From the Back Cover
FROM USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR J. ROBERT KENNEDY
Zander has relived his wife’s death at the hands of vampires every day for almost three hundred years, his perfect memory a curse of becoming one of The Turned—infecting him their final heinous act after her murder.
Nineteen year-old Sydney Winter knows Zander’s secret, a secret preserved by the women in her family for four generations. But with her mother in a coma, she’s thrust into the front lines, ahead of her time, to fight side-by-side with Zander.
And she wouldn’t change a thing.
She loves the excitement, she loves the danger.
And she loves Zander.
But it’s a love that will have to go unrequited, because Zander has only one thing on his mind. And it’s been the same thing for over two hundred years.
Revenge.
But today, revenge will have to wait, because Zander Varga, Private Detective, has a new case. A woman’s husband is missing. The police aren’t interested. But Zander is. Something doesn’t smell right, and he’s determined to find out why.
From USA Today bestselling author J. Robert Kennedy comes The Turned, a terrifying story that in true Kennedy fashion takes a completely new twist on the origin of vampires, tying it directly to a well-known moment in history. Told from the perspective of Zander Varga and his assistant, Sydney Winter, The Turned is loaded with action, humor, terror and a centuries long love that must eventually be let go.
About J. Robert Kennedy
USA Today bestselling author J. Robert Kennedy has been ranked by Amazon as the #1 Bestselling Action Adventure novelist based upon combined sales. He is the author of over twenty international bestsellers including the smash hit James Acton Thrillers series of which the first installment, The Protocol, has been on the bestseller list in the US and UK since its release, including occupying the number one spot for three months.
He lives with his wife and daughter and writes full-time.
"If you want fast and furious, if you can cope with a high body count, most of all if you like to be hugely entertained, then you can't do much better than J Robert Kennedy."
Amazon Vine Voice Reviewer
Find out more at www.jrobertkennedy.com.
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Books by J. Robert Kennedy
The James Acton Thrillers
The Protocol
Brass Monkey
Broken Dove
The Templar's Relic
Flags of Sin
The Arab Fall
The Circle of Eight
The Venice Code
Pompeii's Ghosts
Amazon Burning
The Riddle
Blood Relics
The Special Agent Dylan Kane Thrillers
Rogue Operator
Containment Failure
Cold Warriors
Death to America
The Delta Force Unleashed Thrillers
Payback
The Detective Shakespeare Mysteries
Depraved Difference
Tick Tock
The Redeemer
Zander Varga, Vampire Detective Series
The Turned
THE TURNED
Zander Varga, Vampire Detective
Book #1
by
J. Robert Kennedy
THE TURNED
By J. Robert Kennedy
Copyright © 2012 J. Robert Kennedy
Smashwords Edition
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
First Edition
1.1
Table of Contents
The Novel
Acknowledgements
Thank You from the Author
Newsletter
About the Author
Also by the Author
For Susan Turnbull, née Boss, my eighth and ninth grade English teacher, who instilled in me the love of writing by being the best teacher I ever had. Thanks, Miss Boss!
“Verily I say unto you, there be some standing here, which shall not taste of death, till they see the Son of Man coming in his kingdom.”
Matthew 16:28, King James Version
“The high priest then asked Jesus of his disciples, and of his doctrine.
Jesus answered him, I spake openly to the world; I ever taught in the synagogue, and in the temple, whither the Jews always resort; and in secret have I said nothing.
Why askest thou me? Ask them which heard me, what I have said unto them: behold, they know what I said.
And when he had thus spoken, one of the officers which stood by struck Jesus with the palm of his hand, saying, Answerest thou the high priest so?
Jesus answered him, If I have spoken evil, bear witness of the evil: but if well, why smitest thou me?”
John 18:19-23, King James Version
“And he asked him, What is thy name? And he answered, saying, My name is Legion: for we are many.”
Mark 5:9, King James Version
ONE
Outside Kaba, Hungary
1722
“Zander!”
Her scream tore through the fields, through the snorts of the ox, the scrape of the plow it toiled to pull, and my own grunts as the harness, slung over my shoulders, squeezed into my flesh, the muscles and tough callouses built up over the past decade of plowing the family field in my youth, and now on my own, providing little relief. I stopped, the ox gratefully yielding.
I listened.
Again, another cry, the desperation clear. I tossed the harness off my shoulders, and stumbled across the rough field. Reaching the edge of the tilled area, I grabbed my pitchfork, and crested the berm built years ago to protect the house below from the occasional flood waters.
What I saw stopped me in my tracks.
