Chronicles of the Vampire Hunters: Creation

By Dustin J. Palmer

AUTHORS NOTE: About six months ago I finished my first novel (Chronicles of the Vampire Hunters: The Coalition). The finished product was well over six hundred pages long, was unedited, and had NUMEROUS grammatical and punctuation errors. Also due to its length several elements of the story had to be left out. So instead of moving on to my next project, I decided to improve upon The Coalition. So I broke the novel up into three parts, had it edited, and added previously left out scenes(including a new prologue) making it a more complete story. If you've read The Coalition before I hope that you will be happy with the new material and if not I'm confident you will enjoy this first novel following Jake and his family's adventures. So here it is, the first part of The Coalition Trilogy: Creation.

They are known by many names, from Gods and Immortals to Demons and Vampires. They are whispers in the shadows, myths, and legends. They have existed alongside mankind for thousands of years, always in hiding, always feeding. They are are the top of the food chain and humanity is their only prey.

Alone and outnumbered a small group of men and women stand their ground, fighting to drive back the darkness anyway they can. They are our first, last, and only line of defense against monsters that know no fear. They are the Vampire Hunters.

Jake Bishop is a normal, easy going kid that spends his summer days playing with his action figures and watching cartoons. The biggest, Earth shattering problem is his life are his parent's nonstop arguments over money. That all changes one hot summer night, when a demon from his father's past comes crashing back into his life. Jake is plunged into a surreal, terrifying world beyond his worst nightmares. Jake is nearly killed, his mother kidnapped, sending his father into a mad quest for revenge. Jake learns two truths, vampires exist and the Bishops have been hunting them for hundreds of years. And they are VERY good at what they do.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dustin J. Palmer
• Release date: Mar 29, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476370491

Dustin J. Palmer

Dustin J. Palmer(born January 22, 1982) was born, raised, and continues to live in West Texas. From an early age he was writing "stories" on typing paper with pencil and crayons. The outlaws were usually drawn holding money bags with backwards dollar signs on them, the good guys with smoking pistols in their hands and large crooked stars on their chests. At thirteen, using his mother's state of the art word processor, Dustin wrote his first complete short story, depicting himself and his friends surviving a Russian invasion. After that he didn't work much at his writing, even though his highest grades in school and the SATs were in Writing and English. After high school he bounced around from job to job working on sales floors at Sears, back freezers at Walmart, and late nights stocking at a haunted Office Depot, until one day his wife Natasha came across a short story he'd written. With tears in her eyes she said, "I had no idea you could write like this!" and there it was, just the encouragement Dustin had been needing. Two years later, after countless rewrites, edits, plot changes, and late, late, nights(or rather early mornings), Dustin had cranked out his first book. Today Dustin lives in Lubbock, Tx with his wife and three kids. When not writing he enjoys, fishing, camping, playing pool, gaming, and spending time with his beautiful wife of eight years.

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Chronicles of the Vampire Hunters:

Creation

by

Dustin J. Palmer

SMASHWORDS EDITION

* * * * *

PUBLISHED BY:

Dustin J. Palmer on Smashwords

Copyright 2012 Dustin J. Palmer

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

For my babies: Morgan, Zion, and Olivia.

Always follow your dreams.

Prologue

John

Benton, Kansas

January 27, 1987

The way you screamed when that bloodsucker jumped out of that closet! John Bishop laughed. Oh man, Charlie! I nearly pissed myself.

"You nearly pissed yourself? I did piss myself! Charlie Hammond laughed nervously. That son of a bitch was literally an inch from my face!"

Terry Williams hefted his double bladed battleaxe over his shoulders and snorted a laugh, Charlie, man, you were on the other side of the room.

Oh come on guys, cut the rookie some slack, Ben Morris joked. Like you guys didn’t crap yourselves the first time you saw a grunt.

I don’t know what you're talking about, John said, keeping a straight face. I was cool as a cucumber on my first hunt. You forget, Ben, I have that legendary Bishop blood running through my veins. I don't know the meaning of the word fear!

"You forget, Bishop, I was there." Terry laughed, jabbing him in the back with the handle of his axe.

John slapped it away then joined in the laughter. Alright, alright, maybe I did have to change my pants afterwards.

Wes Turner slapped Charlie hard on the back, knocking him forward several inches. Pissed soaked pants or not, seven grunts is not a bad days work! Hell of a way to lose your cherry eh, Charlie?

Oh he hasn’t lost it yet, Terry smiled. "He’s still got the solo hunt with Talon and my old man coming up. That’s the real test!"

Yeah, when is that, Charlie? Ben asked, wiping a long streak of oily, black vampire blood from the razor sharp edge of his machete.

I don’t know, Charlie, answered, his face going pale. Talon said he wanted to find just the right den before I go in alone.

