The Complete Vampire Project Series: (Books 1 - 5)

by Jonathan Yanez

  The roar from the men gathered was deafening. Harrison was on the ground moaning, clutching his knee.

  “Get him to the infirmary.” Sloan motioned to Harrison’s friends, who stood, opened mouthed. “Unless any of you have some cute comment to make about how I run.”

  Fear touched their eyes. “Oh, no, Ma’am, you run fine. Like any one of us—I mean, like a normal soldier.”

  Sloan ignored them as she walked back to her men, standing ready to congratulate their leader.

  A young palace messenger pushed through the crowd and saluted, trying to fight back curiosity and ask what happened.

  “Yes, what is it?” Sloan asked.

  “The Queen requests your attendance, Ma’am.”

  “What for?”

  “I’m not sure, but she asked you come as soon as you can.”

  Sloan nodded as she walked through the gathered crowd, not one of the soldiers in New Hope’s military daring to lower their eyes past her shoulders.

  Chapter Two

  Aareth

  “Bartend, I’ll take another. Make this one a double.”

  The man behind the bar looked his customer up and down, practically forcing himself to speak. “No—no disrespect, sir, but are you going to be able to pay for your tab? I—I mean, it’s not even noon. At this rate, you’ll drink my entire bar dry by dinner.”

  Aareth pulled a lock of long, dark hair away from his face. He reached inside his black trench coat. The bartender took a nervous step back.

  Aareth ignored making eye contact with the man as he brought out a large purse of coins and dropped it on the counter. “Forget the double shot. I’ll just take the bottle.”

  “Why, yes, sir. Right away, sir.” The bartender’s eyes were as large as full moons as he wrung his hands. “Excuse me for asking about the money, it’s just that, well, times aren’t what they used to be. Please stay as long as you like.”

  Still ignoring eye contact, Aareth stared into his empty glass. “The bottle.”

  “Oh yes.” The bar owner moved quickly for a man of his girth. He had a jug of whiskey by Aareth’s side in seconds.

  He poured himself another shot from the dirty decanter and threw it back like a true professional. All he wanted was to be left alone, but the bartender wasn’t the only one who had seen him throw down his purse of coins.

  “Excuse me, is this seat taken?”

  Aareth ignored the woman to his right and instead poured himself another drink.

  “Mmmm… The strong silent type. What’s wrong, handsome? You’re much too young to have had anything that tragic happen to you.”

  He turned his head ever so slightly in the woman’s direction. She was attractive, a slim physique, showing far too much skin, a pile of curly black locks that fell down the side of her face like a waterfall. Most men would jump at the opportunity to make conversation with such an attractive woman, Aareth wasn’t most men.

  “You don’t know anything about me. Whatever it is that you’re selling, I don’t want any.”

  She reached out a slender hand and gently touched his strong jaw, turning his unshaven face towards hers. “Oh, darling, you have no idea what I’m selling.”

  Aareth squinted through blue eyes and removed her hand with his own. “Darling, go bother someone else. I’m not interested.”

  The woman drew back and opened her mouth. Clearly, she was used to getting what she wanted. Before she could gather herself and mouth a comeback, there was a loud commotion at the entrance to the bar. Booted feet slapped against the wood floor in unison.

  Aareth turned back to his whiskey. This time, he ignored the glass and instead took the bottle straight to his mouth. The noise grew louder as the sound of marching entered the bar and stopped behind him.

  “Aareth Emerson, we are here on Queen Eckert’s behalf to ask you to the palace for an audience with Her Majesty,” a gruff voice addressed the alcoholic’s back.

  He didn’t flinch. Aareth raised the whiskey bottle to his lips again, enjoying the way the fiery liquid caressed his throat and dulled his inhibitions. The whiskey was only half finished and he intended to see the bottom of the bottle before he left.

  At the mention of Aareth’s name, the bartender took another step back. The woman who had regained her composure and was about to give him a tongue lashing was stopped again with another surprise. “You’re—you’re Aareth Emerson? THE Aareth Emerson?”

