All Hallows Blood

By Raven Corinn Carluk

Psychic warrior. Elder vampire. Fights, sex, adventure.

Here’s another one of those Girl-meets-Boy tales. But with some bite.

Keila, psychic warrior, meets Varick. Varick, elder vampire, conscripts Keila to fight in his war. Keila professes she’s out of practice, but Varick throws her into the deep end anyway. Keila must keep her head above water while fighting personal demons, ruthless bad guys, and an unexpected desire for Varick.

Rated M for Mature. Contents include graphic violence, prolonged sexual encounters, blood drinking, and strong language.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Raven Corinn Carluk
• Release date: Jul 9, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310860171

Raven Corinn Carluk

Talking about myself is much harder than writing a book. You'd think a wordmistress wouldn't have such a problem, but I do. Let me rework a flat scene any day. Simple background: I'm married, have lots of pets, still work full time, and grew up in Las Vegas. But there's so much more to a person than that. Writing is more than just words on paper to me. It's a passion, an incessant need, a deep-seated drive to be a storyteller. I knew I wanted to be an author as far back as high school. Writing may have taken a backseat a few times, but I finally made it. My stories have bite because I'm a little different, and like slightly different things. No shock horror here, or cheap gimmicks meant to offend, or pandering to the latest trend. My vampires love human blood, my dragons hunt people, and my elves are magical and arrogant. Romance and darkness will always go together for me. Love really can get you through anything, as I know from personal experience. My characters will always have that glimmer of new love, that bond with a soulmate, and will do anything to be with their one and only. When I'm not busy having things killed. Being deeply romantic doesn't mean I'm not also a violent or twisted writer. Fight scenes, bloodshed, dark magic, and triumphant villains all have their places in my tales. I'll never apologize for who I am. Sometimes abrasive and uncouth, full of contradictions and juxtaposition, I am merely who I am. And what I am is a storyteller wanting to craft new entertainments for you.

Book preview

All Hallows Blood

The K&V Chronicles ~ Book 1

Raven Corinn Carluk

Smashwords Edition

MMXIII

RCC Tales

Copyright © 2009 by Raven Corinn Carluk

All rights reserved

Cover and interior designed by Raven Corinn Carluk

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 recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

~To my motley crew of friends. You are my family, and I could never do this without you. Thank you for keeping this dream alive. My love is forever yours, John, Kir, and Jake.

Also, to all my readers, new and old. Your devotion and support means the world to me. Thank you for allowing me to entertain you.~

~Other Books~

Saint Valentine’s Clash

Midsummer’s Unveiling

Stories with bite o,.,o

Stories with fang

Deadlands

Handmaiden

~Visit me at Raven.YouAreAnnoying.Us

~Table of Contents~

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Epilogue

Author’s Note

Chapter 1

Happy Halloween, Mom, I toasted. Raspberry vodka sloshed in the bottle as I brought it to my lips. Hope you’re happier than I am. Eyes closing, I took another heavy slug of alcohol.

It was hard to believe a year had already passed since Aileen’s murder. Some days it seemed like it had been forever ago, and other days the loss was sharp and fresh. I couldn’t win, couldn’t find balance, couldn’t find a way to ease the pain.

Clouds loomed, tinted orange by the city’s lights. The smell in the air promised snow by morning, the temperature hovering just above freezing. The sensible part of me suggested going home and sleeping it off, but I was too drunk to listen. It was peaceful in this wooded park, and I needed that tonight. I needed sto be out of the house full of memories, needed to be away from my only friends, needed to mourn alone.

Yet a bottle of Absolut had done nothing to ease my heartache, or make sorrowful thoughts go away. Depression held me tight in its grip, and I did nothing to escape. I just kept drinking, hoping oblivion would take it all away. The cold had eventually ceased bothering me, and I found a point where my emotions no longer hurt, but I’d yet to find release.

In all the years I’d buried myself in the bottle, I’d yet to find release. But nothing else got me through the bad nights, the nights when I wondered why I was still alive. Those were the nights I keenly felt the loss of my folks, when I didn’t understand why they were gone, when I wondered if I could have done things differently.

The world spun as I sat up. A groan rattled from my chest, turning to a grunt when I fell from the rock I’d perched on. The vodka bottle rolled away in the leaf litter, disappearing immediately. I thought about going after it, but the vertigo warned that I’d reached my limits. It was time to go home.

If I could get to my feet.

