Brookwater's Curse Volume Two

By Steven Van Patten

In the vampire nation, the civil war Christian Brookwater sought to prevent has become a harsh reality.
On one side stands the High Counselors. Once considered great and benevolent rulers, their web of deception has unraveled, revealing them to be nothing more than self-serving power mongers. To preserve their reign, the High Counselors have begun a bloody campaign that threatens to wipe out all of the monster races, starting with their own. These Founding Fathers of Vampirism are all gifted with extraordinary powers that surpass anything ever seen in the history of living monsters. There are four of these god-like creatures, but none as destructive and devious as High Counselor Emmanuel, a demon that can destroy another’s life essence with the mere brush of his ominous left hand. All over the world, thousands of vampires stand ready to do Emmanuel's bidding, including a group that has embraced a doctrine that is frighteningly similar to the religious right-wingers found in the human world.
Lord Ebichara Tanata leads the opposing army that seeks to overthrow the High Counselors. With Japan’s deadliest samurai vampires willing to march into certain death at his word, Lord Tanata has fortified his numbers by joining forces with the rachasas, a race of shape-shifting cat people who have their own axe to grind with Emmanuel.
As Christian helps Lord Tanata take on the High Counselors, he uncovers many horrible secrets. It's not long before Christian becomes a bigger target than his samurai mentor. What he finally discovers will not only change the course of the war, but will have a startling impact on everyone he cares about, including his unborn child.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Sep 23, 2014
• ISBN: 9780990791782

Book preview

Mom!

Prologue

By the time they had finished fourth grade, Stephen Buja and Jeremiah Pinder had become inseparable friends. Stephen’s parents-- Natasha and Gregory Buja—- easily accepted that the two children shared a bond, and gave in to the notion that they would often have to include Jeremiah in their family plans. Gregory, a consultant for a weapons development corporation, encouraged the boys to play together because he secretly hoped Jeremiah’s natural athleticism would help propel his frail son into being tougher and more into sports.

Unfortunately, it was much harder for Jeremiah’s mother, Gail, to accept the situation. Gail was a single parent, having been abandoned by Jeremiah’s useless father before her son’s eighth birthday. She was so busy working the two jobs she needed to cover the household expenses and keep Jeremiah in private school that she knew nothing of Stephen until both boys were thirteen. The discovery led to an awkward period where Gail Pinder, convinced that her son would be seen as a charity case, tried to limit the amount of time her son spent with the Buja family.

Don’t be spending all day at that white boy’s house, Gail would shout after Jeremiah as he was on his way out the front door to do just that.

It would take some time for Gail Pinder to become comfortable with their friendship, and it would take even longer for Gregory Buja to give up his dreams of the two boys becoming the next Karl Malone and John Stockton. Thankfully, by senior year of high school, all of the parents were on the same page as the two boys, who only wanted to maintain their friendship without anyone else’s silly expectations being foisted upon them.

They were both accepted at Boston College. Stephen, always something of a math wiz, went into engineering and web design, while Jeremiah double majored in journalism and African-American studies. They rented a house together in the middle of their freshman year, threw parties, dated various women, and quickly acquired a sense of how to be grown men who pay their bills on time and live responsibly.

About a year after college, Stephen met an attractive, intelligent, Chinese woman named Betsy. After experiencing some of the usual ups and downs that occur between a man and woman trying to love one another, Betsy became Stephen’s girlfriend.

Meanwhile, Jeremiah remained something of a serial monogamist, (not by choice), so Stephen and Betsy became accustomed to meeting one new significant other after another and cheering Jeremiah up with a trip to a strip club or a sports bar whenever things went bad.

Most weekends saw the threesome getting together to watch Patriots games or pay-per-view boxing. It was during one of those boxing matches that Stephen and Betsy told Jeremiah that they were engaged. Jeremiah, fresh off of one of his many breakups, shrugged and said, Well, I guess I need to get a date.

What you need is a tux, best man, Betsy said.

Excuse me, Stephen snapped at his intended, I’m supposed to tell him that part.

Then tell him, she laughed, I’m not stopping you.

Jeremiah just shook his head at them.

Not even married yet and the honeymoon is already over, he snickered, which prompted more laughter as Betsy gave Stephen a kiss and a half-hearted apology.

They toasted the good news and finished watching the fight. As fight commentator Larry Merchant began his final remarks, Jeremiah turned from the TV and asked, So, did you tell your folks?

Not yet, Stephen answered. We’re going to tell them when we all go camping in two weeks. You are coming, right?

