Donovan: Carnival Game, #3

By Aaron Abilene

Alternative history except with a vampire. What if a vampire was really the only person who could right all of the wrongs in history?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Aaron Abilene
• Release date: Jan 5, 2024
• ISBN: 9798223088356

Book preview

Donovan

Carnival Game, Volume 3

Aaron Abilene

Published by Aaron Abilene, 2024.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

DONOVAN

First edition. January 5, 2024.

Copyright © 2024 Aaron Abilene.

ISBN: 979-8223088356

Written by Aaron Abilene.

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Title Page

Copyright Page

Donovan | Written By Aaron Abilene

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Donovan

Written By Aaron Abilene

––––––––

The clock struck midnight, and the city that never sleeps was bustling with energy. High above the streets of Manhattan, Donovan, a 500-year-old vampire, stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows of his luxurious penthouse. The reflection in the glass showed a man who appeared to be in his early thirties, with piercing blue eyes and dark hair slicked back from his chiseled face. His mission was clear: stop all of the bad things that have ever happened. And with the ability to move through time at will, he had made considerable progress.

Another night, another chance to make a difference, Donovan muttered to himself, studying the people below as they scurried about like ants in a colony.

To quench his insatiable thirst for blood, Donovan had developed a code for himself over the centuries – he would only feed on those who had committed heinous crimes. This way, he could satisfy his needs while avoiding detection and maintaining some semblance of moral integrity. Of course, such a strategy required exceptional investigative skills to track down these criminals, but Donovan had honed his abilities over time.

Let's see what the city has in store for me tonight, he said, picking up his phone and scrolling through the latest crime reports. A headline caught his eye: Serial killer strikes again in Central Park. The article detailed how young women were being targeted, and the police had no leads. Donovan's jaw tightened. He knew what he had to do.

Time to get to work, he whispered, grabbing his leather jacket and heading towards the door. As he exited the penthouse, his supernatural senses kicked in, heightening his awareness of every sound, smell, and movement around him.

Donovan arrived at the scene of the most recent crime, using his vampiric speed to travel unnoticed. Crouching down, he examined the area where the body had been found. His heightened senses detected something – the faint scent of the killer still lingered in the air.

Got you, he murmured, following the trail with determination. He tapped into his vast knowledge of criminal psychology, piecing together the clues and forming a profile of the murderer as he tracked the scent through the dark streets.

As the trail led him deeper into the seedy underbelly of New York City, Donovan couldn't help but ponder the morality of his actions. Yes, these people were criminals, but who was he to decide their fate? It was a thought that had haunted him for centuries, adding to his already heavy burden of loneliness.

Focus, Donovan, he scolded himself, shaking off his doubts. You're saving lives by stopping these monsters.

With renewed resolve, Donovan continued his pursuit, honing in on the scent as it grew stronger. Soon, he found himself standing at the entrance to a deserted alleyway, shadows dancing across the pavement. The killer was close, and Donovan knew what he had to do.

––––––––

The night was alive with the chatter of high society, the clink of champagne flutes, and the rustle of designer gowns. Donovan stood at the edge of the room, surveying the crowd through piercing blue eyes. He had chosen his attire with meticulous care – a crisp black suit tailored to fit his lean frame perfectly, accented by a deep crimson tie that hinted at his true nature.

Mr. Donovan, cooed a sultry voice from behind him. I didn't expect to see you here.

Ah, Miss Sinclair, he replied smoothly, turning to face the stunning woman who had approached him. Her raven hair cascaded over her bare shoulders, framing her delicate features. I couldn't resist attending such a prestigious event.

Of course, she purred, looping her arm through his. Shall we enjoy the evening together?

Donovan hesitated for only a moment before offering a charming smile. That sounds delightful.

As they mingled among the city's elite, Donovan's keen senses were focused on gathering information. His intuition told him that someone in this very room had ties to the criminal underworld he hunted. The challenge was unearthing that connection without drawing attention to himself.

Have you met our gracious host? Miss Sinclair asked, leading Donovan towards a portly man with an air of self-importance.

Allow me to introduce Mr. Hawthorne, she said with a flourish.

An honor to meet you, sir, Donovan said, extending his hand. Mr. Hawthorne shook it firmly, a calculating glint in his eyes.

Likewise, he replied, assessing Donovan in return. I've heard whispers about you, Mr. Donovan. Quite the mysterious figure.

Perhaps I simply prefer to keep my private life...private, Donovan countered, maintaining his charm.

Indeed, Mr. Hawthorne said, sipping his drink. A wise choice in these uncertain times.

