Bloodline Awakened Supernatural Thriller Series: Books 1-3

by Jason Paul Rice

  “You can be responsible in Pittsburgh. We can get a house, and you can get a job. And we were just talking about kids. That’s one hell of a responsibility.” She tried to sound encouraging.

  “It’s not the same thing. Every time I look in the kid’s face, I’ll see all the innocent people of Prince Mount that I left here to die. No one is safe with that madman running around. Especially children.”

  Emily pulled onto the exit ramp. She followed the signs to get back onto the highway, going south. Mike tried to steel his unruly nerves, to no avail. His swirling stomach felt like he was going to lose the lovely dinner in his belly.

  Mike reached into Emily’s bag and pulled out a Red Bull. He opened it and took a big gulp. “Want some?”

  “No. I’m good. I can’t believe I am doing this. You know I’m not going in there with you, right?”

  “I understand. I wouldn’t expect you to. This is my fight. Time to go it alone.”

  Emily let the vehicle veer onto the ‘Wake Up’ rumble strip on the side of the road then quickly jerked the wheel to straighten out the Jeep and continued south. “But when I needed help in my fight, you were there for me. I want to help you, but the only way I can is to convince you to stay out of those woods.”

  “Like I said, I don’t expect you or anyone else to understand why I am doing this.”

  They passed a sign.

  Prince’s Mountain

  6 Miles

  Mike’s belly tightened, and his bowels threatened to evacuate. He wanted to say something to reassure Emily, but no words came to him. He thought about the only person that understood his burden. Alayna.

  He tucked a Five-Hour Energy into his pocket and grabbed the flashlight, hoping that the batteries were fresh. He set the gun on the car seat, knowing it would only piss off George.

  Emily drove to the end of the Avalon Avenue, on the outskirts of Houlihan’s Square. Mike stepped out of the car and could already sense a palpable energy in the heavy air. Magic vines.

  Emily walked around the car and hugged him. “Are you sure you have to do this? I won’t think any less of you if we get back in that car and just drive away.”

  “I have to. I told you I can’t run away anymore. This is my cross to bear, and I am going to bear it alone. I’ve already gotten two people killed for coming into these woods with me. I’m not going to let that happen again.”

  “I’ll wait here for you.” She stood on her toes and kissed him. “You’re, like, my guy, and I don’t want to lose you.”

  Mike took a deep breath. “If I’m not back in an hour, leave. I hate to sound morbid, but if this doesn’t work out, I’m sorry. I really like you. You’re one of the best things to ever come into my life. I’ll always be scared and running from George unless I do this. I’m not scared anymore.” Mike lied to Emily and himself.

  Emily stepped back and opened the door of the car. She reached in and came back to Mike with the gun. “Here. At least take this.”

  “I’m not going to need that. Last time I had it in here, I almost shot you anyway. It’s not going to be of help. You remember what happened when you shot George? Nothing.”

  “So then how are you planning to defeat that beast?”

  “I have a few secrets that I need to keep just that, secret.”

  “Bullshit. Why do you want to die? Do you suddenly hate me now that we have the money?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I lo—I really like you, and I’m not going to die. And on that happy note, I’ve got a mission to execute.” He held his hand out, and Emily put her palm in his. Mike pulled her closer for a passionate kiss.

  Mike ripped himself away from his lover and headed for the tree line. The warm wind blew a rancid stench of a dirty barn toward him. He knew it would only get worse as he plunged into the darkness.

  Mike leaned down and scooped up some dirt. He rubbed the soil between his fingers and took a deep breath, trying to absorb all the surrounding elements. A baritone howl cut through Mike’s concentration. He let the soil dance on his fingers, singing a song of the ancient past, before harmlessly falling back to the ground.

  The full-moon’s rays couldn’t break through the camouflage canopy, so Mike flicked on the flashlight. The beam of light bounced around the forest in Mike’s unsteady hand. He swapped the flashlight to his other hand, but it didn’t perform any better.

