Killer on the Road: The Newfoundland Vampire Book II

By Charles O'Keefe

Joseph O’Reily is still adjusting to the lifestyle and the dangers that come with being a new vampire. He and Cassandra recently fought to the death with her estranged husband John Snow, and now Joseph has experienced his first threesome, as only a vampire can. As if all this was not complicated enough, he and Cassandra have been tasked with hunting down and killing a rogue vampire, Donald Rathmore.

Another of John Snow’s creations, Donald is an evil misogynistic killer in his own right. Donald has no interest in avenging his creator’s death, but killing Cassandra is at the top of his list.

While Donald continues his murderous spree, Joseph and Cassandra always seem to be one step behind him. The chase is further complicated as they encounter other vampires and learn more about the mysterious nature of the Vampire Council and the coming war between good and evil.

Joseph is only now beginning to trust Cassandra, and this trust will be shaken when he discovers she has even more secrets than he imagined. Her idea of justice and morality is at complete odds with his own. Despite all his powers and growing skill, Joseph is tested physically as a vampire and emotionally by Cassandra. This time the answers and challenges may be too much for the young vampire to handle.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Charles O'Keefe
• Release date: Jan 25, 2016
• ISBN: 9781310957260

Charles O'Keefe

Charles O’Keefe lives in the beautiful province of Newfoundland, Canada, with his wife and cats, Jude and Eleanor. He is a co-owner of a beauty business and enjoys many hobbies and activities that include writing, reading, watching fantasy/science-fiction movies and television shows, gaming, poker, walking, Pilates, Ingress and of course fantasizing about vampires. He is currently with Four Phoenixes Publishing and is very happy there.

Book preview

THE NEWFOUNDLAND VAMPIRE

BOOK II

KILLER ON THE ROAD

by

Charles O’Keefe

Go to Table of Contents

IOK 2guished Presseto handlewaye Books 1 & 2: THE NEWFOUNDLAND VAMPIRE

BOOK II

KILLER ON THE ROAD

by

Charles O’Keefe

Published by Distinguished Press

Cover Art by Vanessa Hull

Copyright 2016

All rights reserved

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Smashwords Edition License Notes

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

~TABLE OF CONTENTS~

Story Summary

Copyright Information

Author Acknowledgement

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

Epilogue

About the Author

~ACKNOWLEDGEMENT AND DEDICATION~

Here we go again. No one has ever said I’m a man of few words, and this second novels proves it. I like to just keep writing, so this one was completed much faster than my first (four and a half months). I was thrilled when I had the chance to tweak it and make it even better for the re-release with Distinguished Press. Speaking of writing, have no fear, I’ve already written Book 3.

But I’m digressing already.

As before, I want to thank the readers/fans (I think I have a few) for purchasing this book. I can say without a doubt that if it weren’t for you I wouldn’t be writing – so, once again, thank you very much for everything. It’s appreciated.

Speaking of appreciation, here’s the list (as before, not in order of importance). I want to thank Kathy, my editor at Distinguished Press. She is patient, friendly, professional and great to work with. She gave me great suggestions to make this book better and offered helpful tips that will make me a better writer. I’m looking forward to working with her again for my next novel. I’d like to also thank Cat (Catrina Taylor), our fearless leader at DP. Cat is always there for any advice or just to chat, is always honest with me, and eager to address any concern I have. She’s also a good friend. I count myself lucky to continue working with her and the other great folks at Distinguished Press.

Next is my wife Joanne. After eleven years of marriage (almost sixteen years total together), she’s managed to stick around. Her love and support are a constant in my life that I would be lost without. Her input is always honest, and she helps any way she can.

To my parents for all their love and support in everything I do. To Danny Dyer and Lisa Daly for their feedback and comments on an earlier draft that were of great help. To Nicole Stockley for answering even more medical questions (and for a great book on the subject). To Shannon Sullivan for answering some author-related questions. To Jana Gillis for reading Cassandra’s lines for the book launch and for giving me advice on doing a dramatic reading. To my good friend John, for being my sounding board and research assistant. John always makes me laugh, and I appreciate his sense of humor as well. To Shannon Green for continuing to be a good sport about being the namesake of an unsavory character. I promise he’ll have more to do in Book 3. Once more, to all members of the Aspiring Lords of Chaos – role-playing continues to fuel my imagination and make me happy.