  He nodded, still looking at his bottle. “Yep, pleasure to meet you.”

  The woman looked at Aareth and then at the group of soldiers behind him and slowly got out of her seat and backed away. That seemed to be the general feeling throughout the bar as patrons made for the exits or stood from their seats and retreated to what they deemed a safe distance.

  “Did you hear me? Our orders are to bring you in,” the voice behind him demanded.

  Aareth continued to ignore the soldier. Instead of reacting, he took another swig from his bottle.

  This act of disrespect was too much for the soldier to bear. A rough hand grabbed Aareth’s left shoulder and swung him around. The action made Aareth stand up from his stool and face the soldier.

  The entire room gasped as Aareth and the soldier stood face to face. Aareth pursed his lips as he reached behind him and set the whiskey bottle down on the bar. Aareth looked the soldier up and down. His eyes rested on the badge identifying the soldier in front of him as a sergeant in the Queen’s army. “You’re not going to leave me alone no matter how politely I ask, are you, Sergeant?”

  The sergeant was a large man with a barrel chest and a thick mustache. “Oh, did that just become clear to you, boy? Listen, what the Queen wants with you is her business, but I’ve heard the rumors about you. I know what you are. I know how you turned your back on duty, on Queen and crown. Believe me, there’s nothing in this world I would like more than to end you here and now, but it seems you’re worth more to her alive than dead. So what’s it going to be? The easy way or the fun way?”

  “That’s kind of insulting.” Aareth looked past the grinning sergeant and the four men behind him. “And completely unfair.”

  “What is?”

  “That you thought you could bring me in with only yourself and four men.”

  Before the sergeant could react, Aareth’s right fist shot up from his side and cracked the underside of his jaw. The blow snapped the soldier’s head back at an awkward angle. The force of the punch sent him crashing to the ground into unconsciousness.

  The four soldiers that remained charged forward, using their long rifles as clubs. In such a tight space, the rifles were more of a hindrance than help. When the soldiers hesitated with wide swings, trying to avoid hitting one another, Aareth met them with nose-shattering blows and jaw-breaking punches.

  The first soldier swung high. Aareth easily ducked under the blow and landed a kidney punch, bringing his attacker to his knees. The next soldier brought his rifle over his head in a downward motion that Aareth easily caught in his right hand. The crown of Aareth’s head met the soldier’s nose at sickening speed, and there was an audible crunch as the soldier’s nose broke and blood gushed.

  Aareth’s last two opponents practically took out one another. One of the soldiers swung hard across his body, missed Aareth, and the butt of his own gun landed square across the jaw of his comrade. The soldier, wide-eyed, was too slow to avoid the fist aimed at his temple and he hit the floor like a sack of flour.

  Just like that, it was all over. Soldiers lay unconscious and moaning on the ground. Aareth turned back to his whiskey. Bottle halfway to his lips, he was stopped in the act by a familiar male voice behind him. “I tried to warn them they should let me talk to you first, but you know soldiers—stubborn.”

  “And you think you could do any better?” Aareth turned and smiled at the man he hadn’t seen in years.

  The elderly man walked over the soldiers strewn across the ground. He stood next to Aareth with a winning smile. “I know I can.”r />
  “Really? And how’s that?”

  “Because I know no matter how much you hide behind your pain and your alcohol,” the old man’s wrinkled face broadened into an even bigger smile, “there’s still that same man I once knew underneath.”

  “And what if that man no longer exists?”

  “That man will always exist, Aareth. Whether you choose to be that person or not is entirely your choice. But I’m not here to conduct a lecture. I’m here to ask you come back with me to the palace and just hear what Queen Eckert has to say. As a personal favor to me, just hear her out. What’s the worst that could happen?”

  Aareth took in a deep breath and grinned at the man he would still call a friend, and at one time, even a mentor. “Are you still tinkering around in the armory?”

