Fanghunters (Fanghunters Book 1): Fanghunters, #1

By Leo Romero

Vampires suck. Seriously...

After breaking free from vamp enslavement, Dominic Dempsey vows to protect others from the same fate. Goodbye Victim Dom, hello Fanghunter Dom.

Freedom is awesome... but it doesn't pay the rent. Luckily, Dom stumbles across an opportunity that will change his life forever. Enter mysterious billionaire, Vincent Beauchamp. Beauchamp needs a vampire slayer, Dom needs a job. And this billionaire promises a handsome pay.

Dom gets straight on the case. He’s ready for the challenge. Just storm in there, stake the vamp, get back to Beauchamp and it's payday. Easy right? If only. This Fanghunting stuff ain't as simple as it sounds. The closer Dom gets to his target, the more the danger cranks up, his life pushed even further on the line. Sucked into the most dangerous fight of his life, Dom has to give it his all if he’s gonna survive.

And as for Beauchamp, is there more to him than meets the eye? Does he have an even bigger agenda?

And if so, will Dom live long enough to find out what it is?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Leo Romero
• Release date: Mar 1, 2017
• ISBN: 9781540183521

Book preview

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 propped himself up on his elbows and stared around the candle-lit chamber in a daze. His eyes fell on some other guy lying in a heap in the corner. The other fanghead. He was in la-la land, the venom still doing its thing. It had them both captive.

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 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 and 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 uncomfortable thing jammed into his quad. His brow knotted. What is that? he asked the gloomy basement, totally nonplussed. He 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 gave it a blank stare like it was an alien artifact lost for centuries on some remote planet. The leather thing in his hand flopped open and cascaded down like a plastic waterfall, revealing a long forgotten existence.

Huh? He gazed at the plastic cards facing him, wondering where the hell they’d come from.

Who? What? When? 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 member 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 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 was a blond guy and a couple of darker haired guys. He snatched the photo up and stared intently at the smiling faces.

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

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

Eddie, he said in a soft whisper. Something in his heart unlocked; the calcified shell the venom had built around it cracked, the hot emotion of unconditional love melting 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 finger, wondering where those people had gone, wondering where he had gone.

Me: Dom. My name is Dominic.

Where has Dom gone? he asked himself. Where are you, buddy?

His fingers fell on the thing dangling around his neck. It tinkled as he lifted it 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 the dank basement with a dizzy mind that was fast sobering. 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. Dom’s eyes widened in grim realization of what he’d become; a slave.

And now he wanted out.

He gazed at the creased photo in his hand in dumb awe, his mind now a carousel of memories. 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. His lips parted, exposing fangs that gleamed like polished tusks.

A horrible mix of fear and affection shuddered Dom. His body wanted the venom, but his mind was telling him to run, get the hell outta there. Now!

The Father met Dom’s stare. Dom froze.

What is that, my son? The Father asked, laying eyes on the thing in Dom’s hand.

Dom shivered in response. He 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 simmering with rage. The echoes stirred the other fanghead.

Dom sucked in a lung of dead air and shook 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 went slack. Those eyes widened, injecting Dom with a cold sensation. It 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 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 glittering eyes fell upon him. Show me, he demanded.

Like a programmed android, Dom retrieved the photo and held it up for him to see. The Father glanced at it in disdain, his top lip curling up. He snatched it from Dom’s hand. Dom gasped, the Father’s action shattering his hypnotic trance. He staggered back, shaking his head as if waking from a bad dream.

This is your family now! the Father grunted. Without mercy, he tore the photo to pieces.

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

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

Dom brought his fist back, winding up another blow. The Father lunged, neutering his attack. He clamped his claws down on Dom’s shoulders and held him in place. In a panic, Dom tried to wriggle away. The Father’s brute strength was overwhelming; he yanked Dom in toward him like he was a rag doll. Dom’s eyes bulged. The Father was now trying to sink his fangs into him, wherever he could—his neck, his arm, his hand—desperate to sedate him with venom. Dom let out a growl and pushed back. He managed to throw the Father off just as his jaws snapped 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 them for good. He raised his foot, ready to stomp the vampire’s head. The Father snapped his head up, his eyes whirling and dancing. Dom froze under his stare, unable to bring his foot down. He clenched his teeth and pushed against the icing, but it was useless; the Father was unrelenting. Dom growled in frustration; his mind wanted to do one thing, but his body was making him do another. Both of them fought for supremacy over the other, locked in a stalemate. Dom put all his might into it, urging his foot to go down, to smash the Father’s head, stomp it to pulp, break it in—

A jolt to his midriff knocked him to the side. Dom hit the dirty floorboards with a groan. He focused in on his attacker. It was the other fanghead. Even though his face was mostly shadow, his wild and distant eyes glimmered with rage, dribble spilled out between his clenched teeth. Dom jumped to his feet.

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

The fanghead met the Father’s hot stare.

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

The fanghead turned back. With a hateful snarl, he dived into Dom. Dom’s instincts tweaked. He snatched an empty bottle from the floor and swung it around. It crashed into the onrushing fanghead, obliterating 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 bulbous eyes, his chest heaving. A claw wrapped around his throat. In the next instant, the Father’s cold, rancid breath was on the back of his neck. Ivory tusks touched his skin. Hot needles, ready to shoot him up with a narcotic tranquility, to tame the beast that had erupted and wreaked this havoc.

Fang tips pierced Dom’s skin.

Terror erupted in his mind. He wedged his arm back behind him, jabbing the broken bottle neck into the Father’s face. An inhuman wail rocketed off the surrounding walls. The Father recoiled, grabbing at his torn face.

Dom spun his way. The Father was bent over, his face in his hands.

Dom’s eyes darted left and right; he was inexplicably rooted. The Father’s head then jerked upward, his eyes bloody and raw. He roared and dived in. Dom whirled and ran for the entrance. He shoulder barged the door with a grunt; it burst open, releasing night air illuminated rusty-orange by nearby streetlights. He threw the door shut behind him as he escaped the dungeon-like basement. He dashed up the concrete steps two at a time, before scampering off into the night. Far away.

Never looking back for the Father. Not even once.

CHAPTER TWO

The address on his driver’s license was an apartment block over in Humboldt Park. 745 Coolidge Avenue, Apartment #654. Dom stood on the sidewalk across the street and stared at the block. It was dark, grimy, the odd light burning. He checked his watch; it was two am.

He sucked in a nervy breath of cold air. The journey over from the basement he’d just escaped from was a mishmash of déjà vu, anxious uncertainties, and a whole bunch of loneliness. He took