Blood Hunters: Bane Bloodworth Series, Book 2

By Slate Raven

Bane Bloodworth is back! Once again, just like in book 1, Magician's Mayhem, something has unleashed the beast within—vengeance. When his blood rage takes over, who dares to stand in the path of the hurricane? Calling on old friends to join the battle for his honor-bound need to avenge, Bane slowly learns that things are not what they appear to be on the surface. A deep-rooted romantic interest becomes the key to keeping Bane grounded. The question remains. Will she be able to peer into the darkness he carries within and still remain by his side?

 

Despite the help he has at hand, Bane understands he needs to recruit street soldiers to even the odds against this formidable enemy. It may be too late to realize the full scope of this mission. Working as one, can the team hope to survive the insane mission that Bane has set before them? With danger ahead and bridges burned behind him, there is only one path back home—through victory.

When things go tragically wrong due to miscalculations, can Bane hold the team together? His previous battle against the paranormal had left many bodies in its wake. How many will die now? Will one of them be Bane himself?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Slate R. Raven
• Release date: Jan 2, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201771829

Book preview

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my Anthane Bug Paterek, a more honorable and noble friend I could never ask for.

Prologue

Dusk smashed into the azure face of the sky, causing the horizon to swell up into shades of purple, violet, red, and blue. Smoke curled and caressed the interior of the room, billowing out from underneath the doorway. Across the street, a house was burning down into nothing more than smoldering embers. The entire building had been razed to ground level; wisps of charcoal-colored smoke stained the sky above the now smoldering skeletal home. Forked tongues of fire licked at the remaining beams that had once supported the house's frame.

Too late came the eardrum-piercing screams of the fire engines that sped toward the decimated residence. Ambulance and police cars swarmed into the area, blocking off traffic to allow the firemen easier access to the burning ruins. Though, they all realized there was nothing to salvage from the home. Hoses were attached to hydrants, and water sprang forth to douse the embers that threatened to envelop other houses nearby. In fact, some of the hoses focused their attention toward the houses just to ensure they weren’t the next victims of the flames. One lone object could be seen as withstanding the death of the home, a blackened and scorched metal safe; it stood four feet tall and three feet wide.

Two of the gawkers that had been watching the battle between flame and structure seemed out of place. Their clothes boasted a simple lifestyle but had a somewhat anachronistic aura hovering about. Each wore a simple pair of black slacks, a dark blue button-down, and strangely, each wore a coat that very much resembled a cloak from medieval times. The wind that had fanned the flames inside the building now caused their cloaks to billow back away from them, despite all their efforts to the contrary. They looked longingly at the safe, wondering what secrets it might contain, yet attempted to look impassive all the while.

His eyes breathed in every ounce of them, from their short-cropped silver hair to their small child-like feet. Their spindly forms were huddled beneath the dense folds of the dark fabric. Also concealed from the casual onlooker were weapons that were used in the hunt, but he had noticed them in a single glance. The hard lines of their weathered, leathery faces portrayed an ever-deepening scowl. The pair resembled each other in many ways, so little of their actual features betrayed a hint of gender. Yet, he knew they must be brother and sister by the way they held themselves outside the char-broiled home.

It had rapidly become clear that this fire had been no accident, a fact that would soon be on all the news stations when the arson investigator reported it to the news crews providing live coverage of the once brilliant blaze. He had slept through most of the excitement, rousing himself from his slumber just in time to see the fire engines arrive. Through the slender crack between the thick velvet drapes, he watched the neighborhood react to the violent destruction that had leaped into their midst. He rarely, if ever, spoke with the people on his block, despite their good-natured invitations to parties and garage sales.

In his own way, he was a member of the neighborhood watch program. Though he never attended a meeting, he often viewed the world from behind his curtains, ensuring the safety of those on his block. Not once in the peaceful area had he reason to phone the police or inform a neighbor that something suspicious had occurred. Now he had to deal with the pair who had set fire to the Conner's home. Despite having no evidence to level his accusation, he was quite certain that they were responsible. A little too late, the twins had realized the error of their ways; they had set the torch to the wrong house.

The Twins, as he had dubbed them, just didn't know which house was his. A fact he was most proud of, as he had taken great pains to conceal his whereabouts; thus, allowing for the illusion that he lived in several of the homes in the area. He performed these little tricks with the adept skill of a master magician, though magic had nothing to do with it. His games of misdirection were simply sleight of hand on a grander scale, in which he employed shadows and light to befuddle the conscientious onlooker.

