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

by Jonathan Yanez

  A new enemy made himself known. He had climbed on top of the locomotive from somewhere inside a cart. He now stood in between Jack and Aareth. “Interesting gloves. What do you do when the mage charge runs out?”

  Jack looked to Aareth’s hands, and sure enough, the stored power had dissolved.

  The stranger held a large gun the likes of which Jack had never seen. He quickly threw it to the side and off the locomotive.

  “I don’t think I’ll be needing this for The Ghost and a kid. Let’s make this interesting, shall we?”

  Jack drew his wand. He pointed it at the man’s back. He had never killed an actual person before and there was an internal struggle now about the moral issue of shooting a man in the back. Not to mention a man that was unarmed.

  “Jack, blast him!” Aareth yelled from two carts down. “Don’t hesitate. Kill him!”

  “I have no weapons.” The stranger turned. He pulled the hood on his jacket over his head before removing his mask. He raised his hands to prove his statement. “I think you know the right thing to do, son.”

  “Kill him, Jack!” Aareth yelled again. From behind the man, Jack could see Aareth crouched, winding the gears that stored the mage power in his gloves.

  The man was only a few feet from Jack now. He was as muscular as Aareth and nearly as tall. A scar ran down the right side of his pale face from temple to cheekbone.

  “That’s an honorable boy.” He grinned, showing off pearly white teeth, his upper canines too long to be passed off as normal. “But you should have listened to The Ghost. This isn’t going to go well for you.”

  Before Jack could react, the scarred man sent out a wide left kick that knocked the wand from his hand. The pain in his palm sent a tingling shock all the way up his arm. The man turned in a complete circle and struck out with his opposite foot. The power that collided with Jack’s chest was bone-breaking. Jack flew through the air and landed on his back with a heavy crash. Before he could gain his feet, the man was on top of him with a heavy boot at his throat.

  “You really should have shot me, kid. Ghost was right.”

  Jack pushed with both hands on the man’s boot. Air was coming in short gasps as every ounce of his strength went to pushing the man off. Jack knew he would have died there and then if it hadn’t been for Aareth.

  The man with the scar quickly turned as the sound of running feet met both their ears. Aareth’s gloved hands were alive with the crackling magic. Aareth swung powerful arms just as before, but this time, every punch missed.

  The pale man was faster than anything Jack had ever seen, human or animal. The man was even grinning as he ducked and weaved around Aareth’s punches.

  “You should never have left New Hope,” the man said as he caught both of Aareth’s forearms just under the gloves.

  “I think I’ll keep what little soul I have left,” Aareth grunted as he was forced to his knees.

  The man bent the magical gloves towards Aareth. Inch by inch, he forced Aareth’s hands closer to his own face.

  Jack watched all of this happen as he regained his breath and stood. He had never killed a man before and he didn’t know if he wanted to start now, but he also knew he couldn’t let Aareth die.

  Wand gone, he willed the magic inside him to take physical form in his hands. It took an extreme amount of energy and concentration to create the blades he held now. Twin knives, four inches long dancing with the green flames of magic.

  Whether it was the wind, Jack’s ability to stalk quietly, or luck, the scarred man didn’t hear him coming. Green knives gripped tightly in both hands, Jack launched himself through the air and landed on the man’s back, planting both knives deep into his flesh just under his shoulder blades.

  The man screamed in pain with a noise that would have made even a dying animal sound pleasant. The attacker loosened his grip on Aareth’s arms. Aareth seized the opportunity to plant both gauntlets on the man’s chest.

  First Jack felt a burning pain as the electric current ran through all three men. Then he felt nothing but blackness as he was rocketed into the air, off the locomotive, and down to the harsh desert floor below.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Sloan

  Sloan saw more and more of the dark cloaked riders jump from what looked like mage-powered bicycles to the moving locomotive. “Lock the door behind us, Nemo, and don’t let anyone in unless it’s me.”

