The Master's Bloodline (The Master's Bloodline Series: Book 1)

By McKinley Adams

Despite the ability to see in the dark, fangs, and an all-consuming thirst for Vampire blood, Blaine LaShomb--paramilitary specialist, insists he’s still human. Brash, quick-witted and brilliantly merciless, Blaine and his team of genetically-engineered soldiers kill vampires with the pride and skill of Hollywood surgeons. And with the decade-long war between humans and Vampires coming to a close, there is but one possible outcome: Within a year, the entire human race will be at the mercy of the vampires.
With his military unit completely wiped out and his career as a soldier far behind him, Blaine settles in a sleepy, West Virgina town where humans and vampires live together peacefully--until he quickly learns things may not be as bleak as they seem: Humanity may get one last shot at redemption.
Headed by a strong-willed half-human Dhampir named Lisette, the denizens of Harper’s Ferry plot to infiltrate the Governing Body of Vampires. By assuming control of one of the most powerful Vampire Houses, humanity may be spared a life as little more than cattle. Reluctantly, Blaine takes up arms with his newfound allies while holding onto one simple truth: Vampires always turn on you.

• Language: English
• Publisher: McKinley Adams
• Release date: Mar 4, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301601639

McKinley Adams

McKinley Adams is a native of North Carolina and has been writing for 12 years. He has written seven novels; A Crack in the Glass, Death and Women Come in Threes, The Circle of the Dragon, Birth of an Assassin, The Master's Bloodline, and Beyond Here. His most recent work is entitled: Conquering Hell.

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THE MASTER'S BLOODLINE

By

McKinley Adams

SMASHWORDS EDITION

* * * * *

PUBLISHED BY:

McKinley Adams on Smashwords

The Master's Bloodline

Copyright © 2010 by McKinley Adams

This ebook, it remains the copyrighted property of the author and may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed for any commercial or non-commercial use without permission from the author.

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Three

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter One

As moisture invaded my boots and a chill threatened to lay siege to my toes, my unit and I slowly sloshed through the dank, smelly sewers of Washington, DC. Water resistant my ass! I thought, cursing my useless footwear.

I guess there was no use in complaining--hell the rest of my men were all in the same predicament. Policing DC was a dirty, thankless job but some unlucky S.O.B.’s had to do it and my unit (what was left of it anyway) had drawn the proverbial short straw.

We Ultras were private military contractors deployed by Koenig Labs—a multi-national research facility that works closely with the US military. Koenig mostly specialized in medical and military research.

Catching an unfamiliar scent, my mind was snapped back into the present. As I raised my hand, my men all stopped suddenly. I looked down at my left boot as a portly rat attempted to mate with it. With a slight smile, I shook him off and he scuttled away. Apparently, every society has a village idiot. And with my boot’s chastity still intact, I closed my eyes and concentrated--I still have to do that sometimes.

As a result of our genetic manipulation, an Ultra can see in the dark, track almost anything by smell and hear a pin drop from nearly a hundred feet away. Unfortunately, when there’s this many sights, sounds and smells (this being a friggin’ sewer and all), I have to focus my senses.

Soundlessly Max Rivera, my second-in-command approached me. What is it Chief? He asked.

I didn’t answer immediately. Slowly, I opened my eyes and despite the darkness, I could clearly see his crystalline irises expanded to full capacity.

I thought I detected a Vamp’s deathsign, I said finally.

Ambush? He asked, gripping his MP5 submachine gun tightly.

I don’t know, it’s gone now—might be just a lookout, I replied.

Feeling like I had a layer of filth on me, I wiped a hand across my shaved head. Despite the relative coolness of the surrounding sewer tunnel, my head was surprisingly full of sweat.

Dammit, I swore, before giving Max a nod to proceed.

He turned to the other four Ultras and in a whisper said: Eyes alert men, the Chief detected a deathsign.

Ok quit bugging me; I’ll explain what a deathsign is. Humans have life signs; heat and various other electrical signals and impulses that are given off by our bodies. This heat and electrical energy, radiates from our bodies and is pushed out into the universe. Vamps on the other hand, are just the opposite. Since they’re technically dead, their very existence draws in life from all around them. Its miniscule amounts, but it happens nonetheless. For example, if you put a Vampire in a room full of potted plants--the plants will all die within days.