  Undaunted, Mike blazed a direct trail toward the center of the dense forest. He seemed to pick up confidence with each and every step. His heartbeat steadied and his hands straightened out.

  A sudden funk permeated the forest. It reminded him of George’s scent, but this particular brand carried a more potent pungency.

  Mike’s nostril hairs felt like they were on fire, which would have created a more welcome scent than the current funk. He stopped in his tracks as the flashlight exposed one of the boulders that marked Houlihan’s Circle.

  Mike felt like a battle gladiator entering the arena for a death match. His chest heaved, and his heartbeat skyrocketed. He turned off the flashlight and stepped between two boulders to officially enter the Circle. Then he immediately turned the flashlight back on.

  The dull moon didn’t provide much illumination despite the opening in the canopy. Mike heard a stomping sound in the distance. He whirled around, and the beam of light coming from the flashlight zig-zagged in the darkness. George was on the way.

  He thought about the magic books he had been reading.

  Mike dropped to his knees and looked up at the moon. For the first time ever, he tried to draw some power from the stars and moon. He hoped the moon would help the magic currents inside his body. On a powerful inhale, he tried to absorb the heat and might of the stars, and ride the universal wave of magic.

  Empowered, Mike jumped up, expecting to see George. Darkness persisted. The stomping persisted. Mike’s pupils dilated, forced to make sense of the darkness.

  Nothing but strange sounds and pitch-black gloom.

  Intrigued, Mike followed the repetitive sound and exited Houlihan’s Circle. He walked for less than a minute and froze in horror. His ears had betrayed him. The stomping proved to be George digging a huge hole. A deep hole big enough to hold a casket.

  Oh, shit.

  Chapter 25

  MIKE RAN AT GEORGE with reckless abandon. The memory of throwing the broken piece of the amulet on Tucker McSeamus kept replaying in his head. The creaking sound of stubborn wood was followed by a centuries-old smack of putrefaction, which didn’t make sense. The body should have decomposed and only been a skeleton by now.

  Mike held his nose and turned away. It didn’t provide much help. He could taste the rotten stench, so he ripped his finger and thumb away from his nose. The immense beast’s head poked out of the top of the hole.

  Mike pounced on an easy chance at a cheap shot. There were no rules in murder. Right?

  Mike ran up and kicked him in the temple. George released a disturbing growl that shook the forest. In one motion, the beast in a Victorian suit sprung out of the hole, chasing after Mike.

  Mike froze. He tried. He tried to move his legs. Nothing. Numbness. No feeling.

  A fur-covered fist came down and crushed Mike’s left cheek. He felt that and fell to the ground as assorted colors streaked through his eyes. His body screamed. Stay down. Don’t get up.

  George gracefully moved in and booted Mike in the side of his ribcage, immediately knocking the wind out of him. Mike tried to slow his breathing down and play dead.

  The beast seemed satisfied with his work and returned to the cracked casket. Mike writhed quietly around on the ground, trying to build his inner strength.

  Slowly, carefully, Mike made it to his feet and closed his eyes.

  A burning glow centered in his chest. Mike breathed in more heat. He held an open palm in the air, and a concentrated circular mass of blue and green flames appeared in his hand. Acting on instinct, Mike wound up like a baseball pitcher and chucked the flaming ball at George’s head.


  Heading straight for the beast’s head with tremendous speed, the legendary killer ducked at the last second to avoid certain death.

  Mike hurled another ball directly at George. The killer didn’t duck this time, and Mike watched the glowing orb gain speed.

  At the last possible moment, a hairy paw appeared and caught the hurtling mass of flames. The dark warlock redirected the fire ball into a tree.

  Angry now, George hopped out of the hole again, threw his head back and howled at the moon. The beast held his hairy hands in the air, and Mike watched a silky white stream rush toward him. The substance wrapped around his hands like ridiculously oversized boxing gloves.

  Oh, shit.

  It suddenly occurred to Mike that George was drawing in all the spider webs from the surrounding area. He turned and ran, frantically searching for a wide tree trunk to dive behind for protection. He dodged left and right, and suddenly a thin sheet of white fiber surrounded his face and body.

