Vampire's Grimoire: Changing Bodies, #4

By Roan Rosser

Xander is many things, but he isn't a vampire… yet.

 

For now, being a vampire's daytime assistant has its perks. Hanging out with vampires is just one of them.

 

The downsides? Well, for one, Xander and his friends getting kidnapped by a group of armed mages. They want a book they think Xander's boss has in his possession, and refusing them means torture followed by a slow death. 

 

Being a normal human among supernaturals, at the mercy of those stronger, has never frustrated Xander so much. But as the friends struggle to keep themselves alive, Xander might have a bigger advantage than anyone realizes.

 

Vampire's Grimoire is the fourth book in the Changing Bodies trans-masc M/M paranormal thriller series. Content warnings for violence, torture, and kissing. While there is a romantic subplot, the book is not a romance. The series is best read in order.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rainbow Dog Books
• Release date: Jan 31, 2023
• ISBN: 9781956386134

Roan Rosser

I escaped from the bowels of Utah (namely Provo) and now live in the sunny Pacific Northwest United States. My urban fantasy novels mainly feature the trans and queer protagonists grappling with things like identity and found families that I wished I could have read about growing up. When not writing, you can probably find me beating up pixel baddies or in front of one of my sewing machines adding to my overstuffed closet or my army of homemade plush dolls. If you find yourself blinded by the vivid colors and loud patterns of my homemade shirts, know that I’m only trying to warn you that I may be poisonous. Or venomous? Or both? Probably both.

Book preview

Vampire's Grimoire

Roan Rosser

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Rainbow Dog Books

Copyright © 2022 by Roan Rosser

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

Cover by Rainbow Dog Books

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Sign up for my newsletter to get Jack’s prequel story for free. Available at https://bit.ly/3J1twim

Blurbs

Xander is many things, but he isn’t a vampire… yet.

For now, being a vampire’s daytime assistant has its perks. Hanging out with vampires is just one of them.

The downsides? Well, for one, Xander and his friends getting kidnapped by a group of armed mages. They want a book they think Xander’s boss has in his possession, and refusing them means torture followed by a slow death.

Being a normal human among supernaturals, at the mercy of those stronger, has never frustrated Xander so much. But as the friends struggle to keep themselves alive, Xander might have a bigger advantage than anyone realizes.

Vampire’s Grimoire is the fourth book in the Changing Bodies trans-masc M/M paranormal thriller series. Content warnings for violence, torture, and kissing. While there is a romantic subplot, the book is not a romance. The series is best read in order.

Contents

1.The Full Camping Experience

2.Good Boy! Now Fetch Bigfoot

3.A Proper Burial

4.Undead-ish

5.Were-what-now?

6.Livia's Coven

7.It's Just Light B&E

8.Speak of the Devil

9.She's Off My Holiday Card List

10.Seduction: Failed

11.The Vampire Smell

12.The Infamous Book

13.Zombie Vs Were-Wolf

14.The Troops Assemble

15.River Horse

16.The Final Countdown

17.The PCA

18.Epilogue

Also By Roan Rosser

About the Author

Chapter one

The Full Camping Experience

Xander

You know, there’s still time to ‘accidentally’ turn me before you leave on your trip, I joked, making air-quotes with my fingers.

Everett, a vampire and my current boss, lounged on his bed, his short dark hair rumbled from bed. I was only average height, but I dwarfed his slim figure. Still, as a vampire he was stronger and tougher than he looked.

With a faraway look in his eyes, Everett touched the faint white scar that wrapped around his throat, a reminder he’d been slit from ear-to-ear the night he’d been made a vampire.

Everett had been turned against his will, and I realized my error in joking about such a sensitive topic as his face grew pensive.

Or maybe you could take me with you, and tell everyone I’m your midnight snack, I said, trying to change the subject and not because I thought he would take me seriously.

It seemed to work. Everett let out a little huff of laughter and his eyes snapped back to the present. Tempting, but we talked about this and I doubt they’d buy either story. Accidents don’t happen to vampires. He paused, then remembering himself, added. Mostly.

