Bat Shift Crazy: An Ex-Shifter turned Vampire Hunter Urban Fantasy (The Legend of Nyx Book 2)

by Theophilus Monroe

  I locked the wheels on the table. The straps I used would hold her, but these tables weren't built to withstand moving corpses, much less one with enhanced vampire strength and blood lust. Worst case scenario, we'd stake her again.

  Devin brushed his mother's hair out of her eyes, pulling it back into a ponytail. For a lady in her mid-fifties, she had very few gray hairs, only a few around her temples. The rest of her hair was light brown. She was a short woman, barely five feet tall and slender. We didn't have to carry her downstairs or anything. There was an entrance around the back of the club, where the lot surrounding it descended to the lower level. We brought her through the same double doors I presumed were used for bodies before, when the place was still an operating mortuary and funeral home.

  Chances were better than not we'd have to transport her body again. Even after we unstaked her, it was too risky keeping a youngling nearby. And burning out her heart was out of the question. I didn't propose it since I knew Devin wouldn't consider it a viable option.

  "Would you like to do the honors?" I asked.

  "You do it," Devin said. "I don't think I can stand to look into her eyes when she sees me and realizes what I did."

  I shrugged and yanked my shoe out of Debbie's chest.

  Gasping, her eyes went wide.

  "Welcome back to earth," I said, staring down at Devin's mom.

  "What the... where was I? That place..."

  "Vampire hell," I said. "I bet it sucks. But you know, vampires suck, so..."

  "Kill me, please!" Debbie begged. "I didn't ask for this!"

  "We're not killing you, mom," Devin said.

  "Could you tell us about the vampire who did this to you?" I asked.

  "What do you want to know about him?" Debbie asked, struggling against her straps.

  Devin and I exchanged glances. It was a male vampire. It ruled out the possibility it might be the same one who appeared at the club the night before.

  "Do you know who he was, mom?" Devin asked.

  Debbie shook her head. "He was old. Wearing a suit and tie. He came to my door. I thought he was a Mormon. So I invited him in."

  "So you could argue with him about the Bible?" Devin rolled his eyes.

  "I thought he was a common heretic," Debbie said. "If not a Morman, one of those JWs. It never crossed my mind he might be, you know—"

  "A vampire," Devin said. "You can say it out loud, mom."

  "Yeah," Debbie said. "He was looking for something of Tom's. I didn't know what he wanted. He lost control and bit me. Now, I'm this. Please, Devin, I don't want to be a vampire, a devil incarnate!"

  Devin shrugged. "We don't always get to choose what we are, mom. But you never understood that."

  "It was your choice to be with a man, son."

  "I'm not with a man!" Devin protested. "Nicky is a woman."

  "So, he thinks," Debbie said, turning her face away from us.

  I bit my lip. It wasn't the first time, and certainly wouldn't be the last, I was misgendered. I could have taken offense if I wanted to, but I decided, a long time ago, that while I can't choose what or who I am, I can choose not to allow ignorant people to rent space in my head.

  "And I have been with men before, mom," Devin said. "You think people just sit down and weigh the pros or cons of being gay, or straight, transgender, or whatever, and make a calculated choice?"

  "That's not what I'm saying. You can still choose not to act on your urges, Devin. Why would you allow the passions of the flesh to lead you down the path of unrighteousness? Celibacy is a godly alternative. If you can't be with someone appropriate."

  Devin grunted. "Not everyone has the gift of celibacy, mom. I certainly don't."

  I bit my lip. I half-wondered if Devin was dropping a hint in my direction. Since, you know, we hadn't done anything remotely sexual since we got together. "Neither of you is going to change the other's mind," I said.

  "Cut out my heart!" Debbie demanded.

  Devin shook his head. "Maybe it'll be good for you to have to live as something you aren't supposed to accept. Maybe it'll give you a sense of how you made me feel growing up."

  "So, now you want to talk about your childhood? Your father and I raised you up to be a godly boy!"

  "You think I'm not godly, now?" Devin asked.

  "It's not just your relationship choices. You've embraced witchcraft! There's a demon inside of you, I'm sure of it!"

