House of Blood: (A Paranormal Urban Fantasy) (The Vampire Project Book 2)

by Jonathan Yanez

  Titles also by Jonathan Yanez

  The Elite Series

  The Beast Within

  The Trials

  The Judge

  Bad Land

  The Archangel Wars

  Of Angels and Men

  Of Angels and Demons

  Of Angels and Gods

  Of Angels and Legends

  The Dread Novels

  All the Beautiful People

  All the Broken People

  A Special Kind of Crazy

  Thrive

  The DeCadia Series

  The DeCadia Code

  The Crucible

  The Vampire Project

  House of Wolves

  “Wolves don’t concern themselves with the opinions of sheep.”

  -Unknown

  House of Blood

  Copyright © 2017 by Jonathan Yanez. All rights

  reserved.

  Archimedes Books

  Orange, CA 92868

  www.archimedesbooks.com

  Formatting: Archimedes Books

  ASIN: B071L7SXHR

  No part of this book may be reproduced,

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  author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the

  hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters,

  places and incidents either are the product of

  the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously

  and any resemblance to locals, events, business

  establishments or actual persons—living or

  dead—is entirely coincidental.

  To Cherub Eagle Eyes, you know who you are. You know my books wouldn’t be the same without you. I’m grateful to have a friend, fan and beta reader like you.

  House of Blood

  (The Vampire Project Book 2)

  By

  Jonathan Yanez

  Aareth

  The burning in his lungs that should have brought him to a standstill was manageable. The multiple knife and gun wounds that ravaged his body should have put him in a hospital. Right now, physical pain was acceptable. Aareth Emerson, inspector to the city of New Hope, raced down its cobbled streets in a manic state.

  His current case had led him to infiltrate the largest and most dangerous gang in New Hope, the Bloodstone family. They were suspected of having their hands in everything from drugs to prostitution. There were even whispers of something more evil at work, something spoken of only at night or in the shadows, something called The Order.

  Aareth had worked for months infiltrating their ranks until he had been admitted to a meeting with the head of the family, Don Bosque. The meeting had taken place only minutes before. The events that led to Aareth running down the streets of New Hope now played back in his mind.

  “Don Bosque Bloodstone,” Aareth had said, lowering his head as was customary. The head of the Bloodstone crime syndicate demanded every courtesy. “It’s an honor.”

  “Please.” The rotund man behind the oak desk opened his arms in welcome. “one such as you, who has already done so much for the family in such little time, may address me as ‘friend.’”

  Aareth lifted his eyes. He took in every detail around him. The room lined with books and maps, the expensive liquor on the desk, the pair of armed men behind him. His mission was almost complete. He had entered the Bloodstone mansion. All that was left was to find the family ledger listing their illegal contributions to the city. Aareth probably wouldn’t get his hands on it today, but he was well on his way.

  “My men tell me, a few months back, you were a common street thug looking for work. Now here you stand, after completing job after job for the family. I applaud your ambition, Inspector Emerson.”

  Aareth’s blood turned to ice in his veins. His heart attacked his rib cage in a sharp staccato rhythm. His cover was blown.

  “I’m sorry, Don.” Aareth tried to recover from his shock. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. My name is Alan Moore, I’m—”

  “We can cut the dramatics, to save us both time.” Don Bosque waved his enormous hand as if he were shooing away a fly. He rapped three times on his oak table. The loud booms acted like a signal. The doors into his office opened. Two more men entered.

  Aareth looked over his shoulder at the hired muscle. They were all large human beings. Aareth counted a gun, a knife, and two clubs amongst the group.

  “If you already know who I am”—Aareth slowed his breathing—“then you should have known to bring more men.”

  Don Bosque’s grin went from one of evil mirth to uncertainty.

  Aareth didn’t wait for them to make the initial move. He rushed the first man, bringing his elbow up in a vicious uppercut to the underside of his jaw. The man crumpled. A gunshot rang out, and pain followed a millisecond behind the roar. The bullet lodged in Aareth’s left shoulder.

  Ignoring the pain, Aareth dodged a strike from his next attacker’s knife. The razor carved a shallow cut across his left cheek. A well-placed punch to his enemy’s throat left the thug on his knees, gasping for breath against a shattered Adam’s apple.

  There were still two left. One was desperately trying to reload his pistol, while the other was already swinging a club at Aareth’s skull.

  Aareth caught the poor excuse for a swing in both hands. He broke the man’s wrist, taking his own weapon from him. Next, Aareth slammed the club against his adversary’s temple before turning to the slow pistol loader.

  “If you’re going to choose a pistol as your main weapon, you should really work on your reload time,” Aareth said before taking the man down with a strike from the club.

  Another shot rang out. Red-hot pain erupted in Aareth’s left leg. He was lucky. Instead of the bullet burying itself in his flesh, it grazed his leg, going on to find a final resting place in the Don’s bookcase.

  A bloodstain was already seeping through Aareth’s pant leg. Aareth looked past the smoking barrel of the Don’s pistol and into the pudgy man’s beady eyes. Fear was present in the Don’s face, but not nearly as much as should be there.