Well, no, Jeremiah said, It’s going to be you two and your parents. I’d be a fifth wheel.

That’s nothing new, Betsy teased.

Whatever, Jeremiah said, not letting on how much that little remark hurt.

Stephen let the matter rest until about thirty minutes later, when Betsy went to bed and left the two friends together on the couch.

Dude, you gotta go on the trip, Stephen said.

Why? Because you think that if your parents are going to have a problem with you marrying a Chinese girl, they’re less likely to act stupid about it if your best friend of twenty-some-odd years, who happens to be black is there? Jeremiah challenged.

Basically, yes, Stephen agreed. He was embarrassed, but he took comfort in this opportunity to be honest about the situation.

That is such bullshit, Jeremiah retorted. I mean, you’re a grown ass man, and if your folks have the nerve to object to you marrying Betsy, that’s their problem. Besides, dude, your folks aren’t racists. If they were, I think we would have found out by now.

Look, it’s just a feeling I have, insisted Stephen. I mean, we grew up together and played ball together, and we’ll probably be friends for the rest of our natural lives. But we can’t have babies together.

Pardon me, while I try to hold down the vomit, Jeremiah groaned.

Despite his protests, Jeremiah knew all too well what Stephen spoke of. Except for the amount of time he spent at Stephen’s house, Jeremiah’s mother never seemed to mind him having friends of a different race. However, when he was sixteen and brought Nancy Lopez to the house for a study date, Gail seemed unusually agitated, and gave Nancy an icy reception. A few days later, he brought the much darker-shaded Uniqua Johnson over. To his surprise, Uniqua was received warmly and invited to stay for dinner. At the time, Jeremiah didn’t open a dialogue with his mother, especially since she would only have bristled at his having the nerve to question her behavior. Ultimately, the lesson was clear.

Fine, I’ll go camping, Jeremiah sighed.

It was a long-standing Buja family tradition to go camping in Townsend State Park, located just shy of the New Hampshire border. Back in the day, Gregory would pack up the wife and kid, and in most cases, the kid’s little black friend and head for the outdoors at least once a year.

When the boys got older and slightly disinterested, the trips became less frequent, and soon Gregory was going by himself. However, Gregory Buja was turning fifty this year, and one of the things he wanted to do (aside from popping a Viagra and having a threesome with his secretary and that cute blonde in accounts payable) was to go camping with the whole family, just like in the old days. So if Jeremiah hadn’t agreed to go, Gregory would have wanted to know why.

Betsy, Stephen and Jeremiah lived in the Summerville section of Boston. In moderate traffic, it would take an hour in Stephen’s ’99 Range Rover to get them back to the boys’ hometown of Fitchburg, Massachusetts. Jeremiah’s mom had moved to West Virginia to be closer to an ailing sibling, but Stephen’s folks still lived in their semi-isolated colonial-style house up the hill on Ross Street. As a kid, Jeremiah spent many an afternoon walking up that hill, and many nights running back down to beat his curfew.

While the view from the backseat window brought back memories, Jeremiah became quiet and introspective. In contrast, Stephen decided to confront his nostalgia head-on by telling his fiancée a little story.

Honey, did I ever tell you about Jeremiah’s first night on a camping trip? Stephen asked Betsy.

No, baby, Betsy answered as she spied on Jeremiah through the rearview mirror. Jeremiah knew what was coming and rolled his eyes.

Well, Stephen began, We were thirteen. And I don’t know, he must have just seen Rambo or somethings…

Fuck you, Jeremiah interjected.

Stephen smiled as he continued, …because he had this hunting knife, that was bigger than my father’s. In fact, it was bigger than my father’s head. I still can’t figure out how he got it past his mother.

No thanks to your snitch-ass, Jeremiah growled.

Whatever, man, Stephen dismissed, In any case, he fell asleep with the knife in his sleeping bag, ‘cause I guess he figured we would get attacked by something. Then he had a nightmare, and started screaming so loud my father came running. Too make a long story short, my father found the knife. You should have heard Jeremiah begging my father not to tell his mother!

Your mommy would have spanked you, huh? Betsy turned in to face an irritated Jeremiah.

Let’s get something straight, barked Jeremiah, as he leaned into the space between their seats, Stephen got spankings, and only after he did something really fucked up. Betsy, you probably got spankings if you came home with a B in physics. I didn’t get spankings. I used to get fucked up.

Anyway, Stephen resumed, my father, being the sneaky guy he is, kept the damn knife and tells Jeremiah that he can have it back when he’s an adult.