  "Can we focus on the issue here?" I asked. "Whether you like it or not, Misses Miller, you were attacked. Your son brought you back. If it's all about deciding not to act on what you desire, why don't you choose not to drink blood?"

  "Kathy. Did I hurt her? Lord alive! I bit her, didn't I?"

  "Your neighbor will be fine. You didn't kill her."

  "Thank God!" Debbie exclaimed.

  "So, what do you know about the vampire who bit you?" I asked. "You said you'd tell us what we wanted to know. That presumes you knew something."

  "I'll tell you if you can promise me you'll end him," Debbie said.

  I extended my little finger. "I'll pinky swear on it if you like!"

  "Do not swear an oath at all!" Debbie insisted. "The words of Jesus, Matthew chapter five."

  "Not even on a pinky finger?" I asked. "Pretty harmless, I'd say."

  "Let your yes be yes, and your no be no," Debbie said.

  "Fine. I promise I'll take the vampire out. But we have to know who he was, or at least what he wanted."

  "He wanted me," Devin said. "The note he left confirmed as much."

  "You are your father's son," Debbie said. "The gifts you have. But you don't perform the miracles of the angels. You use your God-given talents to perform witchcraft. I warned you, before."

  "You're saying the vampire wants me because I'm a warlock?" Devin asked.

  "If you dabble with darkness, you should not be surprised you've attracted the creatures of the night."

  "But you had paperwork," I said. "Stuff that used to belong to your husband. The vampire took it all."

  Debbie sighed. "I'm thirsty. Can I drink pigs' blood or something?"

  "This isn't Twilight," I said. "There are no vegetarian vampires. And they don't glitter in the sun, either."

  "You know that wouldn't work, mom. Dad has hunted vampires my whole life. Vampires can only consume human blood."

  "Then the blood of someone already dead!" Debbie shouted. "Get me something!"

  "Unfortunately," I said. "We don't have any dead people hanging around at the moment. And if you ate a dead man's blood, it wouldn't satiate you. It's not the blood itself vampires crave. It's the soul lingering within the blood. You must feed on the living."

  "Then bring me someone who deserves it, at least!"

  I nodded. "Something like that might be arranged. But what was in that box of paperwork the vampire might have wanted?"

  "The catacombs aren't the only place where the Order stored staked vampires," Debbie said. "There were other places, mausoleums, and cemeteries where the Order buried staked bodies. I don't know where they are. But I know Tom used to take the vampires he staked to different places after a hunt."

  I cocked my head. "Why not burn out their hearts?"

  "Tom said it was because most of them never chose to become vampires. They deserved a chance to be saved. The Order was trying to find a way to save their souls."

  As she was talking, the tingle signaling my bat shift started to course through my chest. I took two steps back. The tingle subsided a little, but it was still there. I closed my eyes to focus.

  "You okay, Nicky?" Devin asked.

  I shook my head. "I don't think so. Ever since last night, when that vampire snapped her fingers. I don't think I can be around another vampire without this urge to shift again coming back."

  "You felt this before?" Devin asked.

  "When I first encountered your mom. First, when ran past me at her house. Then again, when I saw her feeding. I thought since we unstaked her and I hadn't felt it,
it might have been a coincidence, but I'm starting to get that same feeling again. It's like the hungrier she gets, her craving triggers my urge to bat shift."

  Debbie cleared her throat. "You're shifting into a bat, now?"

  I nodded. "Ever since the Order made me drink another vampire's blood, one who had that ability."

  "Tom mentioned that," Debbie said. "Most of the vampires he was hunting could shift into bats. Some of them former nightwalkers. But he said it was becoming more common. Most of the vampires he took out, the ones whose information was in that box, were bat shifters, too."

  I took two more steps back. The tingle was getting stronger. The further I was from Debbie, though, the slower the tingle spread. "I think we know what these vampires are up to. They have a common heritage."

  "Alice said they'd all been staked by her," Devin said. "What if they'd also been turned by her. It would explain why they all share her ability? And she staked them as a way of cleaning up her own mess?"

