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

by Jonathan Yanez

  Edison’s voice rose as he spoke. He threw his hands toward the pair of pale soldiers. One of them, a female with long blonde hair and sharp features stepped forward, and with a smirk, she ran to the opposite side of the ballroom faster than most eyes could track. Despite all of his training, Jack even had a hard time keeping sight of her.

  In the space of a heartbeat, she was standing next to the entrance doors, sipping on a glass of champagne. Astonished “ooohs” and “ahhhs” filled the air as attendees broke into a round of applause.

  Jack felt someone nudge his arm. Abigail and Elizabeth had returned after their mutiny to stand beside him. He wanted to say something funny to Abigail about her running off, but his attention was rapt.

  All attention was now on the man still standing next to the podium. He was muscular, with shoulders so thick, his neck disappeared in his collared uniform. One of the servants brought him a steel rod. The metal bar was at least an inch thick. The solider accepted it with another smile. He waved to the crowd before bending the metal as if it were a pair of shorts he needed to fold to fit into a drawer.

  Excited chatter ripped through the room, immediately followed by another loud round of applause.

  “Privates Scarlet and Hunter are demonstrating for you the new levels of speed and strength our vampire soldiers are able to reach,” Edison explained as Scarlet ran back to the podium and Hunter pulled the metal bar back into the shape of a rod. “Our vampire soldiers are five times faster and stronger than any street thug or threat to our great city. With these advancements, our soldiers will be better prepared and better equipped to watch over our fair city of New Hope and its citizens.”

  Applause, this time fanatic applause, covered the room. Jack couldn’t help noticing the Lovegoods and their friends all clapping wildly at the unveiling of the vampire soldiers.

  Edison continued to talk about the details of the super soldiers, but his voice was only background noise now to the whispers in Jack’s own head.

  An army of these things created to protect the city. Protect it from what?

  “This isn’t good.” Elizabeth poked him in the ribs with a bony finger. “I agree with your thoughts I’m not supposed to be reading. Bad news bears.”

  “Come on, ground rules,” Abigail reminded her sister. “It’s not polite to go into someone’s head.”

  “I know.” Elizabeth frowned. “It’s just now that you guys know, I can be myself. I don’t have to hide it anymore.”

  “It’s okay.” Jack battled the nagging idea that something very bad was about to happen. “I agree with Elizabeth. This is bad news bears. We’re building an advanced army of super soldiers for a war that doesn’t exist.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jack

  That night, Jack was in his room, taking off the soft clothes that felt so foreign to him, when there was a knock on his door. Jack didn’t carry a watch, but the nearly full moon that shown through his bedroom window told him it was late in the night.

  “Who is it?” Jack asked through the door. “Elizabeth, if this is you again, I told you, you can’t borrow my toothbrush. Ask one of the guards. I’m sure they’ll get you one.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s Aareth. Open up. We don’t have much time.”

  Jack complied, unlocking his door. It swung open for the city inspector. Aareth rushed into the room. He quickly closed the door behind him. Aareth was a mess, with wild, red eyes and long, unkempt black hair.

  “I need your help,” he said, licking his lips like a wild man. “Get your gear. We’re going on a trip.”

  “A trip?” Jack leaned in to get a better look at his friend. “Aareth, are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. I’ll explain on the way. Bring your wand. We’re going to need it.”

  “Does Sloan know about this?” Jack buckled on his belt with the holster that carried his wand. “Where are we going?”

  “I can’t tell her.” Aareth went to the door. He pressed his ear against it and waited. “I can’t risk anything. I don’t know who’s involved or how far this goes. There’s a meeting tonight in the warehouse district. The Order is looking for new followers.”

  Jack shoved his feet into his boots, pausing with the leather straps to fully digest Aareth’s words.

  “You found them? You found The Order?” Jack asked with more excitement for the discovery than he realized he had. In his mind, the mutated wolf controlled by Elijah Ahab had killed his father, but even that was just collateral damage from the master plan The Order had concocted.

