Slither: Blood Tithe, #1

By Hargrove Perth

The vaccine was supposed to change the world, offer vampires a way to exist alongside humans without deadly consequences. Unfortunately, a vaccine doesn't mean all the fangers behave themselves. That reason alone is why Gunnar's reputation precedes her. If Gunnar Kyle is assigned a case file, there's only one possible outcome. She's known in the fanger community, and inside the hunter community, for having the most kills, the most extractions, and as the  most ruthless hunter ever employed during the vampire outbreak that swept across America and Europe.

Bitten by an unclassifiable creature during the outbreak in Manhattan, Gunnar is becoming something the abnatural world hasn't seen. Now stationed in London, where headquarters can keep a close eye on Gunnar for their own dubious reasons,  she's attempting to understand the lingering effects of that single bite that changed her entire life.

When 6 fangers are found murdered, their eyes burnt out by a deadly venom and with their hearts missing, the VAC assigns the case to Gunnar. The killer is slowly moving its way through the Districts, working toward the VAC sanctioned apartment building that houses not only Gunnar but also other hunters and members of the Vampire Area Council. 

Gunnar turns to the only fanger she trusts, the sexy and deadly Algernon Vale to help her. Their relationship is not VAC sanctioned as is protocol, but Gunnar's never been much for following the rules. She wants answers and knows Algernon is the only one who can help her, but fearing the danger Algernon faces as the creature starts invading her mind, Gunnar turns to the Fae for answers, hoping they can give some insight, and willingly signs a blood tithe - a contract that can only be broken by death. As the unknown power of the creature that bit  Gunnar begins to manifest, it leaves her with few options for surviving...  the Slither.

Book Goddess Reviews -Gunnar Kyle is tough as nails, sexy, and an executioner inside the VAC (Vampire Area Council) that hunts down rogue vampires and other abnaturals. Slither is the first book that tells her story inside the Blood Tithe Series, and it's a kick in the pants ride you won't want to miss.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Paranormal Pen
• Release date: Jun 17, 2018
• ISBN: 9781536577426

Hargrove Perth

A perpetual night-owl and lover of all things paranormal related, Hargrove spends a great deal of time researching the larger than life characters of history to formulate characters unforgettable and strangely adored. She writes horror, dark romance, fantasy, and paranormal in the Adult, New Adult, and YA categories. When asked why paranormal, she said, "I'm the girl who cries at the end when Frankenstein is misunderstood, who wants Dracula to keep Mina in his arms forever... I see the humanity in them that others cannot." 2014 Author of the Year by Double Decker Books in Historical/Horror Dark Days Remy Broulette. DDBA 2015 Author of the Year YA Fantasy Miss Crabtree's School for Unnaturals, DDBA 2015 Nominee YA Fantasy Chronicle:Dark Sea Triad, and DDBA 2015 Author of the Year Horror (comedic) Coven Wives.

Book preview

Dedication

The Blood Tithe Series is dedicated to my dear friend and fellow author, JA Stone. Together we walk on this madness filled journey every author takes when they sit behind that empty white screen with an idea. Thank you for being my friend, my sounding board, and my critic when it’s needed.

Characters and Glossary

Gunnar Kyle - originally from Pittsburgh, PA she now works for the VAC in London hunting rogue abnaturals who don’t follow the rules.

Algernon Vale - the oldest living vampire in London and the highest ranking Vale. Gunnar’s go-to fanger when she needs a little... attention.

Joe Glory - former Special Ops, he was in the same unit as Gunnar in the States. Now he’s the head of the VAC Hunter division.

Tamsin Waterhouse - a Necro and long time associate of Gunnar Kyle. She lives in the West End and has been known to raise a few dead for Gunnar for... aggressive interrogations.

Ovelian - a mysterious Fae that Gunnar once helped who lives in the Narrows. She loves sweets.

Ashley - the VAC receptionist. She’s got rules that you better follow... or else.

Jet - perhaps the most dangerous immortal the world has ever known. She has no last name and doesn’t need one either.

Percy Ramsey - a former Marine and doomsday prepper who’s on the hunt.

Devin - the black market operative who collects a steep price for her services but always delivers.

The VAC - Vampire Area Council - responsible for handling all vampires and assuring they get the vaccine. If they don’t, they are brought in for reprogramming. Also handles all abnatural creatures inhabiting their respective ruling areas.

VE (License) - Vampire Executioner’s License, issued to all hunters to give the permission to use lethal force.

MEXT - Military Extraction Team, they handle cleaning up the messes that the VAC wants to keep hidden that no one knows ever happened.

Fangers - the term Gunnar uses for vampires.

Fae - the wee folk, creatures of the faery realm.

The Narrows - the docks by the Thames where an entire city of floating houses are on the river that the Fae have retreated to and claim as their own. Humans aren’t welcome.

The West End - where all the witches, Necros, and Diablos are required to register and live.