We Ultras are human, but as a result of genetic experimentation, we now possess the physical capabilities of a Vampire—and then some. I’m a Gen 1 Ultra also known as a Generation 1 test subject. The Gen 1’s were among the very first batch of Ultra human soldiers created. We were all created from an enzyme that’s found naturally within a Vampire’s blood cells. In fact, it’s the very same enzyme that turns people, into Vampires.

Ok, get your comp books out, I’m gonna give you a brief history lesson. After the Vampire’s existence became public knowledge, the scientists at Koenig Labs began searching for a cure against Vampirism by attempting to modify the enzyme that promoted the spread of the virus. After years of research, they claimed to have developed a serum that would render humans immune to Vampirism. The initial tests on rats, mice and several primates proved positive. However, the moment they began testing on humans, they quickly learned that the serum caused insanity, violent outbursts and in many cases …death.

You’d think they’d shut down the project after that, right? Wrong! They also noticed that in spite of the obvious shortcomings; insanity, death, and such, the human test subjects were also extremely strong, resilient and had exceptional healing power. That was the moment they realized the potential for the serum to be used as a weapon. Soon after, Adventus--Koenig Labs’ military division took over the project. The result: Generation 1 Ultras.

The Gen 1’s had strength that surpassed that of your average Vampire, but as I’ve already mentioned; there were side effects. The first was severe mental instability in over 99.3% of the test subjects. They’d become feral—little more than wild animals and had to be destroyed. The ones that didn’t go nuts had a severe craving for (drum roll please)…Vampire blood. That’s right folks! Generation 1 Ultra’s like me crave Vamp blood just like a Vamp craves human blood. Ain’t that a kick in the teeth? Oh, and by the way; I was the lone survivor among of the Gen 1 test subjects—just call me Mr. 0.7%. No one knew why I survived and figured the answer was hidden somewhere in my genetic makeup. To date, they never found the answer, but God knows they did enough poking a prodding.

After the failure of the first Generation of Ultras, they attempted to work out the kinks with a new batch of test subjects—the Gen 2’s. With the Gen 2’s they had come close…very close. They’d solved the whole insanity thing, but several test subjects still had a minor craving for Vampire blood. To put it in perspective, a Gen 2’s blood craving was like a severe hankering for chocolate, whereas mine is like being addicted to heroin.

Adventus met near perfection with the advent of the Generation 3 Ultras ...with only one drawback: They weren’t quite as strong as the Gen 1’s or Gen 2’s. Still somewhat satisfied with the finished product, they sent the Gen 3’s out into the field to supplement and provide support for the human soldiers (on a trial basis, of course).

At the height of the conflict, the Ultras kicked serious Vampire hiney--so much that the Vamps began targeting the labs and the scientists that were directly involved with the Ultra project. It worked…to a degree. Most of the data regarding our creation had been lost or stolen, but the Ultras that had already been created were still out there kicking ass…uh, hiney. Of course, that’s when the Vampire Army began sending teams of highly trained Vamp soldiers to hunt and kill us …one by one.

Your run-of-the-mill Gen 1, 2, or 3 Ultra can easily best a single, non-master Vampire. However, when you send a team of 6 to 10 Vamps for a single Ultra--then unless he’s me (yeah, I’m bragging a little…so what), he’s toast.

In the past year alone, we’d lost nearly all of our numbers. The other five members of Alpha Team and me are all that’s left.

Now, I just told you that ridiculously long story just so I could tell you this: As far as I know, I’m the only living being that can detect the negative charge of a Vampire’s essence—his deathsign. I suspected it was indicative of Gen 1’s, but I had no one else in which to compare notes---especially since the rest of the Gen 1’s were busy being dead and all.

With my mind firmly in the present (for real this time, I swear), we continued down the sewer until I was nearly overpowered by the sudden presence of several deathsigns. I felt my fangs elongate. Yeah, I said fangs ...damned German scientists.

Quickly I stopped and signaled to Max and again, he appeared beside me. What is it?

How many Vamps did Sax say was down here? I asked, my voice distorted by the sudden presence of my fangs.

Five to ten. Why?

I shook my head. It feels like a helluva lot more than that.

A concerned look crossed Max’s face. How many are you picking up?

Too many to tell, but way more than ten. I’d say thirty …forty maybe.