  “Yes, I need someone I can trust.” Aareth moved away from the door, satisfied no one was listening in on the other side. “You lost as much as I have to this city. Tonight, we get answers, and make them pay in blood.”

  Jack trusted Aareth despite Aareth’s manic state. Still, he knew every plan needed a backup. Elizabeth, I know you can read my thoughts. I hope you’ve been listening in next door. If Aareth and I aren’t back by sunrise, tell Abigail and Sloan everything you’ve heard.

  That was the best Jack would be able to do. Aareth was eyeing him, already licking his chops.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Jack

  Sneaking out of the palace was easier than Jack thought. The security force was built to watch for those making their way in, not the other way around. Those guards who did see them simply gave the two familiar men a nod.

  Jack and Aareth were out of the palace and trotting down the streets of New Hope within the hour. New Hope was in the process of converting their kerosene-powered street lamps for those made from mage light.

  The light warped shadows as the chill of the night convinced Jack to pull his brown jacket close. The cold soon left Jack, however, as he was pressed to keep up with Aareth’s long, quick strides.

  As much as Jack wanted to give Aareth his space, he also wanted answers. It was clear Aareth was eager to find The Order and those responsible for the events of Burrow Den, but something else was driving the man. Jack needed to know what he was getting himself into.

  “You know I’m with you, right?” Jack had to jog to keep up with Aareth. “No matter what.”

  “Of course.” Aareth’s fast pace halted for the briefest second before he continued. He looked at Jack as if he had forgotten the young tracker was beside him the entire time. “That’s why I came to you tonight.”

  “Then you know, no matter what’s going on with you, I won’t stop having your back. Now, what’s going on?” Jack’s words disappeared in puffs of steam as they escaped his lips. “I’ll be better prepared to help you if you tell me what we’re about to get ourselves into.”

  “I—” Aareth paused. Their pace had led them to the heart of New Hope, through the residential district and to an abandoned warehouse block filled with large, steel buildings. “I know this sounds crazy, but the wife I thought was murdered, is alive. She’s the hitman … or I guess, hitwoman, we’ve been chasing.”

  “But you said she was dead.” Jack felt his mind run a dozen different directions at once. Of all the things Aareth could have said to Jack, his current explanation was not one Jack was prepared to hear. “Why do you think she was the assassin who tried to kill the queen?”

  Aareth stopped at a corner where the streetlight was out. A giant dilapidated structure, more rust than metal, stood to their left. There was no one in sight.

  “When she slammed through the door after taking her shot at the queen, I caught a glimpse of a tattoo on her wrist. Not just any tattoo.” Aareth pulled down his jacket and shirt to reveal a tattoo of his own. The placement was over his heart. “This tattoo.”

  The ink had faded, and Jack had to squint to get a better look. It was a picture of two ancient helmets facing one another.

  “Brenda, my dead wife, and I got these tattoos together.” Aareth’s eyes glazed over as he repeated words he hadn’t uttered in years. “Brenda loved stories of quests and warriors. We got them to remind us that we would always
be there for one another, fighting whatever life threw our way, together. I’ve never seen another one like it. I don’t know how, but she’s alive, and now she’s this woman we’re hunting.”

  Jack wanted to believe Aareth. The look on his friend’s face was more than desperate. Whether he knew it or not, Aareth needed someone to agree with him. He needed validation that he wasn’t losing his mind, someone to tell him he wasn’t going crazy, that his wife was, in fact, somehow, still alive.

  “And you think she’s involved in this Order?” Jack did his best to hide the skepticism he felt inside. “How can you be so sure?”

  “Listen, I think The Order is tied to it all. It could give us both answers, but don’t do me any favors if you don’t want to come—”

  “I didn’t say that.” Jack shook his head. “I meant it when I said I was with you until the end. Now that my dad’s gone, you, Sloan, Abigail, and Elizabeth are the closest things I have to family. I just don’t want you to be disappointed if we find out that it’s not your wife behind that metal mask.”

