Mortality Bites Box Set [Books 1-6]

by Vance, Ramy

  He lowered himself onto one aged knee. “My friend, my lover, my superhero … you are the best thing that has happened to me and if you will only say one simple word, I can die happy.” He pulled out a ring from his shirt pocket and presented it to me.

  I felt tears roll down my still youthful cheeks as the word he longed to hear tried to find its way out of my mournful throat and into the world.

  But before I could utter that one simple word, I heard a yell.

  ↔

  “We’ll get back to this,” I said, putting my mask back on. “Stay right there and … we’ll get back to this. Promise!”

  I ran back to the auditorium, only pausing to look back to see one very old, very disappointed Justin.

  Shit, I’m such an asshole, I thought as I propelled myself into a room full of superheroes.

  In the middle I saw Cassy crying as she tried to scream something that no one could hear.

  We couldn’t hear it because overhead lights kept falling, the sprinkler system had gone off, the theater floor cracked in with a loud thud … as every possible and impossible catastrophe happened in that room all at once and all with the single purpose of preventing us from hearing what she had to say.

  But from the way she wailed I could tell she was screaming one word over and over again. One single word that meant the difference between life and death … one word that the gods thought would be funny if no one could hear.

  Screw that, I thought. The gods are gone and so are their crap rules.

  Using my vampiric strength and speed, I leapt from the stage, landing right next to her. She looked down at me, her eyes filled with dread and panic as she screamed that word again. As the word tumbled out of her lips, the theater screen ripped with a loud zzzzippp, drowning her word again.

  She started to point, but as she raised her hand, a friggin’ piece of ceiling plaster fell on her arm, forcing it down.

  I didn’t know what to do and thought about how in the last twenty-four hours I’d had fireballs and fists and super-speed freaks attack me … and survived. I’d fallen from impossible heights and survived.

  And now that I couldn’t hear one word, I was probably going to die.

  If only the world would stop breaking and the ground she stood on would stop shaking, maybe I could …

  How could I be so stupid? I thought. Her curse, what was it again? Cassandra shall walk this Earth, never to be heard, never to help a single soul, never to die.

  Curses are cryptic, but they are also specific. And it is in the small print that you can break a curse.

  I somersaulted toward Cassandra and tucking in low, I placed her in a fireman’s hold as I leapt forward and as high up as I could.

  Thank the GoneGods for vampiric strength, because we managed to latch onto the velvet walls lining the old cinema auditorium. And it was there, with Cassandra’s feet dangling ten feet above the ground, that I heard her.

  “Run!” she cried.

  “Run,” I repeated.

  Cassandra’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You can hear me?”

  “Yes. Run. Where?” I said, conscious that time was of the essence (yuck, what a cliché, but clichés are clichés for a reason).

  “Run out the back. He’s almost here. Run!”

  I dropped down with Cassy in my arms and yelled, “Everyone—out the back! Now. Those who can help the old ones, do so right away.”

  The superheroes hesitated and I screamed using my vampiric roar, “NOW!”

  The superheroes didn’t need to be told a third time. They all rushed out the back, the two superfast kids grabbing Rhino Boy and the monk as one of the unaged superheroes helped Justin.

  In a flash the heroes were gone and with their disappearance, the room went silent.

  Only Cassy and I remained, our ears adjusting to the absence of sound.

  And it was in that absence we both heard the click of a gun.

  Click, Clack, Bang, like It Ain’t No Thang …

  Except It Is a Thing—a Very Big Thing, Indeed

  I knew that click. I’d heard it before, during a brief stint I spent in Okinawa. During the war. I was there because I’d figured war meant lots of dying humans, which meant easy hunting grounds. I wasn’t wrong. What I hadn’t taken into account, though, was the advancement of human guns and how much more destruction they were capable of. When I was a young vampire, I only had to worry about muskets and other flint-based weapons. Hell, even a cannon in the 1800s did less damage than a machine gun in the 1940s.

  Machine guns are probably one of the few things I feared as a vampire, so I got to know their sounds well. That click belonged to someone pulling the hammer back on a monstrosity that could spew out dozens of specially-designed-to-kill bullets per second.

  Without hesitation, I grabbed Cassy, hugging her as dozens of steel-tipped bullets ripped into my back.

  They tore me apart with such ferocity I feared they would fly through me and into her. I suspected if I wasn’t a vampire with hardened skin and tougher-than-normal internal organs and bones, they would have. The destructive power of that machine was incredible.

  Within seconds that felt like an eternity, the clip emptied and the gunman needed to reload.

  That was our chance and, as hurt as I was, I pushed Cassy to run.

  She hesitated, but I didn’t give her a choice. “Now it’s my turn, so hear me and hear me well … run.”

  “But he’ll kill you,” she said.

  “He’ll try,” I replied, extending my fangs under my mask. “Now run!”

  And Cassandra, Prophetess of Doom cursed never to be heard, did exactly that. She ran.