Now that you mention it, Jeremiah said, Your father never gave me back that knife.

Well, you can ask him for it in a few minutes, Crocodile Hunter, Stephen snickered. Betsy laughed as well.

Whatever, man, Jeremiah sneered as he settled back in his seat.

* * *

As Stephen drove his car up the driveway, he could see his father standing in front of the house, packing his Chevy Tahoe with supplies.

Dad, Jeremiah wants his knife back! Stephen yelled as he stopped his Range Rover about ten feet from his father and jumped out.

What knife? Natasha Buja asked from the front porch while trying to close a large knapsack.

Dad knows what I’m talking about, Stephen explained, as he gave his dad a hug before running up the porch to help his mother.

Oh, so King Arthur wants Excalibur back? Gregory Buja laughed as Jeremiah and Betsy exited the vehicle and took turns hugging him.

No, I don’t, said Jeremiah. Your son, the comedian, was just telling old stories on the way here, is all.

As Gregory started searching through his bags, Natasha walked over to them and doled out hugs to Jeremiah and Betsy. You are such good looking young people, Natasha gushed, while Stephen took his mother’s bag and shoved it into the back of the Tahoe.

Here ya go, Jeremiah! Gregory exclaimed as he removed the sheathed hunting knife from his bag.

Reluctantly, Jeremiah took the nine-inch, stainless steel blade in his hand and looked at it.

You kept it in great condition, Jeremiah said, noticing that the serrated edge was as sharp as the day that he last saw it.

You were running around with that when you were a kid? Betsy marveled. Such a bad boy.

Actually, Jeremiah was always a very nice boy, Natasha said.

A nice, sick, deranged boy with a knife fetish, Stephen said, prompting Jeremiah to give a frustrated sigh while everyone else laughed.

This is going to be one long ass camping trip, Jeremiah thought.

He was wrong.

* * *

The Tahoe and the Range Rover pulled into Townsend National Park at about three in the afternoon. Gregory Buja, a master at the art of the campsite set-up, was like a general leading the troops to battle.

Naturally, Gregory had a favorite spot in the park. What he loved the most about the hundred square foot clearing was the way the trees bordered certain areas. This, in his eyes at least, made it easy to decide what should go where. Also, because the trees made it impossible to see from one section of the campground to the next, being onsite was a lot like being in a roofless apartment.

By five o’clock, the site was claimed, the tents were pitched, and the campfire was lit. By seven thirty, dinner, which had included steak and sautéed shrimp with grilled corn on the cob, had been ravenously devoured by all. Afterward, while everyone was sitting around with full stomachs, tired bodies and light hearts, it seemed to be the perfect time for Stephen to drop the big news:

Betsy and I are engaged! Stephen announced.

Gregory and Natasha seemed thrilled at first. They even proposed a toast, even if all they had on hand was a bottle of merlot. But after a half an hour of smiles and small talk, Gregory and Natasha abruptly excused themselves, and left the makeshift cooking area, presumably headed to their tent.

After an uncomfortable silence, Betsy announced that she was cold. She walked out of the kitchen area and sat down by the campfire, which was burning and crackling about thirty paces away. Stephen figured she was out of earshot, so he turned to Jeremiah.

I don’t believe them. They’re going to do this right in front of her, he moaned.

Dude, relax. Maybe your folks are just so excited they decided to go make you a little brother or sister to celebrate, Jeremiah speculated with a chuckle.

Uggh! Stephen said, Thanks for that horrible mental image.

Look, why don’t you go snuggle up with Betsy by the fire? I’ll go in my tent and give you guys some privacy. Hopefully, she didn’t read anything into what your parents did, Jeremiah said.

See Jeremiah, that’s why, as good looking as you are, you can’t keep a girlfriend. Betsy is a woman. They read into how you cut your toenails.

Point taken, Jeremiah said with a shrug, But do us all a favor. Forget your folks, and try to have some fun.

As Stephen walked toward the campfire to check on Betsy, Jeremiah began his short walk to the tents, which were only fifty paces from the cooking area. As a child, being in the woods unnerved him to the point where he never would have walked from one part of a dark campground to another by himself. As an adult, Jeremiah had conquered many of his old fears, and was now so relaxed that the need for sleep was almost unbearable. In fact, if not for the big wedding announcement and the ensuing family drama, Jeremiah would have already excused himself and been in his tent, snoring away.