Even I was beginning to get worried. The six of us can handle ten …maybe twenty (a very iffy maybe) Vamps in one sweep, but any more than that and we’re puppy chow …er Vamp chow.

Now, one other benefit of being an Ultra is that the Vamps can’t snack on our blood. It’s like poison to them. That does not however, stop thirty or forty of them from pulling our spines out through our collective asses.

Suddenly, I began salivating uncontrollably and that could mean only one thing: Dinner was just around the corner. Wait; something’s changed…

I shook my head as if clearing out cobwebs and then leaned toward Max. I whispered to him. The sensation’s gone now. I don’t know, maybe this sewers’ screwing up the old spider-sense. I’m gonna go on up ahead a take a look. If I’m not back in five minutes--then get them the hell outta here. Got it?

Max blinked once as if slapped and then his face cleared. Sir, under no circumstances will I leave you behind.

Sighing, I felt the muscles in my jaw tighten. Max, if I’m not back in five, then get them outta here. That’s an order!

With his feet firmly planted, Max’s olive-toned face stared back at me. "With all due respect--fuck you sir. We’re not leaving without you. You’ll just have to write me up later …after we make it outta here alive."

Did I mention that Max was my best friend and half-brother? I guess not.

I pointed an angry finger at him. Your ass is mine when we get outta here! Turning, I started down the tunnel, desperately trying to hide my smile. If I weren’t so manly, I probably woulda dropped a tear or two.

As I moved silently through the water, the tingle of the Vamps’ deathsigns returned and grew into a full-fledged buzz, as did my hunger. The sharp sting of my recently descended canines had become even more evident in my jaws. Up ahead, the slick walls of the sewer tunnel expanded before branching off. Spotting a metal ladder protruding from the brick wall of the tunnel, I slung my MP5 over my shoulder, headed for it and started to climb.

And just to answer your question: No, regular old bullets don’t work on Vampires--but special, silver-tipped ones sure as hell do the trick. Unfortunately for us, silver’s become a rare commodity, so sometimes we’ll use garlic-soaked rounds to slow them down—then let the 18 inch machete do the rest. Me and my unit have a cookie cutter approach to killing Vamps: Shoot ‘em with the bullets and if they’re still moving, chop off the head.

Only half of what most people think they know about Vampires is true: Crosses didn’t work, but the little bloodsuckers do have a severe reaction to silver and garlic. With that being said …so do I. I’ll break out in hives if I eat anything made with garlic. That’s a shame too because I used to love pizza …damned German scientists.

Also, Vamps can’t go out it sunlight …I can. They can however, walk into anyone’s home uninvited. A stake to the heart will kill a Vampire, but that’s an unfair assumption on a human’s part. Hell, if you put a wooden stake through anyone’s heart they’ll probably die.

I do however; have a slight advantage over the Generation 2 and 3 Ultras: I can kill most Vampires with my natural weapons. My strength, coupled with my fangs and super hardened fingernails (which I keep sharpened and filed down very claw-like) can easily slash through Vampire flesh. Yeah, I know the nails sound a little girly, but so what?

Admittedly, I often complain about being some type of faulty human science experiment, but to be perfectly honest—sometimes having superhuman abilities is kickass—however being addicted to Vampire blood really sucks ass. I don’t know …I guess it’s a fair trade.

As I reached the top of the ladder, I peered over the ledge. Most of the area was still covered in darkness and grime, but in the distance I could detect a faint light. It was too dim to be anything but candles. I could also hear the faint sound of chanting. Perhaps it was some Vampire church service and that made me wonder: Do Vampires believe in God? I guess it didn’t really matter so much anymore: I’d be sending them to their second deaths soon enough …let Saint Peter sort it out.

Closing my eyes, I focused on the deathsigns, noting the sensation wasn’t quite as strong as before. Perhaps, the intel that Saxton had given Max was accurate—there were only five or six. Placing my hands to either side of the rail, I slid down the ladder and headed for my men.

Doug Petrie, a Second Generation Ultra—same as Max, was bringing up the rear and was the last of my team to make it up the ladder. I took point as we fanned out and crept through the darkness, my mutated vision giving me a weird green-glow similar to looking through night vision goggles. The only difference is that our vision is about twenty times sharper.