  “You’re under arrest for crimes against the city of New Hope,” Aareth started.

  “And you should really get to that pretty wife of yours,” the Don said, lowering his pistol. He glanced at a clock on his desk. “I sent a group of men to take care of her, at the same time this meeting was taking place. It was insurance. You learn about insurance when you get to be a Don in New Hope.”

  “You’re bluffing.” Aareth took a few angry steps toward the Don. “You’re a liar.”

  “I never bluff, Inspector Emerson.” The Don smiled over his double chin. “And I am a liar, but not this time.”

  More than anything, Aareth wanted to write off the Don’s words as the act of a desperate man. But he couldn’t take the risk. Panic was sending another surge of adrenaline through his body. Aareth limped forward and hit the Don in the jaw with his club, the large man fell to the floor as though he’d all of a sudden forgotten how to stand.

  Now, Aareth was ignoring the pain and pushing his limits as he pounded down the city streets to his apartment. Rounding the corner to his house confirmed the worst. The windows to his ground-level flat were shattered on the street. A group of onlookers were already surrounding the scene.

  “Brenda!” Aareth screamed. He ran toward his ravaged home. Igno
ring the closed door, Aareth jumped through the windows, cutting himself on the jagged glass. Every one of his senses became numb when he saw her body. Her perfect frame lay on the floor in a pool of blood.

  “No, no, no!” Tears streamed down his face. He ran to her, sliding on her blood, and fell to his knees to cradle her limp form. “Brenda, Brenda!”

  Aareth choked out sobs as he searched for the pulse he knew he would not find. The only thing on her neck was angry red marks, telling him she had been strangled.

  The blood wasn’t hers; it must have belonged to her attackers. A testament to her will to live. Screaming met Aareth’s ears as he held her close to his chest. Later, Aareth was told he’d been the one screaming. The yelling soon turned into howling. Roars of anger and rage continued from some primal part of him that had just been recently awoken.

  Aareth jolted awake from his nightmare. It was just a nightmare, a memory that had visited him over and over again through the years. Except this time, the ending had been different. This time, there had been howling and the feeling of something furious inside of him clawing to get out.

  Jack

  It just didn’t seem right; none of it seemed right. Through a haze of pain and sorrow, Jack looked out through the locomotive’s window at the city’s cheering population. Bands played uplifting tunes from the time they’d reached the outer walls of the city of New Hope. The music hit Jack and washed over him, doing nothing to affect his mood.

  His eyes were grim, as were those of his companions. Jack witnessed Sloan nod and wave a hand from her seat, trying to appear grateful. He couldn’t hold it against her. She was the captain of the queen’s personal guard. It was her duty to act the conquering hero, returned from a great adventure.

  A swarm of soldiers on either side of the locomotive jogged at a steady pace, accompanying them to their destination. Jack, Sloan, Aareth, Abigail, and Elizabeth all sat in the passenger car directly behind the lead steam engine.

  If his father’s lifeless body wasn’t lying in a box in the last car of the locomotive, Jack would have had a different attitude. Anything but a deep, hollow feeling was hard for him to conjure up now. He hated the emptiness he felt, but he was powerless to do anything against it.

  “A few more minutes and this will be over.” Sloan stood next to Jack. She stared out his window. “Once the queen greets us at the palace, I’ll make sure giving Marcus the hero’s burial he deserves is my top priority.”

  “Thank you.” Jack failed at a smile. “I know you will.”

  Jack was saved from having to voice any more thoughts as a shrill blast cut through the noise of the cheering crowd. Under a fog of smoke, the locomotive slowly came to a halt.

  Sloan was the first to open the door. She exited, followed by Aareth. The once-city-inspector-turned-assassin, and now something in between, looked at Jack with solemnness in his eyes. “Give me the word, and I’ll walk the other way with you. I know you’re hurting right now. Being greeted with a bunch of smiles and laughter is the last thing you want. We’ll blend into the crowd, maybe go grab a drink … or twenty.”

  “Tempting.” Jack shook his head. “But my father would want me to see this all the way through.”

  “I understand.” Aareth massaged the miraculously healed arm that had, days ago, been mangled by the Burrow Den Beast. Without another word, the large man followed Sloan outside.

  Elizabeth and Abigail came next, the first giving Jack a warm smile before leaving the car, the latter extending a hand. “Together?”

  Jack took a large breath and reached for her palm. Her warm embrace gave him strength. “Together,” he agreed.

  The smell of the acrid smoke still fuming from the many pipes on the locomotive made Jack wrinkle his nose. The roar of the crowd was even louder outside the car. The band launched themselves into yet another volley of instrumentals. Confetti fell like rain on their heads and shoulders. The group walked up a long street bordered by yet more soldiers.

  The men-at-arms in the queen’s army wore black uniforms outlined by grey thread. Each soldier carried a shiny brown rifle and stood at perfect attention. The trip to the palace steps seemed to take an eternity. Jack reminded himself over and over again who he was doing this for.