As branches cracked under his six-foot-three, two hundred pound frame, Jeremiah made his way past a series of tiki torches Gregory had planted in the dirt path that led from the cooking area to the tents. His was the last tent in the grouping, so he had to make his way past Betsy and Stephen’s green tent, then Natasha and Gregory’s large blue tent, to get to his own, significantly smaller purple tent.

Jeremiah noticed rustling in the blue tent, but thought nothing of it, since Stephen’s mom and dad were probably just getting themselves settled. He was grateful not to overhear the words, ‘I can’t believe our son is going to marry some Chinese bitch’ coming from the blue tent as he passed by. Once he reached his own tent, he unzipped it, kicked his boots off and slid inside.

At first there was nothing but the peaceful sound of chirping crickets ushering him off to dreamland. In mere seconds, Jeremiah drifted into a vague area of half-sleep. When he heard the first low growl, the ripping of nylon, and the sound of bones being rendered, he thought he was dreaming. It took a good ten seconds for him to realize that he hadn’t really fallen asleep yet, and thus, should be concerned.

Alarmed, he slapped his hands around inside his dimly lit surroundings until he found the hunting knife that had only hours ago been returned to him. Bracing himself to face a rampaging, maneating bear (the very one he was expecting to see when he was eleven), Jeremiah sprung from the tent, filled with the intention of saving the day. At least, that was the plan before he laid eyes on the thing that was killing his best friend’s parents.

Except for the bloodstains, the creature was a mass of white fur. While it was certainly big enough to be a bear, it was too sleek and doglike. As it held a bloodied and limp Natasha under one of its massive paws, most of the monster’s weight seemed to be leaned onto Gregory, who lay helplessly trapped beside his critically injured wife. Remnants of the blue tent lay scattered all around them.

As Jeremiah choked on a scream, the beast’s snout pulled up, taking with it a large chunk of Gregory’s neck, causing a small, crimson geyser to erupt from the man’s throat. As the poor man kicked and flailed under the mass of white, the beasts’ head turned and locked its burning yellow eyes to Jeremiah’s.

The fear should have frozen him in place, and made him easy prey. Somehow, Jeremiah kept his presence of mind, maintained his hold on the hunting knife and ran for his life.

He couldn’t find his voice until he had reached the cooking area. About thirty feet in front of him, he could see the campfire and the dancing silhouettes of Stephen and Betsy locked in a kiss.

RUN! GUYS! RUN! Jeremiah cried just before the monster fell on him. As he hit the ground on his stomach, the hunting knife fell free, bouncing through the dirt and grass until it disappeared. Then, he felt the paw in his back as the monster pinned him.

Stephen was yelling something incomprehensible just as twin rows of teeth sank into the meatier part of Jeremiah’s right shoulder. The pain was hot and blunt and Jeremiah screamed.

Face down in the dark, Jeremiah could not see a thing, but he could hear Stephen and Betsy trying to mount a rescue.

I can’t find the knife! Stephen yelled.

Use the firewood! Betsy cried.

Just as he started to feel as though his shoulder was about to be pulled out, Jeremiah felt an odd vibration as Stephen did as Betsy instructed and hit the beast in the head with a large block of firewood. In response, the creature opened its snout, and roared.

With his shoulder freed, Jeremiah was able to bring his head up just enough to see his best friend with a look on his face that, under better circumstances, would have been amusing. Two thoughts entered Jeremiah’s mind: Stephen is terrified and We’re all dead.

The beast stepped over Jeremiah and charged at Stephen, who dropped the firewood and crossed his arms in front of his face. Just as the creature reached him, something cut through the air, causing the beast to flinch.

Betsy had found the hunting knife. Her first thoughts had been to give the knife back to one of the men, then run off to get help. When she saw the man she loved bracing himself to be slaughtered, she ran up next to Stephen and joined the fray. Her first swing was a lucky shot that ripped the creature’s nose wide open.

The beast let off a howling scream that seemed to shake the world.

Betsy, get the fuck out of here! screamed Jeremiah. It was too late. Before Jeremiah could get on his feet, the beast locked his snout across Betsy’s face and with one shake of the animal’s large head, snapped her neck.

Stephen, in a futile attempt to save Betsy, picked up the hunting knife and stabbed the beast in the face. The beast screamed again, releasing Betsy’s mangled head. As she fell limp to the ground, the beast turned away from Stephen, and ran into the woods, knocking Jeremiah back to the ground as it exited.

With tears in his eyes, Stephen ran to Betsy and collected her in his arms.