As we trekked through the upper tunnel toward the dim light, I noticed the floor was dry and the tunnel’s ceiling curved up and inward sorta like a brick igloo. I could see that there were more tunnels lining the ceiling, but there were no ladders in which to climb. That meant if you wanted access to the upper passages you had to be able to jump up to them. I hadn’t noticed the passages when I’d crept up here alone only moments ago. It was pretty obvious the Vamps had built this structure under the city and from the looks of it; these tunnels had been here since the city had first been built.

A wave of energy surged through me as I raised a hand to slow our advance but it was too late. An avalanche of Vampires descended from the open areas of the ceiling; the sneaky bastards. Their sudden arrival kept me from detecting and focusing on their true numbers. I can only detect a deathsign up to a few hundred feet and your average Vampire can move at speeds upwards of 70 miles an hour. They’d kept far enough away so that I couldn’t feel them and then converged on our position at the last possible second. Someone’s been talking.

By the time the waterfall of Vamps finally stopped pouring from the alcoves above the tunnel, I had estimated we faced at least fifty Vampires in all, give or take a few. Many of them wore black ceremonial robes—signifying they had been very recently raised. Their faces still bore the innocence of youth, meaning they hadn’t yet fed on human blood for the first time. Good, that meant they were weaker than a veteran Vamp--although not by much.

This is one hell of a rising! Max commented all while readying his weapon.

I nodded, unsure of if he saw me or not. Saxton set us up. That son-of-a-bitch said there would only be five to ten Vamps here!

Max, Doug Petrie, Carlos, Carver, Will and I found ourselves surrounded by pale-faced snarls of all ages, races, nationalities and body types: A virtual Rainbow Coalition of Death. The fact that these Vampires were being turned in a sewer and not in a military complex suggested they weren’t potential soldiers—although technically every Vamp is a potential soldier in the Vamp army. Still, this was one of the largest non-military Vamp raisings I’d ever encountered—which was highly unusual.

The modern day Vampire is very picky about who they turn and unless extremely desperate, they only accepted the best and brightest into their ranks. I guess that’s how they kept cousin-humping, mullet-wearers out of their gene pool. That’s one page that humans need to copy out of the ol’ Vampire Handbook.

In the early throws of the war, the Vampires selectively swelled their ranks by turning our top military leaders and soldiers. That’s also how they were managing to kick our asses so tidily.

Scanning the room, I took mental notes of the snarling faces and bared fangs that circled us. The vast number of deathsigns made me hungry …almost feral. I wanted nothing more than to sink my teeth into their cold flesh. It was sickening, but I think I understood just what was so tantalizing about blood to a Vampire, because if human blood was anything like theirs …mmm ...mmm. But I’ve digressed.

Barely able to contain myself, I snarled loudly, my throaty growl reverberating throughout the closeness of the room. I watched as the older Vampires’ faces went ashen (that is, if it’s possible for a Vampire to become even paler). The rookie Vamps continued to snarl, shuffling aimlessly waiting for a reason to strike …apparently, they hadn’t been alive long enough to fear the Ultras …or me.

I heard whispers from the old timers. It is him. The one who drinks from us…

Their fear and apprehension gave me the tiniest bit of pride.

Kill him, kill him! Kill the leader! He must not be allowed to live….

And at that, my good buddy Pride took a nosedive out the window, then went and kicked open the door for Mr. Fear.

Still shuffling, their eyes were focused on me; seemingly forgetting about my comrades. That was fine--let ‘em come. We were severely outnumbered, and there was no way in hell they’d let us sashay our asses back out the way we came. If we were gonna die, then we’d be taking a whole helluva lot of them with us.

Suspecting and hoping my men all felt the same way, I gave the order: Let’s defang these sons of bitches!

Within seconds, gunfire had erupted throughout the tunnel, while the accompanying muzzle flashes illuminated pallid faces and yellowed fangs.

I can take down a Vamp with my gun and knife like nobody’s business, but in close quarters like these, I prefer to use my natural talents. Knowing this, my men always gave me the space I needed. And without further ado, I gave in to the beast.

A thin, gangly Vamp lunged at me and while he was mid-air I swung, slicing him nearly in half. Both halves of his body flopped to the ground. Half a breath later, another jumped on my back, digging his nails and teeth into my shoulder. Ignoring the pain, I tore him off, slamming him to the ground before slashing his throat. Stomping him once for good measure, I charged--parting the sea of undead creatures like a bestial Moses, hopped up on speed.