Donning a costume that made him resemble a middle-aged housewife, he drew back the curtains and gawked at the black smoke curling up from the now soaked ashes of the home. Providing yet another illusion that he wasn't right before the very eyes of the Twins. The costume was completed with a child-sized puppet that he had created to tug at his apron and turn its head from time to time. Using a vast income, he supplemented his costumes with more elaborate items to enhance his illusions. His timing couldn't have been more perfect if he had a crystal ball with which to see the future. As he stared in horrified shock at the extinguished house, the Twins began to scan the nearby homes for signs of their current quarry.

Aromas of charcoal, silt, and ash wafted up from the inch-high crevice that lay beneath the front door of his home. During the humid summer months, the door often stuck due to the way it was hung and the warping of the wood. It wasn't something that bothered him, though; it was rare that he ever used the front door anyway. With five interior deadbolts that couldn't be accessed from the outside, it was much easier to enter through different means.

Retreating from the window, he took up a large wool blanket and drenched it in cold water from the faucet. Folding it neatly, the soaked blanket made an excellent blockade against the intruding smoke. Having spurned the master bedroom as a place for slumber, he converted it into a luxurious library, allowing his smaller room to serve as his den. In the basement was his bedroom; the coolness of the concrete walls offered a much more comfortable environment in the summer.

One set of fourteen creaking wooden steps slanted down onto the sterile floor. In lieu of carpeting, he had painted the floor midnight blue and employed the use of several intricately woven throw rugs. As it served as his bedroom, the basement was immaculate; no cobwebs nor dust pervaded his sleeping chamber. All three of the window wells that led into his bedroom were filled with a thick massing of gravel, allowing no one to look in on him unawares. Instead of the crosscut beams that often adorned most basements, he had taken the time to install a drywall ceiling, complete with light fixtures and fans.

Beautiful and colorful paintings hung on the walls, their creator depicting fantastic creatures that only imagination could provide. He enjoyed the realm of fantasy over some of the classic art styles, as it allowed his mind to wonder what beasts like these would be like if they were real. Much more entertaining in his opinion than some bowl of fruit captured for posterity, why anyone would waste a good canvas on such dribble was beyond his comprehension. To complete the sterile environment, all of his belongings were put away and in their proper place. Century-old advice always clucked at the back of his mind when he failed to return items to their original location, a place for everything and everything in its place. That was always heard in the timbre tone of his mother's voice.

Whenever he had to make a choice or came across a situation he had to deal with, his dear departed mother's voice rang through his head. It felt like several lifetimes since he had seen her, and he still grieved her loss. While his mother was incredibly strict and overbearing, he loved her without bounds; she taught him everything he needed to know to survive in the world. However, she never prepared him to contend with the life he was leading now.

He often slept through the days and awoke at dusk; it was the manner of his sleep cycle. It started when he was in his early twenties, going to rave parties, drinking half the night away. Waking at night to be ready to get drunk again, the habitual sleep cycle continued well into his adult life. Change wasn't something he was comfortable with, but he was able to adapt if the need arose. Thus, he had kept his sleep schedule without hesitation, knowing that life would bring enough changes, no need to go looking for any.

Without warning, a bolt of lightning crackled and lanced across the sky. Storm clouds accompanied the violent winds that swarmed the outside of the house like a plague. Thunder shook the foundation of the house, captivating his attention. Water streamed from the sky in sheets, cutting diagonal lines into the horizon. Already his sump pump was working overtime in the partitioned-off portion of the basement. Even as a little boy, he enjoyed a good rainstorm; he found it most relaxing.

He paced his basement for several minutes before stopping to appraise his new selection from his wardrobe. Taking a moment to smooth out the navy-blue rayon button-down, which was tucked into his black slacks. He wore loafers, but they had a sole of a good pair of running sneakers. An onyx stone in the shape of a fang hung from the pendant at his neck. On his right hand, he had an onyx and ruby ring, depicting a drop of blood across a black sky. He always enjoyed the myths and legends from the age of the renaissance.

In his early twenties, he secretly wished that he could become a mage, a knight of old, or even some of the more mythical creatures of that time. For a while, he was involved in a cult that acted as though they were vampires but were simply fools playing a game. During those strange days, was when he met Elena, the one true love of his life. Her hair was like his, black as the midnight sky, and her eyes were the deepest jade he had ever seen. His eyes were a very dull and uninteresting hazel and felt inadequate when their passionate gazes met.