Oh God. Oh God! No God, please, was all Stephen could manage as he cradled Betsy’s lifeless frame. .

Jeremiah stood up and went to grab his friend. Dude, we gotta go before that thing comes back.

Mom! Dad! Stephen suddenly yelled into the night. When neither of his parents answered him, Stephen made to run into the tent area, only to have Jeremiah restrain him.

You don’t want to do that, Jeremiah finally said, as Stephen looked into Jeremiah’s face and read the awful truth.

OH GOD! he screamed, tears filling his eyes. The grief was so overwhelming that Stephen’s knees buckled and Jeremiah had to catch him. Meanwhile, in the distance, the monster answered Stephen’s cry of horror with a howl. Stephen didn’t seem to hear it, but Jeremiah did.

Despite Jeremiah’s superior strength, and the impending danger, it was a struggle to get his traumatized best friend into the Range Rover. The only way he could get Stephen to comply was to let him take Betsy. So while Stephen held Betsy and cried in the backseat, Jeremiah thanked God the Range Rover’s keys were still in the ignition. The last thing he wanted to go through was a case of ‘horror movie victim syndrome’ and end up searching for car keys with a monster about to pounce on them.

As he hit the gas, Jeremiah saw the creature reemerge from the darkness in the rearview mirror. Even with the car in motion, he could tell that the beast’s wounds had started to close.

Rapid healing? Howling? Oh shit, I’m fucked, he said to himself as he got the Range Rover up to sixty and higher.

Jeremiah didn’t know the area very well, but he managed to find a park ranger’s station near the New Hampshire border. The story they told launched an emergency evacuation of Townsend National Park and a widespread search that lasted for several days. A doctor patched up Jeremiah’s shoulder and gave Stephen the number of a ‘good’ grief counselor, while a forensics team collected evidence that would clear them of any wrongdoing.

Stephen was in no shape to do much that first week after the attack, so while Betsy’s parents took care of her arrangements, Jeremiah handled the particulars involved with the double, closed-casket funeral for Gregory and Natasha Buja.

At no point did either of them say the words ‘werewolf’ or ‘giant wolf’ to any of the law enforcement officials, or to anyone else. The two friends agreed upon this while they drove from the campsite, and it was a wise decision, for reasons both evident and unknown. Not only would law enforcement have detained them much longer than they did, but vampire constables would have eventually gotten wind of the story and killed them.

Of course, they didn’t know about the vampires, just like the two friends would never have thought that what attacked them wasn’t exactly a werewolf.

At least, not like the one Jeremiah would become.

Chapter 1

Talk To The Hand

Damn you! Nikolai, slow down, Helen insisted as she charged after her lover and partner in nocturnal law enforcement. Nikolai would not wait for her. He tore through the basement halls of Winthrop Academy like a thing possessed. Even from ten meters behind him, she could hear the low growl in his throat and his teeth grinding as clearly as if she were the one doing it.

Nikolai ignored Helen because he had no intention of taking her with him. In addition to the fact that he was worried for her safety, he didn’t believe she’d be much help against a maniac like Christian Brookwater and that traitorous Lord Tanata.

NIKOLAI, YOU CAN’T DO THIS BY YOURSELF, she continued to scream after him. And you’re not taking my fuckin’ car! she added.

I’LL USE ONE OF THE OTHERS. I hate your car anyway, he finally shot back.

Helen continued to chase him even as he began bounding up the stairs that led out of the basement and into the lobby. If he noticed the unusual brightness coming from the bottom of the door before he opened it, he gave no indication.

Wait, what’s going on out there? she called out. It was too late. Nikolai swung the door open, and was instantly bathed in light so blinding it engulfed him. Her vampire eyes couldn’t handle the sudden change, and she was forced to turn away. Then the door closed and he was gone from sight.

You are Inspector Nikolai Burta? a thunderous voice demanded. With each syllable, the harsh light under the door seemed to flicker.

Yes…yes, I am, Nikolai answered. Whoever was out there, they were dreadful enough to stop an enraged Nikolai in his tracks, and make him stammer while answering the simplest of questions. This was not good.

Should I take it from the condition of your fellow officers that Christian Brookwater has escaped? the voice asked.

Yes sir, I…I take full responsibility for…

"I think we should have Helen join us now, don’t you think? The Voice said, cutting him off.

She doesn’t know anything, Nikolai volunteered.

Inspector Nikolai, I was not giving you a choice in the matter. Stop trying to be chivalrous and bring her up. I don’t have all night. The Voice managed to sound annoyed and condescending while it maintained resonance.