My wife, pregnant with our first child, was held by two men, while a third appeared to be kissing her neck. She screamed again, and my legs urged me forward. I raced down the hill, pitchfork extending out in front of me, apparently unnoticed. I remained silent, fighting the urge to yell at them to stop, knowing my only hope against three men was the element of surprise. The one on the left saw me first, his eyes shooting open wide, his mouth opening in warning.
I ran him through the stomach and he dropped. This brought the notice of his two friends. I wrenched the tines from the first man, but he grabbed the staff and it broke. I twisted and drove the remaining shard under my arm and up, burying it in the chest of the one who had been kissing my wife. He gripped his chest, a look of shock spreading across his face, as he suddenly froze, then, much to my own horror, began to turn slate grey, freezing in position, and finally collapsing to the ground in a pile of dust.
I stopped.
But his friends didn’t. The third man gripped my arm holding the staff, now freed of the body that had disappeared, and his friend, whom I had assumed was out of the fight, stood and took hold of my other arm.
I didn’t struggle. I simply stared at the pile of dust at my feet, wondering what possible magic,
what possible evil, could be at work here. My wife, no longer propped up by her captors, collapsed to the ground, moaning. The door to our humble home slammed open as two more men stepped out.
“What the hell happened?”
The two remaining men bowed slightly, as if in deference to their leader. The one I had impaled spoke. “He killed Basile.”
“What?” He stepped forward, his figure imposing, at least half a head taller than me, and I have never considered myself short. He reached out and gripped me by the neck, lifting me off the ground, his strength incredible. As my throat was slowly crushed, he eyed me as if I were a mere curiosity, his head tilting to the side. “How did this pathetic human kill one of us?”
Human?
What the hell was he talking about? If I’m human, then what were they? I kicked out, my boot making contact with his genitals. He winced, his grip loosening slightly, his arm lowering slightly. I kicked again and he roared in anger, tossing me to the side. I landed hard, my back screaming in agony as it broke across the trough used to water the animals.
“Get her,” the apparent leader said, pointing at my wife’s limp form. Two of the men grabbed her arms and hauled her to her feet, dragging her to my shattered body. The leader motioned for them to put her beside me. I turned my head to look at her, and reached out to try and take her hand. Before I could grasp it, the leader bent over and grabbed me by my shirt, lifting me back up, excruciating pain radiating throughout my body. He looked me straight in the eyes. “You killed my friend. You, a pathetic, lowly human. And for that, you will pay.” He tossed me back on the hard wooden frame, then leaned over and kissed my wife’s neck again.
She moaned.
Why would she moan? Is she enjoying this? A flash of jealousy tore through me, the rush making me forget the pain consuming me moments before. I reached over and grabbed him by the collar of the ankle length leather jacket he wore. Pulling at him with all the strength that remained, I yanked him from my wife.
His head whipped around, his eyes narrowed, red, glaring. But it was his teeth that released my bladder. What I could only describe as fangs, were bared at me, as if some vicious dog were staring me down, a vicious, hungry, animal.
With blood dripping from the teeth, smeared across his lips and chin.
“Your wife tastes lovely,” he said, rising, shrugging his shoulders to rid me of my now weakened grip. He waved his hands at the others. “Have a taste, but leave the final taste for me.”
The others descended on my wife, each sinking their now bared fangs into every exposed area of my beloved, her moans becoming weaker as blood drained from her body, spilling onto the ground, and judging from the bouncing Adam’s apples, swallowed by her thirsty attackers.
It only lasted a couple of minutes, all breaking their grips at the same time, as if they could sense that she was near death. Her head lolled to the side, her eyes opened faintly as she stared at me.
“I love you,” I whispered, my hand caressing her cheek. A flash of recognition, of life, momentarily reflected in her eyes, as the leader jumped on her body, straddling her. He bent down and sunk his teeth into her neck, pain flashing across her face as he growled, the sucking sounds making me sick to my stomach. As those interminable seconds went by, I watched the life slowly drain from the eyes of my beloved wife.
He stood and wiped his face on the back of his jacket sleeve, looking down at his handiwork. There was no doubt she was dead, her skin so pale, I doubted any blood was left.
He kicked my foot. “Thanks for sharing.”
The others started to laugh and he joined in. I glared at them, helpless, my broken form no longer under my control.
“You will burn in Hell for what you have done.”
The laughter stopped.
The towering figure placed one foot beside my head and placed his elbow on his knee. “You intrigue me.”
I wasn’t sure what to say, but he never gave me an opportunity to respond.
“After all you’ve seen, after all we’ve done, you still speak without fear.”
“I fear no evil.”
