Dracula Unleashed: Blood Wings

By Linda Mercury

After centuries as the Dracula of legend, disguised as a male, Valerie Tate's current incarnation is the last thing she expected: mother of a precocious half-angel, half-vampire, and wife to two men. But Valerie is more familiar with battlefields than domesticity.

Some overwhelmed mothers relax with a glass of wine. Valerie soothes her immortal soul with a refreshing blood and coke. How else can she deal with her toddler Minerva's psychic powers--not to mention her determination to throw knives. Thank goodness for Valerie's two loves, John Jante and Lance Soleil. Without them, the trauma of her dark past and her primal, urges for violence and power would overtake her. Yet in a world where humans and paranormals uncomfortably co-exist, Valerie's peace will be short-lived.

Someone is killing the world's best paranormal diplomats. Valerie's vampire brother and nemesis, Radu, is at the center of the conflict. Now, Valerie must unleash all her cunning and power to protect what is hers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Linda Mercury
• Release date: May 14, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201898724

Linda Mercury

Linda Mercury ia a writer and creator of really unusual fictional worlds. More than anything, she cares about compassion, connection, and intimacy. She lives in the Pacific Northwest and has a redwood tree in her backyard.

Book preview

By

Linda Mercury

Third Edition

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Linda Mercury

Fiction by Linda Mercury:

Dracula’s Secret

Dracula’s Desires

Dracula Unleashed

Predator and Prey (short story)

Curse of the Spider Woman

The Dream Factory (with Shéa MacLeod)

The Café of Hopes and Dreams (with Shéa MacLeod)

The Scent of Dreams with Shéa MacLeod)

The Auntie Vamp Series

Vamping It Up

Keeping It Up

Non-Fiction

The Little Sexy Workbook Arousal to Zipper: Writing the Best Sex of Your Life Rejections, Bad Reviews, and Mean People

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Acknowledgments:

All I know about firearms is that you need to keep your powder dry. Thank you to Scott Glancy for the information on firearms and weapons. I’m grateful for the explanations. Otherwise, everyone would be carrying muskets and that would just be weird.

Thank you to the survivors of the Battle of Narva. I hope you forgive my altering this brutal and difficult Eastern Front action.

Thank you to the brilliant Shéa MacLeod for helping me with making sure my outline made sense.

Thank you to my Hooligans, for the love and encouragement.

Thank you to Jessa Slade of Red Circle Ink. She is both brilliant and kind, a rare combination.

Most of all, thank all of you for reading this book. Dedication:

To Gema Sanchez. Dancer, writer, artist, physical therapist, goddess. You keep me writing.

This book quite literally would not have been finished if not for your wisdom.

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Copyright ©2021

Linda Mercury

Cover Design:

BookCoverZone.com

––––––––

All rights are reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute or transmit in any form or by any means without written permission, except in the cases of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the publisher.

Contact Linda Mercury at:

www.LindaMercury.com

[e-mail]

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination or have been used fictionally and are not construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

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Author’s Note

This book would not have been written without the energy and inspiration of heavy metal. I suggest you put on Judas Priest’s British Steel album, pour a delicious beverage of your choice, and enjoy!

Author’s Notes, Second Edition

When this book was released it contained a number of errors. I am pleased to re-release it with previous errors removed and a significant number of brand new errors.

As a history nerd, I have used real life happenings as inspiration. Radu behaves like (and unthinkingly quotes) Henry II of England. Like Henry, Radu’s men go to kill the source of irritation. In this book, it is Umar Mernissi. In real life, it was Thomas a Becket, the Archbishop of Canterbury.

Charles de Gaulle survived an assassination attempt on his Citroën car in August of 1962. One hundred forty bullets devastated the car. The driver managed to accelerate out of the skid and escape.

There is a real Hotel Conservatorium in Amsterdam. I have moved its location for plot purposes. And I’m sorry that I blew it up.

Lance Soliel’s speech at the end was inspired by the conclusion of Historian’s Fallacies by David Hackett Fischer.

A note on dates: On the occasion I need to reference dates in the early Christian era, I use CE (Common Era) instead of AD (Anno Domini). It is more inclusive of people who don’t use Western dating numbers and I want everyone to enjoy this series.

It took me several years to re-write and revise this book from its first edition. I needed to change enough to be able to understand what Valerie needed. Thank you for your patience and kindness.

So pour yourself another delicious beverage and enjoy the updated adventures of Valerie, Lance, John, and their baby girl, Minerva.

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Soundtrack

British Steel by Judas Priest

Standing Hampton by Sammy Hagar, especially Baby, It’s You

The Luv Project by Femme Schmidt

Linda Mercury Playlist on Spotify

Turbo 30 by Judas Priest

And

Every album by Queen

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Epigraph

To be happy at home is the ultimate result of all ambition.