The door opened and the stairwell was painted with luminance again.

Helen, would you be good enough to join us? Nikolai called over his shoulder.

Yes, of course, Helen replied, as she closed her eyes. Mentally cursing Christian Brookwater, Lord Tanata and every other male vampire in the world, she sighed deeply and started up the stairs, into the light.

When Helen entered the lobby, she saw no less than twenty vampire constables; all of them wearing low-grade body armor and black fatigues. Each soldier was armed with some form of automatic weapon. They were dispersed throughout the floor, some examining the various dead bodies strewn across the lobby, while others were going through the bloodied papers at the front desk.

Save for the harsh glow emanating from his left hand, the creature standing in front of Nikolai could have been nothing more than an unusually fit human in his mid-fifties, wearing an exquisitely tailored business suit. The luminous hand, which seemed to hum as though charged with an electrical current, verified the identity of this ominous being. Standing before Nikolai and Helen was none other than High Counselor Emmanuel, founder of the World Vampire Counsel, and a grandchild of the Celestials.

Due to some unfortunate confessions procured during the Spanish Inquisition, many religiously fanatical humans believe that vampires were created by and are in league with the entity known as Lucifer. Truthfully vampirism began inadvertently, and the Celestial beings responsible for its creation bore no allegiance to Satan and no interest in overthrowing Heaven.

Each of these Celestials made the mistake of having sexual relations with human females hundreds of years after The Desolate One had been expelled. The Celestials were stripped of their Divine powers and banished. Left with no choice but to make lives for themselves, the banished Celestials took human wives and raised families. All of the grandchildren that were spawned from these families were born with a glint of the power that their grandfathers once possessed. These grandchildren eventually found each other and soon realized that by drinking human blood, they could prolong their lives and realize a potential previously unheard of in the history of mankind. Thus, vampirism, as it truly exists on Earth, was born.

Perhaps you two allowed this to happen because you did not see what kind of a threat Christian Brookwater is. His escape puts our entire race in jeopardy, the likes of which we have never seen, The High Counselor growled.

Sir, I take full responsibility for Brookwater’s escape, Nikolai said, fully aware that by saying this, he may have brought on the end of his existence.

You should take the responsibility, lest I execute your lover along with you, Emmanuel dismissed as he waved his deadly left hand toward Helen.

Your Eminence, Christian Brookwater’s escape was clearly facilitated by other parties. Surely, you can’t hold us responsible for a calculated jailbreak that we had neither the manpower nor the foreknowledge to prevent.

Helen would have been proud of herself for putting that impromptu argument together had she not been so terrified of High Counselor Emmanuel. Her knowledge of this monster’s capabilities and history were not only the source of her fear, but also the reason why she knew Christian Brookwater was either lying or insane when he had told her that he had come to England to fight the Founding Fathers of Vampirism by himself.

Two hundred years ago, many vampires expected the High Counselors to die. They were all over a thousand years old, well past the average death age of their first ‘children’. However, instead of passing away, they began to experience physical changes that gave them powers beyond even their original scope. This sudden boost of ‘evolutionary’ enhancement was explained to the rest of the vampire populace as the natural order of things, a by-product of the amount of time the Counselors have spent on this Earth and a perk from having been descended from the original bloodline of the Celestials.

These changes granted the four members of the vampire ruling class invincibility, which they have used with extreme prejudice when dealing with anyone who has fallen into their disfavor. This is especially true in the case of High Counselor Emmanuel, who has in recent years been able to kill other monsters simply by touching them with his shimmering left hand.

Counselor Emmanuel turned to face Helen. You are correct, of course. However, someone has to be punished for my being inconvenienced.

When Counselor Emmanuel’s left hand flew out, Nikolai bravely stepped forward to meet the blow. As Helen watched in horror, Nikolai flew twenty feet across the lobby of Winthrop Academy, landing on top of the blood-soaked front desk.

Helen gave a shrill scream as she ran to Nikolai. Sadly, there was nothing she could do except gaze into her lover’s dying eyes as he began convulsing like a giant bug caught in a stream of insecticide. Even as his skin turned charcoal gray and the veins in his cheeks and forehead swelled, Nikolai looked as if he wanted to say something comforting to Helen, or at least tell her goodbye.

Helen threw herself onto the desk and cradled him in her arms. She was dimly aware of Counselor Emmanuel and the other vampire soldiers closing in on her. Figuring she’d soon be killed by another swipe of the Counselor’s frightful left hand, she braced herself and accepted the dark consolation that she and Nikolai would die together in a final embrace, a vampiric Romeo and Juliet.