  The tiny locomotive operator nodded, trying to hide the fear that plainly showed on his face.

  “Marcus, we have to clear out the inside of the carts. I know you’re used to using magic to track and kill the paranormal, but can you fight?”

  “I can if…” Marcus’ eyes narrowed. “…if I have to.”

  “Well, then, follow me. I think you’re going to find yourself in a situation that qualifies as you having to very soon.”

  Sloan gripped her new sword tightly in her left hand. She walked to the back of the lead cart and opened the door cautiously. Men were pouring into the interior of the locomotive through broken windows. Sloan counted seven all together. They were all carrying military issued rifles and sabers at their sides.

  “There are seven of them,” Sloan whispered as she peeked through the crack in the door. “I’ll make them miss and then we have to be on top of them before they have a chance to reload.”

  “You can count on me, Captain, but how do you plan on getting all of them to fire at you and miss?”

  Sloan smiled to herself as she opened the door wide.

  “In the name of the Queen,” Sloan commanded in a strong voice, “surrender your arms!”

  Just as quickly as the words left her lips, seven rifles were pointed in her direction and fired. Sloan slammed the door shut. The bullets collided with the dark steel door.

  “Like that. Let’s go.”

  Sloan opened the door and ran forward in a crouched position. Her left thumb flicked the small switch on her saber’s handle. She felt a slight vibration as her blade began to hum.

  The small quarters would work to her advantage and there were only seven. She had faced worse odds before. She was on top of the attackers in seconds as they first fumbled to reload their rifles, then reached for their own swords.

  Sloan’s blade cut through her opponents’ steel like butter. With a left, right, and forward slash, three men were already down. Sloan almost felt sorry for them as the remaining four pointed their weapons in her direction, trying to figure out how her sword managed to slice through solid steel.

  One of the men in the rear raised a pistol he had hidden in his black coat. In the aisle-like passage of the cart, there was nowhere for Sloan to turn. He grinned through his mask and aimed, but the shot never came. Instead, a bolt of green magic struck him in the face. He fell howling in pain, clawing at his burning skin.

  Sloan chanced a look behind her. She saw Marcus with his staff ablaze in green light.

  The remaining three would-be attackers were shifting nervously. They had obviously been confident in their superior numbers. Now whittled down to three in a matter of seconds, the game had changed.

  “Surrender now,” Sloan took another step forward, “and you will be tried at a court in New Hope. You don’t have to die today.”

  Two of the men looked towards one, clearly asking their leader for direction. Sloan eased closer, brushing a long blonde strand from her cheek.

  The leader gave a slight shake of his head and Sloan knew the fight would be finished here. All three men charged at once. Sloan cut through the first man’s sword and jugular in one quick motion, but the next man was smarter. At the last possible moment, he dropped his sword and used both hands to cover her own on the grip of the mage sword.

  They struggled together for a second. The man’s larger weight pushed her back. Out of the corner of her eye, Sloan saw the last man charge toward Marcus.

  Sloan learned from an early age that her size wasn’t a disadvantage. She became a master at going with force and redirecti
ng the action. It was a skill that saved her in a fight more times than she cared to remember.

  As the large man muscled her backwards, she dropped to the floor with her left foot in the man’s stomach. Her attacker went sailing over her head and straight through the window.

  Sloan recovered in a crouch. The fight was over. The last man who charged Marcus was on the ground in a puddle of his own blood, a smoking hole where his chest used to be.

  “Sorcerer, are you injured?”

  “I’m as well as can be expected.” Marcus looked down at the corpse. “I just ended two men’s lives.”

  “Two men who would have ended yours if you did nothing.”

  Marcus was about to respond, when they felt the locomotive shake and wobble. Before the fight began, Sloan ordered Nemo to go faster and not to stop under any circumstances. Sloan glanced out one of the broken windows. The terrain outside was flying past at a speed Sloan couldn’t comprehend. She got to her feet, running past Marcus, and tried the handle of the steel door that led to the engine cart. It was locked from the inside.

