Fanghunters #1

By Leo Romero

Dominic Dempsey wakes up in a sun-proof basement to realize he’s the victim of a vampire. After escaping the creature’s lair, he seeks out his dad and brother, Eddie. But in the meantime, he needs some quick cash. He wonders if he could make some helping other vampire victims like himself; a vampire hunter for hire. He lands his first job; eccentric millionaire Vincent Beauchamp wants him to slay the vampire who killed his daughter. Beauchamp promises to pay Dom handsomely. Dom accepts the challenge, but does he have what it takes to be a fanghunter?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Leo Romero
• Release date: Dec 11, 2015

Book preview

PART ONE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

PART TWO

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

PART THREE

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

PART FOUR

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

PART FIVE

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

FANGHUNTERS 2: THE BLOOD ORDER — EXCERPT

FANGHUNTERS

Fanghunters

Copyright © 2015 Leo Romero

Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, organisations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

PART ONE

CHAPTER ONE

The venom wore off and he was back in the sun-proof basement.

His eyes zoned in on the dirty ceiling, the same old questions surfacing in his mind. Where am I? Who am I? How long have I been here?

And as usual, he had no answers.

He got up on his elbows and looked around the gloomy, candle-lit chamber in a daze, his head tender. He laid eyes on some other guy lying in a heap in the corner. He nodded in recognition; it was his companion, the other fanghead. He was out of it, the venom still working him. It had them both; captive, enslaved.

And then, like clockwork, it struck. The itch. The urge. Protect the Father. At all costs.

He scrambled to work, putting the needs of the Father ahead of his own, his urges and desires for more venom an equal if not greater driving force. Gotta serve the Father, gotta protect the Father. Need venom, stop the pain...

He rolled onto his front, about to get up on his haunches to spring into action. He stopped dead, a frown emerging on his worn face. Something was now prodding into his thigh.

He looked downward. What is that?

He rubbed his thigh into the concrete floor; the thing jammed uncomfortably into his quad. "Man, what is that?" he asked the gloomy basement, totally nonplussed. He immediately rolled onto his back and stuffed a hand into the pocket of his scuffed jeans. He touched something cool and smooth. He whipped it out and held it up to his face. For a few seconds, he just stared stupidly at it like it was an alien artifact lost for centuries in the desert of some remote planet. The leather thing in his hand then flopped open; he watched it cascade down like a plastic waterfall, revealing a long forgotten existence that was now just flotsam at the back of his subconscious.

Huh?

He gazed at all the plastic cards facing him, wondering with a brief bout of clear amnesia where the hell they’d come from.

Who? What? Where? were the first questions that sprang up in his scrambled brain. With his free hand and a sudden sense of curiosity, he went through the contents of the wallet. He found loose change, a condom, a blood donor’s card. He ran a finger across a VIP card to a Chicago nightclub with the name ‘Mr. Dominic Dempsey’ stamped across it.

His eyes widened. A loud bell went off in his head; he stared at the surrounding gloom in bewilderment. Mr. Dominic Dempsey? Mr. Dominic Dempsey...

Something then fell out of the wallet and landed on his chest. He rolled his eyes downward to lay them on the photo now sitting there. A photo of people his hazy mind at first didn’t recognize. There were a blond guy and a couple of darker haired guys. He snatched the photo up and stared intently at the smiling faces, the triggered memories sending his mind on a carousel of emotion.

Hey, that’s me, he thought to himself with weird bemusement. The blond guy’s me!

He then saw Dad and his little brother, Eddie. Eddie...

Eddie, he said in a soft whisper, just as something in his heart abruptly unlocked. The calcified shell the venom had built around it began to crack as the hot emotion of unconditional love melted it away like lava poured over a chocolate egg. From nowhere, his senses stirred. His lips began to tremble. He caressed the photo with his index finger, wondering where those people had gone, wondering where he had gone.

Me: Dom. My name is Dominic. Where has Dom gone? Where are you, buddy?

His fingers fell on the thing dangling around his neck. It tinkled as he lifted up to his eyes. It was a dogtag. And then he remembered. His brother bought it for him for his twentieth. His brother: Eddie. The little guy. Dom looked around him in the gloom of the dank basement with a dizzy mind that was sobering fast; his eyes fell on the other fanghead again. He was still out of it. That poor bastard didn’t know where he was or who he was either. The venom had messed him up good, stolen his soul, locked his heart away in a cast-iron box, turned him into a programmed android, existing merely to serve, compensated with a venom fix. Dom’s eyes widened in grim realization of what he’d become; a slave.

And now he wanted out.

He gazed upon the creased photo in his hand in dumb awe, déjà vu making his head spin. In his mind, he saw family barbeques, trips to the beach, going for a bowl and a movie with Eddie. Normal, happier times.

I wanna go back, he then realized.

