Blood City: Book Two Of The Monster Keeper Series

by Jeff Seats

  Ever since that day, Thomas had been forced to drink the vile potion—the Nostrum. Holy water laced with human blood and other assorted ingredients. The taste was heinous but kept the infection from taking hold of his entire being. How it worked? He did not really know, except he had faith it would prevent him from turning into a vampire and for more than 100 years it had not failed.

  “Vladimir . . .,” Thomas spoke the evil one’s name and rubbed a spot on his left shoulder where he had been wounded.”

  “According to the Americans, Vladimir and a group from their reservation had consumed a very fresh supply of human blood,” Glanzman replied.

  Thomas’ eyes arched open in surprise, “But from where? How? I thought the vampires were provided packaged blood. Unless—” Thomas focused on the Nostrum he was holding.

  “Unless some living, breathing humans found their retreat and became unwilling donors, which is what happened. A bus broke down close to their reservation. The passengers blindly stumbled into . . . what do the CSC agents call it?”

  “Vamp Town.”

  “Yes. Out of the ten people who entered the town, two got away, one little girl was turned, and the rest . . ..”

  “Supercharged food for Vladimir; allowing him to challenge Alexei.” Thomas twirled the jar around agitating the fluid, creating a red whirlpool in his hand.

  “Yes.”

  “What of Alexei? Is he dead?”

  “The Americans say he is alive, though they do not know where he is either.”

  Thomas waited for the maelstrom in the jar to settle.

  Glanzman continued, “The Center had reached out to the Vatican, informing the Holy Father of Vladimir’s escape and possible collapse of the treaty. The Pope, in turn, activated the Cacciatori—the Hunters.”

  “Unit composition?” Thomas asked as he slipped into tactical mode.

  “Twelve. Just as it has always been since Pope Clement originated it.”

  Thomas let out a wry chuckle. “Clement’s ‘Twelve Disciples.’ Too bad Jesus didn’t have a few more apostles. Twelve men were never enough to fight those demons.”

  “Who, besides the two of us, remain of the Cacciatori?”

  “Sergeant Major Merriman. He retired from the Swiss Guard twenty years ago, but it seems training a new group in the art of the hunt is more exciting than sitting on his empty farm and watching the grass grow over his wife’s grave.”

  “So, we have Michele, an eighty-year-old sergeant major. A seventy-year-old captain.” Thomas nodded to Glanzman. “A one-hundred-fifty-three-year-old Jesuit priest afraid of his own shadow, and nine Swiss boys still wet behind the ears. I’m certain Vladimir will be quaking in his boots when he sees the likes of us.”

  “You may be one-hundred-fifty-three years old Thomas, but you do not look a day older than thirty. If a bit green around the gills.”

  “Thank you. But today I swear I feel like sixty.”

  They both shared a smile with that meager attempt at a joke.

  “But there is one correction to your list.”

  Thomas arched a brow silently asking what he had gotten wrong.

  “I am a major now,” Glanzman said with a cocky smile on his face.

  “Are you bragging? What did our Lord say about pride?”

  Glanzman looked a bit chagrined.

  Thomas gave his old friend a wink. He had never held his position of monsignor as a spiritual cudgel over his comrade’s head, but from time to time, it was always humorous to catch him off-guard, just to see his reaction. And as in the old days, Glanzman fell for it. Not that Thomas cared much anymore what God thought. In fact, he wasn’t sure he still had faith left in the existence of God, any God, especially a God who could have created the monsters he had hunted in the church’s name over the years.

  “Do not worry my friend. If Christ cannot overlook a simple human emotion, such as pride in one’s accomplishments, how do you think he judges me?” Thomas started picking up empty liquor bottles to emphasize his own lack of perfection. “So . . . what are our instructions?”

  “We are to go to the CSC and ally with them. They are expecting us. The Cacciatori are with Michele at a papal estate, undergoing training, and will join us when ready.”

  Thomas set the bottles down on the kitchen counter. He leaned against it and rubbed his pounding temples. At least he could stop boring his students in the Eastern European Folklore seminar he was teaching. If he was fortunate, he might actually confront Vladimir again, and maybe this time be put out of his misery permanently.

  “On the bright side,” Glanzman said, “The CSC is within spitting distance, as the Americans say. Just over the border in Mountain Home, Idaho.”

  Thomas lifted the Nostrum to his lips and took another healthy swig, “Yes, I am a lucky man.”

  Author’s Note

  I’ve been told by those who seem to know such things that writing one novel accomplishment. Two? Well, then I must be some sort of superhero. The fact is, I know finishing one book is just a drop in the ocean of creative expression. And two is a good start. I have a long way to go before I will feel comfortable calling myself a writer.

  Before I started Blood City, I had my doubts about coming up with a storyline let alone getting it finished. Now I start the same process with book number 3 (working title, Book # 3) and I kind of fear I will face the same situation. But after a short break, I will plunge headlong into it and see if I can’t pull it off one more time.

  I want to thank my BETA readers who encouraged me to believe that I could to get this project completed. I know it is a lot to ask of one’s time and I really appreciate your help. Thank you to Janet Tapper for her story editing. She asked the questions and spotted the flaws in the logic that kept me focused. And Grant Byington for his copyediting skills. Thanks to Brian Green for his help building my website. And a hearty thanks to Steve Cridland for taking my promotional photos.

  A special thank you, again, to my brother who designed the cover for both Vamp Town and Blood City.

  Please visit my web page: www.jeffseats.com. Sign up for my mail list. I promise not to bury you is tons of emails, just will let you know when something new is on the horizon. If you enjoyed this, please consider leaving a review on Amazon.

  About the Author Jeff Seats lives in Portland, Oregon where he has worked in the entertainment industry as a scenic designer, set decorator, and production designer for both stage and motion pictures. You can visit www.jeffseats.com to see some of his past work as a designer and photographer.

  Currently, he is in production on the audio-book version of Vamp Town and will begin doing the same for Blood City. Book three of the Monster Keeper Series is hiding somewhere in his head and when it begins to leak out he’ll start on that too.