Elena was older than him by many years, but that meant nothing to him. She looked at least ten years younger and enjoyed life with a vibrance that most her age would give vital parts of their anatomy to be able to duplicate. For a long-time, he couldn't quite place the look in her eye that showed the vast knowledge she beheld. It was as though she had lived several lifetimes within the span of her natural life. Soon, he came to know all too well why she held such a look within the depths of those sensuous pools of radiance the world referred to so obtusely as eyes. What he had learned had changed his life forever!

Chapter One

Her face was framed by shimmering gold, faintly blowing on the pale breeze that chilled the warm air. Blazing blue eyes, the color of a sky unblemished by clouds, stared across the horizon. She stood looking over the midnight sky as it reflected off the sheer glass lake. The waters couldn't have looked more like a sheet of onyx unless the liquid solidified. Though, the lake was generally clear for several feet during the day. At night, the mystical painters of shadow created their masterpiece by transforming the waters to black and gothic. Winds blew lightly through her beautiful gold-spun hair, which she kept well maintained.

Standing on the dock, the caramel paint chipping in places, she admired the four-pronged outcrops that extended off of it. Jessica simply enjoyed the heartwarming scenery. Two wave runners, one smaller than the other, were along the left side of the dock; the large red speed boat, coupled with a faster metallic blue boat, adorned the right. A quaint bench, fashioned out of the same porous metal that made up the dock, was attached at the furthest point, allowing for a place to enjoy some measure of serenity and admire the creations that only the Lord in Heaven could invoke.

Little light pollution clouded her amazing view of the stars twinkling like uncut diamonds on a blanket of velvet. It was just one of the many reasons for which she enjoyed the rural location of the lake house. With a calming feeling accompanying it, the soft mellisonant sounds of the waters lapped against the shoreline. She let out a gentle sigh, allowing the everyday stress from her life to ebb away with each cleansing breath. Her friend's lake house was one of the few places on the planet that had a total pacifying effect upon her conscious mind.

Birds swooped and dove near the water's edge as the fish leaped from beneath. Such a flurry of animal activity wasn't uncommon on the lake. Again, it was another reason that she loved the lake house so verily. Taking a long slug off of her beer, which was contained within a bright yellow plastic cup, Jessica continued to stare off at the horizon. She constantly questioned things that happened in her life and what paths she might have taken if only she had the good sense to choose those paths.

Aqueous mercury and gold danced along the crests of the virtually nonexistent waves, shimmering like a vast field of untouched treasure. She had been on the road with her career, so it had been a long time since she was last at her friend’s much-cherished lake house.

Glancing down at her beverage, Jessica heaved a well-earned sigh of contentment before walking up the dock toward the house. A bird chirped at Jessica as she passed underneath its perch. Jessica smiled up at it, and a special glow warmed the entire yard as she did. The luminance was not a physical entity but rather the way all living things responded to that particular smile from her.

She heard a call from the second story of the deck that wrapped around the house. Turning up the wattage on her already gleaming smile, Jessica glanced upward, easily sending a pleasant lance through her dear friend's heart. They had been friends for several decades but grew even closer over the past year. They could discuss anything under the sun, from the serious to the mundane, and all of it only served to strengthen the bond they shared. Their looks were in stark contrast to each other, as were their childhood experiences.

His hair was a deep chestnut, and while both had hair past the middle of their backs, his was straight as an arrow. He had pale steel eyes that seemed to look straight through anyone who fell under his gaze. Where she was soft, voluptuous, and beautiful, he was tall, muscled, and built for combat. It was something he worked toward since his early childhood, studying combat techniques and fighting styles of many different cultures. Many were his vices, but none so potent as his desire to continually learn more.

I said, hey girl! You going to stand out there staring at the lake all night? We've got plenty of beer to drink at the bar tonight!

I'm sorry! I lost track of time. Give me ten minutes, and we'll head out.

Ten minutes? We're already late! He whined while rolling his eyes with a good-natured chuckle. Women!

You're so bad!

Hey now, you can't say that unless you've slept with me, and none have complained thus far! He grinned wickedly.

Jessica simply laughed, knowing he always had an answer for everything, whether it was funny, right, or none of the above. Ten minutes, and then we'll go down.

Hmm, talk dirty, baby! He cackled with mirth.

She simply shook her head. Jessica enjoyed his quick wit; it was one of the reasons they had become fast friends. They both shared a healthy sense of humor. And although she didn't see it for herself, she, too, had a lightning intellect. It was one of the first things he had noticed about her, besides her shocking eyes. Heading in through the lower-level door, she raced into the bathroom to check her make-up and hair. Already feeling his impatience seeping through the ceiling, she changed her clothes at record speed.

