The Immortal Warriors Boxed Set: Books 1-11

by H. T. Night

  “Your skills don’t have to be for hire.”

  “My skills?” I said to Maya. “What’s the difference if my skills landed me in an office? We are all for hire. How we make our money is the one choice we have on this earth. I’m still doing my due in an extremely legitimate way.”

  “Are you saying I should be happy that you’re not a criminal?”

  I paused again and took a deep breath. “This is what a man like me does. You and I both know what I am capable of.”

  “Tommy the werewolf, yes. Tommy the man, no.”

  “Where does one begin and the other end?” I asked in my defense.

  “It ends with cognitive thought,” Maya said plainly. “Once you are no longer an animal, you are judged as a man. I’ve seen you do some awful things when you have been in your werewolf form. I don’t judge you because I know you have no control over it. I think the reason why it bothers me so much is that you are a talented, free-thinking man. You do not need to be a big brute to make money.”

  “It’s not about money, Maya,” I said. “It’s where I belong. If you can’t see that, then I wonder if you see the real me.”

  Maya took a deep breath of her own. “I see you, Tommy. I see you in plain sight. You are an incredibly talented, incredibly gifted man in terms of outer strength. What you don’t seem to understand, what I’m trying to tell you, is that you are stronger on the inside than you will ever be on the outside. Inside, you are a great man. I know it. My family knows it. Josiah knows it.”

  I paused and stuck my hands in my leather jacket pockets. I looked into Maya’s eyes and said, “I remember when I was a kid. I used to get giant butterflies right before I fought anybody. I didn’t fight every day like your brother. I fought occasionally. Not that I fought for anything too important. I guess when something called for two boys to get into a fight, that was when I threw down with my fisticuffs.” I paused. I wanted my next statement to speak to Maya’s sensibilities. “Whenever I knew I was going to go against another guy, I felt this feeling deep inside my gut. It was butterflies. It was fear. It was excitement. Then, once the fight started, the only emotion aloud is excitement. What’s weird, Maya is this...” I paused and continued to speak. “That feeling I had as a kid when I was just about to fight. I would imagine everyone felt like that at the beginning of a fight. No matter what age you are. That feeling is you’re about to be tested on how tough you actually are. That feeling is always scary. I don’t care who you are. Even the great Josiah must feel it.”

  Maya looked at me and said, “Is that what you feel each time you fight? A childlike charge?”

  “Yes, I guess that’s a way of saying it. I feel the butterflies, I feel the fear, but damn, do I feel the fucking excitement. Bell goes off, and then I’m transformed into the man I was born to be.”

  “Tommy, I’m not trying to rain on your purpose. I just think your purpose might be something greater. I know there is more for you out there. This manhood desire that needs to be fed. First of all, it’s hot as hell. Second of all, you only think that MMA is the ultimate test. You have no idea what awaits.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Everything is happening for a reason, Tommy. Big things await you and my brother. I just don’t like watching the two of you waste so much of your energy on MMA.”

  “What are you talking about, Maya? It’s both of our professions.”

  Maya smiled at me and said, “All will be revealed at a future time. Understand one thing, Tommy. You have a larger calling. Even larger than making millions of dollars being a fighter.”

  I looked at Maya and knew she was prophesying a tad about Josiah and my own future. I don’t know what she has been told or what she actually controls herself. Other than the miracle that I am a werewolf and a man. I’m not sure if I’m keen on having an immortal purpose.

  “I didn’t ask to be brought into this immortal, supernatural world,” I said. “I became a werewolf to save my friend Sasha’s life. The fact that I am this beast three times a month doesn’t seem to matter much. I think, on the paranormal side, werewolves get the raw end of the stick. It’s like having the hairy period from hell. I’d rather be a man than a werewolf. I don’t care about living forever. The way I see it, the longer I live, the longer I have zero chance to touch you. ”

  “What are you saying, Tommy?”

  “I don’t want to live forever, Maya. I want my consciousness to live forever. I’m just not sure about this world.”