Nikolai twitched one last time, then screamed as his fangs involuntarily extended and his eyes exploded, splattering Helen’s face with dark red and yellow goop. Then, as one last breath escaped his lips, his body went limp. Nikolai was gone.

Helen’s tears fell onto the face of Nikolai’s dry, putrid husk, as the High Counselor neared.

I was thinking of sparing you, maybe placing you in my personal garrison, Emmanuel said, but as you sit here sniveling, I realize that you’re as useless as he was. So I will reunite you.

Instinctively, she reached for her gun, but heard the cocking of several automatic weapons, as every member of Counselor Emmanuel’s entourage readied and aimed their weapon at her.

Them, or me, Emmanuel said, acknowledging both her hopeless plight and his troopers’ readiness to perforate her should she not submit to his touch.

She closed her eyes and waited for whatever excruciating sensation Emmanuel’s touch would bring. Covertly, she was trying to feel her way through Nikolai’s clothing for one of the guns that he had brought out of his office moments ago. But as the light became so bright that the backs of her eyelids turned red, gunfire rang out in the lobby. When the illumination faded, she opened her eyes only to see that someone had reopened the main lobby door of Winthrop Academy. That same someone was picking off Counselor Emmanuel’s vampire soldiers with a series of accurate blasts from an automatic assault rifle.

Christian Brookwater had returned, and like any good warrior, he had waited for the perfect time to strike.

Chapter 2

Christian Brookwater

Christian ran to his right, maintaining distance from Emmanuel while moving against the vampire constables who had been canvassing the area. Using the marble columns in the lobby as cover, he began picking off the constables with short bursts from an M60. As always, Christian’s aim was impeccable. He successfully planted silver armorpiercing rounds in one skull after the next. One dead vampire constable became three. Then three became five, and five became seven.

I can do this all fuckin’ night Emmanuel, Christian taunted, after ducking behind the column furthest away from Emmanuel and the front desk. As the remaining soldiers returned fire, their bullets blasted marble shards into the air.

Son of a motherless whore! Emmanuel sneered. His face seethed with anger as he stepped away from Helen and headed toward the center of the lobby.

Hey Helen, has this asshole told you why he’s really after me? Christian yelled as he popped around the column, hailing another cloud of bullets and killing two more soldiers.

Did he tell you about South Dakota? About what really happened to Caramano? Christian continued.

When Christian didn’t hear a response, he peeked out from behind his column. Helen was still cradling Nikolai, and too busy crying to pay Christian any mind.

I think it is time for you and I to discuss your future, ex-Constable Brookwater, Emmanuel said as he walked away from Helen. He came up the middle of the lobby, staying behind his constables as they laid a suppressing cover of gunfire to keep Christian pinned down.

Yeah, I’m sure that would be an interesting yet brief discussion, you lying piece of angel shit! Christian screamed as he liquefied the face of an advancing constable with another spurt of machine gunfire.

As his constables continued to close the gap between themselves and Christian, Emmanuel followed until he was well within Christian’s range.

What’s the matter with him? the perplexed Helen wondered as the bullets whizzing past her head forced her to devote some attention to the concept of her living and less to Nikolai dying. She wondered why Christian wouldn’t at least try to shoot Emmanuel. Of course, she couldn’t possibly know that Christian wasn’t so much neglecting to shoot at Emmanuel as he was saving the High Counselor for someone else.

The front door of Winthrop Academy creaked open again. Helen looked up and saw sandaled feet, a flowing white robe and long black hair caught in a breeze. The gleam of an unsheathed katana sword flashed at her.

High Counselor Emmanuel was about ten meters away from where Christian was crouched and seemed ready to charge forward and, as he might say, put an end to this nonsense. However, even a ‘quarter angel’ like Emmanuel couldn’t afford to ignore the presence of the Lord of Samurai Vampires.

You’re a long way from home, Lord Tanata, Emmanuel called. The samurai’s only answer was to raise his sword over his head and charge forward.

Knowing that the new player would distract the other vampires, Christian ran from behind the column. He peppered the room with bullets and killed two more constables. Much to Helen’s displeasure, Christian was now headed in her direction, bringing a hail of gunfire with him.

Dragging Nikolai’s corpse, Helen dropped behind the desk just as Christian dove over it and landed next to her.

Fucking hell! Helen screamed as the sound of ricocheting bullets filled her ears and mahogany chips from the scarred desk fell in her hair.