Well don’t fret then, John nodded. Talon won’t lead you into anything you can’t handle. He’s a hard man but he’ll take care of you.

And the last thing Billy will do is send you into the meat grinder before you're ready, Ben added, sheathing his machete on his hip. He’s trained a lot of good hunters over the years, including everyone in this room.

Still . . . Charlie swallowed. It's one thing to go in with a team, but how do you do it when it's just . . . you know . . . just you?

John placed a massive hand on Charlie's shoulder, giving it a hard squeeze. Charlie, if you can't face the fear, if you can't fight against every gut wrenching feeling in your body telling you not to do it, and walk into a vampire's den completely alone, you aren't cut out to do this job.

John's right, kid, Terry nodded. We lost a lot of good hunters this past year, nine in all. That's more than the past three years combined and each and every one of them had just as much guts as any man in this room. So if you aren't cut out for this, you need to find out before it’s too late. Not just for your sake, but for your team's as well. You don't want to get one of your friends killed because you lost your nerve.

Come on guys! Let the boy enjoy his moment of victory, Wes said. "Stop worrying him about what’s happening tomorrow and let’s focus on today! Charlie, boy, I’m gonna get you drunk and laid tonight! I know of this little place outside of Wichita, the ladies know exactly how to treat some big bad vamp hunters like us. What do you say, John? Terry? You guys interested?"

Nope, John said, answering for the both of them. We’re married men now, Wes. We don’t want any part of where you're going.

And so are you, Terry added, though you seem to forget more often than not.

What are you guys? The marriage police? Wes crossed his arms over his chest. "What my woman don’t know won’t hurt her. Besides, there are certain things even a woman like her can't do for a man like me."

Ben Morris rolled his eyes not even bothering to hide his disgust.

I won’t even bother asking you, Morris, Wes said, giving him an appraising once over. You’re such a boy scout; I doubt you even know what do with a nice piece of ass like Cat. Tell me, Ben, when you stroke her just right, does she purr?

Shut your mouth, Turner, Ben said his eyes livid. Before I shut it for it for you,

No need to get upset, all I’m saying is that a fine Mexican bitch with an ass like that needs a little . . . expertise when it comes to love. he smiled a wicked grin.

Ben took a step forward, but Terry stepped in between them. Wes, that’s enough. Back off.

"Yes, Dad, Wes said sarcastically. I was only joking, is it my fault Morris can’t take a joke?"

Terry’s intimidating form loomed over him by several inches. You crossed the line, Wes. Apologize.

Wes snorted. Yeah, like that's going to happen.

It's okay, Terry, Ben handed his shotgun to John then stripped off his body armor, tossing it to the floor. Let him by. He's been asking for a beating for years. It's time I finally gave it to him.

Ben . . . John started to say, knowing the much smaller man wasn't up to beating Wes Turner in a straight up fight.

Stay out of this, John! Ben yelled.

Your funeral, John thought but didn't dare say. Ben had always had self-esteem issues, and though John wanted to, he knew that protecting him from Wes wouldn't help matters. It would just make Ben moody the entire ride back to Texas. No, John knew it was just better to let the whole thing play out.

Charlie coughed nervously from the back of the pack. Come on guys, we’ve all had a long day. Let’s just collect the fangs and torch this rotted, termite infested dump. I’m ready to get out of here.

Wes smiled, The Rook is right. Tell you what, Ben I've changed my mind. If it makes you feel better, you’re invited too.

Ben grabbed his body armor off the floor, jerked his shotgun from John's hands then pushed past Terry before purposefully shoving Wes out of the way. You're a real piece of shit, Turner.

Yeah, well you're short, Wes replied with a hearty laugh.

Some things will never change, John thought, shaking his head. Wes had been picking on Ben since they were kids. The man just seemed incapable of growing up.

Wes, come on man, John said, coming up next to him. Why do you have to be such a prick? Can't you just try and get along with the guy?

It’s good for him. Wes said, shouldering his sawed off. The little runt needs to grow some balls.

Grow some balls? Terry interjected. The man killed three grunts today. I say he's got more balls than just about anyone I know. Including you, Turner.

Wes blew him off with a wave and headed down the hall toward the front door. I'll buy him an ice cream cone if it will make you feel better! Seriously Terry, lighten up! he yelled behind him.

What a jerk, Terry said to no one in particular.

Yeah, no shit, John sighed. Come on amigo. Let’s go home.

Charlie, grab the rest of our gear and let’s get the hell out of here, Terry motioned to the three bags of supplies lying on the floor.

Charlie nodded then picked up the heavy bags, slinging them over his shoulders. The mood a little more somber than it had been just minutes before, John and Terry, with Charlie lugging their supplies in the rear, headed for the open front door.