  “Tommy, my sweet Tommy. You have such a calling in your life. Don’t miss it because you’re too busy feeling bitter.”

  I nodded my head. There was obviously something Maya was seeing and she couldn’t quite tell me all of it. Finally, Maya took a deep breath and said, “Take care of Josiah. Do that for me.”

  “Of course,” I said. “That goes without saying.”

  “Tommy, just promise me that you will do more listening than reacting. Reacting has put you into too many impulsive events that have led to trouble.”

  “Is this how these sessions are going to be like? You’ve now become my life coach?”

  “I’m not a coach. I’m someone who loves you with her complete mind, body, and soul. ” Maya paused and said, “It’s time for me to go.”

  Maya and I finished our conversation with lots of ‘I love you’s and ‘I miss you’s. She said goodbye and once again, she vanished. This time, from my bedroom.

  Chapter Six

  After Maya vanished, I jumped off my bed and went to the hallway. I went to Josiah’s room and his door was unlocked. I quietly pushed the door open and peeked in, and Josiah was sound asleep. He had no idea anyone was here besides me, especially a visit from his ghost sister.

  I opened the door a little more and I watched the big dope sleep. He sure was a handsome kid. Josiah was exceptionally good looking. It’s like I’m rooming with Brad Pitt from the movie A River Runs Through It. Not old Brad Pitt. You know, Fight Club Brad Pitt.

  Suddenly Josiah opened his eyes and saw me looking at him. “What the hell, dude?” he asked.

  “Sorry, bro, I was just checking if you were home.”

  Josiah looked at me. He was a smart kid. Even in his tired state, he could see I needed to talk. “Wanna grab some breakfast at Denny’s?” he asked, to my surprise.

  “Sure,” I said. When Josiah rolled over, I noticed his stomach was a tad bigger.

  “You need to watch it, Josiah. Your first match is in three weeks. How far are you away from making weight?”

  “Fifteen to twenty pounds.”

  “Look, you’re like a Greek god in life,” I said. “But in MMA, that’s fat, bro. You’re a middle weight.”

  “A Greek god even. Wow, that might be the most flattering thing anyone has ever said to me. And it didn’t come from a woman. Maybe I should be rethinking this.”

  “Shut up, Josiah. I was trying to be funny.”

  Josiah laughed. “Now I’m insulted.”

  “Are you done being bipolar?” I asked.

  “No, are you?” Josiah said and winked at me.

  I laughed. That was probably the best way to describe me these days. I never thought I’d ever get like that, but I was. Moody and crying at Kleenex commercials. I decided to give it to Josiah about his little weight gain, for old time’s sake. “I would be happy if you went up a weight. That way I never have to beat you.”

  “Beat me?” Josiah laughed way too naturally for my preference.

  “Do you seriously think you can beat me if we went toe to toe for reals?” I asked Josiah. I stared at him closely because I wanted to know what he truly thought.

  “Yep,” Josiah answered quickly, and then topped it off with, “For realsies!”

  I looked at Josiah, and for a second, we sized each other up. Even though I was half-naked in the hallway and he was lying comfortably on his bed, I didn’t like the way this made me feel. I didn’t like looking at Josiah like that. He was my brother for life. So, I’d let him
be disillusioned and I’d go back to the original subject: him making weight.

  “But you and I know you’re a natural middle weight,” I said. “I’m glad you’re getting over your parents’ and sister’s passing and can finally eat. It doesn’t mean you need to eat everything in sight.”

  Josiah smiled at me. He nodded his head in a way that was a little too cocky for my tastes. “You done?” Josiah asked.

  “Just get in the car if you want to put more weight on that frame.”

  “I’ll work it off later in the gym.”

  “Just get ready,” I said.

  Josiah took a minute and was ready. He stood up and gave me a nice view of his ass. I guess he was completely naked the whole time we were talking the past few minutes.

  “What the hell, dude?” I asked.

