E.V.I.E.: 13 Slayers, 13 Missions

by Lexi C. Foss

  “I didn’t agree to protect you from a fucking house, Remington. It’s one strong wind away from blowing over.”

  Our heads turned back as the porch creaked loudly, and the ceiling crashed to the ground, destroying the steps that led into the front door. I sat back in the seat, exhaling as I rubbed my eyes. I was exhausted, and my emotions were on edge. I’d discovered my mother was a murderous, power-hungry villain who literally hated me.

  Rhys told me I had meant nothing to him and that my child meant about the same. I’d become homeless, and the shack that Nyx had purchased wasn’t even a safe place to sleep. We couldn’t even get into the door to go inside.

  Headlights appeared behind our car, and I watched as Ian unfolded his lengthy frame from the driver’s seat. Conrad climbed out of the car, staring at the house before sliding his attention to me and back to the house as another board crashed onto the ground. Both paused to look at the house, and Nyota pushed the seat up to grab the door.

  “They may be here to hurt you and Bullet,” she whispered, pushing the door open as she pulled out a blade. “Halt!”

  “Who the hell says halt?” I asked, turning to look at Nyx.

  “Scotland Yard police do,” Nyx said, shrugging when I looked in her direction. “What? They do! I watched it on Sherlock Holmes while riding Acyn reverse cowgirl.”

  “I could have lived my entire life without having known that,” I said, and jumped as Nyota tapped the window.

  “You know, for the person who is supposed to police the Silversmiths, you’re pretty jumpy. Rather pathetic, really,” Nyota snorted.

  “White lies,” I whispered, rubbing the bridge of my nose before climbing out of the car to awkwardly hold her hand to prevent the curse from striking.

  “You’re sure you wish to stay in this place, Silversmith?” Ian asked, narrowing his eyes on me with a look of pity.

  “Pretty sure it’s condemned, sweetheart,” Conrad snorted, grunting as Nyota elbowed him in the ribs. He whistled, and the female shifters slipped from the shadows, clapping as they found me and gathered around me with excitement. “They’re rather smitten with you. They wouldn’t shut up about being mothers since you dropped the baby bomb on Rhys. So, until he pulls his head out of his asshole, you have us.”

  “All of us. Stop hogging the poor girl, mutt. She is going to need all of us to get through this shit,” Hunter snorted. I turned, staring at him where he was leaning against the side of the house. “This place is a shithole. I could see hiding a dead body in it, but not a beauty like you.”

  “Yeah? Well, it may be one now, but it’s ours. We will fix it up, and Bullet will have a home here.”

  “Who is Bullet?” Ian asked.

  Nyota snorted, elbowing him again. “It’s the baby, vampire. Keep up,” she stated.

  “You’re naming the Van Helsing heir Bullet Van Helsing?” Ian snorted and then caught the irritation on my face. “I mean, it’s a strong name! One he will be very proud of.”

  “I am calling the baby, Bullet, because it is the size of one.”

  “Oh, thank fuck,” he laughed and then righted at the look of ire I gave him. “It’s cute and catchy.”

  “He knocked you up on Beltane, that bastard. One child is created a year for immortals, and he got the lucky draw.” Conrad grunted, closing his eyes, dropping his head back while rolling his neck.

  “And he threw it away,” Hunter finished, smiling as I swallowed hard. “Don’t you fret, pretty girl. You have us, and Rhys’s devoted sister at your side. Rhys will come around eventually, and if the prick doesn’t, one of us will gladly become your mate.”

  “And what, Hunter? Love the daughter of the monster who destroyed him and murdered his delicate, sweet mother? He may come around for his child, but he cannot forgive himself, let alone forgive me. He will never see past that evil bitch that gave birth to me or love me. I don’t want that for my child or me.”

  “So what you’re saying is, you’re going to need a baby daddy?” Conrad asked, smirking devilishly while he rubbed his hands together, and the women shifters smiled, nodding happily.

  “No, that is not what she’s saying,” Nyota snapped.

  “Shh, it’s getting to the sex part,” Nyx said.

  “Rhys and I were never in a relationship. He made it very clear that I am nothing to him and that I will never mean anything to him. I’m his silver, but that doesn’t make him my soulmate. He said we could be enemies, friends, or lovers. I’m pretty sure he just forced me into the enemy category by default because of who created me. I’m not looking for some medieval love, dating shit right now, either. All I want is a bed, and to cry my eyes out so that I can wake up from this nightmare. Can one of you make that happen?” I asked, turning to look at them.

  “My cabin is free, and it’s about a mile from here up in the woods. You can sleep in it tonight, and we can come back and see what needs doing here tomorrow.” Conrad scratched his chin, frowning. “I’d send the women, but they’re shit for security.”