Jessica expected to see him standing at the door, car keys in hand and foot-tapping repeatedly. Instead, when she reached the top of the steps, the foyer was empty. She was a little confused at this show of extreme longanimity over her lapse in time management. That is until she saw him sitting on his large sectional couch with his head in his hands. Instantly, concern reared up and creased her forehead. She stood silently for a moment, taking in the sight as it was truly a rare thing to see.

Hey, Bane? You, okay? she asked, using the only name he knew for himself.

What? Oh, yeah, I'm fine. You ready to go? he answered, rising to his feet. Black leather pants creaking slightly as he rose. Well, don't you look lovely. A shame your man couldn’t come up this week.

Thanks. A blush rose unbidden to her cheeks, as it did anytime, she was complimented. Now, what's wrong?

Nothing. Reaching into the leather vest he wore over his sleeveless t-shirt, he withdrew a set of keys. Time to hit the bar!

Bullshit. We're not going anywhere until you tell me what is wrong.

Jessica planted her feet and barred his path; a compassionate yet determined expression formed across her face. Bane had a naturally happy-go-lucky style personality, but like anyone else, he had highs and lows. However, one of the most fascinating aspects of his character was the fact that even when things got rough, he always had a smile to share with his loved ones. She knew that he could be on his deathbed making jokes to cheer up those whom he'd be leaving behind. So, the fact that something bothered him so much that he was at a loss to make a good joke troubled her. Jessica had never seen him look so sad.

Leading him back to the couch, she said, look, whatever it is, you know you can tell me.

I've got a serious problem, he paused for dramatic effect.

Well, what is it?

My friend, she... Bane let his voice trail off, then without warning, he started back up again. ...won't let me go to the bar.

After a light slap on his arm from Jessica, she gave him a stern look, he nodded his acquiescence. Do you remember when I told you my ex-wife was getting remarried?

Yeah, you took that news pretty well, considering all the things that surrounded that event. So, that's what's bothering you? Jessica asked, obviously quite skeptical.

No. You know I wished her all the happiness she could find in this world. I've always known that I was the cause of our relationship's destruction. So, of course, I was glad she found someone to treat her the way she deserved. Mixed feelings, obviously, but all in all, a good thing for her, ya know?

Wait, what do you mean wished? The realization suddenly hit her like a bus in downtown traffic.

You know her wedding was two days ago, which is why I assume you chose to come up here even though Jonathan couldn't come with you. Without letting her agree, or as he believed she would do, transparently deny that statement, he continued. Well, as they drove to California for their honeymoon...

Once more, another first entered into their relationship; she watched as tears spilled over his eyelids. And still, he pressed on with what he had to say as if getting the words out had become a personal mission for him. They stopped at some sleazy roadside diner, probably to get some food and stretch their legs. Both were killed in a horrible massacre in the middle of nowhere. One person survived the carnage at the restaurant, and the poor woman hasn't spoken a single word since they found her.

How did you find out? Her arms circled his shoulders as he wept torrentially.

The question hung in the air like a cartoon bubble until, at last, he raised his arm, and the television came on. An all-news network showed the scene in Las Vegas. They played the story over and over, periodically explaining what had happened. Several times, they flashed pictures of the deceased, and when they showed Bane's ex-wife and her new husband, it was their wedding photo taken only a couple days prior. The only thing anyone could really piece together on such short notice was that there was an astounding amount of body parts strewn across the small eatery.

Oh, oh, Bane. I'm so sorry! Listen to me, we don't have to go out tonight. I'd totally understand if you just wanted to hang out here. Rocking him back in forth in her arms as though he were but a young child, her mind grasped for the right things to say at such a time.

Wiping away his tears with a fingerless, gloved hand, Bane made a decision. No. Tonight we drink, I promised you a night at my favorite bar, and that's what we're going to do.

Are you sure? If it were me, I'd...

Tonight, we drink because I'm going to find out what happened to them tomorrow, and if the cops can't get the job done, I will, Bane vowed, interrupting her train of thought.

Bane...

I know what you're going to say, but this is what I have to do. So, let's go raise a toast to the newlyweds, and several dozen others, to whatever we can think of.

If that's what you really want.

Psalm ninety-four, one.

What?

A verse from the bible that comes to mind at a time like this.

Which is? she asked.

Paraphrasing, of course, it says 'Oh Lord, to whom vengeance belongs; show yourself.' Kind of fitting, wouldn't you say?