—Samuel Johnson

Prologue

John Janté, Valerie Tate’s beautiful Frenchman, leaned against a Cooper Mini, his dark hair matted with gravel. His accelerated healing had already closed the cuts on his face. His gasping breath broke the silence over the now trashed impound yard.

Lance Soliel, their lover, the recently ascended Angel of the Lost, floated in the wet night air. His white feathers shook like knives, cleaning themselves of his own battle. The mind-controlled Fallen Angels were set free.

Mina’s eyes opened. She held out her broken arms. The sweet and musky blood brought saliva to Valerie’s mouth.

Come to me, my husband, the corpse crooned. Won’t you embrace me as you once did?

Valerie scooped up the body in her arms and made love to the memory of

a lie.

Valerie, the true Dracula of history and fiction, woke with the taste of old rotten blood in her mouth. Misery held her in jagged iron jaws, twisting her thoughts until sleep was a dim memory.

The disgusting images never stopped. Valerie wanted to dig her eyes out, throw herself on a stake, beg for the ability to forget. Not bothering to put on shoes, she snuck out of the apartment she shared with her husbands and her infant daughter. As soon as she hit the pavement, she set off at a sprint. She ran faster, pushing the edges of her speed. She sucked in air.

Valerie might have been transformed from a vampire to something unheard of, but oxygen was still an intoxicant. Vampires on oxygen were known to lose control of their judgment. As if she had taken a shot of cocaine directly to her brainstem, her nerves screamed, as raw as though they had been sandpapered. Her eyes bulged.

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At three in the morning, Lake Geneva transformed from a deep, cold blue into luscious purples and greens. The urban glow of the city spread like a lighthouse over the water and shed illumination upon the nearly vertical mountains. The bucolic glory of central Europe never failed to inspire awe.

The boulders and lichen of the tree line gave way to the edge of the snowpack. Her bare feet made no indentation on the fresh powder.

Valerie wanted to forget. She would erase the memory of Mina’s dying face. But it was acid-etched into the bottomless depths of her sick mind. She flowed across the rooftops of downtown, the colored lights sending aurora-like colors across the water. She jumped from building to building, landing with light feet that never stumbled. Valerie’s undead muscles didn’t burn from the exertion; after all, that required a metabolism. Her body went numb from the brutal pace. Grief gripped her throat as tightly as a barbwire noose. The nausea did not abate.

Her brother’s betrayals, her own devastating choices, never left her mind.

Valerie shook with unleashed horror that did not let her sleep.

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Chapter One

Lucifer’s left testicle!

A delicate snifter of the finest Juarez brandy shattered against the brand-new flat-screen television. Radu Tepes, brother of Dracula, former presidential candidate, currently in hiding from Nazi hunters, raged out of his green leather wing-backed chair to confront the news.

Umar Mernissi, were-hawk and now director of the Consortium for Concerned Citizens, the civil rights organization Radu had founded, looked directly into the camera, seemingly making eye contact with Radu. In addition, Mr. Tepes, my former boss, conspired to commit murder. In his personal effects, I found an order to kill Lance Soliel, the still-missing director of the Tualatin Mountain Homeless Shelter.

Lies. Those are all lies. The angry vampire gripped the edges of the TV and yelled at the underling who would not stop trashing Radu’s reputation. Shards of the ruined glass and alcohol broke the bluish light into rainbows over their nattering faces.

Fuck you, you tweeting birdie. Radu flipped both his middle fingers at the were-hawk’s talking head. You damn well did not find any written orders for a hit. He jabbed his index finger at Umar’s face, dimpling the soft LCD surface. That command was entirely verbal. I never leave a paper trail.

Suck on that, feather-brain.

The white human male interviewer whose name Radu did not remember, spoke, "The alleged assassin, Roger Corbetti, cannot be located, Mr. Mernissi. In addition, no witnesses have been found concerning Mr. Soliel’s disappearance. How can you support your suppositions?"

Umar leaned toward the mortal and spoke as though imparting a dangerous secret. "I would not be surprised if he destroyed a rare were-tiger

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simply to prevent him from being apprehended. A vampire, especially one known for deceiving the world about his double-agent status in the Second World War, is more than capable of making someone he dislikes simply disappear."

By Lucifer’s rotten teeth, I have no idea what happened to Roger. Radu smashed his fist through the thick, ancient brick wall of his underground palace, burying the limb up to the elbow.

Bolts of pain shot up Radu’s arm. He yanked free and shook out his hand. The irritation of yet another broken wrist was nothing compared to his rage over the unfairness of the broadcast.

Umar continued. As for Lance Soliel, I believe that Radu had him killed simply for upstaging Mr. Tepes.

And no one would believe me if I said Soliel transfromed into an angel. Fucking grew wings and flapped off.

Radu paced the living room of his private chambers. In a previous incarnation,