Although the battle raged on for no more than five minutes, I don’t remember much about the fight. Toward the end it quickly became a blur of fangs, screeches, broken bones and a few mouthfuls of blood (I’m not sure if it was theirs or mine).

The older, wiser Vampires—the ones who had overseen the rise of the newcomers, had the good sense to flee. Their younger counterparts however, stayed and fought and died. Their very short lives as Vampires hadn’t afforded them the opportunity to learn about—and subsequently fear us. Hell, most humans didn’t know we existed … the Ultra program had been kept top secret.

I’d like to tell you this mission was a complete success and had gone down without a hitch, but that would be bullshit. We’d had casualties: Petrie nursed a broken clavicle while Will and Carlos looked as if they’d been stuffed in a meat grinder. Fortunately their superficial wounds would heal within an hour or two. Carver was another matter. He was dead.

Antoine Carver was a Generation 3 Ultra: That meant he was mentally stable, had no craving for blood and was slightly stronger than a normal Vamp. Unfortunately, he was not as strong as the three that took him down and the other four that converged on him after. He’d been disemboweled and his shaved head with its cocoa-colored skin had been nearly been severed from his body.

The surviving members of my team were dead silent as they gathered around Carver’s mangled and torn body. His eyes were still open, reminding of us the terror he’d suffered before dying. Leaning over the young man’s body, Max closed Carver’s eyes with his pointer and middle fingers and whispered a few words under his breath.

Carver had been the joker of the unit and as inappropriate as it sounded, I began to wonder who would take his place. Who’d make us laugh by telling us about his one-eyed Aunt Sophie from St. Louis who smoked a pipe and kept snuff in her bra? Or who’d tell us about Old Uncle Leo who used to stand out on the porch and sometimes mow the lawn in his underwear?

Carver had no idea, but his off-color remarks and anecdotes about his family provided us with a sense of normalcy. In the brief moments we spent listening to his stories, we’d forgotten we were in the middle of a war. We were all just a bunch of guys hanging out, playing poker and sharing stories.

I leaned down and touched his forehead, offering a small prayer on his behalf. I wasn’t a religious man, but I respected those who were and promised to pray for my men in accordance with each one’s individual divination. Carlos, a Gen 3 Ultra like Carver, whispered something in Spanish while Will, another Gen 3, made the symbol for the holy trinity on his chest.

Slowly, rage and hunger replaced my grief. Carver had been the last of the Ultra’s to join the unit. In addition to being class clown, he was idealistic, eager and maybe just a bit naïve. Still, he’d been a dedicated soldier for over three years. He was only 18 when the Vampire Uprising began and only 21 when Canada and the northernmost half of the United States fell. Soon after, he enlisted in the National Guard, and somehow found his way into our ranks. I never knew the circumstances in which he joined the Ultra Project and I never bothered to ask. I guess it didn’t matter now with him being dead and all.

When I looked up, I saw Max standing alone in the corner and I walked over to him. Noting my approach, he offered up a polite smile even though his face was heavy with worry.

Spit it out! I said. I’d known Max most of my life and could always tell when something was on his mind.

He shook his head. Not trying to sound cold Chief, but that’s one more Ultra down. We’re short enough as is.

I didn’t answer because we both knew he was right. Not even a full year ago, there were at least a hundred Ultras still alive in the US. But because we had proven ourselves in battle, we were specifically targeted and hunted down by the Blood Knights (I’ll tell ya about them later).

I placed a hand on Max’s shoulder. Come on; let’s get moving before they send for reinforcements or something. I knew that probably wouldn’t happen, but I said it anyway. Sue me.

From what I’ve seen and heard, Vampires seemed to regard other Vampires as expendable. To put it in perspective, it’s like when a bee dies in a beehive. You don’t see other bees going to his funeral and trying to console his widow. It seems like humans are the only creatures that are consumed by the death of a loved one.

I started back toward Carver’s body. Carlos, Will and Lieutenant Petrie had all gathered in a small corner of the room with their backs to me. They called me over and I made a detour over to their huddle. They stood over the body of a female Vampire who believe it or not, was trying to ‘play dead.’

Lt. Petrie had an amused smile on his face. Can you believe it? She was trying to play possum. Will and Carlos were on either side of her, securing her by the arms.