  Within moments, a thick cocoon of spider webbing had enveloped Mike’s entire body. Mike took short breaths and wondered what magic he could use to save his life. He nervously flexed his fingers and tore a small gap through the shell, not big enough to make a difference. He tried to bite a hole in the smothering surroundings, but couldn’t fully break through.

  He could move his fingers and make a fist, but that was it. Mike stopped struggling and wasting energy for a moment. He remembered his first lesson in the Deep Burrow—not to panic or make any hasty decisions. An idea hit him like a frying pan upside the head. He clenched two fists and concentrated.

  Mike remembered Alayna’s lesson about the one-inch punch, but was it too late? The cobwebs were suffocating. He wasn’t going to last much longer on shallow breathing. He closed his fist and focused his mind, tapping into the current of power, drawing in mental strength. His fist sprang forward, making a small dent in the dense web.

  Mike concentrated again and threw another punch, creating some more space. Mike methodically pounded away at the web. Each indentation made it easier and gave him more leverage with each punch.

  Suddenly, he was punching air. He tore at the spider’s web around his mouth and nose. As he clawed away the final layer, he greedily sucked in some of the putrid, stale air that had never tasted so sweet.

  Mike ripped the cocoon from his face as thunder rumbled from above. George was kneeling next to a body near the hole he had been digging. A flash of lighting illuminated the small gold charm in his hand. He reached down and grabbed the necklace around the dead body’s neck.

  Mike knew he needed to act quickly. He concentrated on the surrounding area for what resources he could use. Then he took two deep breaths and muttered the spell to summon water from the rain clouds above. He manifested the water in his fiery chest until the water began to boil.

  When the water was hot enough, Mike held his arms out, and the red-hot liquid shot from his fingertips. He drenched George’s left side, and the beast released a painful yelp. The murderer jumped to his feet and stared at Mike. The scared young man tried to back away but his feet wouldn’t cooperate.

  George walked purposefully toward him and stood right in front of Mike.

  Too late, Mike realized George had been using mind magic. He didn’t know how to break the hold. The wild beast curled his fingers into a fist. A web of lightning lit up the sky at the exact moment George spun in a circle and unleashed a fierce right hook.

  A crunching sound came from Mike’s jaw, and the young man fell flat on his back. He spat out two teeth and a wad of blood. His head rang like a bell as he sat up and tried to shake it off. George had made it back over to the dead body and was holding the broken charm on the necklace next to the piece that Mike had found.

  The dark warlock pushed the two pieces together for a perfect fit. The completed charm emitted a golden glow. Seven strikes of lightning shot down from the sky and all met at the charm. Their force blew George back five feet. As he stumbled to get to his feet, the dead body sat up.

  A pale woman with dark, curly hair fingered the charm on her necklace and stood up. She wore an old Victorian-style dress with black gloves. Dark soil fell from her dress as she walked toward her husband. George ran to greet her, and the couple shared a hug.

  Mike knew he was in trouble now, and tried to come up with a plan to defeat both undead figures, but what chance did he stand now, with two of them, when he couldn’t even take care of one?

  The reunion of the couple bought Mike some time, but the menu of options was slim due to his limited magic training. Mike concentrated on the elements surrounding him. His mind traveled from the molten core of the earth to the rain clouds above and even reached out to the stars.

  Several ideas ran through his head, and he made a quick decision. He drew in the power of electricity stored in the rain clouds. He felt the intense force raging inside him, expanding from his chest to his extremities. He mentally jammed the waves of electricity into a concentrated mass.

  A spherical blue object, about the size of a softball, with electrical sparkles running through it developed in Mike’s palm. He stared at George’s back. The legend was still embracing his wife.

  Mike seized his chance. He wound up and hurled the fastball of energy at the couple.