To Marilyn Brace from Havana for being so helpful with selling Book 1 and for her compliments on it. To all the great folks at Sci-Fi on the Rock for letting me do my writing talk and promote my book. To Jeff Keeping for inviting me several times to Atlanti-Con and making me feel welcome, thank you. To Jennifer Lambe and the great folks at Hal-Con, I greatly appreciate being a guest. To Scott Bartlett, a local author and friend, for lots of helpful author and promotion advice, along with a nice review of Book 1. To all the musicians who wrote and performed songs I referenced herein, thank you. To The Doors for their song Riders on the Storm – it was an inspiration for this book and for a particular nasty character.

I want to thank everyone on Facebook and Twitter for their help with promoting my book. I always believe that if you do good things, they will ultimately come back and help you.

Finally I want to dedicate this book to my special feline buddy Jude—he made it in here! I love him dearly and I hope he’s around for many years to come.

Charles O’Keefe

October 2015

Chapter 1

Crocodile Rock

Donald Rathmore could see the shore up ahead. Finally, he thought. I won’t make it much further. He had swum for almost twelve hours straight and, with the sun nearly up, his legs ached with steady, throbbing pain. He was not the best swimmer, and this was the first time he had done it in years. It was a bizarre sensation, this innate sense of direction. He knew where to go just by thinking about the place. Then as he swam, any time he went off course there was a beeping in his ears, once he got back on track it went away, a sort of inborn GPS.

In the distance, a tall white structure loomed against the sky. That has to be a lighthouse. He focused on it desperately as he forced his limbs to move. The lighthouse was a concrete object that proved his was almost there.

As a new vampire, he had not learned to suppress his breath and now gasped for air as he became exhausted. The sky continued to brighten, and terror seeped into his heart. He had to get out of the water soon, or he could drown. The backpack he wore only weighed a few pounds but now it dragged him down like an anchor.

He dragged himself fully out of the ocean near a marsh surrounded by tall grass. He staggered onto the shore and collapsed in the reeds, something he didn’t expect to find in Cozumel. Covered in mud, he tried to catch his breath.

Finally his breathing slowed a bit. He shook out his wet hair, now blond and much longer than before. His appearance was different from even a few days ago, with his beard grown out, along with his facial features and eye color changed. It would be almost impossible for anyone to recognize him as the man who had killed the girl in Montecado.

At the thought of the sun soon rising, Donald stood up. He had to find some place to rest. He took his sword out of the sheath to get the salt water off and dry it, when sudden movement in the shallow water startled him.

What the fuck!

A crocodile lunged forward and snapped at him. The beast, about ten feet long, had powerful jaws that could easily throw a man to the ground or tear his leg off, but John’s combat lessons served Donald well. He brought the hilt of his sword down hard on the creature’s head with a squishy thump. The crocodile roared in pain but still managed to tear off a chunk of his left foot. Donald screamed in pain as he instinctively swiped at the animal and cut off a piece of its tail. The crocodile scurried back to its swampy home to recuperate.

Donald quickly tore a strip from his shorts to bandage his wound. The blood would attract more of these bastards.

I’m in fucking Mexico! What the hell are crocodiles doing here? Something splashed nearby and got his attention. He struggled to stand and, favoring his injured foot, dragged himself out of the swampy area to a small graveled car lot near the lighthouse.

The sun had just started to brighten the sky, and Donald glanced back at the swamp. Fucking crocodile! He hobbled up to the white lighthouse and sat down on the steps. No door covered the open entrance. He peered down at his injury and saw the blood flow had already slowed. He would have to wait until nightfall for his missing toes to heal over and grow back.

Angry and in pain, he hoisted his backpack. He would use the shelter of the lighthouse to change into something dry. Digging around in his backpack, he pulled out sunglasses, a tee-shirt, and some fresh shorts, plus a clean pair of sneakers. It was difficult to put his sneaker on over his injured foot. Blood seeped through the shoe—he’d have to buy a new pair soon. Once dressed, he put his sword away in his backpack. As bold as he was, he couldn’t deal with any cops now.

Emerging from the darkness of the lighthouse, he felt the heat of the new day on his skin. Even though it was October, it would be hot out in a few hours, so he needed to find a hotel room. He spent the next two hours walking, or rather, limping. He felt terrible as full daylight hit him, diminishing his vampire powers and leaving him tired and hung-over. His foot throbbed like a bitch.