  “Nemo! Nemo!” Sloan pounded on the steel. “It’s Sloan! Slow down! Open the door!”

  A few tense seconds passed. The only response to Sloan’s shouts were another shudder as the locomotive continued to gain speed.

  “Nemo! Open the door!”

  Still nothing.

  Sloan set her jaw and raised the sword in both hands. With a grunt, she slammed the sword, blade first, into the portion of the door where the bolt was located.

  Slowly, her blade sank through the hard metal. Muscles tensing, Sloan grunted as she pushed in an upward motion, cutting the bolt that held the door closed. The metal door banged open.

  Inside, Nemo was slumped at the controls. A rogue bullet had found its mark before Sloan shut the door when the fight first started.

  Marcus ran forward and cradled the small man. He was already gone.

  Sloan looked out of the front of the mage engine in sheer horror. Less than a mile away was the camp of workers continuing to lay track. Tiny figures pointed and shouted at the mage engine to stop. They waved their hands in the air and ran in every direction.

  “Marcus, let him go. He’s gone. We have bigger problems to worry about.”

  “The brakes.” Marcus looked out the window and grasped their situation in a heartbeat. “There has to be a lever here somewhere to stop this thing.”

  Sloan looked at the steel conductor’s panel full of brown knobs and levers. It would take much more time than they had to figure out what exactly each handle did.

  “Screw it.” Sloan reached for every handle and every lever she could find.

  Her hands flew over the instrument panel, twisting, turning, and pulling every knob, lever, or switch she could get her hands around. It was as she pulled down on one particularly large lever that they felt the locomotive shudder and squeal as it slowed in pace ever so slightly.

  “That one!” Marcus yelled. “That’s the brake!”

  The locomotive was practically shaking off the track. Sloan guessed they were going twice as fast as any sprinting horse. The tent-like area in front of them was now yards away.

  Men still flailed their arms, shouting for them to stop and running to get clear of the hurtling steel monster.

  Sloan placed both hands on the lever and pulled down with all her might. Throwing her back into the effort made the force she put into the pull twice as harsh. A shrill squeal filled the air. Smoke and steam from the overworked locomotive filled the inside of the mage cart. Sloan pressed the lever down further. Sparks filled the air outside as the locomotive began to slow.

  “It’s working!” Marcus yelled.

  Sloan smiled to herself and gave the lever another harsh push. The brown lever gave under the pressure.

  Sloan fell backwards, the broken lever in her hand as the locomotive lurched forward and continued to gain speed. She regained her feet just in time to see the end of the track and say one last thing to Marcus.

  “Ooooops.”

  The locomotive blew through the workers’ camp, sending track equipment, wood, and metal bars flying in a hundred different directions. The hurtling ton of steel, man’s greatest invention to date, flew off the track and into the desert at mind-numbing speed. The carts twisted and contorted like a withering snake and finally came to a rest.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Jack

  Jack was listening to the lullaby again. He could hear her voice so clearly. He couldn’t see her; still, her voice was enough. The soothing way she spoke made him want to dream forever.

  “Jack! Jack, are you all right?”

  Jack was ripped from his happy memory and brought back to his harsh reality. There was sand everywhere: in his mouth, in his hair, even in his boots and gloves. He blinked as he struggled to sit up. The sun beat down on him with no sympathy. He squinted as he saw Aareth beside him.

  “Rough landing, but it could have been a lot worse, right?”

  Jack nodded, getting a good look at their surroundings. Desert greeted him in every direction. The locomotive tracks were to his left and stretched out in front of him in both directions as far as he could see. “At this rate, I think we’ve done as much damage to ourselves as to the bad guys.”

  Aareth offered Jack his right hand that still wore the gauntlet.

  Jack reached out and hesitated at the last minute.