  “I’ll take tonight’s watch,” Hunter announced, holding out his hands for the keys.

  “You’ll be outside, though?” Ian asked, hiking a brow into his hairline.

  “Of course,” he grunted, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Remington is exhausted and has been rejected by enough assholes tonight. No one deserves what she went through. Out of all of us, I know rejection the most. It’s how I became the king, after all.”

  Twenty minutes later, I found myself tucked into a bed with enough testosterone around the house that it made it difficult to sleep. The moment I closed my eyes, Rhys was there. His eyes narrowed, and his mouth slanted into an unfriendly grin.

  “Are you ready to play, Love? I’ve been waiting to show you the real me.”

  The End For Now

  About Amelia Hutchins

  Amelia lives in the great Pacific Northwest with her family. When not writing, she can be found on her author page, hanging out with fans, or dreaming up new twisting plots. She's an avid reader of everything paranormal romance.

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  Dancing with the Flames

  By Anna Edwards

  Copyright © 2020 by Anna Edwards

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

  www.AuthorAnnaEdwards.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Warning: This book contains sexually explicit scenes, adult language, and may be considered offensive to some readers. This book is for sale to adults only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase.

  Disclaimer: Please do not try any sexual practice without the guidance of an experienced practitioner. Neither the publisher nor the author will be responsible for any loss, harm, injury, or death resulting from the use of the information contained in this book.

  Editing by Tracy Roelle

  Proofreading by Sheena Taylor

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Introduction

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

&nb
sp; Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  Coming next year...Jatin’s story

  Also by Anna Edwards

  About Anna Edwards

  Introduction

  Strength does not come from physical capacity. It comes from an indomitable will.

  — Mahatma Gandhi

  I've known my path since birth, to fight against the bloodsucking demons of this earth. To destroy them before they kill all humanity as we know it.

  I never expected to be working alongside one.

  To stand with him and fight against a force that has plagued my country for generations.

  He's a mystery.

  A vampire.

  But immune to fire.

  What is his story, and why am I finding myself falling for him?

  Dancing with the Flames is a novella for E.V.I.E., Eliminating Vampiric Influence Everywhere. 13 Slayers, 13 Missions. All proceeds go to charity so sink your teeth into these amazing stories.

  Prologue

  Howie

  31st January 1606

  It’s sad to see a good man brought to his knees, especially when he’s fighting for a righteous cause, and in my mind, Guido Fawkes has been doing just that.

  The English Parliament is, as it always has been, a bit of a joke. Run by a group of rich boys who know nothing about the levels of poverty among the common people of the country. I wonder if it will ever change. Probably not. But as I sit here watching the King’s guards drag Guido’s broken body up to the executioner’s scaffold, I want to applaud him for trying. I’ll stay hidden in the shadows, though. I have to. It’s where my species dwells for eternity.

  The guards try to get Guido to stand to hear the sentence against him, but his limbs have been pulled from their sockets by the rack. He’s half dead already. It’ll be a blessing for him to have them finish the job. It’s a shame. I really wanted to see the fireworks he would have created from blowing up Parliament. Fire is my passion. My darkness. But never my death.

  A roar from the crowd breaks me out of my reflection, and I watch as they string Guido up in the hangman’s noose. His death won’t be an easy one. The executioner will push him off the ladder he’s standing on. His body will dangle, and he’ll struggle against the feeling of suffocation. His eyes will bulge from the sockets, and his skin will turn blue. He’ll fade fast, but his punishment won’t end there. No, there’s far worse to come before he meets his maker.

  The executioner will swing a large axe and cut the rope suspending Guido just before he loses consciousness. He’ll then be placed on a table on the scaffold and his entrails cut from his body and shown to him before he dies. His head will then be chopped from his neck and his body quartered and distributed around the country as a statement to everyone not to commit treason against the King.

  Flowing red, the smell overpowering, his blood will stain the staging alongside that of his fellow conspirators. A barbaric death for a man who wanted to make a statement and was willing to fight and if necessary die for his beliefs.

  It’s a punishment I’ve seen exacted many times, and they call my species ‘animals’! We don’t treat our kind like this—we don’t treat humans like this. We kill for food, nothing more. We aren’t the wild creatures they accuse us of being. Not all of us anyway.

  A collective gasp goes up from the crowd, and I watch with pride as Guido takes his fate into his own hands and, in spite of his injuries, throws his body from the ladder he’s standing on and breaks his neck instantly with a loud crack. He kills himself, so they can’t.