  “I’ll have you know that I now oversee the entire armory and the production of the latest and newest weapons. We even started a separate division devoted to developing only the most cutting edge advances in magical ingenuity. We call it ‘The Department of Paranormal Study And Magic,’ or D.P.S.M. for short.”

  “D.P.S.M., huh? Wait a minute. Are you bragging?”

  “I’d never brag. I’m just informing you that I’m kind of a big deal now.”

  “Ahhh, what’s the worst that could happen?” Aareth chuckled and put down the bottle. “Okay, one meeting with the Queen. But only as a personal favor to you, Edison.”

  Chapter Three

  Jack

  “We should have charged them more,” Jack raised an eyebrow to his father, “a lot more.”

  “They can’t afford more,” his father whispered back with an identical eyebrow raised.

  Father and son crouched behind an ancient tree trunk. Patiently, they waited to ambush their prey, a band of shadow spirits ravaging the surrounding territory in the Outland. The spirits had desolated the region, tormenting the locals wherever they went. What was worse, these spirits didn’t discriminate, they slaughtered whatever they pleased: men, women, even children.

  Jack and his father, Marcus, were asked to come to the area to track and dispatch the spirits, to do whatever they could to stop the bloodshed. The poor farming community banded together and offered Jack’s father all they had to be rid of the creatures. Jack wouldn’t have given the offer a second thought. His father, on the other hand, refused all compensation, only accepting food and shelter as payment.

  That was the thing Jack most respected, and at times was most frustrated with. His father possessed the ability to always make the right decision. Where his father saw only black and white, Jack saw varying shades of gray.

  Now, after days of hunting the shadow spirits free of charge, the father/son tracking team discovered their lair. It was nestled into the side of a hill ten miles from the nearest farm. The spirits were smart and chose a place that would be easy enough to leave and go on raiding missions but not too close as to lead the farmers to their doorstep.

  Even if the farmers were skilled enough to hunt the spirits, killing them was another matter. Most farmers were capable of defending themselves from roaming wolves or coyotes, things that bled and died. Shadow spirits did neither of these things.

  Jack held his breath as he looked over the fallen tree and counted. There were twenty of the wraith-like creatures. Most were human size, floating in ghostly indifference this way and that. The shadow spirits had two options when deciding their appearance: they were able to either take on the form they had just before their death or transform into horrifying macabre images. It seemed this group was split down the middle. Half looked almost human, the only hint as to their true nature the ethereal white light emanating from their bodies and their translucent state.

  The other half were a ragtag group of grotesque skeletons in varying degrees of decay. One stood out from the rest. She was a tall, gaunt spirit with her lower jaw hanging from her mouth, the flesh around her neck raw and blistered. The other spirits gave her a wide berth.

  “What do you think?” Jack’s father asked in a whisper.

  “I think that this is crazy. Risking our souls for a group of farmers that are going to pay us in corn and beans.”

  “Try again.”

  “But…” Jack continued, “since it’s the right thing to do, I say we surprise them. Kill their leader first and take out as many as we can before they know what’s happening. With any luck, they’ll break and run. If not, we can finish them one at a time. Worst case scenario, they rush us and we kill them all anyway.”

  Marcus’ dark brown eyes twinkled. “I agree. Jack, I remember when you were no bigger than my two hands. Now look at you. Eighteen years old, strong as an ox, and the second best sorcerer in the Outland.”

  “Second best?”

  “Well, you know. Your old man can still hold his own.”

  “I count twenty spirits. Best sorcerer title goes to whoever dispatches the most?”

  Jack’s father smiled, and in one quick motion, stood up, breaking his cover. His hands danced with the flames of green magical energy.

  Jack’s eyes went as wide as the spirits’, and for a split second, time stopped. Spirits processed this new threat. Jack processed the fact that his father had just cheated, a thought that surprised him and made him laugh at once.