  “Don’t worry, they’re powered off now. I’m starting to get used to them. I’ll get better with the gauntlets. I just need more practice. Are you all right? Anything broken?”

  Aareth helped him to his feet as Jack looked down at himself and stretched. His head hurt and there was a ringing in his ears. Aside from a few bruises and scratches, he was fine. “I feel like I’ve been fried and thrown from a mage-powered machine traveling at a ridiculous speed. Other than that, I think I’m going to make it.”

  “Good. And look at this; our luck is already changing. I found this in the sand while I was searching for you.” Aareth reached behind him and pulled out Jack’s new wand from his belt.

  “How about our friend?” Jack accepted the wand. “Did we—did we kill him?”

  “I haven’t seen his body yet.” Aareth shook his jacket and a shower of sand fell to the ground. “I don’t expect to.”

  “Listen.” Jack shook sand from his hair. “You just zapped me and got us both thrown off of a locomotive, and that’s all right, I can handle that. What I can’t handle is being lied to. I know you’re not telling me everything.”

  Jack was reminded that if his father was correct, he was talking to an assassin. He didn’t care anymore. He needed to get to the truth.

  “All right.” Aareth shook out his own long black hair and wrapped it in a ponytail behind him. “Let’s walk back and see if any of those mage-powered bicycles are working. I’ll tell you whatever you want.”

  Jack fell in step with Aareth. The two followed the tracks backwards in search of a means of transportation.

  “So what do you want to know?”

  Jack had so many questions, he wasn’t sure where to begin.

  “Why did that man call you ‘Ghost’? You knew him, didn’t you? And how did he move so fast? Why were you really chosen to come on this trip? Are you—are you an assassin?”

  “That’s a lot of ground to cover.” Aareth took a deep breath and looked deep into Jack’s eyes. “I’ll tell you, but you have to promise that this stays between you and me. I trust you and your father. There’s something about the captain that just doesn’t add up.”

  “You think Sloan’s on the other side of all this? That she had the locomotive hijacked?”

  “No.” Aareth shook his head as he studied the horizon in front of them. “I don’t think that she was part of the attack that took place just now. I do think she’s hiding something.”

  Jack took a minute to think about Aareth’s words. I thought we were just going to track an animal for the Queen. Who knows what we�
�ve gotten ourselves into now.

  “Six years ago, when I was a few years younger than you, Jack, I joined New Hope’s department of justice. I had a respectable job and I was good at it. I even got married.”

  Aareth paused and Jack could tell he was choosing his words. It seemed Aareth hadn’t spoken to anyone about this in a very long time and he wasn’t even sure how much he wanted to say.

  “I showed so much promise as an officer that I was promoted to the level of inspector. This was when the Queen was really cracking down on the corruption inside the city. I was given an assignment to go undercover and infiltrate one of the toughest gangs in New Hope. Well, long story short, I succeeded, but in the process, they found out who I really was, beat me within an inch of my life, and killed my wife. It’s ironic really—they didn’t kill my body, but I still died that day. The best part of me died that day.”

  Jack didn’t know what to say. Half of him wanted to console Aareth. He just didn’t know how. Even if he did, he wasn’t sure if Aareth even wanted to be consoled.

  “I know that it’s not the same,” Jack avoided making eye contact, “but I lost my mom when I was still a baby. I was born in New Hope. My father doesn’t talk about it much. There was a break in, my father wasn’t home. They robbed us and shot my mother.”

  Both men avoided making eye contact now. Instead, they continued to walk in the direction the locomotive had traveled, towards New Hope.

  “Now I’m reminded why I don’t talk about this kind of stuff.” Aareth sighed. “Anyway, I went off the deep end. For these last three years, I have been an assassin for hire to the richest men and women in the Outland. The man who attacked us on the train is another assassin I’ve run into in the past. I don’t know his real name, but he’s known as The Scar.”

  “Creative.”

  “Yeah, I know.”