He eventually found a place called the Flamingo Hotel that was fifty dollars a night. He hated to pay full price, but with his powers gone, he had no choice. With cash and credit cards he’d stolen from tourists on his way here, he had several financial options to use if necessary.

The clerk eyed him warily. Her eyes darted toward his bloody sneaker for a split second, but she still managed to say, "Enjoy your stay in Cozumel, Señor Smith. Room five hundred one. Buenos dias."

Donald grunted and grabbed the key. He made it to his room and gingerly took off the bloody sneaker. The blood flow had stopped, but the sneaker was almost soaked through. He carefully took off the makeshift bandage and washed his foot in the sink. He didn’t believe vampires could get an infection, but it was something his sire never discussed, so he didn’t take any chances. He undressed, then laid his sneakers and clothes out on the tiny balcony off his room and came back in naked. He put a dark towel under his foot, closed the blinds, and lay down on the bed. He beat his fists against the bed a few times.

When he left here, he’d take a boat, then at least the next journey wouldn’t take so long. All this hassle meant some bitch was going to pay and he’d enjoy every second of it. Smiling, he drifted off to sleep.

* * * * *

Donald woke as the sun began to set. He glanced down to see a tiny bit of dried blood on the towel, but the stumps where his toes had been were completely healed over. It would take a day or two for them to grow back. In the meantime he would walk with a limp.

He closed his eyes and concentrated. He couldn’t sense another vampire within the range of his ability, which extended about two miles in radius. His creator, John, had bragged that he could sense another of their kind from ten or more miles away, but he had a great deal more practice at it than Donald. Donald reached out for John, curious as to what would happen. He reached out with his mind, but all he felt was emptiness where his sire’s presence had been.

Aside from his instruction with basic powers and combat, he didn’t even like his sire, and he was mostly glad he was gone. He had had a small fear that one day he would come after him for his not exactly stealthy kills. Now he had one less vampire to worry about. He went outside and quickly retrieved his clothes. No one was outside to see him. As he feared, his left sneaker was still a little damp but he didn’t have much choice. This was a tourist town, and there would be plenty of people about. He’d be easy to spot with a limp, but he would be even easier to spot in his usual attire of boots and a duster. He got dressed, put on a new shirt and went outside.

The sun had dipped below the horizon, and the smell of blood and hearts that beat in human chests filled his mind. He’d fed two days ago, but all the exertion and the blood loss from this past day made him terribly hungry.

He stopped in first to a street vendor who had footwear for sale. The man smiled and said Good timing, señor. I was about to close. Donald was in no mood for friendly chitchat. He used his telepathy to buy the sneakers at cost and threw down a twenty-dollar bill. He tossed his old pair in a nearby garbage can and got out of there. It took all of his restraint not to tear open the man’s chest to suck the blood from his heart. The anticipation of killing a woman instead kept his voraciousness in check. Killing men was of no pleasure to him; it was women he wanted to punish.

From down the street, he heard music, people, and of course heartbeats. Up ahead there was a sign for the Barracuda Hotel. They must have an outdoor bar by the beach, he thought. That should do well for what I need tonight. Even without heightened senses, anyone could tell that the bar was at the peak of happy hour and packed with tourists. He licked his lips and sensed his eyes briefly flashing red. He could almost taste the alcohol-flavored blood. His personal code dictated he kill whores, but tonight he thought he could relax it just a little and go for a woman who at least acted like one.

He reached the hotel in a few minutes, walking leisurely, albeit with a limp, rather than run at his full speed and attract attention. He saw on the glass out front that the bar was called The No Name Bar. He smirked as he entered.

A waiter smiled at him. Happy hour until eight, señor. Enjoy.

Donald nodded at the man and continued toward the patio, where most of the people were. It was a warm night, and almost everyone out here was in shorts, bikinis, or tank tops. Tonight’s meal would not be as easy as in the smaller Mexican towns. This place was crowded, and he could never hope to convince all these people they never saw him.

He ordered a drink and hung back to scan the minds of the people. Most thoughts were the usual petty nonsense and drunken ramblings, but one woman caught his attention. She was very drunk, but she had spotted him and wanted him to approach her. He would have to get her away from this crowded place in order to kill her.

He sidled up to her, told her what she wanted to hear, bought her a drink, and even listened to her drivel for a good half hour. He had never been much of a talker, but she was too drunk to pick up on it. He spent most of the time staring at her jugular and watching it throb with blood.