As the evening wore on, Donovan continued to converse with each guest, subtly probing for any leads. His vampire-enhanced charm and wit allowed him to gain their trust, an invaluable advantage in his quest for justice.

Mr. Donovan, Miss Sinclair whispered into his ear, her warm breath sending a shiver down his spine. I think I know something that may interest you.

Proceed, he urged, trying to suppress his excitement.

The information she provided pointed Donovan towards an individual in a corner, dressed impeccably but exuding an aura of danger. Donovan's instincts flared, his supernatural abilities at the ready as he considered how to approach the situation.

Thank you, Miss Sinclair, he said, brushing a gentle kiss on her cheek. You've been most helpful.

Carefully navigating the crowd, Donovan drew closer to his target. He knew his superior strength, speed, and agility would give him the upper hand if things turned violent, but he preferred to avoid unnecessary conflict among these oblivious partygoers.

Terrence O'Malley, Donovan greeted with a smile, extending his hand to the man in question. It's been too long.

Indeed, it has, O'Malley replied, clearly taken aback. How have you been?

Better than ever, Donovan assured him, his tone light. But enough about me. Let's discuss your...extracurricular activities.

O'Malley's eyes narrowed, but Donovan didn't back down. He could sense fear creeping into the man's mind, the scent of it filling his nostrils. This was the moment of truth.

Keep your voice down, O'Malley hissed, attempting to maintain his composure. We can talk outside.

Lead the way, Donovan said calmly, following O'Malley as they left the party behind.

His heart raced with anticipation, his vampiric nature thrumming beneath the surface. Tonight, another criminal would meet their end at the hands of the immortal Donovan – all in the name of a better world.

––––––––

The night was dense with fog, casting a sinister veil over the seedy part of New York City where Donovan found himself. The glow from the streetlights created an eerie ambiance as he prowled the streets, hunting down a serial killer who had been preying on young women in Central Park. A man who had eluded the police for months, but Donovan was confident that he would be able to find him tonight.

Stay focused, Donovan whispered to himself, his eyes scanning the darkness ahead. He could see better than any human could in this dim light, his vampiric vision piercing through the shadows with ease. Every detail stood out in stark relief, from the cracks in the pavement to the rats skulking in the alleyways.

As he walked, he stretched out his senses, searching for the telltale scent of fear that often marked a criminal's presence. With each step, his enhanced hearing picked up on the distant noises of the city – the blaring car horns, the laughter spilling out of a nearby bar, and the whispers of illicit deals being made in dark corners.

Come on, Donovan muttered, frustration mounting. Where are you?

Then, abruptly, he caught it – a faint whiff of something off. It was like the smell of sweat mixed with the metallic tang of blood. He knew instantly that this was the scent he had been waiting for.

Got you, he growled under his breath, his excitement rising.

He followed the scent through the narrow streets, his speed increasing as his anticipation grew. His feet barely touched the ground as he glided silently through the shadows, using his supernatural agility to keep pace with his quarry. Donovan listened intently, picking up on the faintest echo of footsteps up ahead.

Please... let me go, a woman's voice whimpered, pleading with her captor.

Shut up! the killer snarled, his voice harsh and cruel.

Time to end this, Donovan thought, his jaw clenched in determination. He could feel the power coursing through his veins, heightening every sense and sharpening his instincts. This monster would pay for what he had done, and Donovan would be the one to deliver justice.

As he rounded a corner, Donovan spotted them – the killer gripping the woman's arm tightly, his other hand holding a knife at her throat. The fear in her eyes was palpable, and it fed the fire within him.

Let her go, Donovan commanded, his voice resonating with authority.

Who the hell are you? the killer spat, tightening his grip on the woman as he glared at Donovan.

Your worst nightmare, Donovan replied coolly, stepping forward without hesitation.

Stay back! the killer warned, pressing the knife more firmly against the woman's skin. Or I'll slit her throat!

Go ahead, Donovan taunted, staring down the man with an unnerving intensity. It won't save you.

The killer hesitated, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. That was all Donovan needed. In a blur of motion, he covered the distance between them in a heartbeat, disarming the man with a swift kick to the wrist. The knife clattered to the ground, and the woman broke free from her captor's grasp, sobbing in relief.

Run, Donovan told her, his gaze never leaving the killer's face.

Thank you, she whispered before disappearing into the night.

Get ready for a taste of your own medicine, Donovan growled, his voice tinged with menace as he advanced toward the now trembling serial killer.

––––––––

Donovan's nostrils flared as he caught the killer's scent, an odious blend of stale sweat and fear. He breathed in deeply, committing the smell to memory, and began tracking him through Central Park with predatory precision. His heightened senses kept him focused on his prey, even as the bustling metropolis threatened to drown out the