  ↔

  With Cassy gone, I allowed the pain of the bullets to hit me. I fell to my knees, panting. It was difficult to kill a vampire, no doubt about it, but do enough damage to our body and we’re dead. That was the other thing about Cassy’s curse … she only saw visions of what was going to happen, but not necessarily how they happened. She had no idea that gathering the kids here was probably the worse thing we could have done. Like shooting fish in a barrel … or rather, superheroes in a theatre. If I hadn’t been able to break the curse and hear her, they would all be dead. And given how bullet-ridden my body was, so would I. But I heard her in time to warn them. They got away. For now.

  But I knew that was only a temporary solution. Prophesies, especially the vague, devoid of details ones, tended to find a way to come true. And everything Cassy and I did … the superheroes, stopping the Crusader, this party … they were all steps that delayed the fruition of the prophesy, but did little to actually stop this killer from showing up with his tools of destruction.

  We only delayed him. But he would keep coming until he found a way to kill those kids. He was the mystical version of the Terminator and unless I stopped him right here and right now, he would keep coming after them until the prophesy was fulfilled.

  I doubted I could survive another clip unloaded in me. But I was also too weak to do anything but talk. My body needed time to heal and as heavy footsteps approached, I feared that I wouldn’t get the time I needed.

  “Cherub girl,” I heard a familiar voice say. “I thought you were one of the good guys.”

  “I am,” I said, the effort causing me to spit out blood. Internal bleeding. That sucks, too.

  Another click as the machine gun’s hammer cocked. “It’s amazing you’re still standing after all that.”

  “And yet here I am.”

  “So you’re an Other, huh? Should have figured. It’s a shame to kill you, but …”

  “Hold on,” I said. “Before you do it, can I at least see your face?”

  “Interesting. Is this some kind of noble death, need-to-see-the-face-of-your-killer kind of thing?”

  “Not really. It’s more of a I-want-to-see-who-I’ll-be-waiting-to-meet-in-hell-so-I-can-kill-them-there kind of thing.”

  “There is no hell. Not anymore.”

  “Fair enough. But still. Grant me this
one wish.”

  There was a hesitation, then heavy steps walked in front me and I saw a tall man with a bandana over his face. He was wearing a black hoodie, making his face unrecognizable, but I still knew who he was. “Andrew,” I said. “Didn’t think you were the trigger-happy type.”

  He paused, turning his head to one side in confusion. “What gave me away?”

  “Your fingernails.”

  He lifted a gloved hand that covered only four fingers. He had cut the trigger finger off his glove. “Observant.”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  He chuckled. Using his exposed finger, he lowered his own mask. “So what do you say, an unmasking for an unmasking?”

  “Sure,” I said, my body mending but still far from useful. I didn’t need seconds to heal—I needed hours. Somehow I doubted I would get that. I lifted my mask up. “Ta-da.”

  Andrew smiled something wicked. “The gods may be gone, but karma is still in full effect.”

  “I don’t catch your meaning,” I said, coughing more blood.

  “When you quit the race, you made it to the top of my list. I had thought about hunting you down just to make sure I got you before—you know,” he made a gesture as though shooting himself in the head. “But when I saw all these so-called superheroes in one place, all those phonies who pretend to care, but really don’t … I realized it was too good an opportunity to pass up.”

  “So you went home to gear up.”

  “And gear up I did,” he said, lifting the nozzle of his gun to my forehead. “So before you go bye-bye, what kind of Other are you anyway? I mean, you look so human …”

  “That’s because I am.”

  “Sure you are.”

  “I am. At least for now.”

  He shrugged. “Human or not, doesn’t really matter. You’re a phony like all the rest of them. A phony who deserves to die—”

  There was a thud as a rock hit Andrew on the shoulder. “Ow,” he cried out, turning to look up as another rock fell from the upper auditorium. Looking up, I saw a very old Justin and a very angry Cassy hurling rocks from the theater’s upper balconies.

  Thank the GoneGods for small miracles, I thought a split second before Andrew’s machine gun started to roar.

  ↔

  Andrew fired up toward the balcony. Cassy was fast enough, pulling back from the balcony so she couldn’t be seen.

  Justin wasn’t as fast and a bullet ripped through his ninety-year-old shoulder, knocking him over.

  Seeing my boyfriend fall gave me the strength to lunge forward, and biting into Andrew’s ankle, I said, “No one shoots my boyfriend but me.”

  Andrew screamed in pain, turning his gun on me. I grabbed the nozzle, pushing it away so the bullets couldn’t strike my body. Hot lead flew harmlessly into the ground, sparing my body from further holes.

  The only part that hurt was the heat of the muzzle. I could smell burning flesh as he continued pulling the trigger until … click, click, click … the sound of an empty gun.

  I yanked the machine gun out of his hands and tossed it away, the skin from my palm ripping away from my own hand as I did so. Then I hit his knee—hard. It popped back and he tumbled over.

  Face to face, I thought about ripping out his throat and draining him. I would have, too, had it not been for Justin’s groans.

  Justin, my human boyfriend, also served as an anchor to my own humanity at that moment. So instead of eating him, I punched him in the nose. Hard.

  His head snapped back as his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he lost consciousness.

  How Many Lives Is Your Own Worth?