  George sensed the incoming danger at the last moment and turned toward Mike. The dense electric ball ripped through George’s shoulder and hit his wife in the side of the neck, tearing through her clavicle and only missing her heart by inches. Mike watched the spray of blood as if in slow motion.

  Both of his opponents collapsed to the ground, howling in pain, and a smirk of accomplishment came over Mike’s lips. A rush of confidence swept through him as he plotted his next move. Mike closed his eyes.

  He centered himself with the trees of the forest. The trees of his town. The trees of his country. The trees of the world. He thought about thousand-year-old trees. Their strength. Their power. Their wisdom. Abruptly, he focused on the roots of the trees.

  He opened his eyes and extended his arms, embracing the trees. The earth began to rock back and forth, and waves from an unknown source rippled beneath the grass. The mighty arms of ancient tree roots sprang out of the ground and wrapped themselves around George and his wife before the couple could stand up.

  The tree roots bound around them, holding both against the ground. Mike couldn’t believe that he was responsible for that. George thrashed around, and his wife Bellana, shouted a horrid song of a thousand dead demons.

  George joined his wife in a scream that reached the thunder clouds above. The temperature rose to an unbearably high level, and a sudden rainfall felt like water droplets out of a boiling tea kettle with a tiny spout. The roots strangling the couple changed color and turned black. Smoke began to rise from the tree roots, and they burst into flames.

  George and his wife jumped to their feet and danced around the fire to a flameless area. Mike hadn’t thought about his next move yet because he had been too busy celebrating his achievement. Bellana’s dress ran red, drinking in the gushing blood from her torso. George’s arm hung low, and he whimpered as he approached.

  Mike froze.

  Frozen in fear.

  Like a damn statue.

  He could only concentrate on this enormous undead man bearing down on him. Mike prepared to duck a punch to the face this time. Instead, George raised his leg, and the bottom of his foot connected with Mike’s chest, thrusting him back into the base of an oak tree.

  Mike gasped for the air that had just been expelled from his lungs. “GAAAHHHHHH.” He took a few short wisps and tried again. “GGAHHH, GGAHHHHH.” A few more seconds passed, and he finally sucked in some fresh oxygen through his nostrils.

  George tended to his injured wife, and Mike gathered his thoughts and planned his next maneuver. He could still feel the spirit of the trees running through him so he concentrated on that.

  The bark. The solid trunk. The branches. The leaves. The water that ru
ns through the leaves. Liquid. Liquid. Sap. Tree sap.

  Mike opened his eyes. Relief rushed through him as he noticed George hovering over his wife. She had slumped to the ground. The local legend helped her to her feet, and the woman almost fell back down. George held up his wife as she fought to regain her balance.

  Mike didn’t know if he had the capacity for internal magic yet, but he was sure as hell going to try. He focused on the tree sap. He thought about the sap’s properties and how to best utilize the thick, sticky liquid.

  He thought about the acids—malic, succinic, phosphoric, citric and fumaric—but they didn’t spur any ideas. He shifted to the amino acids and minerals. Then it hit him. The glucose and fructose stuck in his head. The sugars.

  Mike mentally drew the sap into his body first, and collapsed immediately. The cold sap had coated several of his organs. Luckily, he still had some of the raging electricity coursing through his veins. The heat thinned out the sticky substance, and Mike’s mind shifted to the technique of transference.

  He opened his eyes and zeroed in on Bellana’s chest. The moon fought through the clouds and reflected its magical glow onto the burgundy stains over her upper body. He stared, and concentrated, and waited. He didn’t know exactly how long you had to wait, but he felt like this was too long.

  The couple started walking toward Mike. He stared at her chest and concentrated. Watched and waited. Impatiently. They were only three feet away. Mike braced himself for pain and projected his power at his enemy.

  Suddenly, George’s wife fell to the ground, clutching her chest. Mike focused again and stared at the entry point. He collected the rest of the magical sap rushing around his insides and projected it into Bellana.

  The woman fought for air. Mike stared at his work and prepared to implement phase two. He closed his eyes and drew warmth from the hidden sun and stars of the sky.