If you believe that, then why are you willing to take matters into your own hands? Jessica asked, always being a stickler for keeping him honest with himself. Something infinitely in need as he dated many women over the years after his marriage was gone. She kept him real, didn't let him act like a macho moron that he could be if left to his own devices. For some reason, she hadn't seen Bane out with a new woman lately, which led her to believe that he'd found a steady girlfriend. Why he hadn't mentioned anything about her yet, she wasn't quite sure. Jessica knew one of the only ways he could deal with the trauma was to act like nothing happened. He repressed his pain until he could find a productive release. Why not just leave it for God to handle?

Because the Lord helps those who help themselves. Who is to say that I'm not the tool by which He will take out his vengeance on the sick, son-of-a-bitch who did this?

Are you sure you want to get theological about this?

After a moment of thought, his decision was made. He gave a quick shake of his head and grinned at her. You ready to go?

Jessica didn't say anything, so Bane took her silence for assent. Once more, he rose to his feet and strode through the kitchen, his motorcycle boots thundering heavily on the ceramic tile. Though he was still very upset, he masked his face in a smile and cheerful exterior, opening the front door for Jessica. One of his most decisive character traits was his determination to return chivalry to the world. He escorted her to the midnight blue Land Rover and helped her into the large vehicle.

Thoughts raced through her mind as she calculated how best to help ease her friend's heavy and depressing burden. She had heard Bane talk at length of how terrified he was of his own temper. Although he had grown in patience and wisdom over the years, he knew the depths to which he could sink to while in the midst of a full-blown rage. The thought of it scared him more than facing a thousand men armed with submachine guns. After their discussions, Jessica had discovered this fear in Bane, and now she sought a way to pacify his lust for revenge.

What I want to know is of all the times Jonathan and I have come up to your lake house, why haven't we been to this bar of yours?

Maybe you hadn't earned the right yet. Bane grinned impishly. Besides, with a keg on tap in the basement, you guys never seemed to want to go out.

You never offered to take us.

Ah, but you never asked to go out. Suddenly, he began to mimic her voice, this is so relaxing! I never want to leave! Can we go out for a midnight boat ride? The stars are so beautiful. I can't believe how clear they are out here. As if you hadn’t introduced me to having a lake house!

Smart-ass. She playfully hit him on the arm as he rounded the corner.

Do me a favor, hit the play button on the CD player; I've got some Fleetwood Mac ready to go. I need my tunes. Bane grinned grimly.

You're obsessed with that band; moreover, I dare say Stevie Nicks in particular.

How could you listen to that music and not become obsessed with it? he asked.

As if on cue, the fantastic and mesmerizing sounds filled the cabin of the Land Rover. Bane began singing along to the music, amusing Jessica to no end. How strange it seemed to her that listening to the soothing songs of his favorite band could take away any sorrow he felt at the time. She had listened to Fleetwood Mac many times, but only after meeting Bane did she truly come to realize how marvelous their music really was; however, she wasn't nearly as fanatical about it as Bane seemed to be.

Pulling into the parking lot of the delightful Plague Bar and Grill, Bane brought his truck to a halt. Considering the bar's appeal, the place looked rather barren from outside. Only three motorcycles and two other vehicles bedecked the lot out front. Bane smiled knowingly as he spied the hottest-looking bike he'd ever seen that wasn’t his own; a Harley Davidson soft tail, colored almost exclusively in black and chrome. The tank had a beautiful picture painted across its side; the artist depicted a long-haired man with his arms outstretched to either side, as bolts of magic sparkled off the center of the man’s palms. The clouds racing over his head were blue, purple, and grey, with the magic in electric red, orange, and yellow.

Bane knew his girlfriend had chained herself to the bar to regal the owner of the local pub, Billy, with tales of her recent adventures. Samantha was a lithe, elegant, and magnificently built woman with red hair and desert sky blue eyes. While she had many blonde highlights, her coloring made her hair look like morning flames. She moved with such grace that even swans would be hard-pressed to compete. Whenever Bane caught sight of her, his heartbeat sped to alarming rates, and a smile arose on his face unsolicited. Jessica caught sight of the flush in Bane's cheeks and was honestly puzzled.

Throwing the truck in park, Bane leaped from the driver's side and swung around to open Jessica's door. She followed him at the rapid pace that his long strides brought him to the first set of doors into the bar.

They entered together, Bane nodding his hellos to several of the regulars of Plague on his way to a table. Jessica slid into one booth, and Bane went to get them some beer. As he walked, Bane shook hands with old friends, exchanging pleasantries en route to the bar; however, his eyes never left the beautiful woman