally have closure on the whole thing.

  Pittsburgh was safe from the Sendal Spirits. I took comfort in the fact that nobody else would die. For now. Panic ran through me again remembering that I needed to get that knife back from Aka Manah or it would be my life.

  We kept running through the streets, and I couldn’t believe our tiny crew, aided by the demons, took out a powerful entity like the Sendal Spirits. I was still in shock that the Jersey Devil and Aka Manah showed up to help us out. I grabbed Satoku’s hand and kissed it, glad that this was all over with.

  Chapter 29

  A FORTNIGHT LATER, I watched the work crew pull out the tiny headstone and replace it with one worthy of my mother. I knew Jonathan had connections so I had asked him to find one for me, and my vampire friend ended up paying for it. It wasn’t terrible having a rich vampire who liked to give away lavish gifts.

  The four-foot onyx headstone with an ivory angel sitting on top had letters chiseled into it that were filled with gold.

  IN DEDICATION OF:

  BRIGHID PARKER BOYLE MERLINO

  DEDICATED WIFE

  LOVING MOTHER

  PRECIOUS SOUL

  I laid a dozen roses on her grave and knew that my mother would be proud of me. That meant everything. That was why I lived my life. For her.

  Alayna stood on my left and Satoku on my right. Being a Soul Searcher, my girlfriend could see the faerie, but none of the workers could.

  We had defeated the Sendal Spirits, but there wasn’t a guarantee they wouldn’t form again and come back to Pittsburgh. I thought about the recent events.

  Carolyn had made it to the airport safely and I got paid sixty grand for “protecting her.” I felt sad, especially for Reg, who didn’t meet many ladies, as they were a good couple. I had a feeling Reg would be meeting many lady vamps in his new lifestyle.

  Reg was an official member of the Purple Clan of Vampires now, which complicated our relationship. Jonathan had called me to ask me about Reg and I told him the truth. I told the elder vamp what a great guy Reg was and how he’d make a nice addition to the clan. It wasn’t easy, but sometimes you’ve got to let go.

  Jonathan sold the Dybbuk Boxes at auction for a pretty penny. I took the proceeds and gave two thousand dollars to Rebecca and Roy Lint for donating the boxes in the first place. I added the rest to the sixty grand.

  The insurance claim on my office worked out so I didn’t have to worry about that. I took some money out of the kitty and got my car fixed. I bought Satoku a new car because her insurance didn’t cover crazy acts of risen stone men and I felt a tad responsible since I had unleased the red spirit. Nothing fancy, but it’ll get her around town. I also paid the next six months’ rent on my house and office to Alayna.

  I know, I know, all this frivolous spending to show off the glamourous life of a wizard.

  That left eighty-five thousand dollars up for grabs. I had thought about getting a new car, taking a vacation, putting a down payment on a house, updating my sad wardrobe, purchasing a warehouse of Jameson or making my office look more like Jonathan’s. Then I had debated starting a savings account.

  But none of that was me. I’m a simple wizard who loves the song Simple Man. I had stuffed a few bucks into a savings account before I realized what I needed to do with the cash. I h
ad made an anonymous donation to my Cancer Support Group for members to use for treatment or living expenses. Fighters normally lost their jobs or had to take extended periods away from work while battling with cancer.

  It was the only logical choice.

  I talked to Felix the other day and we agreed to help each other out in the future, much to the glee of my girlfriend.

  As for Satoku, I’m just glad that she was safe again and we were back together.

  And for yours truly, the clock is ticking on whether I can get that enchanted knife back from Aka Manah and the demons of the Red Cavern before I die. The Gods had given me one month to return the knife or they will be forced to inflict their justice. I’m hoping nothing else pops up that will sidetrack me on that mission, but we all know how that goes.

  Modern Merlin

  By Jason Paul Rice

  Copyright 2017 by Jason Paul Rice

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. All names are made up and used fictionally. Any resemblance to real people is completely coincidental. Any resemblance to real events is only part of the author’s imagination.