  Josiah laughed.

  “Payback’s a bitch. When you least expect it. Full hairy moon. As werewolf as I want to be...” As the words came out of my mouth, I realized what I had said. I forgot Josiah didn’t know anything about my paranormal life. I’d just announced in an odd way that I was a werewolf.

  Oh, shit!

  My expression didn’t help the situation either. I was going to have to play this off like a champ.

  “Werewolf what?” Josiah laughed.

  “You know, I have a hairy ass,” I said, playing it off like a true bluff.

  “Not really,” Josiah said, thinking about it.

  I needed to move this conversation far away from anything werewolf related. The last thing I needed was to put that on Josiah’s plate on top of everything else he was dealing with. “You’ve studied my naked ass long enough to say not really?” I asked, laughing at Josiah. “That truly means you have thought and even possibly have pondered about my ass.”

  “How can I not? It’s the back end of you. And lately, you have been constantly naked.”

  “You’re scaring me, Josiah,” I said, praying that this would get him off my werewolf admission.

  “I thought you said something about breakfast,” Josiah said. Finally, this horrid conversation was over.

  We both headed out to my Mustang and I drove.

  Josiah and I arrived at Denny’s at six. We went to the Denny’s that was on Harbor and Fullerton, where the old Blockbuster used to be. I had a lot of good memories down in this area and liked to go to this Denny’s for nostalgic reasons.

  I jumped out of the car and noticed a red hawk landing nearby on a wall. It was defined and beautiful. Red hawks were the form a female vampire could take, and this hawk looked stunning. Was it a vampire? Was someone following me?

  I didn’t want to worry Josiah, so I ignored it. He and I went inside the Denny’s and grabbed a booth, sitting across from one another by a window that faced Harbor Boulevard.

  “Why you like this place so much?” Josiah asked as he opened the menu that was in front of him.

  “Why you ask?” I answered back.

  “‘Cause we passed like six Denny’s before we arrived here. You have the hots for a waitress or something?”

  “Nah, just like it. You nervous about your fight?” I asked him.

  “Not really. Excited is more like it. Chacon hasn’t won a fight in two years. I know they are serving him up to me.”

  “Doesn’t mean Chacon doesn’t have more pride in his pinkie than most men have in their entire body.”

  “I know his credentials: 44-14. Damn good career,” Josiah said with respect. “But we all know it will be his last payday.”

  “Not if he beats you.”

  “No one will ever beat me,” Josiah responded without hesitation.

  I nodded my head at Josiah’s arrogance and didn’t realize how much it pissed me off. “Eat up, fat boy.”

  Josiah gave me an odd stare, as if he was anticipating me giving him such an insult.

  “Just know this, Josiah. Your little undefeated career dream will only happen if you never face me in the ring. So run, fat boy, run.” Then I took a scoop of Josiah’s eggs and attempted to shove them down his mouth. Before I knew it, Josiah had my arm around my back and my head was facing the floor. It happened so fast I could hardly see the speed Josiah moved at. All I knew was that he was beyond consciousness fast. But I did have a problem. Josiah was shoving my face into Denny’s carpet.

  “Like I said,” Josiah said as he shoved my face into the carpet a tad harder, “I never plan to lose.” He let go of my arm and I pulled away from him.

  “You’re a rascally little fellow,” I said.

  “What you’re trying to say is, ‘quicker than anyone you have ever faced.’”

  “I am, am I?”

  We had caught the attention of some waitresses, the manager, and a couple cooks with our wrestling antics. We promised them we were fine and were just fooling around.

  Josiah and I both sat on respective sides of the table.

  We both sat in silence for about a minute until we both just started laughing.

  “I didn’t think you would actually wrestle me in here,” I said.

  “You see, everywhere I am, I add the element of surprise. You thought there was no way in hell I would wrestle you in a public place.”

  I looked at Josiah and shook my head. “You’re damn quick and you’re damn strong.”

  Josiah winked at me.