The struggle lasted for several minutes, and I eventually pulled myself up using the rock. Dizziness threatened to make me vomit, so I waited patiently for the strength to walk away.

Was this what my folks had foreseen me becoming? Surely they’d have done something different if they’d known about their violent deaths. It couldn’t have been their intention to leave me an orphan by twenty, with borderline suicidal tendencies and the occasional burst of alcohol dependency.

Standing up straight, pushing away the bitterness, I took a tentative step forward. There was nothing to be done about it, except grow stronger, and move along with my life. It only needed one step, and the journey would begin.

As I’d learned after every other drunken wallow through anguish, moving on was easier said than done. In four and a half years, I’d yet to truly get over Dad’s death. I’d learned to cope, sure, but it had torn me every time I saw Aileen thinking about him. It tore at me every time I did something I knew Sean’d be proud of, and he would never know.

Tears misted in my vision, forcing me to stop and draw several deep breaths. I wasn’t totally alone; Chris and Simy loved me, took care of me as best they could. But they weren’t family, and my heart refused to let them too close. If they were ever hurt, I really would have nothing left to live for.

Gritting my teeth, my fists clenched as I struggled against tears. Keila O’Broin, stop this stupid crap right now. Sodden undergrowth absorbed my voice, as if I’d said nothing at all.

My words had their intended effect, and the maudlin ache in my chest began to fade. Not entirely, though. Never entirely. But enough for me to regain a semblance of control. It would eventually be back; these depressions were the only emotion I couldn’t divorce myself from. Shoving my fists in my jean pockets, I stomped out of Fanno Creek Park.

Coming out on the residential side, my boots echoed through the street. I made no effort to be quiet, determined to get home as soon as possible. I’d had my cry, had let myself mourn, and now I wanted my bed. The numbness brought on by the alcohol began fading, icy extremities making themselves known. Leaving my car at home now seemed as much a curse as a blessing.

Not that I was worried about getting jumped. Tigard was a quiet suburb of Portland, and most women could go around unescorted after dark. Even were Tigard more dangerous, I didn’t fit the victim profile; at five foot ten, I looked down on a lot of guys. Broad-shouldered and wide-hipped, wearing biker boots and a bomber jacket, I almost looked like the dangerous one. Tattoos and long black hair added to the image.

As a bonus, I knew how to defend myself, with or without my psychic talents. Sean had once told me I was a genius at combat, that there probably wasn’t anything I couldn’t learn to do.

Not that there was any need for those skills at midnight on All Hallows Eve. There wasn’t even a party with leering frat boys. Everyone was tucked safely in bed, dreaming normal dreams, getting ready for a normal day tomorrow. None of them knew that the last member of a long line of psionicists walked by, lost and alone.

I stopped beneath a street light, growling and trembling as I fought back the wave of self-pity. After I got home, I’d cry myself to sleep. It was cold and miserable, and this was the last place I should be having a break down.

A bell tolled in the distance, barely audible to my drunken senses. I counted each toll, using it to keep my mind off the sorrow. It kept ringing and ringing, and something in me trembled as I approached twelve. It was no natural bell, nothing from my world, not meant to be heard by mortals.

Midnight on Halloween, when the barriers to the afterlife are at their thinnest. The dead had been slipping through all week, impatient, unable to wait for tonight. I’d sensed them whenever they passed near me, but they’d all been too intent on their destinations to bother me. Those spirits were already dead and had moved on; they had no need for a medium’s daughter.

The ethereal bell finally tolled twelve. As the reverb faded, silence took hold. No dogs barking, no traffic rushing along, not even the wind in the trees. It was eerie.

My heart suddenly raced as the air trembled around me. Psychic senses picked up a whistle of wind, and I knew it was the call of the afterlife. A shiver raced up my spine, bringing with it a sense of impending doom.

I’d been out on Halloween before, had felt the world shift, had felt the rush of spirits as they went to loved ones. But this was different, like the difference between a garden hose and a fire hose. Instead of a brief tingle across my skin, and a few extra dead emotions in my empathy, I was shaken to the core. Unnatural winds buffeted me, raising every hair on my body. I felt like I was on a precipice, surrounded by a yawning void, and something in the darkness was calling to me.

And I wanted to answer.

I could do it. I could give in, let myself be taken by the spirit world. No more sorrow, no more stress, no more wondering why. This life would be over, freeing my soul for whatever awaited. All I needed to be was give in.

Can you hear us now? a young female ghost asked me.