  Cover Art by Ljiljana Romanovic

  Chapter 1

  Author’s Note:

  THIS PREQUEL STORY was written in third person so that it stood apart from the rest of the series. The rest of the series is first person past tense.

  THE THREE YOUNG MEN plunged deeper into the creepy forest darkness, with a legendary murderer on the loose. Mike, Gary and Kyle stumbled through the two-square-mile, oak tree laden-forest known as Houlihan’s Square.

  None of the locals dared to enter the abandoned homeland of George Houlihan, the immortal man believed to be responsible for scores of deaths over the past two hundred years.

  “Why are we going directly into this murderer’s backyard? Anyone?” Kyle asked.

  “Man, you scared.” Gary laughed and slapped Mike on the back.

  “I’m not scared of anything.” Kyle pointed his beefy index finger in Gary’s face. “You got that?”

  The heavily intoxicated friends trampled through the dark woods using the half-moon and stars as a guide. Mike and Gary had brought flashlights but they didn’t want to turn them on and risk being spotted.

  Mike chugged the rest of his Milwaukee’s Best lager and tossed the can aside. He belched and wiped some foam from his mouth with his forearm.

  Kyle stopped. “Did you guys hear that shit?”

  “Ssstop with that ssscaredy cat routine.” Mike slurred. “Who caressss if we die anyway?”

  Gary held his hands on either side of his mouth and called out, “George. Oh George. Hey George, come out and play.”

  Kyle took two steps to his left and punched Gary in the shoulder, almost knocking the smaller man down. “What are you doing? Are you crazy?”

  “There you go again. Being a little bitch.” Gary gingerly rubbed his shoulder and continued heading toward the heart of the dense woods.

  “I’m not scared. And you two alkies should be glad I’m here. You both are drunk out of your minds. I shoulda never even drove you two here.”

  Mike pulled down the zipper of his camouflage shorts and began to urinate on the trunk of a mighty oak tree. “Hold up, y’all. Gotta drain the main vein.”

  Kyle said, “Not funny. How much farther do you guys want to go in? We been walkin’ in these stupid woods for at least twenty minutes.”

  Mike swayed back and forth, dribbling on one of his Nike Air shoes. He turned toward Kyle, forgetting to zip his shorts back up. “We ain’t stopping till we get to the Circle. I got a bone to pick with this so-called murderer.”

  Kyle spun around a few times. “Where’d Gary go?” He whispered into the woods, “Yo, G, where you at? Stop playing, man.” He turned to Mike. “You see where he went?”

  Mike ripped a twelve-ounce can of Milwaukee’s Best from the plastic six-pack holder hanging from his cracking leather belt. “You want a brew, Kyle?” He put his hand over the last warm can left on his hip.

  Kyle held up an open hand and waved him off. “Nah, man. I can’t think about drinking right now. I got that metal taste in my mouth, and I feel like I’m gonna yak. We gotta go find Gary. Now. I hope he’s not trying to scare us, ‘cuz I’ll beat his ass into pulp if that’s what he’s doing.”

  Mike tried to keep up with the situation but his severe inebriation was seriously inhibiting his abilities. “Gary was here?” Mike squinted his eyes and peered into the woods as he rotated around. He stumbled to one knee and had to wait a few moments to regain his balance, then stood up too fast and scrambled to grab a tree branch above his head. He held on until his vision cleared and his balance returned.

  “If we don’t find Gary in five minutes, I’m hightailing it out of this spooky place,” Kyle said.

  An unimaginable scream of sheer agony ripped through the eerily quiet forest. Continuous high-pitched shrieks of terror only served to slightly muffle the background growling and chomping sounds.

  “I’m out,” Kyle announced, backing away from the sound, his eyes about to pop out of their sockets.

  The yelps of pain acted like a smack of sobriety across Mike’s face. “Wait, hold up. Did you hear that?”

  Kyle kept walking. “Yes, I fucking heard it. Why do you think I’m trying to get away from it? Come on.”

  Mike started to follow Kyle yet suddenly stopped. “I gotta go back.”