  The cocky little shit.

  Josiah and I finished our meals. We just stared at each other a couple of times and didn’t say a word. I couldn’t believe it. I wasn’t even the alpha in my own home.

  Chapter Seven

  The next month went by rather quickly, and I went from being a pro fighter into being a young, pro fighting prodigy coach.

  Josiah had two guys who trained him from the beginning, and I was one of them. The other guy’s name was Mike Ortiz and he had been in Josiah’s corner from the moment Josiah first worked out in our gym. Mike was an old-school scrapper who knew a thing or two about mixed martial arts. Both Josiah and I trusted him to be in our corners, but at the end of the day, I knew Mike’s true loyalty was to Josiah. I was okay with that because Josiah is far more raw than I am. With the right trainer, Josiah could be number one for many years in this sport.

  Could I be too? You’re damn right I could be. Problem was, Josiah and I were currently fighting in the same middle-weight category. It was the best weight for both of our frames. So, we would eventually go up against one another, or one of us goes heavy and the other one goes light. Both were hard to do. I had seen guys have amazing success dropping weight and being quicker and more agile. On the other end, I have seen guys gas out because they lost too much weight and made their bodies extremely unhealthy.

  The fact that Mike could be a father figure to the kid took some of that pressure off of me. Mike would tell Josiah to get his shit together as quickly as I would. Josiah needed someone to constantly tell him to get his shit together. I knew he walked a fine line. He wasn’t rowdy like I was. Josiah was quiet about where he went and what he did at night. He could be going to the library each night, or to a brothel. I wouldn’t know because I didn’t ask. He was eighteen now. It was time for him to figure some of this life out on his own.

  Training Josiah wasn’t always an easy task. He was practically unteachable when it came to certain aspects of his game. Getting him to understand the value of a ground game was like trying to convince a lion to be a vegetarian. Josiah was as stubborn as a human being got. His boxing skills and instincts were off the charts. I swear, if Jo had focused solely on boxing, he would be on the next Olympic team. He was like me, however; he loved the survival aspect of MMA over boxing.

  Josiah did have a decent ground game. In MMA, a ground game was probably the most important skill one could possess because from the ground game, a fighter had endless tap-out moves at his disposal.

  But Josiah wanted to knock out everyone, going toe-to-toe and squaring up with one another. A better fighter would take his licks standing up to Jo, and do whatever it took to get him on the ma
t. At the very least, it was somewhat of an even fight. Standing up face-to-face fighting, no one could compete with Josiah. I was certain about that. His punch accuracy in a live fight was astronomical: over 95 percent. That was unheard of. Yes, he was up against dinosaurs at the gym, but still. My accuracy was under 50 percent, which was the number most MMA fighters are near.

  Josiah’s strategy was a strategy we couldn’t persuade him to shake. He loved standing straight up. I was sure that he wouldn’t see the value of a ground game until someone knocked him to the ground.

  A part of me hoped it would happen in this fight, so he would see the importance in expanding his ground game right out of the gate. We’d have to wait and see.

  No one could take away the fact that Jo was a phenomenal street fighter. That style was only part of what made mixed martial arts a sport. I was sure Josiah could beat over 90 percent of our weight division and never have to be on the ground with his opponent. But if he were to run into a fighter as savvy as me, Jo would be in for it. A great fighter would expose his weaknesses fast. He might throw a couple punches in, but I guaranteed a fighter with my skill could put Josiah on the mat inside twenty seconds. I truly believed it.

  Josiah was the type of an opponent that a fighter couldn’t ever underestimate. He was Muhammad Ali, Joe Frazier, and Rocky Marciano standing up. He was all that with street smarts that were off the charts. Josiah learned some bad habits, fighting on the street as long as he had. One of them was that he instinctively kicked everyone on the ground. That was how he survived when a bully was twice his size. Didn’t blame him for the instinct, but that didn’t fly in the MMA. That was the fastest way out of the sport. It was considered chickenshit.