I grumbled. We’d discussed both topics at length, me accompanying him on this vampire-only trip, and him turning me on the sly. In both cases, the risk of them killing me was too great. Despite the fact vampires could only turn one human into a vampire a decade, they wouldn’t hesitate to make an example of me. Vampires played the long game.

Vampires were ruled by a Council of Elders, the oldest members of each bloodline. For the last hundred years or so, the vampire council has regulated who could be turned into a vampire. Everett had petitioned the council to be allowed to turn me, but they’d denied my application.

With Everett being so new to the Council and something of an outsider, my theory was they wanted him to turn someone loyal to them rather than one of his personal friends, so they’d have a spy in his coven.

Who knew vampires were so bureaucratic? Although at second blush it made sense. They lived forever and many of them loved mind games and manipulation. Vampires flocked to bureaucracy like bees to honey. Or vampires to blood.

They’d already shown Everett mercy by letting him live even though he hadn’t been a sanctioned turning, and he was disinclined to test their limits. I agreed, even if it meant waiting.

Once a decade, vampire councils from all over the world convened in-person with the overseeing council of vampire elders. Everett thought he could use this opportunity to convince them to approve my application.

Everett’s vampire bloodline was rare, currently only him and his maker were still alive, or alive by vampire standards. His maker was still in a coma, and the vampire council had been pressing him to make a fledgling vampire, in case anything happened to him.

The bite of his bloodline was highly addictive, and without someone from his bloodline to feed from his coven, the members would slowly turn feral. So he needed to turn someone sooner rather than later.

Setting up this trip for Everett to be gone three weeks had been a nightmare logistically. Everett thought it put him in a good bargaining position against the elders. I wasn’t sure they’d cave so easily, but Everett seemed sure he could convince them.

While Everett went into the bathroom to shower, I finished filling his suitcase, then zipped it up and left it there. Three week’s worth of clothing and accouterments was heavy, so Everett could carry his own damn luggage downstairs with his super strength.

One benefit though of Everett’s extended work trip was it gave me a chance to take a long vacation. I hoped Everett would return with permission to turn me, so I was treating this as a special occasion. My last (finger’s crossed) chance to do some of the things on my bucket list that required sunshine.

Jack, Everett’s were-jackal husband, was going with me, along with my other best friend Avery, a were-wolf. We were flying into Seattle, where we’d go camping for a few days. Then we were taking a road trip down Highway 101, hitting all the major landmarks.

First, Forks, WA. I like Twilight (sue me), and my companions were humoring me. Besides what’s the point of road-tripping if you don’t stop and visit at least one cringy tourist spot?

Next, Portland, then the redwood forest, San Francisco, and finally ending in Los Angeles where I’d arranged to take a few surfing lessons. Then we’d fly home from there, getting back a day before Everett’s return from the vampire council meeting.

Speaking of flights, I needed to get moving. I grabbed my already packed bag, double checking I had everything on my checklist. I carried it downstairs where Jack waited, looking at his bulky and antiquated-yet-stylish wristwatch and tapping his foot.

Xander, where’s Everett? he demanded.

I narrowed my eyes at him. I don’t know. I’m not his keeper.

Jack narrowed his eyes back. Yes, you are. That’s literally your job.

It kind of was too. Everett got distracted easily, and half my job was ensuring he was where he was supposed to be. That said, I already considered myself off the clock.

Shut up, you’re not my supervisor! I yelled back, then burst into a fit of giggles.

Jack’s brows knit in confusion. What?

Before I could explain the reference to the Archer cartoon, a rush of wind brushed my back, and Everett now stood at my side. Show off. When I’d first started working for him, he’d often use that trick to startle me, thinking my surprised shrieks as I jumped in the air hilarious. Now a grizzly bear could probably pop out of the ground at my feet and I wouldn’t react.

Last Halloween I’d gone to a few haunted houses with Avery, and he’d complained I was making him look like a fraidy-cat as I strolled through the jump scares with no reaction, while he clutched my hand and screamed for me to protect him. Ironic, considering he was a were-wolf and I was a powerless human.

Everett grinned cheekily at his husband as if he’d been there all along, getting on his tiptoes to plant a kiss on Jack’s lips. Jack grinned, wrapping one arm around Everett’s back to pull him closer, the other cupping Everett’s ass. I averted my eyes, fighting down a blush. I’d put off dating for the last few years in anticipation of my change to vampire, but watching the two of them made me jealous… and horny.