I looked down at the bloodstained Vampire. She was a young woman, and was probably between 18 and 21 when she was turned.

Hissing at me with an acidic tone, she spat: You and your kind are nothing but cattle …food for a superior race!

Apparently Vamp Girl must have forgotten that she was once human. But instead of peeing on her parade, I watched her for a moment longer--noting the dark, filthy hair that cascaded along the frame of her skeletal face. This one specimen dispelled the stereotype that all Vampires were sexy and well-groomed. A second later, Max appeared beside me just as Will and Carlos threw her down in front of me.

We figured she’d make a nice… Will paused for a very long moment.

Snack, Carlos added.

Come on, said Max, leading the other three men away. Give the two lovebirds some privacy. There was chuckle and the four men walked away, congregating in front of Carver’s body with their backs turned.

Roughly, I pulled the young Vampire woman to her feet, noticing she wasn’t wearing a silken robe signifying her recent awakening. She stared at me with silent impudence and her dark, soulless eyes held no fear, suggesting that she was still a rookie. Older Vampires are a lot less …stupid is the only word I could think of. Either she didn’t know or didn’t care what we were capable of.

How long have you been a Vampire, I asked.

I got nothing from her but a look of silent hatred.

Here comes the drama, I said, grabbing her by the throat and lifting her into the air.

I began squeezing her throat. Vampires didn’t need to breathe, but a crushed larynx is still painful and will pretty much screw up anyone’s day …living or dead.

I asked again. How long have you been a Vampire?

A little more than a year, she responded finally, her voice straining under my hand.

I lowered her back onto the cobblestone floor. How many people have you killed in the past year, my love? I asked; with a false sweetness that was laced with contempt.

She looked at me strangely. None. I only feed on the willing and only about once a week. I never drink enough to kill them.

I rolled my eyes. And let me guess ...back in high school you smoked but didn’t inhale.

Ignoring my comment, she stared at me defiantly and said: It’s true. It’s not very wise to deplete your only food source.

I assessed her for a moment, my attention forced to her eyes. She might have been telling the truth. After all, there were many humans who enjoyed the thrill of being feasted on by the undead and every Vampire attack didn’t necessarily end in death. Still, her declaration wouldn’t be enough to save her life-it was my duty to kill her kind and we were at war.

As my focus returned to the young woman I held by the arm, I could see the idea to flee forming in her mind. Obliging, I smiled. Run!

She didn’t wait for me to repeat the command--her pale body a blur in the darkness.

You think your Corvette’s fast? It only takes a Vampire two seconds to reach sixty miles per hour. Just for kicks I gave her a five second head start before taking out after her.

Unfortunately, she was a lot slower than I had anticipated—especially with her being a yearling and all. Before I knew it, I was biting down on her throat before she’d even reached the sewer exit. What can I say? Sometimes I savor the chase …just like a real Vampire .

After I had sufficiently drained Vamp Girl, I returned to the main tunnel and my unit. My face was stained with new blood and I found I couldn’t face my men with a bloody mouth and fangs. Forcing my teeth to retract, I feverishly wiped my mouth on my already bloody shirt sleeve. It did little good. Still, my men didn’t seem to notice—either that or they had purposely ignored it. They were all a great bunch of guys and sometimes I envied them for not being stuck with fangs and a blood thirst.

On the count of three, Will, Carlos and I picked up Carver’s body and began the trek back through the sewers. Max took point and once again Petrie brought up the rear.

After carefully loading Carver’s body in back of the humvee, I loaded my 6’4’ frame into the passenger seat and stripped off my bloodstained jacket. Max leaned in toward me. Wanna go and talk to Saxton now, or wait until after…

I looked toward the rear of the armored vehicle and to the pair of boots sticking out from under the military-issue blanket. "Nah…we’ll drop Petrie and the Threes off at base and interrogate him ourselves. By the way, I referred to Will and Carlos as the threes because…surprise, they’re Gen 3 Ultras. Before he had been killed, Carver had been included in the designation as well.

Max nodded, understanding my meaning. We were going to kick Saxton’s ass and didn’t want the others to be witness to any war crimes we may be forced commit.