  Then time caught up to the moment and seemed to speed forward. Jack stood, drawing from the vast inner resource of his own magical power. His father began sending blasts of emerald green magic at their targets. The slack-jawed female spirit, as well as the spirit closest to their hiding spot, fell to the forest floor screaming in surprise and hate. One moment they were howling their frustration to the sky, the next they evaporated in a wisp of green smoke.

  Jack fired and hit his mark between yellow eyes, but he knew he was already behind. Father and son quickly and efficiently made the best of the confused state the spirits were in. Shadow spirits scattered into the woods in every direction, screaming in surprise and hatred.

  In a matter of seconds, both sorcerers found themselves alone in the woods.

  “I don’t think they’re going to run.”

  “I agree. Be ready for close quarters combat. They’re surrounding us as we speak.”

  Jack looked around and could tell what his father said was true. The spirits recovered quickly despite the loss of their leader. Rustling could be heard in every direction as Marcus and Jack stood back to back.

  “I think I’m winning, by the way. Two to one? Not to mention I got the leader. She should count twice.”

  Jack bit back a comment as he caught sight of white light headed in his direction. His right arm snapped out in his attacker’s route. Jack discharged a bolt of green magic as soon as his arm straightened enough to track his target. The spirit fell. But Jack knew the time for long-range attacks would soon be over.

  He heard two more sharp cracks of magic leave his father’s hands, but now their assailants were all coming together. As one, the remaining shadow spirits converged on their location.

  Jack reached for the weapons that set both himself and his father apart from all other sorcerers in the Outland. Firm wood met his fingertips as he crossed his arms to reach over each shoulder and drew the two halves of his staff. They slid like swords from sheaths. With a practiced motion, he connected the two halves into a staff six feet long. All the time for thinking was gone; it was time to react.

  Jack ran toward the gnashing teeth of his attackers. He called forth the white hot energy of magic inside. His eyes blazed green with magical fire. His staff exploded with the same force. Every blow from Jack’s staff hit its mark. With each strike that landed, a sharp crack echoed into the surrounding woods. Green sparks flew through the air like light sprinkling rain as Jack and his father went to work. Spirit after snarling spirit fell, but there was no denying the grasping hands were getting closer and closer to the pair of sorcerers before they could end their second chance at life.

  The last two shadow spirits on Jack’s side lunged at him simultaneously. The
impact of the first spirit made Jack’s teeth rattle and took him to the ground. Jack’s left forearm screamed in pain as it was pinned to the ground by the manic creature. The spirit grinned rotted teeth at him. Jack felt a chill originate where the spirit held him and quickly spread through his body. If it weren’t for his extensive training and the magical barriers set in place, Jack would be losing his soul in the most excruciating way.

  The pressure in his arm and now in his right foot as he felt the attack of the second spirit made him wince. Realizing his soul was not so easy to drain, the spirits shrieked and sank their fingers and teeth deeper into the folds of Jack’s cloak. Violently, they began the work of ripping Jack’s limbs from his body.

  Steady, Jack, you got this. What would Dad do? Remember: quickly and efficiently, no time to panic. Just breathe.

  Staff thrown to the side, Jack made his right hand into a fist. He channeled the magic to a point and brought the crackling green blade up with his right hand and across the throat of the shadow spirit on his arm. There was another loud snap and scream as the spirit fell. Jack did a hard sit-up, bringing his magical knife in a wide downward arc and into the skull of his last assailant.

  “Jack, are you hurt?” Marcus was at his side before he even had a chance to get to his feet.

  Jack stood and examined his arm and foot. The spirits had failed to penetrate either his jacket or boot, but he knew he would have bruises to remember the battle. “I’m fine; are you okay?”

  “Yes, looks like we got them all.” Marcus examined the woods around them, where tiny spirals of smoke still wafted upward.

  “I know you wish there was another way to release them,” Jack reached down to pick up his staff, “but we did the right thing. The farmers’ families are safe now. Oh, and I got nine.”

  “Eleven.” Marcus gave Jack a rueful grin. “Twelve if we count the lead shadow spirit twice.”