  “What are you talking about?” Kyle slowed down but kept moving.

  Mike shook his head slowly. “I have to go back. I have to kill him. For my mom.”

  “Dude, that’s a stupid plan. He might have killed your mom, who knows, but if you go back, he’s gonna kill you, too. Guaranteed.” Kyle nervously yanked his long bangs.

  “I don’t care. I’m going to die soon anyway.”

  Kyle finally stopped walking and turned around. “Man, you keep saying that. What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t worry about that. I’m going back and I’m going to kill him for my mom.” Mike turned and took two steps.

  Kyle slapped his firm palm on Mike’s shoulder. “Come on man, stop playing. You know I’m going to get lost in these woods without you. Let’s just get out of here.”

  Mike wiggled his body around until he shed Kyle’s giant hand. “I can’t. I just can’t. I made a promise to myself that I was going to kill George one day. Today’s the day. Or night.”

  “If you go toward that sound, you’re a lunatic. That’s all I know. I’m going this way.” Kyle pointed and stomped away.

  In the blink of an eye, Mike stood alone.

  Despite the life-or-death scenario, peaceful visions of the past flashed in front of his face.

  The house on Smithfield Street.

  His eighth birthday.

  Chocolate cake on the tilted green card table.

  Candles blazing.

  Wish.

  Go on, Micheal. Make a wish.

  Mike’s trip down memory lane was derailed by a fetid stench that reminded him of rotten meat. He pinched his nose and breathed through his open lips and clenched teeth to keep from throwing up.

  Terror plucked at his heartstrings, creating a spine-chilling, staccato symphony.

  He wanted to avenge the death of his mother, but in his inebriated state, he hadn’t brought a weapon. The spur-of-the-moment decision now left him frozen in place. His scalp crawled. A force centered in the pit his stomach, sending pulsing waves of unhinging fear throughout his body. His glazed eyes, staring off into the abyss, only found darkness.

  What was that?

  Mike’s facial features curved and wrinkled, creating a visage full of shock and horror.

  The moon, although only half-full, shone down like a spotlight in a cylindrical shaft of gleaming brightness. It revealed an u
gliness only a handful of people had seen and lived to tell about. He or she appeared to be an amalgamation of the greatest horrors Dante Alighieri had encountered on his voyage to the underworld with Virgil. Had the devil’s spawn been released on earth?

  George looked like a wild boar standing upright. Mike stood 6’2” and gazed up at the stout beast that seemed to be hovering just above the ground about twenty feet away. His brown fur, matted by burgundy blood, covered his face and body. Drops of blood fell from the corners of his mouth and collected on his massive, heaving chest.

  Despite every ounce of common sense screaming at Mike to run, he stood with his feet firmly planted, staring at the evil face.

  The spotlight grew weaker and disappeared. So did the local legend. Mike pulled out his flashlight and pointed it at the area where the beast had been standing just a few seconds before.

  Nothing.

  Empty woods.

  Mike’s pituitary gland kicked into action and sent a huge rush of endorphins snaking through his body. They helped clear his scrambled head, and he chose the most sensible option given the tense situation.

  He turned and ran in an unknown direction. As he hurtled through the woods, he ripped the last can of Milwaukee’s Best from his hip and wielded it like a weapon, despite the fact that he looked utterly ridiculous.

  A compact ball of blue and orange flames streaked in front of Mike’s face. He spun around several times until he became dizzy and dropped to his knees. Immediately, he sprang to his feet and started struggling through the dense woods. He scurried away from the direction the fireball had come from.

  Another flaming object sailed directly at his head before suddenly veering upward and flying over his left shoulder. The intense fireball exploded against a huge oak tree, immediately igniting the wide trunk and blackening the bark.

  Mike fell again and scratched desperately at mother earth with his empty hand to get back to his feet. He stumbled to get fully upright as a strange sensation attacked his chest. The inside of his chest. Mike felt an alien hand flatten out and slide through a gap in his ribcage. It opened like a claw and clamped down. Four powerful fingers and a thumb grabbed hold of his heart.