Blood Drinker: Grave Investigations, #1

By William Van Tuyle

When a vampiric serial killer turns the world of law enforcement upside down with a series of brutal murders, the FBI is forced to rely on the legendary unorthodox detective Arthur Graves. Although his methodology is questionable, his ability to get results is undeniable.

Meanwhile, unknown and struggling college student Henrik Meyer is prepared to take on his idol. Determined to fulfill his lifelong goal with little more to his name than his nearly empty bank account and his haughty vampire companion, he prepares to confront the legendary detective in a tactical battle of wits to secure the key to the vampire's immortality: her phylactery. But as the forces of justice draw ever closer, the young student will have to choose between his humanity and his ambitions.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Enigmatic Publishing
• Release date: Apr 12, 2024
• ISBN: 9798986929392

Book preview

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

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Note from the Author

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Also by the Author

Chapter 1:

Midnight Contract

January 1st, 2023

11:00 p.m.

Every request was different, but tonight’s was far outside of Henrik’s expectations.

On the first day of the new year, private investigator and student Henrik Meyer slammed his desk in frustration. There was no way he could finish this college paper by tonight and still meet with this potential new client for a new contract. How many detectives are judged by their GPA? he asked himself with a confident smile as he folded his small, dusty laptop. Besides, who expects students to finish a paper over winter break by the first day of the semester? Talk about unreasonable…

The contents of his fridge revealed an almost empty bottle of ketchup, two cans of soda, and Thai leftovers that should’ve been thrown out at least a few days ago. His stomach growled as he fumbled through his wallet. New contract it is.

The twenty-two-year-old man threw his T-shirt onto the bed in exchange for a white dress shirt fresh from the ironing board. He kicked off his basketball shorts and upgraded to black dress pants. He cringed at the sight of his worn, scuffed dress shoes, but they would have to do.

Henrik pushed the loose knob of his apartment front door open, departing into the concrete corridor. He approached the elevator. Out of Order. Damn it. What is wrong with these clowns? Nothing but a bunch of slumlords… His black dress shoes elegantly clicked down on each step for three floors. He adjusted his coat before heading out into the snow-covered streets. Yeah, January in Rodrick, Pennsylvania, he muttered under his breath. Winters are always hell in a city so far up north. It’s amazing this place ever became filled with people.

As he walked to the parking lot, he stared at the abandoned and looted businesses that surrounded his apartment block. This place is a disgrace to this once great nation.

With the turn of a rusty key, his sedan roared to life. As he drove through the slow traffic that persisted even this late at night, his right hand hovered over the air vent. The heat brought a smile to his face, At least something in my life still works. His eyes drifted toward the clock. 11:19 p.m.

Pulling up along the curb, he reached his destination at only 11:52 p.m., eight minutes early. The door locks clicked simultaneously as he began to scan the area. This part of the city had few street lights, limiting his search to nearby boarded-up buildings, litter, and the occasional rat. Henrik’s hand jammed into his pocket, confirming he remembered his switchblade. Do these thugs really think they can rob a future detective and get away with it? Your ambush will fail to four inches of cold steel.

By 11:59 p.m., he still saw no movement on the street. The email said to meet the client at 1443 Clyde Street tonight at midnight. For $250.00 an hour, it was hard to say no, especially considering he didn’t have much to be robbed for.

Usually, the big prizes go right for the top names, not a lowly newbie like him. I might not have much of a reputation yet, but surely my well-written bio impressed them. Whoever this is, if they are a real client, must have already recognize my intelligence and talent. He cracked his knuckles.

Fueled by ambition as the clock struck midnight, he slammed the door behind him and pressed the lock button twice. Two cockroaches scurried out of his way as he approached the abandoned stairwell. The dark gray asphalt matched his coat. He gave his short, styled brown hair a quick pat down with his shaking hands. The dilapidated steps slowly led him up the building’s walkway. As he reached the second floor, he noticed a figure standing on the other side. The first thing he noticed was the cleavage of her large, pale breasts nearly bursting out of her low-cut black and red dress. His paranoia forced him to turn away from the figure and ready his blade out of sight.

Relax, I’m the scariest thing here, the female voice called out from across the outdoor walkway.

He turned around to see her step toward him. She was around 5’9" with an hourglass build. Her pitch-black hair stretched down to her waist, covering the pale skin of her shoulders. Her face was beautiful, yet uncanny, like that of an esoteric being trying and failing to simulate an attractive, organic human. Though the most striking thing about the figure was her blood-red irises, the dominating feature of her otherwise normal looking eyes.

Sweat made the knife’s handle slippery in his hand as he became all too aware of the hair on the back of his neck. The pupils within Henrik’s blue eyes dilated. He held his knife down at his side. What are you up to? Who else is here waiting to jump me? His head spun in all directions, ready for anything.

Is this how you treat all your new clients? She flipped her hair behind her shoulders.

Is this where you meet all your new investigators? Does anyone even live in this building anymore?

Hmmm, not that I know of. I like it that way. Nice and private. Her deep red lips curled into a smile.

