The 8Th Angel

By Johnny Blaze

Vampires are everywhere, draining humans of their very being. An apocalypse approaches, referred to as the Blood Storm. A mysterious loner discovers a birthright he isnt ready for. But he accepts and takes on the name of Kaine. Chosen to save humanity from the undead, he teams up with a beautiful mystery girl who was once human but now a creature of the night. Their adventures take them from Arizona to London and from there to the Greek Islands. As the Blood Storm draws nearer, Kaine prepares to face his darkest fears and save humanity from the bloodsucking forces of darkness.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: Dec 10, 2015
• ISBN: 9781514443491

Johnny Blaze

Johnny Blaze is a horror / fantasy / occult and sci fi author, living in sunny Queensland, Australia. He was born in Sri Lanka, and grew up in Zambia and New Zealand. Having gotten a Distinction in English from his O Levels, he now works fulltime as a writer. He began writing in 2003, and his first novel, 'The 8th Angel', was released in 2007... This was followed by 'Dorm Invasion' and 'Virgin Blood'. He also wrote 'Midnight' under the pseudonym Matt Murdock. Look out for a plethora of horror and fantasy novels from this new master of horror in the future.

Book preview

1

Vampires. Think they don't exist? Well, they do. My name is Mike Fury. My enemies call me Kaine. I'm a vampire hunter. I walk the night, protecting you from the undead. There's a good chance that the reason you're still alive, or not a vampire, is because of me. Vampires are everywhere, but they only come out at night. Most of the vampire lore you've heard is true. They drink human blood; it's their life force. But, vampires aren't necessarily evil. Just like us humans, there are good and bad among them. But in order to survive, they must feed on our blood. So I'm left with no option -- I must destroy them. You're probably wondering why I've made it my responsibility to do so. It all began 10 years ago, when I met Father Sanchez.

Father Sanchez is Mexican. I met him when I was holidaying in Mexico with my best friend, Rick. I was eighteen. We were keen to visit an old church in the old city of Puebla. The church wasn't far from our motel, so we walked.

I should mention that an interesting thing happened on the way to the church. As we walked along the fairly crowded streets, a sweet little Mexican girl ran into our path from the side of the street. She stopped in front of me and looked up at my face, as if in great respect. She then did a curtsy, which was somehow both elegant and awkward at the same time. After that she gave me a beautiful smile and ran back into the crowds. I guess I see it as an omen now.

The church was fairly typical of Mexican churches. It had two prominent towers, both topped with crosses. Since it wasn't a Sunday, there was no one there except for the staff.

We pushed open the heavy, wooden front door and walked in. The interior was just as impressive as the outside. It had a cruciform floor and a parabolic ceiling, complete with stained glass windows. There were two priests at the altar. One of them came over to greet us.

Welcome, he said with a thick Mexican accent. What can I do for you two young senores?

Rick spoke before I could. We're just looking around, he said. We're tourists.

Ah, said the priest. You are most welcome to look around. He smiled generously and walked away.

I couldn't help but notice that the other priest was watching us -- watching me, to be more precise, intently. It made me feel more than a little uncomfortable. He spoke to the priest who had just greeted us, obviously asking him what we wanted. The other priest spoke to him, and the one watching me nodded. He kept his eyes on me the whole time that we looked around the church.

Hey Rick, I said. Let's get outta here. That priest is giving me the creeps.

Take it easy, will ya? Rick replied. We just got here. The priest is probably just an old fuddy duddy.

I don't know, man. He won't stop looking at me.

I guess this means taking some photos is out of the question, huh?

Yep. Let's go.

So we left. Back at the motel, we headed straight for our rooms, tired from the walk.

Don't know about you, man, said Rick, but I'm gonna take a nap. Do me a favour and don't disturb me, huh?

I chuckled. Sure thing.

While Rick slept, I couldn't help but wonder about the priest at the old church. Why was he looking at me that way? I had no idea at the time, but I was about to find out.

About half an hour later, there was a knock on our room door.

I hesitated. We sure as hell hadn't ordered anything. I got up from my bed where I'd been reading a book when the knocking persisted. I opened the door. Standing in the hallway was the priest from the church; the one who'd been watching me.

My stomach tightened. Yes? I asked nervously.

Senore Kaine, said the priest urgently, I must speak with you.

You must be mistaken, I replied. My name is Michael.

Si senore, said the priest even more urgently. But Kaine is your true name. You are of vital importance. Please -- let me in and I will explain.

What the hell was he talking about? Was he crazy? Did he have the wrong guy? I had no idea, but the look on his face revealed that he was dead serious. I hesitated for only a moment, before letting him in.

Thank you, senore, he said gratefully, and entered. As he did so, I saw that he was carrying an old leather-bound volume.

We sat down at the small table in the corner of the room.

I have come to tell you of your birthright, began the priest, glancing nervously at Rick, who was fast asleep. I am Father Sanchez. He stretched his arm out to shake my hand.

Mike, I said, and shook it.

No. You are Kaine.

Nope. I'm Mike.

Kaine.

Mike.

No. Kaine.

Before I could reply again, he opened his book to a page marked by an inbound ribbon.

A picture on the page hit me right between the eyes. It was a sketch of a man who looked exactly like me. Well, except for a really old fashioned hairstyle, anyway. Below the picture was the name Kaine, in old-fashioned print. Under the name were sentences in a language I didn't understand.

This book was handed down to me by my ancestors, said Father Sanchez. The man in this drawing... is the eighth angel; the Messiah. He looked up at me. You.

To say that I was surprised would be an understatement. I let out a funny sounding laugh. As if in response, Rick let out a loud snore, which made Father Sanchez jump.

Don't worry, I assured him. He sleeps like a log. I looked back at the picture. There was no denying the resemblance.

I don't understand, I began. Why do you think that I'm some kind of messiah?

May I have a look at your left shoulder, Senore?

I hesitated, then slipped the left sleeve of my t-shirt up and turned my shoulder towards him.

Ah, he said. The mark of Kaine.

I frowned. That scar on my shoulder?

If you look carefully, Senore, you'll see that it is in the shape of the numero eight.

But what does it mean? I asked.

Father Sanchez's expression turned more serious. Do you believe... in vampires?

This was getting crazier by the minute. "Vampires? No more than I believe in werewolves."

Si, I can see that you are not a wolf. Please senore, this is not the time for jokes. He turned to the first few pages of the old book and showed me more pictures. They were drawings of hideous looking beasts. Vampires have existed since the beginning of mankind. This is what they looked like during prehistoric times. Today, they have a more human appearance. Some say this is due to the trickery of Lucifer himself.

The pictures were both fascinating and gruesome. The priest continued. Millions of years ago, vampires did not prey on humans. They preyed on other beasts. But they have evolved. Today, they live on our blood.

So you're telling me that vampires are real?

Oh yes, senore. They are very real -- and a threat to all mankind.

I'm still finding all this hard to swallow, I told him.

Vampires are very discreet creatures... nocturnal parasites. After they have had their feed, some of them kill their victims. They do this not only to protect their existence, but also to spare the victims from becoming vampires themselves. He then looked me in the eye and said, Not all vampires are evil.

Great, I said.

However, he continued, "it has been prophesized that an evil vampire would come to power amongst the most vicious of