  “I don’t know how”—Aareth wiped sweat from his brow—“I saw her body. She was dead. But I’m telling you, our assassin is my wife.”

  Jack had a dozen different questions to ask about the events surrounding Brenda’s death, but this wasn’t the time. He could only go back to the palace or move on with his friend. It was clear whatever his decision, Aareth was planning to go on without him.

  “We should talk more after tonight. I have about a half-dozen questions I need to ask you.” Jack cleared his throat. “But I’m with you. If your wife is alive, I’ll help you find her. Let’s go.”

  Aareth didn’t thank him. In fact, he didn’t say a word. The look of relief on his face was enough for Jack.

  The two men turned the corner and approached the largest building on the street—a decrepit steel refinery with pipes and rods weaving in and out at sporadic angles.

  “This is one of the last pockets of New Hope that hasn’t been restored,” Aareth whispered as they approached the behemoth of rust. “Let me do the talking, but be ready for anything.”

  “You got it.” Jack flexed his right hand. The holster carrying his wand rode low on his right hip. In a heartbeat, Jack could grab his weapon and have a bolt of green magic racing toward his target.

  Aareth stopped beside a door that looked as though it would fall from its hinges with the next knock. Aareth pounded on the door three times, then two, then three more times.

  Silence, then the door swung inward. The room was so dark, it took Jack a moment to realize a man in an iron mask, covered in a dark robe, was beckoning them in. If the man wasn’t eerie enough, he was wearing the same helmet as the hitwoman when they met her in the alley. The same contract killer that, if Aareth was right, was his dead wife.

  “You may enter.” The masked man’s voice was emotionless as he made room for them to come in.

  Jack followed Aareth inside a small room. A single candle lit the dark entrance. A closed door led deeper into the structure. What looked like a bar tabletop separated the room. Another mask-wearing cloaked figure stood behind the bar.

  “Weapons,” said the man behind the counter, in the same flat tone as his clone.

  Jack looked to Aareth for consent. He had more than a few reasons why he’d rather hold on to his wand at the moment.

  Aareth, however, tilted his head forward, removing a short, double-barreled shotgun from his cloak, along with a large bowie knife. He placed the items on the bar top. All eyes turned to Jack.

  Jack’s fingers itched. It went against every fiber in his being, but he had no choice. If he wanted to gain entrance to whatever this was, surrendering his weapon was the only way. Reluctantly, Jack removed the belt holding his wand.

  It was a small comfort that Jack had the ability to channel magic without using an object. The only drawback to using this method was the level of fatigue that came with performing magic in such a way.

  Jack placed the items along with Aareth’s on the counter. The lifeless eyes behind the man’s mask looked them up and down. He gathered the offered weapons, storing them somewhere behind the booth. “You’ll get your items back after the meeting. However, you will still need to be searched. Don’t argue over such a trivial act. The Order awaits just beyond these doors.”

  As promised, the man who had opened the door for them motioned first Jack, then to Aareth to open their arms wide before he patted them down. Jack was clean. Aareth, on the other hand, gave his searcher pause when the man’s hands came into contact with something metal under Aareth’s left arm. “Must have forgotten about that,” Aareth told the masked man. He reached into his shirt and brought out a sheath filled with three throwing knives. “Just slipped my memory.”

  The man searching Aareth accepted the weapons. He finished patting down Aareth without finding anything else. Once done, the masked man turned to his counterpart behind the bar. “They’re clean, do it.”

  In turn, the man in the steel mask behind the countertop gave a slight nod. He reached under the ledge.