They were just in view of the stack of blackened, still smoking vampire skulls on the other side of the open front door, when John heard what he could have sworn was a little girl giggle. Terry, did you hear . . . he turned his head and felt something warm and wet splash across the back of his neck. He reached back with his left and brought back a gloved hand covered in blood. What the hell? he said, turning completely around.

Terry Williams stood swaying, a fountain of blood gushing from the large gaping hole that had once been his neck. Charlie, who had been walking directly behind him, was covered in blood. He dropped the three bags and began wiping frantically at his eyes with his gloved hands. What is this?! he screamed out in horror. What . . . what just happened?!

Wes and Ben, who had been waiting outside came charging back in, guns ready when they heard Charlie scream. They stopped short when they saw Terry’s still swaying, headless body.

Almost in slow motion, the body dropped to the floor in front of them. Though his head had been removed, his heart continued to pump, sending a spray of bright red blood from the gaping hole where his head had resided mere seconds before. The massive double bladed battleaxe he had been carrying dropped with a resounding thud, cracking one of the tiles on the floor. The fingers on his left hand flexed back and forth as if grasping for it. The fingers of his right were wrapped tightly around his most coveted weapon, one of a pair of Roman short swords still sheathed at his belt.

In a daze, John looked up into darkened hole that had suddenly appeared in the cracked ceiling above them. He heard Ben yell out something he couldn’t quite make out then point his shotgun at the ceiling. The gun boomed in his hands, sending buckshot flying into whatever monster lay in wait above. A half second later, the echo of Wes’s sawed off twelve gauge followed. In a blind panic, Charlie fired wildly with his .357 sending bullets wildly into the hallway behind them.

John stood in a trance, his eyes unable to leave the sight of Terry’s splintered spine sticking up from between his shoulders.

He had known the man his entire life; they had been best man at each other’s weddings. Now all that was left of him was a headless corpse lying on the dirty white tile of an abandoned house somewhere in the Kansas countryside. John! he heard Ben yell from a million miles away. John! Snap out of it!

A hard backhanded slap from Wes Turner broke him from his trance. Come on, Big John! We need you buddy! He cracked open his sawed off removing the empties and filled it with two slugs from the bandolier strung across his chest.

John nodded dumbly. Finally coming back to his senses he leveled the big ten gauge in his hands and put five rounds of buckshot into the ceiling.

The severely wounded form of a teenage male grunt, crashed through the crumbling ceiling, landing on top of Terry’s body. The holes in its head and body already beginning too slowly regenerate. Smoke poured off its skin as the sunlight from the open front door hit it. It roared out in pain and anger and tried to push itself off Terry but grew distracted by the sight and smell of so much blood. It began lapping at it like a dog, sucking up the bright liquid as quickly as it could.

Though his revolver was long since empty, Charlie continued to pull the trigger at the downed beast, the hammer clicking on empty chambers. Both Ben and Wes were reloading their weapons, their hands shaking uncontrollably.

Running on pure adrenaline, John jerked the Roman short sword from the scabbard on his dead friend’s belt and stabbed it through the monster’s chest, punching through its hardened skin and slicing through its heart. Then he yanked up Terry’s battleaxe and with one chop severed its head.

Wes tossed his shotgun aside and with one hand hefted the dead vampire off Terry’s body, throwing it like a ragdoll across the room where it crashed into the wall.

My God . . . Terry . . . Ben whispered, his voice expressing the pain they all felt.

That could have been me! John cried out in his mind, instantly shamed by how selfish that sounded. Julia . . . Jake . . . what am I doing here? That could have been me! Jake’s barely three years old and I could have orphaned him just now!

Ben had to shake Charlie to get him to stop pulling the trigger on his empty gun. Wes angrily punted the dead vampire’s head out the front door where it burst into flames as the sun hit it.

John dropped to his knees next to his friend’s lifeless body, tears stinging his eyes. Oh Terry . . .

Where the hell is his head? Wes Turner said, looking around the room.

What do you mean? Ben asked, his body shaking with shock. You just kicked it out the door.

No, not his, Wes answered solemnly. Terry’s. It isn’t here.

John placed his hand on his friend’s bloodied, broken body, tears streaming down his cheeks. In that moment all he could think of was his son’s tiny form bouncing on his knee. My God . . . That could have been me . . .

Chapter 1

Jake

The Griffin home, Midland, TX.

July 30, 1994 5:27pm

Take that you alien trash! Jake yelled out in triumph as his alliance of green army men and plastic red cowboys swarmed over the evil alien invaders. Though his forces had been almost decimated by the alien’s surprise attack, they had somehow managed to regroup and pull off a stunning victory.