The world returned to normal at her words. Horns honked from Pacific Highway, driving away the spiritual wind. A shiver ran from head to toe, closing me off from the afterlife. The contemplation of suicide lingered for half a heartbeat, then left me as well.

It’s no use, Tee. She can’t hear us. This voice belonged to a young man, anger and frustration coloring his presence.

Experiencing the shift in the barriers had shocked some of the drunk out of me, cleared my head enough for me to finally listen to extra senses. Four ghosts stood nearby, and had been there for several minutes. Frowning, I mentally probed, quickly reassuring myself they really were ghosts.

This should have been impossible. Yes, it was All Hallows Eve, and the dead were free to roam the land. But those were dead spirits, people who’d moved from the physical plane. Ghosts were spirits that hadn’t moved on. They were bound to the site of their deaths, and couldn’t move, even on this night.

Impossible as it was, there were four teenagers in front of me, their presences swirling impatiently. No, I can hear you, I said incredulously. Part of me still wouldn’t believe this was real. It had to be a dream, had to be me passed out in the park.

The first ghost sighed, her relief masking the rest of the group’s emotions. Awesome. We’ve been trying to get your attention since you left the park.

I smiled faintly, and shrugged. Sorry. I'm not exactly myself tonight. A random drunken giggle burst from my lips.

Is that supposed to be funny? He was like so many other young men; brash and arrogant. It deepened my smile.

Not funny to anyone but myself. I licked my lips. So what is it you four need? And what are you doing way out here? Hopefully they knew why they were free to travel.

The young man started to say something, his anger spiking, but the first ghost pushed him aside. I’ll tell her. She was older than the rest, her presence stronger than the others combined. Something about her presence suggested she’d had psi powers when she was living. She had most likely been the leader of whatever little group she ran with. We need you to help us.

I gathered that. I couldn't quite keep the sarcasm out of my voice

I psychically heard her laughter, and decided I liked Tee. Yeah, well. She laughed again. We need you to avenge us.

Of course you do, I muttered. Vengeance was one of the forces that would keep spirits on this plane. Since it was hard to want revenge against a disease, these four must have been murdered. I don’t think I’m the right person, not tonight. But I’ll call the cops for you when I get home. The initial shock of their appearance was fading, drunkenness creeping back in.

The cops don't care. A bunch of street kids start disappearing, and it doesn't matter to them. We're just another statistic. Tee's bitterness blazed across my empathy, and I wondered what bad experiences she'd had in her short life. Death was not the most horrible thing that could happen to a teenager.

She was right about the cops. I'd suggested calling them, but I knew they wouldn't really do anything. Street kids, the homeless, and several other groups fell through the cracks; they weren't a danger to the police, and yet they had no one sticking up for them to make sure they were taken care of.

Told you she wouldn't do it, the boy shouted. His anger arced through the air, almost choking me. Drawing a deep breath, filling myself with his anger, it helped drive away drunkenness.

Tee's voice was softer, a plea. You are the one who can help us. I thought about going to someone who could avenge us, and we came to you. We were brought to you for a reason. We need you.

My heart stopped. They needed me. I closed my eyes, thinking back through my life. Help those who need you. My fingers rose to my throat, clasping the tarnished silver crest. Three hands spaced around a chevron on one side, our family motto on the reverse, worn smooth by my constant rubbing.

I couldn't refuse these kids. The O’Broins comprised a long line of helpers and advocates, warriors who worked for those with no one else. It was more than just tradition. It was like a calling. We were all psionicists, blessed with multiple psychic powers and unique talents, and all had the compulsion to use our gifts for others.

Tell me what's going on, I said with a sigh. I tried pulling my mind together, tried focusing through my haze to speed up my biorhythms, and metabolize the alcohol that much faster. I was too far gone for that, and couldn't concentrate. So I listened to what Tee was saying, tasting the boy's anger, working on sobering myself as best I could.

We were all murdered by the same man. He takes us to this house in an old neighborhood, and he beats us and mauls us, and kills us. Then he buries some of us in the basement. Sometimes he takes our bodies elsewhere, lets dogs eat us. There are more ghosts, but the others are stuck in their own little worlds.

Or they've faded out, the boy said. We're the only ones who want to stop this prick. He seethed with anger, and it continued cutting through my haze. It helped, eating at my drunken haze.

What's he look like? I asked, clenching and unclenching my fists. My blood was running faster, my head starting to clear. I was still wobbly, though, the liquor continuing to rule my system.