Try anything, and I swear to God, I’ll kill you!

You wouldn’t stand a chance. Go ahead and give it your best shot, but you’ll regret it.

This woman is insane! He sighed. How can I help you, ma’am?

Oh, much better. I do prefer you with manners. My name’s Eketrith, and I have a bit of a problem with… an obsessive admirer, if you will.

If a pervert is stalking you, you should call the cops, not…

The police won’t help me. He’s not exactly a stalker. More like, he thinks I am a stalker, which is not too far from the truth. She giggled like a schoolgirl.

I’m not helping you break the law and kill an innocent man. I don’t care how much you’re offering. You’re psychotic! I’m leaving.

I’m a vampire.

Is that why you’re wearing red contacts? What social media site is this hidden camera scene for?

You don’t believe me? She frowned.

No, do you think I’m stupid? You’ve got some nerve, lady.

I’ll prove it.

How? Are you gonna drink someone’s blood? Any freak can do that. Henrik descended down the steps, not looking back. Allowing his tough façade to fade as he got farther from her, he rustled for the keys in his pocket and threw himself into the beat-up car. He sighed with relief as he slammed the driver’s side door shut and clicked the doors locked. He prayed as he turned the key, and it successfully started the engine. She may just be a normal woman gone insane, but something about her presence was disturbing. He wiped sweat from his cold forehead and consciously forced his breathing to slow, embarrassed at hyperventilating over such a thing.

Chapter 2:

A New Game Begins

January 1st, 2023

12:30 p.m.

Earlier that same day, Detective Arthur Graves sipped his black coffee as he hunched over his chessboard in the midst of an intense session. Plain coffee was the only source of calories the odd-looking, lanky man would sometimes have before lunch time.

I can’t thank you enough, Mr. Graves. We can always count on you for the bizarre cases. The whole world really believed that a ghost was haunting that town. The young, polished woman smiled at the sloppy, skinny man.

There’s nothing bizarre in this world. Everything has a logical explanation. The twenty-five-year-old man moved a black chess piece by holding it between his pinky and ring finger.

Even considering logical explanations, without you, we never considered that the man had an identical twin nobody knew about. No wonder that hospital was shut down for poor record keeping. The female FBI agent’s appearance was in stark contrast to Arthur’s. Her black suit was sharp, her brunette ponytail slick and styled, her nails neatly trimmed.

The man of little more than skin and bone was a secret weapon for detectives around the world. Arthur’s clothing was loose and baggy on his narrow frame. His red shirt was stained with ketchup and mustard, though many of the stains were covered by his chaotic black mane of hair sprawling down to his ribs. His gray eyes wore thick glasses that covered his black eye bags, which juxtaposed his surrounding pale skin. He moved a white chess piece between his pinky and ring finger.

Are you playing against yourself? asked the female agent as she studied him.

No, just thinking. He moved another white piece directly after the last one.

With a mind like yours, I’m not sure I could even begin to comprehend the deep thoughts that dwell within you. She smiled.

I am trying to decide if I should buy a new shirt. The holes in this one make my skin feel weird when I sit in this particular chair, but I don’t have this problem when I sit on the other chair.

The young agent laughed. For all you’ve done for us, a new shirt wouldn’t be a big deal.

Thank you, Agent Smith, but I must pick my own. I am very specific with my clothing. He moved a third white piece in a row, a knight one space directly back.

Agent Smith questioned his bizarre solo chess game, not that she doubted his ability at the real thing. Despite winning her school district’s championship in her teens, she could never manage to come close to beating him in a real game. As she got up to leave, she glanced around his luxury apartment. Rent for a place like this in Manhattan must’ve been astronomical, yet despite the location and fancy features, you’d sooner believe Arthur lived in a dump affordable to poor students like Henrik. Empty boxes of pizza and stained paper towels covered the granite countertops. The once clean white carpet was covered with various puzzles, chess pieces, and empty pickle jars. The only furniture that could be seen was two chairs at the chess table, a chair in front of the stainless-steel refrigerator, and a dirty twin-sized mattress without any sheets or pillows, right on the floor by itself in the bedroom.

We’ll be in contact again soon, Mr. Graves. The money has been deposited into your account, Special Agent Paige Smith said as she began to leave.

Thank you. Have a nice day. He didn’t look up from his game, biting his right pointer finger as he pondered his next move.

Chapter 3:

Intruder

January 2nd, 2023

1:00 a.m.

Later that night, Henrik arrived home to his derelict apartment and slammed the door behind him. I swear, this whole city is just filled with crackheads and lunatics. He ripped his coat off and tossed it onto the couch. These stupid wannabe social media stars… He double checked the lock on his front door before heading to his fridge. That’s right… Empty… Always tomorrow, I suppose. His stomach growled as he headed for bed. Expired Thai food it is…

The harsh smell of the hard, soggy rice surrounded his face as he agonized in his chair. That was the third contract in a row that fell through. He had no idea how he would make his rent payment on January 15th, a couple weeks from now. With the new semester rapidly approaching, he was running out of time to focus on a financial solution.