  I bit my lip. "Maybe. Either Alice or Johann. He had that ability, too. And they hunted together; they acquired that ability at the same time."

  "Then why do they want me?" Devin asked. "What do I have to do with that?"

  I shook my head. "My kind, the Neck, have always had a close relationship with witches. Since we were shifters, and these vampires are too, there may be a connection. I need to talk to Brucie."

  "Your water sprite?" Devin asked. "I thought, after all that happened, he decided to go his own way."

  "Yes and no," I said. "I told him he could go and have whatever life he wanted since I had no intention of ever returning to the waters. But if I call to him, he'll hear me."

  "What are you talking about?" Debbie asked. "You're not human, are you, Nicky?"

  "He is in all the ways that matter," Devin said before grabbing a wooden stake from a table nearby and thrusting it through his mother's heart.

  "Damn!" I said. "I didn't think you had that in you."

  "Whatever she was about to say about you," Devin said. "I didn't want to hear it. No one talks that way to my woman. Not even my mom."

  Chapter eight

  I called his name and, a few moments later, Brucie appeared, sitting on Debbie's knee as she remained staked on the embalming table. He had a whole bottle of rum in one hand and a cigar in the other.

  "Nyxie!" Brucie exclaimed.

  I grunted. I hated when he called me that. Nyx, or Nicky. But Nyxie? It was like a combination of my two aliases. Didn't work for me. There wasn't any point in correcting him. I'd done it a dozen times before and, no matter how many times I reminded him, he stuck with Nyxie. "How's it going, buddy?"

  "Enjoying the three B's!"

  I cocked my head. "What are those?"

  "Bitches, Brewskies, and well... I don't know what the third B is yet, but I'm definitely enjoying it."

  "Butts?" Devin asked, raising an eyebrow.

  "Why would anyone enjoy butts?" Brucie asked before cocking his head and glancing back and forth between Devin and myself. "Never mind."

  Devin giggled.

  I cleared my throat. "I have a question for you."

  Brucie took a chug on his bottle of rum. The bottle was half his size. How he managed to drink half of it in a single gulp was a physics problem that didn't compute. Of course, nothing about him made sense—including how he could materialize, dematerialize, and reappear wherever he wanted and take inanimate objects with him.

  Brucie burped.

  "Excuse you," I said.

  "Have a light?" Brucie asked. "The worst part about being made of water. I can't keep this damn cigar lit."

  Devin extended his index finger and formed a flame at the tip of it.

  "Badass!" Brucie said, leaning into the flame and lighting his cigar.

  "Like I said, I have a few questions for you."

  Brucie exhaled a puff of smoke in my direction. "A question, or questions? You said question, first."

  I waved my hand through the air, clearing the smoke from my face. "A question that might lead to a few more."

  "You've got questions. Brucie has answers."

  "I hope so," I said. "What exactly was the relationship between the Neck and witches?"

  Brucie cocked his head. "Why do you want to know?"

  I shrugged. "Does it matter?"

  Brucie shrugged. "Maybe. I can't believe you don't remember."

  "All my memories about that life are scattered and hazy."

  "I know. And I also know why you're asking. I can read your mind, remember?"

  "Then why'd you ask me why I want to know?" I asked.

  Brucie took another puff on his cigar. "Because I know why you want to know. But why you think you're asking me about it might be completely different."

  "Still," I said. "If you're reading my mind."

  "I'm a lazy bastard, and I'm on my third bottle of rum today," Brucie said. "I have to concentrate to read your thoughts. Just tell me."

  "It's because vampires are coming after Devin and me. They seem interested in me, I suppose because somehow I have their bat-shifting ability. But they are bat shifters, too. And they're trying to get Devin because he's a warlock."

  "And you think there's a connection between this situation and the Neck's relationship with witches?"

  "Well, is there?" I asked.

  "How am I supposed to know? I've never met a bat-shifting vampire before."

  "No, Brucie. But you remember why the Neck were important to the witches. I remember enough to know they brought me here and put me in the Missouri River. I used to hunt from German rivers and lakes. Why would they bring us here if they didn't have a use for us? And, more importantly, what was in it for the Neck?"