  Cursing and recriminations go up around the crowd. His body is unceremoniously cut down and dismembered. The fresh blood floods into my nostrils, and I know it’s time to walk away. I can’t watch any more of the crowds’ thirst for entertainment, because that is all this is to them—a way of finding pleasure while cruising the mundane passage of their existence, but at least their lives are short. Mine will go on for many hundreds if not thousands of years, depending on what the future holds for my kind.

  The sun sets on this strange day, and as I walk through the vibrant city of London, people are rejoicing at the death of the men who conspired to kill the King. Bonfires are lit in celebration, a danger in a city filled with wooden buildings, but no one seems to care—no one truly understands the danger fire can bring. I’m sure I don’t yet, but my death isn’t imminent, so I’ve still got time to learn. I have a task to complete before I die. That’s why I’m different from the rest of my kind.

  One of the celebrations spills out into the street, and beer flows freely. I’m carried along on the wave of excitement toward one of the fires. I should fear it, but I don't. I relish the warmth as it hits my skin. I stop, while others cavort around singing praises for the King, and stare into the flames dancing before me. Oranges, reds, and yellows glow and twist as if spelling out a message to me I can't understand. I’ll never decipher it until my time. The reason I have my gift will reveal itself when it’s ready. I wonder what I’ll see and learn in the meantime until I’m called.

  How did I become this monster?

  I wish I could remember, but all memories of my life before, the life of a human, have gone. All traces vanished from my consciousness.

  For some reason, I’m compelled to reach out and stick my hand directly into the fire. I hold it there as the people around me gasp and stare, disbelieving. They think I should burn like a regular human, but no, the flames should consume my entire body and cremate me to dust. It doesn’t happen, though. Why? Why am I different?

  My fangs erupt from my mouth, and I snarl at the surrounding people. They jump back as cries of fear go up, but I won’t hurt them. I don’t drink human blood. I’ve never touched it and never will. I’m not a true vampire. The effect of the flames tell me that. I just have to find out what I really am, even if it takes several centuries.

  Until then, I’ll dance in the flames—the vampire who can’t die.

  1

  Mishka

  Modern Day

  I stretch out a long, spotted paw with its sharp claws extended. Life is bliss when I get to relax in the sunshine, and there’s no vampires to chase or tasks to complete. It doesn't happen very often, but when it does, I always make sure to head home to my family in the Nagerhole National park in Southern India. To me, it’s the most beautiful place in the world, full of elephants, monkeys, tigers, deer, and my species, Indian leopard shifters.

  My ancestors have ruled over this area since time began or at least since the very existence of leopard shifters. Winding rivers and dense forests give us the perfect place to hunt in the summer, and during the monsoon season, we rest while the land repairs itself. This is my home, and I will never leave. I adore it here. In spite of the fact I’m one of thirteen slayers for E.V.I.E., Eliminating Vampiric Influence Everywhere, this land is where my heart is.

  Turning one of my paws into a human hand, I pick up my phone and drop a quick text message to Yukie, one of the other slayers. She lives in Hell but is currently working in Rome on an important case. She’s been quiet, and I want to check she’s all right.

  Me - Are you ok?

  I look down at my phone waiting for the three dots to appear. I nearly roar for joy when they do.

  Yukie - In Rome. We should meet up soon for drinks. Maybe go hunting? I need a vacation.

  I’d have liked a longer message, maybe a chat to know she really is all right, but at least I’ve heard from her—that’s the main thing. I put my phone down, turn my hand back into a paw, and roll over onto my back to allow my underside to feel the warming rays of the hot Indian sun.

  Peace and quiet.

  Nothing but the song of wild birds and the chatter of the occasional giant arboreal squirrel.

  I lie this way for most of the day.
Eventually, as dusk sets, I contemplate searching out food, but I’m too relaxed to move.

  My tranquility is broken with the shrill sound of an ear-piercing scream ripping through the very fabric of the forest. I’m up on all fours instantly and racing toward the sound. I know the direction it’s coming from: the only village in the area, the place I grew up, and where my parents still live. I run through the forest, jumping over fallen branches and frightening a barrel of monkeys who scatter up into the trees, squawking at me to watch out.

  When I reach the village, I slow down and crouch low, listening for exactly where the scream came from. The village is silent, not a soul around. Why? Even though it’s particularly hot out today, people should still be working hard, even at this late hour. Our food doesn’t grow itself, and tourists don’t come to the national park to starve. It’s eerie.

  Creeping forward on my spotted belly, I keep my eyes peeled for anything that would give away where the scream came from. My nose sniffs the air, the advanced sense I have is an advantage when tracking. I gag when I pick up a metallic smell, blood. I trace the scent around the outskirts of the village to the main entrance and slump down into the tall grass surrounding me when I see the body lying, unmoving, on the sun-dried ground ahead of me. The skin is pale. I don’t need to go any closer to the feminine body to know she’s dead.