The creak of the front door opening made me look back. Everett had zipped to the doorway, his heavy bag hung from one finger like it weighed nothing. Hurry up you two or we’re going to be late.

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Holy shit, you shaved off your beard! Avery yelled first thing when he spotted me at the airport. Avery was a big and tall guy. I wasn’t short, but he had at least five inches and a lot more bulk than me. He had his dark hair trimmed short. I secretly hoped he’d let it grow during our trip; I loved when it was long enough to brush his shoulders. Besides, what self-respecting were-wolf didn’t wear his hair long?

Avery’s large, masculine form was something a lot of people found attractive; he never had a problem getting dates, though the trans thing meant he often didn’t get past the second date. I’d known Avery since the third grade, when he’d beat up a kid who’d been bullying me. Avery had been large even then, and often teased for it growing up since girls were supposed to be small and delicate.

We’d been friends so long I had trouble picturing him as a potential romantic partner, but even I noticed how handsome he was. I’d considered asking him out several times, but always hesitated, worried about damaging our friendship.

I grinned turned my head to show my profile as he approached us, unconsciously scratching my chin, missing my beard. How does it look?

I almost didn’t recognize you, he said, plopping down in the seat next to me and dropping his carryon at his feet. Why the hell did you pick now to go clean shaven. You remember we’re going camping, right?

You’re just jealous you don’t look this good without a beard. I winked to show I was joking.

Ha, ha, Avery intoned. But really, why?

So I can get the full camping experience! Roughing it and not shaving, so by the end you look like a mountain man with messy scruff, in that in-between stage where it’s not yet a beard, but too much to be a five-o’clock shadow.

Avery gave a slow shake of his head and let out a deep sigh.

Oh, is that what you meant? Jack asked. When I’d pitched this trip to him I’d mentioned wanting the full camping experience.

"What did you think it meant?

You should have explained. He paused and scratched two fingers through his close-shaven beard, looking guilty, though who knew why. I could have joined in. Everett was just saying he’s never seen me without a beard, it would have been a good opportunity to shave it off.

We’re getting a hotel room when we get to Seattle. You can shave there, I told him. Flying red eye, we were scheduled to get in around two am, but we couldn’t pick up the car or camping equipment we’d rented until the place opened for the morning. We can take a picture and send it to Everett so he can be jealous.

Jack let out a deep belly laugh that crinkled his eyes up. The crow’s feet around his eyes stood out starkly on his dark skin, but giving him a distinguished look. Let’s do it. Everett’s going to be so mad he missed it.

You too, Avery? I asked, turning to him with a lopsided grin.

Avery cringed and shook his head. No way. Like you said, I look terrible without a beard.

What a load of bull, but I didn’t argue with him. If he didn’t want to join in the fun, I wouldn’t needle him.

I wasn’t on T last time I went camping, I told them, bouncing in my seat a little. I’m so excited.

I can’t wait to run in an actual forest, Avery said in a dreamy tone. He’d moved to Las Vegas when he’d been in third grade, well before his first shift, and so he’d never gotten to run in his wolf form in the woods.

Jack high-fived him. It’s a blast, trust me.

I tried to quash the sting of disappointment I couldn’t run with them. I didn’t have the shifter gene - I’d gotten tested after finding out it was a thing - so there was no chance I’d ever be able to shift into an animal. That was alright though, I figured vampire was the next best thing. Of the best cryptids to turn into, were-wolf was number one, but vampire was a close second.

After a boring flight, we collapsed in our hotel room.

In the morning, Jack shaved off his beard, as promised. I didn’t think he looked much different since he wore his beard pretty closely shorn, but we went ahead and took some pictures of Jack’s new look then sent them to Everett. It was night in his locale, or maybe Everett was on one of his day-walking jaunts, because he responded to our group text almost immediately. I hadn’t paid close attention to his itinerary, but I didn’t think he’d arrived in Germany yet.

Everett: No, how could you do that when I wasn’t around to enjoy it!

I took a selfie with Jack while making a peace sign, and added it to the chat.

Everett: Mine. No touchie.