  Brucie took another puff off his cigar, blowing a ring of smoke to the side. "It's complicated."

  "I'm not a simpleton. Explain."

  "Yeah," Brucie said, taking a swing of rum. "But drunk now right I am."

  "Shut up," I said. "You were speaking just fine until you said that."

  "Do you want me to shut up or explain?" Brucie asked.

  I sighed. "I don't care how complicated it is. Tell me."

  Devin was leaning against the wall, chuckling at my interaction with the sprite who used to be what I suppose was my lesser half-in a parasitic sense.

  Brucie finished off his bottle and tossed it into the corner. The glass shattered on the floor. "Sorry."

  "Was that necessary?"

  Brucie shrugged. "No, but it was fun."

  I sighed. "I'll clean it up later. Just explain."

  "Well, it's like this," Brucie said, waving his cigar through the air and tucking his wings in closer to his cherub-like body. "Shapeshifting was originally a curse."

  "Not for the Neck," I said. "We are what we are."

  "Is it?" Brucie asked. "An existence condemned to luring helpless victims with a beauty that is not your own, for no more than a meal? I'd think, after prettying yourself up like that, you'd get more than dinner. At least a little hankey-pankey should come with that, don't you think?"

  I snorted. "So you think the Neck are cursed?"

  Brucie sighed. "You know the first werewolf, right?"

  I nodded. "Yeah. Cain. Met him when I was in Vilokan Asylum."

  Brucie scratched his head. "I don't suppose you've read much of the Bible, huh?"

  Actually, I had. Not because I was religious, but to understand Devin, the Order, all of it. Devin piped up, though, before I could figure out where Brucie was going with this.

  "I know the Bible," Devin interjected. "Cain was cursed. Cursed and given a mark, one that would let anyone know if they killed him, they'd suffer a vengeance seven times over."

  Brucie huffed. "The curse and the mark were two different things. He earned the curse for killing his brother."

  "The werewolf curse," I said.

  "Right," Brucie said.

  "The mark," Devin added, "is supposed to be a measure of grace. Cain cries out to God out of fear
that if anyone sees him, they will kill him. So God gave him the mark as protection. Though he was cursed, according to the Bible, God still cared for him."

  "Okay," I said. "So Cain is a wolf shifter on account of a curse. What does that have to do with witches?"

  "Nothing," Brucie said. "Not in Cain's case, anyway. But there is power in curses. Only the druids, so far as I know, can shapeshift apart from being cursed. They do so by mastering the power of the elements themselves."

  "And witches are trying to learn that, too?" I asked.

  "I don't know the witches' motivation. Maybe they brought you with them, and others like you, to the Americans because they wanted to learn the magic that lurked behind your curse. Or, perhaps they simply wanted to use your kind to get rid of inconvenient persons, those who might persecute them in the new world. But you're not asking that, are you? You want to know why a shifter, like the Neck, or a bat-shifting vampire in the case at hand, would have an interest in a witch or a warlock."

  "Yes!" I said. "If I'm following you, the ability to shapeshift these vampires have, to shift into bats, isn't a gift at all. You're saying it's a curse, too."

  Brucie nodded and, extending his hand, pulled another bottle of rum out of thin air.

  I scrunched my brow. How the hell did he do that?

  Devin snorted. "This makes sense. It explains why you were able to absorb this ability, but you can't absorb other vampire powers."

  "Not that I know of," I said. "I don't make a habit of drinking vampire blood. So who knows."

  Brucie took a swing from his new bottle. "The reason the Neck had an interest in the witches is they believed the witches could break their curse. The reason these bat-shifting vampires have an interest in your friend here is that he could do the same."

  "Why Devin?" I asked. "It's not like witches are rare. Surely there's another witch out there they could convince to help."

  Brucie took a long draw from his cigar. "Only the witch who cast the curse can undo it. Or, if that witch is deceased, a witch in their lineage."

  Devin cocked his head. "You're saying I have a witch in my family history. A witch who cursed some vampires?"

  I sighed. "The Order uses magic, though they hate witches. Like they used vampires to kill other vampires and called them 'nightwalkers.'"