by Greg Howard
Table of Contents
Copyright Acknowledgement
BLOOD DIVINE
Dedication
20 Years Ago
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-eight
Author Note
Greg Howard
Trademarks Acknowledgment
WILDE CITY PRESS
http://www.wildecity.com
Blood Divine © 2016 Greg Howard
Published in the US and Australia by Wilde City Press 2016
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, situations and incidents are the product of the author’s imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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Published by Wilde City Press
Print ISBN: 978-1-925506-22-8
eBook ISBN: 978-1-925506-17-4
Cover Art © 2016 Wilde City Press
BLOOD DIVINE
Greg Howard
For Steve
We did it.
20 Years Ago
They stood side by side, straddling their bicycles between two vine-choked, stone columns that guarded the entrance to Warfield. The manor house teased them in the distance, the front door a mere speck framed by a cathedral of live oaks dripping with Spanish moss. The deserted plantation was still and quiet, daring them to continue. It was a standoff. Whoever made the first move would lose.
Cooper drew in the thick scent of jasmine and held it in his throat. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead and trickled down his neck. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand and slowly exhaled the nervous energy clogging his lungs. They’d never gotten this far before, and it was nothing like he’d expected. Part ghost town, part sanctuary, Warfield was both creepy and beautiful all at the same time. Like he’d journeyed to hell and felt right at home once he arrived. But being here was wrong. He knew that now.
Kevin rolled his bike forward, calling to them over his shoulder with his trademark sneer. “Let’s go, chicken shits.”
Cooper glared at the back of his older brother’s head and frowned. Lillie Mae had warned them many times to stay away from Warfield, her eyes cloudy and distant at the mention of the place. The ghost stories and nightmares weren’t enough for Kevin and RJ, though. They wanted to see the real thing up close. So there they were, riding right up into Blue’s lair. If not for the chance to hang around RJ, Cooper would’ve stayed behind in the cool of his bedroom, hunkered down under a pile of books and his summer reading list.
RJ glanced over and shot Cooper a smile. “You okay there, Red?”
Cooper’s cheeks grew hot, and the butterflies in his stomach were back. RJ always had that effect on him. Cooper looked down, pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with the knuckle of his index finger, and nodded. Easing his bike forward, he cleared the stone gates with Tony riding beside him in silence. A cluster of sagging structures lay ahead, sheltered from the blazing low-country sun by a row of sprawling oaks.
Tony squinted his eyes. “So this is where it happened?”
RJ glanced over his shoulder, one hand resting on the handlebars and the other moving dirty blond locks out of his eyes. “Yep. This is it. This is where it all went to hell.”
Everyone knew the legend of Blue. Stories of a murderous slave ghost who roamed the woods around Warfield were standard campfire lore in Georgetown, and the subject of most of Cooper’s nightmares.
“Blue got the slaves all riled up one night and they revolted,” RJ said, guiding his bike in a circle around the younger boys. “Set the manor house on fire and nearly burned the place down. Killed the planter and his whole family.” RJ steered his bike forward, stood on the pedals, and caught up with Kevin in three forceful down-strides.
Cooper studied the sad remains of the slave village. A handful of small cabins lined each side of the road, limp and leaning under the weight of neglect. At the end, on the right, another structure bore a wooden cross over the door. A modest bell tower stood guard next to it. Cooper guessed it was some kind of church, though it looked nothing like the shiny, new Pentecostal one his family attended.
“I don’t like it here,” Tony said, his voice cracking.
Cooper smiled over at his best friend. “It’ll be okay.” But he wasn’t so sure. Cooper pedaled forward, his insides churning like the drag of his bicycle tires in the soft ruts of the road. Kevin came to a sudden stop and planted both feet on the ground, the bike resting between his legs. He pointed over to one of the cabins.
They all stopped pedaling and looked to their right. Cooper’s heartbeat quickened, and sweat slicked his hands, making it hard to grip the handlebars. On the porch of the cabin, a rocking chair, rickety and broken, sat empty yet swaying back and forth, the faint creak of rotted wood sounding as it moved. It rocked for a few seconds, then stopped.
Cooper stared at the chair, holding his breath and waiting for it to move again. It didn’t.
“It’s just the wind,” RJ said, dismissing the chair with the wave of his hand. “Let’s keep going.”
The Spanish moss hanging down over RJ’s head was as still as icicles. No wind.
RJ pointed his handlebars back toward the manor house. “Come on. There ain’t nobody here. This place has been deserted for years.”
Kevin rolled his bike forward, glaring back at the younger boys. “Yeah. Come on, you babies. Or you can go back home by yourselves.”
Tony glanced over at Cooper, his brow cocked with anticipation. “Wanna go back?”