  Even the little bit of blood taken from Andrew’s ankle was enough to send my body into rapid healing mode, and by the time I made it to the balcony, I had healed enough that I could go another round with any villain stupid enough to get in my way.

  Not that I wanted to … I’d much prefer a hot bath and a week of sleep.

  I made my way to Justin’s side, where Cassy was tending to his wound. I could feel his life force leaving him. It was a flesh wound, but his body was too old to survive the trauma. If he was young, maybe. But as he was, I figured he had minutes left.

  Wiping away tears, I said, “You shouldn’t have come back. You shouldn’t have—”

  “And what?” he said in that tone of his. “Let you have all the fun? No way, no how.” And despite being in so much obvious pain, he smiled. The smug bastard, I chuckled to myself as I looked him over. His body was shutting down and even though it was only a shoulder wound, he was definitely running out of time.

  I thought about biting him again. I could give him the strength to survive this wound. I could give him eternal life.

  I would have, too, except when I tried to extend my fangs, nothing happened. They were gone. The superhero curse had been lifted and I was just a normal girl again.

  I was normal, which meant there was nothing I could do to save Justin.

  Despair had fallen over me when a gentle hand touched mine. I looked up to see Cassy smiling. “You heard me,” she said.

  “I did,” I said. “Not that it did any good.”

  She shook her head as she loosened the braid that had held back her hair. With silver hair cascading over her, she said, “You heard me and I am free. Finally, I am free.”

  As she spoke, I felt Justin squeeze my hand. Looking down at him, I saw his liver spots disappear and his wrinkles smooth out. His cataracts cleared up and his arthritic joints regained their virility. He was becoming … young.

  “How?” I muttered as I watched the hand of time turn back for him. Justin was aging backward.

  Soon Justin would be his nineteen-year-old self again.

  Which meant—

  “Cassy, stop,” I said, turning to Cassandra. But it was too late for this woman. This sister of Helen, daughter of Priam, this creature who was touched by the siren Ligeia and blessed by the muse Calliope, this former Prophetess of Doom.

  She was already old.

  Cassandra was burning away her life to give life back to Justin. And from the way she aged, I knew she wasn’t just restoring Justin. She was restoring them all.

  “Stop,” I begged, but Cassandra simply shook her head as she continued burning her life away, using her magic to undo all that she had done.

  “You know,” she said, “I have lived for over three thousand years never able to save anyone. But you heard me, you broke my curse and for the first time in my long, long life, I am the one who gets to play the hero.”

  ↔

  Cassandra burnt enough time to return all the aged superheroes back to their rightful ages. She burnt enough time to reverse the damage on the cinema and wipe Harold and Andrew’s memory clean of who Cherub really was.

  She burnt enough time to heal Justin’s wounds.

  And when she was done, she stood up, no longer the impossibly gorgeous girl, but rather an elegant, elderly woman with an ever-present, infectious smile.

  ↔↔↔

  During Cassandra’s remaining days, Boggie tended to her needs, loving her as any grateful human being loves someone who is more than a grandparent and friend.

  Andrew was arrested for possessing firearms and attempted murder. He was given a ridiculously light sentence after what he tried to do. I guess you needed bodies for them to lock you up and throw away the keys.

  And for me. I should have been happy, but I wasn’t. I was human again, the people I loved were safe … I should have been happy. But all I felt was an emptiness I couldn’t shake.

  Maybe I was tired. Or still shaken up from everything that had happened. But then a thought rushed into me that I prayed to whoever would listen wasn’t true: Maybe becoming human for a second time somehow tainted me. Cursed me.

  I pushed away the thought, insisting to myself that I was exhausted. That, and my faith in humanity had been challenged by everything that had happened.

  Those were the lies I said to myself. The lies I so desperately wis
hed were true.

  All’s Well That Ends Well … Well, Maybe Not

  The following days were a blur of police interviews and depositions. After a couple weeks, it all died down and life returned to normal. Well, as normal as my life could ever be.

  I lost the Gardner Hall presidency race … but Aimee won. Good for her, she might have been the shyest candidate to ever win the seat, but she was a good soul, and with her at the helm, I suspected this year would be less about beer and more about things that mattered.

  Speaking of things that mattered—to me, at least: I still had to deal with Justin and his proposal, but I avoided him, unable to bring myself to speak to him. Even though everything had happened over two weeks ago, I was still feeling empty. Lost.

  There was a sadness in me I couldn’t shake. A depression that had latched onto my very being, digging its claws deeper and deeper into my heart.

  I knew I was in real trouble when Legally Blonde did nothing to lift my spirits.

  There was something wrong with me. And so I did what I always do when faced with a problem I don’t understand.

  I researched.

  In the archives of the Other Studies Library, I looked up every piece of lore about the vampiric virus and its effects on a person. I researched all I could find—which wasn’t much—and might have continued to do so had I not heard a crackle coming from my desk.

  It sounded like a radio. I opened my top drawer and looked inside, my hand hesitating to reach in as my mind conjured images of some crackling mini-demon waiting to bite my fingers off.

  But there was no mini-demon in there. Rather it was something much, much worse. It was Harold’s earpiece.

  It crackled again.