None of us remember, exactly. Tee sounded embarrassed. It's always pretty dark when he brings anyone to the house, and he sleeps in a pitch black room, zipped up inside a sleeping bag. None of us can follow him. It's like we're stuck there, all of us trapped in that damn basement.

I nodded my head slowly. That was how it should be, even as strong as their personalities were. It took enormous amounts of willpower to retain a personality while in spirit form, which was why some were fading out. All right, show me this house. Maybe I'll get a glimpse of him, or something.

The group swirled around me, through my aura, and their happiness nearly choked me. I reeled for a moment, then stepped forward warily as they moved down the street. Tee stayed close, and she almost had a physical weight to her. I wouldn't be surprised to find out normal humans could sense her presence.

They led me through older and older neighborhoods, sometimes cutting across backyards, avoiding the larger streets. The air grew thicker with the press of ages, the trees thick and looming, the architecture noticeably from an earlier decade. Surely this area would have been idyllic back in its heyday. Currently, it looked run down, rotten from the inside, like an apple left to dry; wrinkled and dying, the goodness long gone.

When they finally brought me to the house of death, I was rather surprised. I expected there to be some outward sign of the wrongdoings, but there was nothing. Not even a taint in the air of death. Other than the newspaper-covered windows, there was nothing to differentiate this faded old ranch house from the others in the cul du sac. Even the untended lawn and overgrown bushes looked identical.

I strode forward, extending my senses, licking my lips. My head ached a little, but I ignored it. Sensing humans had once been very easy. Now it took effort. By the time my feet were on the porch, I was fairly sure there was no one inside the house. Since I was here, I might as well look around inside. Better than coming back and risk having to wait for the killer to leave.

The door was unlocked, which was lucky for me. The less I interacted with the house, the less likely the killer was to notice I'd been here. Also in my favor was the bare bulb burning in the kitchen. It gave just enough light for me to make out the general lay of the first few rooms. There didn't seem to be anything special about the inside, other than the pervasive smell of mold typical to old houses.

He always takes his victims down into the basement, Tee told me. Her voice was quavering, and I tasted her fear. Swallowing past the lump forming in my throat, my own fear echoed hers. I had only been in one basement since last Halloween, and that was my own. A place where no one had died. A place that was safe, and warm, and more like a library than anything else. It had still terrified me to no end, leaving me a sobbing wreck.

The basement door was under the stairs, and I trembled at the top. The darkness below was hungry for me, cold and reeking of damp soil. The faintest trace of rot wafted up, dragging up memories of last year. Tee brushed against me, and I jumped, grabbing the door jamb to hold myself up.

There are others down there, the boy said. His bravado was gone, replaced entirely by fear. But they're not like us.

I suspect they'd be here with you if they were. My voice was a whispering echo in my ears, and I hoped I didn't sound as scared to the kids as I sounded to myself. My heart raced in my chest, and adrenaline coated the back of my throat. I was absolutely terrified of the basement, and had no desire to go down the wooden stairs.

There's a light switch at the bottom. It still works. Tee's voice was reassuring and soft. She radiated calm, despite her fear, and I cursed myself for a coward. I stepped onto the first stair, heard the wood creak, and closed my eyes. The darkness was palpable around me, and I suddenly smelled my mom's blood again, tasted the reek of her killer.

Chapter 2

Trying to tell myself it had been a year since her death did nothing to calm me. Telling myself that the devouring monster couldn't possibly be here did nothing to calm me. Telling myself I could take all my fear and frustration out on the asshole who was killing kids did nothing to calm me.

Gentle against my aura, Tee hovered at my side, and I knew I was not alone. I drew a shuddering breath, and blindly made my way down the stairs. My heart raced out of control, my head spun, but I slowly reached the bottom. Tee gestured at the light switch, and I desperately flicked it on. Another bare bulb, although this one was grimy, its light yellow and decayed. Spotting the loose soil in one corner, decayed was an apt description.

This room felt like a slaughterhouse. The walls were steeped with death, the air heavy with sorrow and fear and anger. There were so many emotions layered here that even I could read them, could tell they weren’t coming from the ghosts. It was overwhelming to my drunken and abused senses. I gasped, dizzy, and sat heavily on the stairs.

Ghostly teens swarmed around me, concerned, and that only made it worse. I tried to tell them that, tried to wave them off, but they wouldn't leave. My sinuses began to ache, and my throat had closed up before Tee noticed something was wrong. Drawing her presence away from my aura, she made them all back off.