He laughed. “What, God will protect you?” The way he said the word ‘God’ clearly indicated a complete lack of reverence.
I nodded. “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.”
He dismissed my quotation with a wave of his hand. “Do you know why what you just said is irrelevant?”
I could see no possible way. God was the protector, and judge, of all. Who did this man think he was, to think he was unanswerable to the ultimate authority over all?
I shook my head.
“You need to die.” He stared down at me. “I see you’re confused. I”—he jammed his thumb into his chest—“have no intention of dying. Ever. So I will never be answerable to your God.”
“Nor shall I!” said the one I had run through. He was immediately echoed by the others.
“And if we never die, we will never be punished for what we did here today.”
“What manner of demon are you?” It was the only explanation I could come up with. They must be demons. If they died, they’d merely return to the hell they had come from, not answerable to God, because God had already judged them, and found them lacking.
The man tossed his head back and roared in laughter, looking at his companions who joined him. “You think we’re demons?”
Again, I could do nothing but nod.
“You have no idea what we are? Who we are?”
I shook my head.
He leaned in close to my ear, and whispered. “Vampires.”
My heart hammered my ribs as the rush of blood pounded in my ears. I had only heard terrified whispers of vampires, mostly ghost stories told around the campfire, or idle threats used by parents to keep their children in line. It had never occurred to me that they may actually be real. But wait. Vampires? It made no sense. It was ridiculous. But then, when was the last time I had seen a body turn into dust before my very eyes?
“In time you will be judged. And I just hope I’m there to see it.”
The man smiled, looking down at me, then turned his head to look at the others. “You know, he’s given me an idea.”
“What’s that?” asked the skewered one.
The leader turned back to me. “You want to be there when I am judged?” He leaned in even closer, his breath oddly cold on my skin. “Then here’s your chance.” Before I could react, his head darted and I felt a sharp pain in my neck as his teeth sunk in. For the first time in my life I could feel my blood actually pumping through my veins, and out, as he sucked the life giving fluid from them, then pumped it back in. What this was doing to me, I didn’t know, but I could feel a change. I was cold already, part of my body sitting in the trough water, but now my entire body was slowly getting cold. But there was something else. The pain. It was almost gone, even the pain in my neck, at first excruciating, now merely dull. Was this death? Was I moments from dying, so free from the pain?
He let go.
I could feel the teeth slowly extract from my neck, a slight tug as the skin of my neck loosened from his incisors. He stood to his full height, wiping his chin.
“Now you are one of us.”
The sickening feeling that shot through me caused my stomach to churn. Terror quickly replaced it. Then an odd sensation began to grip me. A hunger. Slight, not unlike the hunger experienced before waiting for dinner.
“You feel it, don’t you?”
I glared at him.
“It’s the hunger. The thirst. Soon you won’t be able to control it. Soon you will need to feed.” He pointed at my wife. “Soon you too will feed like we did.”
“Never!” I cried, surprised at the strength I now felt.
He twirled his hand in the air. “Time to go.”
They all turned, walking toward a group of horses grazing nearby.
“Wait!” I yelled.
The leader turned back, raising his eyebrows.
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“Who are you?” I needed a name. I needed to know who to blame.
The man walked back to me, his companions following him. He leaned over, a smirk on his face. “You want a name to fuel your hate?”
I glared at him, my lip curling slightly. “I need to know who I’m going to kill.”
He tossed his head back, his long hair flowing free as he spun his head around to look at his companions. “I like him.” He returned his gaze to me. “I am Lazarus of Tyrus, the oldest of my line, and creator of this line”—he tossed his hand behind him—“a line you should feel honored in just joining.”
He stepped aside and the skewered one stepped forward. “And I am Jan Kovacs, honored to be turned by the great Lazarus.”
“And I am Lukas Baal, honored to be turned by the great Lazarus,” announced one of the men who had been in the house.
His partner stepped forward. “Tarkan of Antioch, honored to be turned by the great Lazarus.”
The final man stepped forward. “Augusto Lupino, honored to be turned by the great Lazarus.”
Lazarus pointed at me. “And you, are you honored to be turned by the great Lazarus?”
I spit at him. “Why so few?” I asked. “If you are one of the oldest, shouldn’t there be more?”
He smiled. “There have been. And there are. But many have died over the years, as one did today. As well”—he paused, a smile spreading across his face—“I like to eat.” He smacked Lupino’s arm with the back of his hand, triggering a round of laughter. Lazarus tipped his hat at me. “We’ll be off now.”
Turned (Zander Vargar Vampire Detective, Book #1) Page 1