Me: I’m a bad influence.

Everett: Yes you are, bastard.

I laughed because I knew he didn’t mean it, and just sent him back a kissy face.

Jack: Don’t worry, Ev. I’ll shave again once you get back if you want.

Everett: You better.

We picked up the rental car at the airport and headed out. After picking up camping equipment and groceries, we headed out to the camping site.

I’d never been to the Pacific Northwest before. I’d lived my entire life in the Vegas desert. Washington was so green. The trees crowded up to the road, making me claustrophobic. And cold. I swore the temperature dipped ten degrees as we wove deeper into the trees after turning off the freeway.

Our campsite was near the Olympic National Park. Jack was a great navigator, smoothly directing me when and where to turn. The road changed from smooth asphalt to gravel as we neared our camp ground.

Another car, a truck, and a large panel van already were parked in the gravel lot. From the parking lot, all I could see were moss-covered trees, ferns, and a garbage can at a trailhead.

Jack, where’s the camp? I asked. Not a good sign when Jack shot me a cheeky grin, white teeth flashing against his dark skin, before he popped out of the car without answering me.

I threw open my door and rushed to the back of the SUV where Jack and Avery were already unloading the supplies.

Where’s the camp? I repeated, anxiety spiking.

Jack laughed and shoved a backpack into my hands. Relax. It’s only three miles down the trail.

Three miles! I barely kept myself from yelling back. I don’t know why I’d been under the impression allowing a were-jackal to plan the camping part of the trip had been a good idea.

It’s an easy hike, I checked beforehand. But I wanted something isolated so Avery and I can run at night. It’s half the fun of camping for shifters. I must not have been able to hide my irritation, because he added, I thought you wanted the full camping experience?

I stuck out my tongue at him and grabbed my bags, glad I’d packed a pair of hiking boots.

Once we were all loaded up, we headed out. By the time we hiked out to our destination, it was getting dark, my legs felt like Jell-O, and I needed to pee.

Our campsite, identifiable by Jack’s name tacked up on a wooden beam in front of it, consisted of only a large square of hard-packed earth and a cold fire pit bracketed in by four wooden beams that held the ferns at bay.

I dumped my pack by the edge and scanned the area.

The tree cover was thick enough between our camp and the other two sites here to break line-of-sight between them, giving us the illusion of being completely alone in the forest.

The trail had dead ended into our site, and we’d passed two more camp spots on the way here. What I failed to see was a bathroom.

Jack, you have a map right? Where’s the bathroom? I turned to him.

Back by the first site we passed, the empty one. He waved back the way we’d come without looking up from the tent instructions. Toilet paper is in my bag.

I thought I’d misheard. What? Toilet paper? Won’t the bathroom have that?

Not guaranteed, Jack said, handing the stupefied Avery a tent pole. It’s only an outhouse.

Outhouse? Avery mouthed at me over Jack’s bent head, looking a bit panicky for the first time. At least I wasn’t the only one freaked out by the thought of the facilities being nothing more than a hole in the ground.

I dug around to find a roll of toilet paper in a clear zipper bag. I also grabbed a flashlight since it was starting to get dark, and trudged back the way we’d come.

I saw why I’d missed it as we came in. It faced towards the three campsites, nestled in the overhang of a massive pine tree. The building was made of concrete with a metal door. The inside didn’t smell as bad as I thought it would. A toilet sat against the back wall. No sink though, only an empty bottle of hand sanitizer hanging from a string near the door. And, as Jack had predicted, no toilet paper. Awesome. But better than the image that had initially sprung to my mind of a wooden shack with a pit inside.

When I stepped back out of the outhouse, I paused to text Everett.

Me: This place doesn’t have running water! Ahhhh!

My phone beeped, Message Not Sent.

No bars? Are you kidding me?

Me: And no cell service!

I sent the second text on auto pilot then mentally facepalmed.

I stomped back to our campsite. Spot 1 now had a couple, a man and a woman, setting up a tent. The campers in spot 2 sat around their fire, roasting s’mores. It was a group of eight men, dirty with overgrown stubble that made me think they’d been here a few days.

Our tent was already set up when I returned, and Jack was in the process of starting a fire,