He lay in bed, dreading the long lines that would inevitably be at the supermarket in the morning. His old, dirty sheets irritated his skin as he tossed and turned. At some point, he drifted into a light sleep before the sound of his window shutting forced his eyes open.

His hand searched the nightstand for his switchblade. He gritted his teeth as he realized he left it in his coat pocket. Old-fashioned way it is. He crept through the darkness with a raised fist, peering around the room, unsure of where the intruder went. His torso bumped into a soft mass.

Hi, said Eketrith. Her red eyes glowed in the dark, making Henrik jump back with fright.

Henrik yelled in terror as he flung the light switch on. Just stop. You’re crazy, and you need help. Just get out of here before I call the cops!

Your begging is pathetic. Not so tough anymore, are you? She grinned. Go ahead and call the cops. Tell them a vampire is after you.

I know you’re not a vampire, Ekitrip, or whatever your name is.

She frowned.

Look, not that this whole thing is not impressive, but it’s not amusing to me anymore. What do I have to do to get you to leave me alone?

I’ll pay you in advance. Her hand offered a wrapped band of twenty-dollar bills. I need someone who is not a complete idiot but also not too well known. You fit the bill. Anyone with more prominence might be somewhat believable to the general public if they spoke about me.

A thousand dollars, he counted. Where did you get this?

It pays to be crazy. Apparently, that’s the only explanation you’ll accept from me since you don’t believe me and all.

Ekitrip…

Eketrith.

Eketrith, I know vampires aren’t real. I’m a forensic science student. I’m going to be a detective. I have a logical personality. This stunt just isn’t going to work on me. Go find some astrologers or something…

How do you know that I’m not real? Because someone else said so?

There’s no logical explanation…

There’s no logical explanation for my eyes, other than vampirism.

Colored contacts.

Turn the lights off.

He did as she suggested. Glow-in-the-dark contacts?

Fine, flip them back on. Light illuminated the small room once more. I didn’t want to have to resort to this. Tends to scare you, apes. Oh well, here it goes… Her fangs protruded from the top and bottom of her mouth. The long, ivory tusks looked capable of piercing straight through metal.

His eyes widened. Wow.

She smiled. Finally…

That’s impressive theater work for sure. You’re really dedicated to this, aren’t you?

She clenched her fists and glared, but her face relaxed after a few moments of contemplation. How much do you weigh? You look fit. She eyed the athletically-built man up and down.

About 200 pounds.

And how much do you think I weigh?

He momentarily eyed her up and down, though his gaze focused on her chest. Maybe about 140 pounds.

Push me down.

What?

"Push me down."

So, this is a kinky thing? You’re hot and all, in a weird way, but this is too much for me.

If you can push me to the floor with both hands, you can do whatever you want with me.

I don’t want to hurt you…

You couldn’t hurt me if you tried, pussy.

Stunned at the insult, he accepted her challenge and shoved her by her shoulders which felt ice-cold to the touch. She didn’t budge. In retaliation, she effortlessly shoved him by his chest. He flew back, hitting his back against the wall before collapsing to the floor.

He gritted his teeth and rubbed his shoulders as he stood up. All right, you’re strong, I admit. You’re in amazing shape. He groaned in pain and dusted himself off. But I’m sure you’re not the only girl your size who can do that to me.

Fine, live your life in ignorance, ape. I’ll still hire you for your services.

What’s this guy’s name?

Professor Carl McKinney.

McKinney, the folklore and mythology guy?

Yes, he has something of mine, and I need it back. Her pupils dilated and offered a chilling, serious expression.

Your coffin? He grinned.

My phylactery actually.

A container that stores the essence of a supernatural being. If destroyed, they’re destroyed.

So, you aren’t as stupid as you act? She smiled.

I had his class as an elective. He smiled back.

He’s been teaching all his classes remotely now. He knows I’m hunting him. Find him for me. I’ll do the rest.

I’m not helping you murder Professor McKinney. He’s a good man with a family.

She snatched the band of money from the floor. Then you can enjoy rotting in your disgusting apartment with no life. This money was just the start, but I’m sure remaining here, or even being evicted onto the streets in this winter, will prove to be a fun experience. She turned for his window and pushed it open. As my assistant, you would have been more than comfortable. She climbed out onto the fire escape before jumping off into the night sky.

He ran over to the fire escape, desperate to find her. Did she kill herself? Whatever, I don’t need to get involved with her insanity to get by. He fetched his laptop and plopped himself down onto the couch. These P.I. contracts are getting too inconsistent. Some normal job should help me get by for now. He browsed the job board. Forensic lab technician, that could work. Twelve dollars an hour isn’t much, but it does say here it’s entry level. Wait… Requires three years of forensic lab experience. Are you kidding me? It said it’s entry level. What experienced lab technician is going to work for twelve dollars an hour?

He slammed his trackpad to close the tab. Whatever, let’s see what else there is.

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