I wanna go back to who I was, to those I love...

He stared around him at the crypt in grim wonder and a dark thought surfaced in his mind. How did I end up like this? What... happened?

Before he could answer, a shifting sound made his head turn. The Father was rising. Nightfall had arrived. Time to feed. He rose from his resting place—the makeshift tomb constructed from an old septic tank—and stood there overseeing his brood like a corrupt Emperor. In the candlelight, his eyes glowed yellow-green like cat’s eyes. His lips parted, exposing fangs that gleamed like polished tusks. A horrible mix of fear and affection juddered through Dom’s veins. His body wanted the venom, but his mind was telling him to run, get the hell outta there. Now!

The Father laid eyes upon him. Dom froze. The Father noticed the thing in his hand. He frowned. What is that, my son? he asked, his voice deep, commanding.

Dom shivered in response. He quickly shoved the photo into his pocket. Nothing, Father, he replied in a voice laced with nerves. Father? Why am I calling this guy ‘Father’? He’s not my father. Who the hell is he?

The Father’s brow furrowed deeper, a scowl now emerging on his face. He held out a claw and curled his fingers toward his chest. Bring it here, boy! he ordered in a voice that was laden with a cultivated rage. The echoes caused the other fanghead to stir, but not awaken.

Dom sucked in a lung of dead air and began to shake his head. No. No way!

The Father turned on his eyes; they glittered and danced in the murk like agitated fireflies. Like a fool, Dom locked onto them; his jaw instantly became slack. For a brief moment, those eyes widened, injecting Dom with that cold sensation; the one that raced up and down his spine like an electrical charge, rooting him to the spot. He wanted to shake his head but knew he was doing the exact opposite. He was beyond control of himself. The Father had him iced and that was that.

Come here! the Father demanded, and Dom was immediately drawn, unable to resist no matter how hard he tried. He found himself sucked into those whirlpool eyes, the Father’s cold hands on his shoulders in an instant.

The Father’s glowing eyes fell upon him. Show me, he demanded.

Dom reluctantly retrieved the photo and held it up for him to see. The Father glanced at it in disdain, his top lip curling up. He tore it from Dom’s hand; Dom gasped, the trance he was under swiftly shattered. He staggered back, shaking his head as if waking from a bad dream.

‘This is your family now!’ the Father said in a firm voice before he mercilessly tore the photo to pieces.

 Dom’s eyes widened. No! he shouted, each sound of ripping photo paper like a gash in his newly rediscovered heart.

The Father dropped the pieces to the ground, a malevolent grin propping up his face. Dom stared at the ribbons of torn photo on the ground. The only connection he had with the ones he truly loved was now severed. A surge of rage shot up into his chest, usurping any mind control. He rushed forward, throwing out a fist; it connected with the side of the Father’s head. The Father cried out in rage. The other fanghead sprang into life.

Dom went to throw another punch. The Father retaliated. He grabbed hold of Dom’s shoulders and pulled him in. Dom’s eyes widened. The Father was trying to sink his fangs into him, wherever he could; his neck, his arm, his hand, desperate to sedate him with venom. Dom pushed back with all his might; he managed to throw the Father off just as his jaws clamped together, catching nothing but air. The Father hissed in frustration. He toppled to the side, falling back into his crypt.

Dom glared down at him in anger. The rage mushroomed and he went to deliver the killer blow, to sever the psychic link between the two for eternity. He lifted his foot up, ready to stomp down upon the Father’s head. The Father quickly snapped his head up, his eyes whirling and dancing. Dom froze, unable to bring his foot down. He clenched his teeth and pushed against the icing, but it was useless. The Father continued to ice him in place. Dom growled in frustration, his mind wanting to do one thing, but his body ordered to do another. The stalemate continued, both of them fighting for supremacy over the other. Dom put all his might into it, urging his foot to go down, to smash into the Father’s head, stomp it to pulp, break it in—

A jolt to his midriff knocked him off to the side. Dom hit the dirty cement floor with a groan. He zoned back in, his eyes focusing in on his attacker. It was the other fanghead. Even though his face was mostly shadow, Dom could see his wild and distant eyes, dribble spilling out between his clenched teeth. Dom quickly got to his feet.

Kill him! ordered the Father as he lifted himself half out of his crypt.

Dom’s head whipped around to meet him.

Kill him, the Father repeated, getting back to his feet.

The fanghead turned back and now there was a snarl of hate carved into his face. He dived into Dom, whose self-survival instinct tweaked. He snatched an empty bottle from the litter on the floor and swung it around. It crashed into the onrushing fanghead, obliterating on impact with a hollow pop. The fanghead followed through, smashing into the brick wall. He hit the deck in a crumpled heap.

Dom watched him with bulging eyes, his chest heaving. A claw then wrapped around his throat. In the next instant, he could feel the father’s hot, rancid breath on