Immortal Consequences

By Steven Sterup, Jr

When Kal Johnson, an immortal gargoyle, is attacked by an ancient vampire and framed for the murder of a human his quiet life is thrown into chaos. But the universe, with its perverse sense of humor, has decided that now would be the perfect time for the punch line. Kal’s human wife, Brianna, has done the impossible. She is the first human in history to become pregnant with a gargoyle’s child.

This vampire is stronger and more cunning than any he has fought. The wife he adores and the child he never hoped for give Kal something he has never had before, a weakness. Can Kal stop this ancient vampire before it takes everyone he loves? Taking his wife and child might accomplish what no vampire has ever been able to do. It might be enough to defeat the immortal Kal.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Steven Sterup, Jr
• Release date: Jan 8, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463266434

Steven Sterup, Jr

I enjoy reading and writing fantasy themed books, including romance novels. Most of my work is about fantastical worlds with magic and monsters.Since I was young I've had a strange desire to create 'something' and as soon as I started writing my first book I knew I had finally found what I was looking for.I hope you enjoy the worlds I have created and I appreciate your feedback. Feel free to contact me on my website at www.StevenSterupJr.com or email me at [e-mail].

Book preview

Chapter 1

Pain woke Kal Johnson as he lay face down on the cement. Pain like this was something he wasn’t accustomed to. Not that he couldn’t be harmed, it just took a lot more than it did to hurt a human. In his human form, Kal was susceptible to the normal hazards of human skin, but in his gargoyle form, he could be hit by a car and walk away with a headache. Whatever, or rather whomever, had hit him while he was in gargoyle form was at least as strong as he was.

The cold, wet surface of the concrete confused Kal as he tried to get his bearings, it hadn’t rained in weeks. He wasn’t entirely sure what had happened and why he was face down in the alley. It was all still a little fuzzy. Then he realized why the cement was wet. It wasn’t water soaking his clothes and face. It was human blood. The scent assaulted his nostrils, and he was overcome with a gagging sensation. The smell of human blood to his kind was similar to the reaction humans had to rotten food. He glimpsed the disgusting scene as he painfully pushed himself off the street then looked down to make sure of what he had seen. The site was gruesome, but the smell was much worse.

Kal rushed over to the nearest dumpster and deposited his supper. That was when he noticed the policemen walking up to him. They were at the far end of the alley. The lights on top of their squad car were flashing, but there were no sirens. The closest one yelled to him while shining his flashlight directly in Kal’s face, but he couldn’t make out the words. The savage beating he had just survived, coupled with the nauseating stench of blood, clouded his mind.

Sir! Are you ok, sir?! the middle-aged police officer yelled to him again. The officer’s other hand was on his gun, but he hadn’t pulled it yet. The man’s partner was using the radio attached to his shoulder, but he was speaking too quietly for Kal to understand him.

Sir? the officer asked again. He was closer now. Are you hurt?

I think someone hit me over the head with something, Kal said. His accent was from the Midwestern United States even though he had been born in Egypt over two thousand years ago. Long ago, Kal had learned to hide his Egyptian accent. He was very proud of his heritage but, having lived in the United States for over three hundred years. It was just simpler to speak like Americans did. America was full of many cultures. If you spoke with a foreign accent people were skeptical, but if you didn’t…you were just another American.

Do you need a hospital? the officer asked, still not removing his hand from his weapon.

Maybe, Kal said, though this was a lie. To facilitate his lie, he put one hand on his head while he steadied himself against the dumpster with the other. His body would heal itself quite easily, but he knew how this looked. Kal looked back at the poor dead woman and inhaled deeply through his nose. This produced another gut retching feeling, so he turned back to the dumpster and threw up once more. But this was exactly the reaction he had intended. The police would be much less inclined to peg him as the murderer if he vomited at the sight of the dead woman. Truthfully, he didn’t even know the woman’s name. She didn’t look at all familiar.

Whoever she was, she had been brutally murdered. It looked like her skull had been bashed in. Her head was also turned at an angle that would have been extremely painful, if not deadly, had she still been alive. Her bloody body was positioned with her chest against the ground and her eyes looking away from where he had been only moments ago. It was as if someone had intentionally positioned her so he would wake up and look right into her caved in skull. This, in itself, might be a clue as to who had killed the poor woman.

Kal had been fortunate enough to see the woman being chased down an alley by someone he knew was a vampire. The more he thought about it, and the way the woman was killed then positioned, the more he realized, he had fallen right into someone’s trap. Perhaps fortunate was the wrong word here, stupid was more like it. Whoever had chased this woman down the alley had intended for Kal to follow. The way the woman bled was also part of it. The vampire didn’t even feed from her. This was an elaborate trap to make him look like a killer, but why? Thinking back, he couldn’t even be sure if the person he chased had been a man or a woman. The quick flash he had seen told him nothing about the vampire. It was out of the corner of his eye and, truth be told, it was more of a feeling than what he had seen, which forced him to follow the poor woman.

Whoever this vampire was, he or she had to be very old. There was no way a vampire from this century, or even this millennium, could have hit Kal with enough force to knock him out. He had shifted into gargoyle form when he entered the alley. His rock hard skin would have broken the bones of a younger vampire, and he wouldn’t have felt a thing. No, the vampire who did this was probably even older than he was.

For two thousand four hundred and twelve years, Kal had walked the earth. And more recently, he had been trying to protect humans from vampires. His self-appointed status as protector might very well be the reason for the trap, and this woman’s death.