  Jack noticed the motion and was ready to act. His heartbeat quickened. Adrenaline flowed as he prepared to jump into action. Heat that preceded his conjuring of magic warmed his right hand. Jack’s fears would be unwarranted. Instead of a firearm in his hand, the man behind the bar stood holding two black robes and two steel helmets.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Jack

  The robe itched the back of his neck. The helmet was heavy and hot. After donning the awkward pieces of clothing, Aareth and Jack were ushered through the door on the other side of the room. The only instructions they were given were: “Follow the hall until it ends. The meeting is about to begin.”

  Now, as Jack matched steps with Aareth down the abandoned corridor, he wondered if it had been a good idea to give away their weapons. Jack would kill for the comforting feeling of his wand resting at his side.

  The hall was better lit than the room. Torchlight quivered against the dark. Jack looked at his companion, but it was useless; the cloak covered every part of a person the mask didn’t. For all Jack knew, a stranger could be underneath the costume in place of his friend.

  “If things go bad”—Aareth’s voice came out distorted behind the shield of his iron mask; it sounded alien, almost echoing—“we head back for this hall. There are only two men between us and our weapons.”

  “Sounds good to me.” Jack heard his own voice reverberate in his helmet.

  There was no more time for talk as the sorcerer and inspector reached yet another door. The door itself was unremarkable. But it wasn’t the door that stood out to Jack; it was the noise that came from the opposite side. A rumbling like a thousand people talking in low voices penetrated the barrier.

  Without pause, Aareth opened the door. A large room filled with people dressed in black cloaks and iron masks met Jack’s eyes. There had to be hundreds of them. The room was shaped in an oval with stadium seating. It looked like a hybrid between a courtroom and a coliseum. At the head of the room, a raised platform stood with an empty podium. A group of mask-wearing individuals sat apart from the rest of the crowd behind the podium.

  Jack followed Aareth to a seat with robotic-like strides. For the first time, Jack was grateful for the mask; it hid an open mouth well. Aareth chose the closest available bench to the door leading back to the hall. If anything did go bad, they were only a few yards from their exit.

  The room was too large to be lit with torches; instead, giant braziers housed flames licking skyward. Jack studied the occupants sitting beside him. He could only guess as to their gender. The ebony cloaks consumed each and everyone’s physical appearance as if tailored for them specifically. The helmets were all exact replicas of one another—two large, dark eyeglasses and an iron grate for breathing.

  Jack tapped into his other senses. If his eyes weren’t able to distinguish anything unique, perhaps his ears could. Most of the attendees around them were silent, the
few voices he could pick up past their excited whispers weren’t familiar. Jack paused at a pair who sat in front of them, and listened in.

  “This is exactly what this city needs,” a large figure with a barely discernible male voice said to his companion. “Someone to bring us out of this benevolent slump we’ve been caught in.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” said a clear, high-pitched female voice beside him. It seemed that even the helmet had its limits when masking tones. “What the queen is doing, sending all of our hard-earned money to help these animals in the Outland cities is horrendous. Survival of the fittest I say. Leave the peons to care for themselves. Those who do survive were meant to. Natural selection, my good man. What happened to natural selection?”

  Jack had to physically bite his tongue as he listened in on the conversation. Pain kept his mind busy as he reminded himself a misspoken word here could mean death. As much as Jack would have loved to give the two in front of him a piece of his mind when it came to the survival of the fittest, he had to remain quiet. They wouldn’t last more than a few days in the Outland, left to their own devices.

  Jack was grateful for the pause in conversation. But it wasn’t only their conversation that quieted; it was the entire room.

  Jack followed the angle the other helmets were directed. A figure had risen from the seats behind the podium to take the stand. A black cloak just like everyone else’s fell down its body, but instead of a steel gray helmet, a gold mask was in its place. The helmet was same in design, but shone with a bright gold plating against the flames of the braziers.

  “Friends, brothers, sisters.” The figure lifted white gloved hands in welcome. Jack could tell the voice was male. Past that, only a sense of familiarity with the syntax could aid him in identifying the figure. “Thank you for taking an interest in saving our city.”