If you don’t help me, you’ll die back here with me, Christian hissed as he pulled a 9mm pistol from his waist and held it out to her. We’ll probably die, regardless, she said as she took the pistol.

Unless your samurai lord is going to save us.

Not likely, he said.

Isn’t that why he’s here? she asked.

Yes, Christian answered, but that’s not Lord Tanata!

Sensing that the High Counselor would realize the truth once he was neared, the creature that was pretending to be Lord Tanata dropped its disguise and transformed into a six-foot tall, cat-like creature with glowing yellow eyes and brown fur.

I’m here to avenge the stolen blood of my people, the rachasa snarled at the High Counselor.

You fools! Emmanuel roared over the hum of his glowing hand. I am above your feeble notions of revenge.

While the rachasa responded to Emmanuel’s remark with an angry hiss, Christian and Helen stood up from behind the desk, and fired their weapons at the six remaining vampire constables. Armed with only a pistol, Helen took a shot in her midsection as she killed one, and then killed a second before succumbing to the pain and falling back behind the desk.

Christian was winged by a bullet on the shoulder, but managed to kill two of the remaining four. The last two began a retreat, not counting on running into Emmanuel and a rachasa with a katana sword on the way out.

One of the constables tried to give an explanation to Emmanuel. However, Emmanuel wasn’t interested in hearing excuses, and grabbed the unfortunate creature by the throat with his glowing hand. In seconds the vampire fell to the ground, another dried husk.

The rachasa in the doorway never took his eyes off of Emmanuel as he decapitated the other retreating vampire with one swipe of his katana sword.

I think we win, Christian called out, as he stood up from behind the desk.

I disagree, Emmanuel said as he charged at the rachasa. Knowing that Emmanuel could kill him with just a glancing blow, the rachasa leaped out of the way. As Emmanuel pursued, Christian raised his weapon and poured several shots into Emmanuel’s back.

Emmanuel flailed about like a marionette in the throes of a seizure. Through the holes the bullets made in Emmanuel’s suit, Christian could see the wounds closing, almost as soon as the bullets made impact. This normally would have filled Christian with a sense of hopelessness. However, because of something he had learned during his recent trip to South Dakota, he decided to test a theory and keep firing.

It took more than twenty seconds for Christian to run out of bullets and another two for Emmanuel to compose himself.

You have accomplished nothing! Emmanuel snapped as he turned toward Christian.

I beg to differ, Christian said, sounding almost amused. Look at your hand, asshole!

As a look of astonishment crossed the rachasa’s feline face, Emmanuel glanced down at the hand that had made him a monster among monsters. The harsh, heavenly glow had diminished significantly and the hum was only half as loud as it had been previously.

Christian wasn’t wasting time watching the horrified look on Emmanuel’s face. He was reaching for a clip, and would be ready to give Emmanuel another salvo in seconds.

Emmanuel suddenly lifted his head and let out a baleful cry that shook the room. Finally seeing the full extent of his own folly, Emmanuel turned to Christian with fangs extended, his face twisted into a hateful grimace.

This is not over, he snarled as he made for the door. The rachasa who had jumped out of Emmanuel’s path earlier now leaped back in position to block the exit.

No! Wait! Christian screamed.

Emmanuel gave the rachasa a backhanded slap across the face, launching him into the air. Then he was out the door and into the night.

Christian raised his reloaded machine gun and ran outside. Using every bit of focus he could bring to bear with his glowing red eyes, he scanned the grounds. There was nothing to be seen except a small garden and a sign that read ‘Welcome to Winthrop Academy,’ no doubt left over from when the facility was a boarding school for children.

High Counselor Emmanuel, the ‘Hand of Death’ was gone, and this lost opportunity would no doubt come back to bite Christian in the ass. At least, that’s what he was telling himself as he went back inside to see about the rachasa.

Christian found the cat-creature lying amidst one of the many piles of dead constables that littered the once opulent lobby. Are you dying? he asked.

No, the rachasa growled, but my face hurts like all hell.

That wasn’t very smart, you know? Christian chastised as he threw the machine gun’s strap over his shoulder and helped the rachasa to his feet.

I only sought to help you finish him, the rachasa leaned on Christian. Of course, now that the fight is over, I’m wondering how I survived.

That asshole is just like any other vampire, Christian explained. With me shooting him so much, I taxed his ability to heal himself, which took away from his hand’s power.

So he can be beaten? the rachasa asked.

"Yeah, but right now he’s probably headed back to some