The toughest of his men, an especially rugged Marine, named Sergeant Awesome, tossed the broken remains of the aliens' general, a fiend named Lord Destructus, off the summit of Mount Desktopia. Victory! Jake yelled out, pumping his fists into the air, a plastic hero clutched tightly in each of his small hands.

You have won this day, fools! The evil Lord Destructus stumbled to his feet, pulling his arm back into its socket. But we shall return!

And the same thing will happen again, Destructus, you coward! Sergeant Awesome roared down at him. Next time bring more than just a . . .

Damn it, John, I’m sick of this crap! His mom’s voice carried into his room, interrupting Sergeant Awesome's speech.

They’re fighting again?! Jake sighed. He had been listening to his parents argue off and on for the past three days.

The central air conditioner had gone out for the fourth time in two months and his mom was not happy about it. Moreover, the fact that it was a hundred and ten degrees in the shade did not help matters much.

Dropping his toys to the stained beige carpet, Jake walked over to close his bedroom door but stopped just as it was about to click shut, his curiosity getting the better of him. Creeping ever so quietly he pulled the door open a few inches and peeked out just in time to see Julia throw her arms angrily in the air.

John, do you have any idea how hard I work? Do you? I'm killing myself trying to dig us out of this hole!

I know that, Julia, John started to say, but was quickly hushed by a fiery look from his wife.

I work twelve hours a night and all I want to do is come home and sleep in a cool house. Instead I come home to . . . to this! She motioned around the room with both hands. "It's a hundred and ten degrees outside, John! And it's at least ninety-five in here! How the hell am I supposed to sleep when it’s this hot inside the house?!"

John stared down at her from his six foot six height, his eyes fuming mad. What do you want me to do, Julia? He crossed his tree trunk size arms over his chest. I can't control the goddamn weather!

Don't you dare talk to me that way! She yelled back. "I'm not asking you to control the goddamn weather! I just want the goddamn air conditioner fixed! This is just ridiculous, I can’t believe . . ."

I'll tell you what, John said, interrupting her rant, since you're such an expert, why don’t you come up with a way to get the two hundred and fifty bucks to get it fixed! You bitch and complain enough, why don't you do something about it!

Though he loomed over her by more than a foot, Julia was not the least bit intimidated. She had a fire in her eyes that John fueled into a raging inferno. Oh that's funny! Like I don't do enough around here? She turned her back on him, clenching her fist in anger. Here’s an idea! she screamed back, turning and staring right into his hard, brown eyes. "How about you do something for a change! How about you get off your ass and find a job!"

Oh man, here we go, Jake thought to himself. Though he knew he shouldn't be eavesdropping, he couldn't bring himself to look away from the onslaught he knew was coming.

John had been laid off from his job in the oil field for nearly a year. The price of oil had taken a nosedive overnight, instantly cutting the incomes of hundreds of families all over Midland. Even after a year, the price per barrel had yet to come back up, and when you lived in a city that's economy was based almost entirely on the price of oil, that was a very bad thing.

To his credit, he had been looking for work every day since, often taking odd jobs wherever he could. However, mowing yards and patching the neighbors' roofs wasn’t bringing in the kind of income his old job had. Not by a long shot.

Julia, who had been a housewife/stay at home mom, for over seven years, went back to work as a nurse almost immediately. Nevertheless, even with her working sixty hours a week at Midland Memorial, it wasn’t bringing in enough income for them to keep the same standard of living.

The mortgage, credit cards, car payments, all that had been no problem to pay before, became almost impossible to pay. Past due notices started building up until finally the loans were all called in at once. Bankruptcy had been their only option. In the blink of an eye, they had lost almost everything.

Before Jake even grasped what was going on, they were moving out of their big two-story house and into a tiny two-bedroom rental on the seedier side of town. After it was all said and done Jake was just happy they were still a family, though admittedly not always a happy one.

John had always been a proud man, so not being able to provide for his family was a huge blow to him. As if it made him less of a man. Therefore, Jake had expected him to fully explode at Julia's harsh words. However, the giant of a man somehow managed to keep his cool. Even from where he stood, Jake could see the pain in his eyes.

John ran both of his calloused hands through his hair and barely above a whisper said, Julia, you know that I have been looking. Every single day I look and look and look. I've put in applications at damn near every business in town. I’ve mowed yards, painted houses, cleaned out gutters. I don’t know what else I can do!

There’s got to be something else you can do, John? she pleaded, her voice softening. I can’t do this alone, John. I just can't.

Then let me call Billy, he pleaded back, his right hand gently brushing through her dark brown hair. Just one job would be enough to get us out of this hell hole. We could move out of this dump. Get our old life back.

No, John! No! she said, knocking his hand away. "You know it wouldn’t be just one. There’d be another and another. I don't want our old lives back. I want my husband! I'm not going to be a widow and Jake is not going to lose his father just so that we can live in a nicer house, or drive nice