Bloodlust

By Kevin Barker

This is the first book in a series about an immortal who works for the CIA. With plenty of vampires, werewolves, immortals, and telepathic humans in his way, his adventure turns to panic. He uncovers new plots, old plots, and his heritage, or so he thinks.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kevin Barker
• Release date: Mar 24, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476087757

Kevin Barker

I was born and raised in Michigan, but have since moved to North Carolina. I currently work as a Project Manager and Designer for a general contractor. I also participate in the several local non-profit organizations. In the few spare moments I have, I am writing or thinking about writing.

Book preview

Chapter 1 - In the Beginning

In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. And the earth was without form, and void, and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the spirit of God moved upon the faces of the waters. - The first book of Moses named Genesis.

It is pure logic that if you believe in God as described in the bible, then logic dictates you believe that evil exists. For light to have a purpose, it is to repel the darkness. Darkness is the absence of light and the same works for good and evil.

Theologians will debate about what events took place when and exactly how it all happened. Most of them don't even agree with their own faith, let alone another's. They spend their time tending to their flock, their sanctuary and of course their coin purse.

They teach us that we are God's greatest creation, and often forget to teach us that we are not God's only creation. They often forget to tell us about those that were cast from his side. Those who were anointed until unrighteousness found them.

They prefer to teach the fluff of religion. The rules of righteousness some may say. Go to church every chance you get, pay your offering/tithing. Dress like this, don't listen to that, and go here, not there. None of that matters if you are face to face with evil, and don't even know it.

The real question is, is evil an act or is evil a thing? Can a human be evil, or just do evil acts? Can an unrighteous and unwanted creature do good acts? Do you really have a freedom of choice and if you do, do you really use it?

What does matter is that evil does exist. It does not matter what name you put on it, or when it first appeared. What really matters is that you believe in something. For you faith will bind you to your fate. Your resolve will be tested. The worst part is that most mortals don't even notice it till it is too late.

Chapter 2 – My Job

I know that most people live complex lives. I guess that I'm no different in that regard. I live a normal life but what's considered normal anymore? I am not a theologian but I do believe that evil exists. I do believe in demons, possession of the body by spirits, and of course, in Hell itself.

I believe in balance. With so much evil in the world, I know there's an equal amount of purity as well. But my job tends to always send me towards the darker side of life. I have an unnatural ability to find the evils of this world.

My job isn't the most exciting part of my life. I work for the CIA as a tracker. I am not a bounty hunter, or assassin for hire. My job is to locate things for them. I have been doing it for years and let's just say I'm a natural. I have been all over the world and have seen many things. Tracking for me is as easy as punching a clock.

My job isn’t just tracking down items of importance to people. Items like scrolls, books, chalices, rare items that often are tied to some mystical or religious belief. Often these items are located by the government for study before they are released, if released at all.

I prefer the other aspect of my job. Locating and disposing of those who are deemed unwanted in this world. Those really nasty people like your typical mass murderer, assassin, mercenary and the occasional terrorist. They all end up on my list.

While those guys do draw in a little thrill, they only pay a little. The government understands you know about that kind of evil. They want you to know about the terrorist cell I located for them in your back yard. This keeps you unfocused, and keeps them in power. Makes them look like they are doing something worthwhile.

The big dollar jobs are the ones they can't tell you anything about. That's right, the black ops ones. Usually these are quick, fast, and silent. I locate and they do the work. But sometimes, I am called upon not to only locate, but to intervene.

And that brings us to my most recent job. I tend to travel a lot and this time I travelled to Paris to locate an unknown. I hate these jobs, but they pay big, so actually I really love them. As shallow as it sounds, I like the thrill of the chase, but love the money more.

An unknown is when my boss tells me they know someone is doing something wrong. They really don’t know who, and they really don’t know what. But I am sent in to find out, report back, then act based upon this decision. Sometimes I am on a case for days, weeks or even a year.

But with all that said, it was just another day in the office. I got my down payment and put it in the bank. The rest will be transferred upon confirmation of a successful mission. Clean, easy, and best of all no taxes.

With all of my usual briefing materials, I gathered my grab bag of goodies and locked up. I called the kid. His name is Wes and he is a cocky little sucker. Thinks he is the world’s gift to women on top of being the most competitive gamer I have ever met. I actually pay this kid twenty dollars an hour just to produce the documentation. I honestly think he plays games on the clock just to make more money, but I don’t care.

As long as I don’t have to deal with those damn machines, I really don’t care how much he is riding the clock. Most of information he gets off the internet. He thinks I am an anti-government conspiracy theorist, but he puts up with it because he gets paid cash. You would think the CIA would catch on, but since they get results, they don't ask too many questions.

Chapter 3 – Paris

I made the long flight from LA to Paris with little trouble. I always want to fly first class, and can afford to even take a private jet, but I tend to fly coach. Nobody remembers you if you fly coach on a low budget flight. You fly first class, and people start wondering who you are, and what you do for a living. I hate that.

After I arrive in Paris, I get the local cabby to take me to my hotel. Perfect, just the way I like them. The place is dark, in disrepair, and out of the way of all the tourist traffic. I prefer them this way, makes my job easier if there are fewer people around.

With very little to go on from my employer, I decided to take to the streets. I start talking to newspaper vendors, barkeeps, and even the mortician at the city morgue. I tell them I am a novel writer and just inquiring about anything weird going on.

I hear some weird stuff, well weird to them, and I take notes. Some of the stories peak my interest and I make mental notes to track these down on my free time. One even tells a tale of zombies in the sewer. I will check into that one later. But all in all nothing big turns up.

That is good news for me. When the town starts talking, that is when things get ugly. Too many people to pay off, silence, or you have to manufacture something to defuse the situation. Luckily, this time that won't happen.

Apparently, the unknown is keeping low. I decide to just turn in for the night. I walk slowly and casually through the city making frequent stops to check my map. I stop a couple and ask for directions, knowing they are from out of town and won’t know, and won’t remember me. I ask for a good place to eat, and get a description of a café I must eat at.

The further I walk the less people I see until there are no more. It is just me and my footsteps in the dark. I make my last turn down the old broken sidewalk and can see the old hotel with the darkened lettering on the front.

This is the moment I have been waiting for. I slow my heartbeat, steady my pace. It always happens this way. Either I am that good, lucky, or they are just that dumb.

An all too familiar feeling comes to me. The chill runs down my back. I fold the collar up on my coat as if I am cold. Standard procedure as it hides what I do next. I close my eyes, but do not break my stride. I know they will be watching