Thanks, I muttered. I leaned my head between my knees, chewing on the post of my tongue stud. It had become a nervous habit of mine, and it gave me something to focus on. As I reached up to support my head, I brushed my family crest, and clutched at it as well. Anything to focus on rather than the locale.

Images of Aileen’s blood kept coming to my mind’s eye. The rotten gray skin of the killer monster, the claws in my arm, the rotten stench. Her choking cry as he killed her. All of it came back, tearing me apart. The self-recrimination came with it as I once more wondered why I hadn’t been able to save her.

After several minutes, I was more like myself, having tucked my pain away. If I focused on the task at hand, I might be able to keep from breaking down again. Sitting up straight, I opened my senses to the other ghosts. Most were simply shadows, caught in a loop of angst, thinking of their death over and over again. I felt sorry for them, and wished I could do more for them. Aileen had the talent for forcing a ghost to move to the afterlife, not me. The best I could do is hope that avenging them would free them from their pain.

Tee was hovering in front of me, still concerned. Are you going to be all right? You seem pretty freaked out.

I nodded my head, rising to my feet. I should be fine. Just some nerves. I don't care for basements. Understatement of the year.

He's coming! shrieked one of the quiet girls. The ghosts scattered, lurking in the shadows, hiding from their killer. I swore, flicking the light back off, and tucked myself under the stairs. Tee stayed near me, her presence dimming as she listened for the guy. She was too brave to have died easily. I hope she gave the bastard some scars.

The front door creaked open, and a low voice spoke. A young laugh answered, and I swore softly. He would have to come home with a new victim. I wasn't up to fighting him right now, but I couldn't

Reviews for All Hallows Blood

[frazzletastic · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

A word of forewarning: this novel contains explicit sexual content.All Hallows Blood surprised me, in a good way. I didn’t anticipate the novel would delve into deeper issues, such as the meaning of family, death, loss, and loneliness, but it did. In fact, this was the fore-front premise of the novel, as Keila struggles through most of these issues from the very first page. She’s lost her family, she’s pretty much alone in the world, and she’s alleviating that with alcohol (and later, from pure strength). There is a lot of internal dialogue and character development going on in throughout the books, which was enjoyable. I have to admit that Keila annoyed me a bit at first, but I loved the person she grew (back?) into. It was easy to empathize with her, losing a parent of my own a little ways back, so her depression was very relatable.Varick was definitely my favorite part of the novel: mysterious, shielded, hunky, and hungry. I wanted to know more about him, the Portland territory he claimed, how he became a vampire, ec. He was dominant, yet gentlemanly; protective, yet possessive; he knew how to cook and do groceries and braid hair and heal. He’s like every girls dream come true.And the battle scenes... Boy, were those awesome! Keila kicked some serious vampire butt in this novel (I think she killed a total of four? But she’s human – that’s impressive!). Keila almost always got hurt in the process, but she made speedy recoveries and was eager to get out and kick some more vamp butt.Despite all that, there were a few things that I didn’t like about All Hallows Blood. The first is that nothing is really explained. We’re thrust into the story without any classification of story we’re in. I’m not entirely sure what a psionicist is (at least in Raven’s story), even after having read the book. I can understand a few abilities Keila has, but what a psioncist is and their essential abilities aren’t explained. The same goes with the vampires – I just wasn’t sure what limitations they had. I learned a few things via guessing, such as her vampires can’t go out during the daylight and they when they feed on humans, endorphins are released into the humans body, and that older vampires had more power. But we weren’t really given a “list” (so-to-speak) of strengths and weaknesses vampires have. Keila doesn’t even question Varick on the entitlements of a vampire; it was as if she inherently knew. I also didn’t like the over-use of nouns to describe Keila’s friends. It was always, “The Vampire did so-and-so,” or “The German did so-and-so,” or “The New Zealander did so-and-so”. Once, twice, or three times would have been okay, but it was like this on almost every page. There were only a handful of pronouns as opposed to the excessive use of nouns.And lastly, the romance. I suppose I’m only mentioning this because I didn’t know what this book would be about when I first read it. I anticipated some romance, but not on the level that was given to us. The first half of the book is pretty much just high sexual tension (I didn’t realize this until later), and Keila swooning over Varick. The romance took the spotlight away from the original plot, and I felt at times that Varick’s “mission” was a second-thought and very downplayed. It would have been enjoyable if the two were interwoven seamlessly, but the romance definitely took a front seat, even in the battle scenes.