Necros - witches who raise the dead by crossing into the Underworld and bring their souls back for one last meeting with their families before they are gone forever.

Diablos - those who raise the dead and bring them back to life. According to Gunnar, they just aren’t right in the head once they are brought back to the land of the living. The Diablos reside in the West End with the Necros.

Risers - those the Diablos have brought back, zombies that don’t usually eat flesh... usually.

Blood Raves - VAC sanctioned bars where vampires can get a human meal within reason.

Habitues - humans willing to be familiars to the fangers, blood junkies who get off on being an all-you-can-suck-buffet.

Vales - oldest of the vampires, those who once ruled all the other fangers but now only hold the title as a last name by VAC law.

Pooka - ancient Irish Fae shapeshifters with brilliant red eyes. They serve both courts, the light and dark, and claim loyalty to neither.

Aos-si - the first people of the Irish mounds, the original Fae.

Dearg-du - Irish fangers that only rise a few times a year to feast, when not using a glamor they are about as frightening as a creature can get.

Cold wagon - the hearses that handle the immortal creatures.

Abnaturals - immortals of the world, a general term for someone who can’t die by natural means.

Superiors - first born cursed werewolves, the original Lycanthropes.

Each book written has a soundtrack, something that spurs the imagination and fuels the writing. These are the songs and artists that inspired, and are the soundtrack of this book.

Hinder- Get Stoned

Collective Soul –  December, Shine

Soundgarden – Black Hole Sun

Cracker - Low

3 Doors Down- When I’m Gone

Everlast – What It’s Like

The Wallflowers – One Headlight

Stained – Outside, It’s Been Awhile

Saliva – Click Click Boom

Rob Zombie – Living Dead Girl

Soul Asylum – Runaway Train

Metallica – Moth into the Flame

Kansas - Wayward Son

Romanian Phrases and meanings

Esti dragostea mea cea mai mare - you are my greatest love.

Iubirea mea - my love.

Al doilea suflet -  second soul.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter One

I’m staring at my closet, considering what to wear when I turn in the file for the last hunt the VAC sent me on, whether to wear something casual or if I should at least slip on a blazer, not that Joe would notice.

After pulling on my knee high boots, I slip on a white tee shirt with my jeans and grab the black velvet blazer out of the back of my closet.

This is about as formal as I get.

Before walking out the door, I grab my fanger mace - a potent deterrent to vamp attacks. It’s a heavy blend of vervain to stop compulsion,  essential rose oil which burns their skin on contact, a touch of spiritually awakened coriander, and a dash of  cloves in blessing oil from the vatican. It actually smells beautiful but it’s very deadly on contact. There’s been more than one occasion where I’m pretty certain it saved my life when stuck on long nights in the Narrows trying to run down a fanger on the VAC acquisition list.

I grab my keys and the folder off the coffee table before opening the door and locking it behind me, then walk down the hall to the elevator and open the door to the stairwell that sits across from the old slide elevator. Taking the steps is a way of life for me for several reasons.

Firstly, I hate elevators.

They give me a creepy, unsettled feeling in the pit of my stomach. Stupid, yeah, but I have this unreasonable fear of either being trapped inside one or the cables break and then I plummet to my death leaving nothing but an unrecognizable corpse.

Secondly, work as a hunter as long as I have and you learn that any place you can squeeze in the smallest amount of exercise is always to your benefit.

If I didn’t live on a VAC compound, taking the stairs would be out of the question. There’s far too many abnaturals who know what I am, namely that small piece about being a hunter, that wouldn’t mind seeing me either staked outside Buckingham Palace or locked in one of the cages hanging at the Tower with the Ravens picking the flesh from my bones.

Being a Pitty girl in London is not easy. I miss Pittsburgh and the easy life I had there, but when the city became over-run and the VAC stepped in, they offered me a job. Being good at what you do gets you through the ranks fast, and I am exceptionally good at being a hunter. If there’s any drawback at all to the life I have chosen, it’s living in London. Pittsburgh pulls at my heart every single day, and there’s a longing that nothing can quell.

While I am stationed in London, I do occasionally get assignments in my hometown. There’s two things for certain that will never change.

Pittsburgh will always be my home.

America will always hold my heart.

Wherever the VAC sends me after targets, that place becomes my temporary home. Fangers are incredibly intelligent, avoiding capture for them is part of their survival. This time I’m hoping for another east coast job now that this one is complete.

I reach the first floor and walk to the third office door, staring at the frosted glass, ‘Joseph Glory, VAC Inspector General’ it says.

Makes me laugh every single time I see it. Joe was just an ordinary guy in Special Forces just like me, even though I technically out-ranked him. He took the administrative route, the diplomat, the near politician and spin doctor position.

Me... I’d rather keep my hands dirty and earn my pay.

The door is slightly ajar so I just walk in and wait behind the red line painted on the floor in front of the receptionist’s desk.