  Finally, the band music died. A hush came over those in attendance. Sloan entered the tall archway that provided an entrance into the gated citadel. She paused and knelt at the first step leading to the large palace doors. The queen stood ready to greet them at the top of the stairway, dressed in a long, light blue gown.

  Aareth, Jack, and the Ahab sisters followed Sloan’s example. One by one, they fell to a knee and lowered their heads in respect.

  “Rise, champions of New Hope,” Queen Eleanor said in a strong voice, “and approach.”

  Murmurs ran up and down the lines of gathered citizens as they craned their necks. Everyone was standing on their tiptoes to witness what would come next.

  Jack fell into a line with Sloan and Aareth, while Abigail and Elizabeth took up spots at the base of the steps. In any other occasion, Jack’s nerves would be making his heart drum, his hands clammy. Now, all he could think of as he stood in front of the queen of New Hope was the plain, wooden coffin still inside the locomotive. The coffin that held his father’s body that would need to be buried.

  “The city of New Hope, along with the village of Burrow Den, owe you all a debt of gratitude,” the queen said, loudly enough for everyone to hear. She motioned to someone beside her, who approached with long strides.

  Jack recognized the reedy face of Fenrick Trillion, New Hope’s treasurer. The man had a plastic smile plastered across his face as he came to stand next to the queen. He held a purple pillow out in front of him. Four medallions stamped with New Hope’s sigil of two steel swords crossed behind a black bat, hung on red fabric.

  “On behalf of the city of New Hope, I bestow on you the highest honor we possess, the medal of courage. For your willingness to put yourself in harm’s way for the betterment of those who could not protect themselves.” The queen placed the first medal around Sloan’s neck.

  “For rising above yourself and becoming the person you were needed to be, to save those in danger.” She placed the second medal over Aareth’s long, dark hair.

  “And for those who lost their lives in service to others, they will never be forgotten, but instead will live on throughout time as heroes, always and forever remembered.”

  The queen turned and lifted the third medal off of the pillow Fenrick held. Jack’s eyes were watering as emotions waged an unwinnable war inside of him. His father should have been there standing next to him, but he wasn’t, and he would never be again.

  Queen Eleanor Eckert gave Jack a look that said she knew, she knew, on a personal level, everything he was going through. She motioned with her head for Jack to lower his own, and a bright light reflected off of the medal and passed across Jack’s eyes, momentarily blinding him.

  Shocked, the young magician looked up and behind his left shoulder to see what had caused his temporary blindness. A figure almost too small to see stood on a rooftop no more than a block away. The person was garbed in black, and held a rifle to his shoulder.

  Without thinking, Jack launched himself at the queen. At the same time, a loud crack shattered the stillness. Jack took the queen off her feet as gently as he could manage, while screams ripped through the air. Guards were running all around, shouting orders. The queen felt so small in his arms. He rolled from on top of her. Gaining his feet, Jack looked the queen up and down for injury.

  As far as he could see, she wasn’t hurt. Confused, maybe stunned, but the hitman had missed his mark. Jack searched through the mass of churning soldiers to the rooftop where the would-be assassin had taken his shot. He was just in time to see the dark figure turn and disappear.

  Sloan was there, yelling orders, hovering over the queen with her mage sword already out, it turning a dull red. Jack fought to his feet, scanning the crowd for Abigail and Eli
zabeth, who were still by the steps. Abigail held close an unfazed Elizabeth.

  Aareth was already down the stairs and charging through the stampeding crowd of onlookers. There was no doubt Aareth had seen what Jack had, only moments before; he was tearing toward the building where the assassin had been seconds ago.

  Jack raced down the steps, pushing past alarmed guards as he did. Adrenaline raced through his veins with every stride he took. Questions came to his mind just as fast as he could push them to the side and concentrate on not losing Aareth in the crowd. Who was the assassin? They were trying to kill the queen and not him, weren’t they? Did it have any connection with the previous assassination attempt the queen had informed them of while they were in Burrow Den?

  Within seconds, Jack had maneuvered his way through the terrified crowd and reached Aareth’s side. The sling Aareth wore around his right arm inhibited his speed.

  “You decided to join the party.” Aareth tore the sling from his shoulder with his good arm. “Stay close.”

  Jack swallowed hard as he saw the perfect shape of Aareth’s right arm; he could see the impressive muscle definition, even under the shirt Aareth wore. Memories of the wolf attack, the horrific wound, and the miraculous recovery tried to rip Jack from the moment.

  “I saw the shooter duck behind this building here.” Aareth pointed to a tall structure. “He’ll come out of a back door or side alley.”

  “You sound so sure.” Jack gulped in large breaths of air as they rounded a corner. “How could you know that?”

  “Because”—Aareth headed into the alley—“that’s what I would have done.”

  Jack

  Unlike most alleys, this was one of the cleanest Jack had ever seen. No refuse littered the ground, no odor made him cringe. He was reminded again of the level of care New Hope had attained compared to every other city in the Outland.