Even though they had had their asses handed to them ten ways from Sunday, the US military still held onto strict codes of conduct when it came to torturing or interrogating suspects—even though we weren’t technically military. We were paramilitary—some even call us mercenaries. I hated that term because it sounded dirty…unscrupulous.

Every soldier who was part of the Ultra program had volunteered and they deserved everyone’s respect. Being a genetically engineered, Vamp killing machine was no walk in the park.

I was half asleep when we rolled through the gates of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. Wait …I know what you’re thinking: Hey, that’s the White House. Well, not anymore. The Vampires leveled it nearly three years ago. It and the rest of the government buildings were long abandoned along with most of the city. Supposedly, what’s left of the US government, now hides out in the Mountains of Pennsylvania—mountains which are now heavily fortified. Rumor has it; you can’t get a plane within 100 miles of some parts of Pennsylvania.

What was important to us however, was what’s underneath the remains of the old White house. We were using the underground bunkers as our base of operations. In a pinch, the bunkers along with their intricate series of tunnels, allowed us to exit the city via Virginia or Maryland. DC was still under control of the US government, but Vampire activity in the tri-state area was still relatively high and posed serious threats. That’s why we were left behind and stuck playing cleanup.

I scanned the area for deathsigns as Petrie and the remaining Threes carried Carver’s body underground. Before disappearing down the threshold, Petrie stopped and called over his shoulder, asking, You two sure you don’t want backup? If Saxton had anything to do with Carver getting killed, then I have a few things I’d like to discuss with him myself.

I smiled at the feisty Texan’s words, recalling the first time I saw him. His curly blonde hair cast a boyish air about his otherwise squared and chiseled face. His intense hazel eyes had suggested he’d seen way too much for a man of only 22 years of age. Now, the curly blonde locks had been shaved, leaving him with a neatly trimmed buzz cut. The eyes still looked the same … like they’ve seen too much.

I answered him. Nah, we’re fine…but if you’d like, we can send a message for you.

Petrie nodded and with his free hand, raised his pistol and fired several shots in the air.

Your message will be sent, I said with a grim smile, not bothering to tell him he should save his ammo. With Petrie and the others all safely down in the bunker, Max and I pulled off, en route to Bethesda, Maryland.

Chapter Two

Maybe ten minutes later, we pulled into a formerly upscale neighborhood. Suburban areas such as this had been long abandoned by your average humans. The larger metropolises and their surrounding areas had been hardest hit by the Vamps. Within a matter of years, the beautiful homes and manicured lawns of the decaying capital were now Vamp/human brothels or housed Vampire informants, turncoats and former familiars—anyone the powers-that-be classified as valuable.

As we turned onto Goldsboro Road, one thing was evident. No one gave a damn anymore about having the nicest lawn or the biggest, newest and most expensive car. Now, all anyone cared for was their survival and it had become minutely safer to stick to the rural and less populated areas.

Our humvee finally came to a stop in Saxton’s poorly maintained driveway. Cracks in the cement were slowly giving birth to headstrong weeds and cunning tufts of grass. My scuffed black boots hit the pavement, making crunching sounds against the broken pieces of cement. Without turning to see if Max was following, I headed for the front door.

I climbed the steps, skipping two at a time and banged on the door, causing the antique knocker to rattle, making a slight knock of its own. For several more moments I waited impatiently before once more banging on the door. Still there was no answer.

Maybe he’s not here. Max offered.

Or skipped town, I said, closing my eyes and focusing my senses toward the house. I could hear a television—most likely playing a DVD as there weren’t very many TV stations anymore. I could smell the gasoline and oil from Saxton’s motorcycle. Also, I smelled blood. It wasn’t human, wasn’t Vampire, but an odd mix of the two. Opening my eyes, I kicked open the door and walked in while Max followed behind.

As we passed, he paused, checking the doorknob. Hey Rambo, the friggin’ door was unlocked!

Smiling, I looked back at him over my shoulder. Yeah, but which was more bad-ass? Me turning the knob and walking in or me kicking the door damn-near off its hinges?

Max snorted. Drama queen.

I snickered and spread my senses throughout the house, following the scent of the blood. My nose led me to the spacious kitchen with its high ceilings and a skylight that illuminated the room even more. The white cabinets, complete with hunter green counter tops matched the white and green floral print of the tiles. Small droplets of blood trailed around to the far side of the island. There, in a pile of blood, lay Marcus Saxton—he