In his younger days, he had been bested by vampires, but those days were long gone. It had been centuries since he’d met an opponent who even stood a chance against him, but this vampire produced something he also hadn’t experienced in a very long time, fear. This vampire was not only strong, he or she was smart. Framing Kal for a murder would force him to run. Serving a life sentence was not something an immortal could do without raising suspicions as to why he didn’t age. Then there was the other possibility. A death sentence would raise even more concerns. The electric chair wouldn’t kill him. It would likely just annoy him. And lethal injection...it might give Kal something similar to a human hangover, but that was all it would do. That was, if he let them put the needle in.

In truth, Kal knew a few vampires that could best him. But there was no way they were here in Salvon Iowa. Kal thought for a second then changed his mind. It was possible that one of the two female vampires he knew could be here, but if it was one of them and they had attacked him…he had much worse problems than someone framing him for murder. Either of these two women could kill him if he wasn’t prepared. They were not just older than he was. They were stronger and more deadly than any vampire he had ever met. He desperately hoped that it was neither of these women. The police officer shined the bright light in his eyes again, and he was ripped from his thoughts.

You don’t look so good buddy, the kind officer said, and he finally removed his hand from his gun.

I can’t stand the sight or smell of blood, Kal said with the back of his hand against his mouth, trying desperately not to vomit once more. He had put on a good show, but his aversion to blood was not a lie.

Pinch your nose and don’t look at it. Breathe through your mouth, the kind officer said then ushered him to his partner.

Kal was a short man compared to the officers but, then again, when Kal was growing up five foot ten was incredibly tall. His black hair was neatly trimmed to a quarter of an inch all around, and his face was cleanly shaven. The new officer looked at him strangely. At first, Kal mistook the officer’s condescending look as racism, but it wasn’t. As soon as the man spoke, Kal understood the reason for the look.

Nice suit, the officer said with disdain in his voice.

Yes, now Kal understood why. His suit probably cost more than this man made in a month.

Not anymore, Kal said and shook the bloody sleeves of his suit.

Kal’s dark skin was not the reason for the officer’s look nor his comment. It was Kal’s wealth that bothered the man.

Why don’t you sit in the squad car and we’ll take you in for questioning as soon as more officers show up, the officer said. This time the condescension was absent.

Am I under arrest? Should I call my lawyer? Kal asked.

No. Nothing like that. We just need to get your statement, the officer said then headed back to help his partner take pictures and search for clues.

Kal thanked fate as he took a seat in the back of the squad car. The two officers who had found him weren’t racist and didn’t even act like they thought he had done it. Things could have gone much worse but, then again, this was Salvon Iowa. The town had maybe twenty-five thousand people in it. It wasn’t exactly small enough for everyone to know everyone, but in a town this size, people didn’t automatically jump to conclusions based solely on the color of your skin.

Chapter 2

An hour later Kal was escorted through the police station without cuffs on. Some of the officers gasped at his blood-covered suit while others just looked away. He felt very conspicuous as he was led to an interrogation room. He also felt very ill. He counted the minutes until he could remove his suit and the horrible stench it carried. The blood was drying, but the smell wouldn’t go away.

Once inside the room, it only took a few minutes before a man in a suit walked in. He looked Kal up and down then smiled. It was a strange and cheesy smile. Although the officers that had brought him in had decided he was innocent, the man before him had decided him guilty.

Detective Saul Krite, the man said and held out his hand to Kal.

Kal shook it politely then Detective Krite sat across from him.

The detective was an average-sized man. He wasn’t thin, but he wasn’t overweight. He appeared to be in his mid-forties, but Kal was never good at judging age. For all Kal knew, he might be in his twenties and had just aged badly. The detective had on a worn, blue suit that had seen better days. Even his white shirt had small stains that had probably been there for years. The detective’s brown hair was short, and his face looked like he hadn’t shaved for a week.

While Detective Krite was laying out a notepad and pen so he could take Kal’s statement, Kal looked around the room. The room was small and, of course, had a mirror behind the detective. Kal was certain that someone important was watching from the other side. Even if that wasn’t the case, there were cameras in two corners of the room. He needed to be very careful with the information he gave them. Not only did he not want to be considered a murderer, he couldn’t tell a human about anything that had really happened. The vampire council took these types of things very seriously. If he told Detective Krite the truth, then Kal really would be a murderer. The council would not hesitate to kill a lone human to protect their secret, and it would be Kal’s fault.

What do you do for a living, Mr. Johnson? Detective Krite asked.

Call me Kal, he said and smiled at the officer.

Ok. Kal. What do you do? the detective asked.

I’m…hmm…I am an investor, Kal said, not knowing exactly how to pin down what he did for a living with one phrase.

An investor? Krite asked with suspicion.

Let me explain, Kal said then removed his suit jacket, put it over the arm of the chair then put his elbows on the table. He clasped his hands together and pushed them to his chin. At least his shirt wasn’t completely covered in blood. Taking off his suit jacket allowed him to breathe a little easier.

Please do, the detective said. His voice and attitude told Kal that whatever he said would be viewed as unsavory, but Kal spoke anyway. What choice did he have? There was no reason to lie about what he did for a living. The detective would probably find out anyway, if he didn’t already know.

Companies looking for money to expand call on people like me, Kal said. He leaned back and crossed his arms. I put up the money, so they don’t have to get a loan from the bank. This is especially true when they can’t get a loan from a bank due to bad company performance or bad credit.

So, you’re a loan shark? the detective asked. His scowl and the tone of his voice told Kal that he wanted it to be true.

No. I don’t make loans. I invest in their company. That is…if the company looks like it will make a profit, Kal said and grinned back at the man. I spend quite a bit of time vetting the company beforehand.

So, you never get the money back? the detective asked. His skepticism was holding steady. It was clear that he was just looking for a reason to hate Kal.

"I do. When the company starts turning a profit,