She laughed and smiled at him and finally said in a stutter, Y-you...h-have nice e-ears–er, I mean...eyes. W-why don’t we get out of here?

Donald was only too happy to oblige. How about a walk on the beach— He searched her mind for a name. Um…Sherry?

That suggestion suited her just fine. Once they were on the beach, Donald counted the steps until they were far enough away.

She surprised him and whispered in his ear, K-kiss me, blondie. Donald kissed her and slid his tongue into her mouth. If she had sex with him, she would be closer to meeting his criterion as a whore. Besides, it had been a long time, and he was horny too. He reached behind her to undo the string of her bikini top.

Wh-what are you doing? We only j-just met.

Donald used the full might of his telepathy on her inebriated brain, shattering her inhibitions and resistance. We’ll move closer to this other hotel. There are curtains up for a massage table. No one will see us.

She smiled and staggered up to where he pointed. Um . . . okay. You’re kind of cute. Once she made it to the top, she threw up a little in the sand. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. In a flash, he was on top of her, ripping off her bikini bottoms. He used his other hand to pull down his shorts. His patience was nearly gone, and he pressed his mouth over hers to muffle her screams of pain as he roughly entered her. He held back his full strength only because he didn’t want her dead until he came.

Tears rolled down her face and onto his hand as Donald thrust into her again and again. He gave a final shove as he spilled inside her, she started to push herself up with her arms, perhaps thinking her ordeal was over.

Oh no, he whispered in her ear. You’re not getting off that easy!

He smothered her gurgles of pain and terror as he ripped her tongue out with his fangs. With no knife on him, it was the best he could do. He put the trophy tongue into the plastic baggie he pulled from his pocket. He released her mouth, now she could only gurgle and spit blood. She tried to struggle and finally began to cry once more as her smothered grunts of agony lessened as she began to choke on the blood. His fangs found purchase on her neck.

She begged for life in her last moments. They all did. Although she couldn’t speak with her tongue ripped out, her thoughts broadcast loudly. Don’t do this to me! My dad is rich! I’ll pay you anything you want!

Donald laughed inside her mind. Money is only a means to an end. Killing you, my dear whore, gives me much greater satisfaction.

Donald’s stomach felt full again and he was happy to add tongue number nine to his collection. He wiped his mouth and crudely belched. He pretended to walk her down to the ocean, putting her right arm around his shoulders and his left along her ribs, as her feet dragged in the sand. He made sure no one was around before he gave her body a mighty throw out into the ocean. No one would find the body in time to collect any evidence of the true nature of her ordeal. He had at least sealed the puncture wounds on her neck. He washed off the bloody tongue and put it back in the baggie.

The stars overhead made him thoughtful for a moment. Sherry had turned out to be a good lay, and the alcohol in her system was delicious. Maybe he’d go to Cuba next; he’d heard everyone there was blitzed on rum all the time. He whistled as he hobbled off the beach, and laughed as he thought of the continued misery her disappearance would cause her parents. They’d soon learn that no amount of money would bring them comfort.

Chapter 2

Ménage à Vampires

Joseph could hardly make sense of all the images that flooded his brain. Aside from his own excitement and desire – this was a three-way with two hot vampires, after all – his brain was assaulted with Cassandra’s own pangs of desire along with those of the Countess, and new memories from both of them.

He fell into a whirlwind of his own thoughts. It had been just eleven days since he had been human. Only eleven days since a quiet night at Bitters Pub had changed his whole life. He had been horny and lonely, and Cassandra was the woman he had dreamt of for years. He’d fallen for her, and she turned him into a vampire without his consent. He had beaten a man half to death and let a woman die – her death partly his fault for the blood he had sucked out of her. Now he had to live with it. He was immortal and powerful, but both came at a great cost. He worried about the future and regretted many actions he had taken recently, but at least he had seized love when it had come his way.

Life was full of surprises. Earlier that evening, he had met a member of the Vampire Council – the Countess. The Council had spied on him and Cassandra when they defeated John Snow. This Countess had scared the shit out of him, then undressed and wanted to have sex with both of them. It was such a surprise and such a wild opportunity, he could not say no – not that she gave him any choice. He might regret it later, but for now, he was going for it.

He opened his eyes and saw that he had only his underwear on while Cassandra bit and licked one side of his chest and the Countess the other. They were