Name, she says without emotion and doesn’t bother to look up from the mass of papers on her desk as she continues slamming the stamper into the ink pad and then onto the papers in front of  her.

Her Royal Highness Queen Victoria, I say and laugh.

Ashley looks up from the desk and shakes her head then rolls her eyes. Have a seat, Gunnar. Mr. Glory is running behind.

There’s some guy, someone that I’ve never seen, sitting in the corner as I sit across the room from him. I cross my legs and observe him quietly, watching his movements, seeing what he’s all about. It’s just something that I do with everyone.

Meeting new people inside the VAC just isn’t my thing, so striking up a conversation with him is not really on my list of things to do today.

Actually, the fact that I speak to anyone is pretty much a damned miracle.

I find myself staring at him, and that loud plaid sport’s jacket he’s wearing that’s black, green, and gray. His hair is black, with a slight wave, slicked back away from his face. He’s wearing black motorcycle boots and a pair of tight fitting Levis. It’s definitely not a fashion statement I would embrace, but for one reason or another anything 70’s is coming back around to the fashion scene. Some things are better left dead.

Whoever he is, I imagine him as a player, a gangster, in some old movie where he’s the errand boy, selling information, he’s the kind that is easily expendable.

He parts his lips, running his tongue across his fangs.

Must be a new fanger reporting for tagging.

Mind if I smoke? he asks, pulling a pack of Marlboro Reds from his inside coat pocket.

Yeah, I sort of do, I reply but he lights the cigarette anyway, allowing the smoke from his first drag to roll in a billowing circle across his parted lips and into his mouth.

You know those things will kill you, I say and laugh.

I’m already dead, in case you haven’t noticed. He offers a wide grin, something that looks like he might have once used on girls at the pub after the last call, showing his fangs.

Fanger, I say and notice his eyes are a soft shade of honey touched brown, nearly dark amber. He’s got a scar on the right side of his face, pretty long at that, and looks like it could have been from a knife fight. It’ll fade, marks like that always do once you’re a fanger. That perfect skin, the porcelain complexion, yeah, it’s all part of the deal.

You don’t like my kind. You’re afraid of us, he offers with a cocky smile.

Far from afraid, I kill your kind, at least the ones who aren’t willing to submit for the vaccine. You never lose being a fanger, you get to keep all those great abnatural gifts you’ve got, but the thirst is gone after that vaccine, and if you don’t get it, things don’t turn out so well.

I stare at the moss green walls of the waiting room, wondering who in the hell would paint a damn waiting room a puke color of moss green, not really listening to him as he continues to ramble until he strikes a nerve.

They sectioned off the inside of the east end of the palace, building rooms like these offices inside them so the original structure is left intact, but it’s been so many years inside the palace, the rooms are aged and lackluster just like anything else that isn’t maintained well.

Oh you don’t have to admit the fear, he replies, closing his eyes, inhaling deeply, so deeply and with a near euphoric look on his face like he’s going to orgasm any minute. It smells... delightful.

When he opens his eyes, I am standing with a silver blade an eighth of an inch away from his jugular. His skin is already smoldering. Never turn your back on a hunter, or close your eyes for that matter.

His eyes grow wide and the stench of his fear fills me as it rolls off him like some personal and raunchy dime store cologne. Why they think it smells so delicious is a mystery to me. Maybe it smells different to the fangers, but not to me, not since that night.

I don’t back away, relishing how his fear makes my blood rush, gushing in my ears like a flood. Their fear drives me to kill, to feel that momentary euphoric bliss that comes when I take a target down.

A half smile forms at his pure misery and fear of me, the five foot two dark haired chick who looks like she couldn’t fight her way out of a wet paper bag. Looks are... deceiving.

I slip the blade into its holster on my thigh with my lips only inches away from him, licking to moisten them and to show my outright delight at his fear. My name’s Gunnar Kyle, you’d be wise not to forget that.

Gunnar, Joe shouts from his now open office door. Get your ass in here and quit tormenting the fanger.

My eyes never leave the terrified fanger as he sits in the waiting room chair trembling while I step backward until reaching the office door.

Joe closes the door behind him.  Take a seat. Did you bring the case file?

I don’t answer and just toss the file into the center of his disaster of a desk. For God’s sake, do you ever process these damned files or do you push that off on Ashley once a week?

Joe laughs, shakes his head, and drops into his overstuffed chair behind the desk. I review them. I just hate filing.

He browses the file, skimming the details then tosses it back on the  far corner of his desk. In all the years, his office hasn’t changed a bit. It’s still, dark and dismal, and smells like stale cigars from the life before this one where he used to smoke. Yellow clings to the edges of the photographs on his walls, hell I don’t even know if they are his family or if they are just there for show to make the fangers coming into Joe’s office more at ease. Joe always kept his personal life just that... personal, even when we were in the service together.

There’s photos of Joe when he was in the Green Berets, standing with men I never met or knew, they were before me and my time there. His entire squad was taken down by a group of rogue fangers that made their way across the