Cooper considered the option for a moment, then shook his head and pushed forward. He didn’t much like the idea of traveling two miles bac
k down a dimly lit dirt road without the older boys. Besides, his momma wouldn’t be waiting for him at home this time with kisses, hugs, and cookies she made special for him. She’d promised she’d never leave him, but she did.
They were halfway down Oak Alley when a foreign sound cracked the silent, crystal blue sky—a desperate clanging that echoed over the grounds. A bell. A big bell. Cooper dropped his feet to the ground. They all looked over their shoulders, searching for the source of the noise, their gazes landing on the bell tower of the chapel. Still, there was no breeze—certainly not one strong enough to cause the bell to swing unattended.
Tony pointed in the direction of the bell tower, panic twisting his face. “Somebody is here!”
Fear clawed at the pit of Cooper’s stomach. Kevin and RJ exchanged glances framed with wrinkled brows and foreheads, a sight Cooper had rarely witnessed. Those two weren’t afraid of anything.
Kevin yanked his bike around. “Let’s get the heck out of here!”
RJ and Tony quickly followed Kevin’s lead, creating a tornado of dust in the process.
Cooper righted his bike in the direction of the stone gates and pushed off, his sneakers sinking in the quicksand-like surface of the road. His front tire wobbled through a maze of slick crevices, slowing his speed as they raced back in the direction of the bell tower. They had to. It was the only way out. The clang grew louder with every downstroke of their pedals.
Cooper tried not to look over at the chapel as he passed, but he couldn’t resist. He scanned the base of the tower. The rope swung unassisted in perfect rhythm with the badgering noise. With his heart banging around his chest in a wild panic, he looked back at the road. He’d fallen behind. Kevin, RJ, and Tony were several bike lengths ahead of him. Digging into the pedals, he tried unsuccessfully to gain traction on the sandy road.
The first ring of the bell had been jarring, but the final one echoed in Cooper’s ears like it was the last sound he would ever hear. Detecting movement to his left, he shot a quick glance over at the cabin with the rocking chair. A mistake. The front wheel of his bike hit a small mound of sand, wrenching the handlebars from his grip. Cooper grabbed at them and fought for control of the bike.
A disheartening clanging rattled between his feet, drawing his attention. The bicycle chain buckled up off the sprocket, causing Cooper’s breath to catch in his throat. When he looked back at the road, he barreled toward the imposing trunk of an oak tree. Slamming his feet into reverse only aggravated the chain’s unstable condition. It buckled a final time and left the thread of the chain wheel, the freed pedals spinning wildly between Cooper’s feet. Diving off the bike to the left of the oncoming tree, he landed hard on his side, a crash of mangled metal ringing in his ears.
Dazed and disoriented, he lay still on his back, struggling to catch his breath, inhaling mouthfuls of sandy dust into his lungs. He let his heavy head fall to one side and stared at a blurry pile of twisted metal and spinning wheels. Touching his face, he confirmed that his glasses were gone.
Scrambling over on his hands and knees, Cooper ran his fingers over the ground until he felt the wire frame. He shoved his glasses back on and looked toward the stone gates. Kevin, RJ, and Tony zoomed through and disappeared into the cover of the forest, abandoning him to the eerie silence of the slave village. He was all alone.
Fighting back tears, Cooper stood with a grunt of pain, slapping dirt off his jeans as a swarm of mosquitoes descended on him. He swatted them away and slapped at his face, but he froze when the low, creaky rumble of wooden rockers rolling over slatted floorboards sounded behind him. Oxygen seizing in his lungs and his heart still pounding, he waited, submitting to an onslaught of mosquito bites, but afraid to move a muscle. The rocking stopped as quickly as it had started, giving him a bit of confidence. Maybe it was the wind, like RJ said. He craned his neck toward the cabin behind him and nearly lost control of his bladder.
A massive man sat in the rocking chair, his cold, blue eyes peering through a face riddled with scars. A tattered shirt and mud-caked pants covered the darkest skin Cooper had ever seen. The stranger speared him with a penetrating gaze and the electricity brimming in those peculiar eyes hypnotized Cooper into complete submission. He couldn’t run. Couldn’t scream. Couldn’t cry. A knot of heat formed in his belly and coiled in on itself, like a snake agitated by the strange man’s presence.
He looked away. Closed his eyes tight. Took two deep breaths and settled his rambling thoughts. Just his eyes playing tricks on him, like his momma used to tell him when he feared shadows in his room at night. If he didn’t look, they wouldn’t be there. That’s what she always told him.
He needed to be sure, though, so he forced his eyes open.
The towering man stood right in front of him, not six feet away, blocking his path to the road. With muscles stacked upon muscles, the man’s ebony skin glistened in the sun, blinding Cooper. All the ghost stories he’d heard his whole life came crashing back down on him. There was no doubt who it was. He knew it in his gut. Knew it as well as he knew his own name. It was Blue.
Cooper swallowed hard and managed a shaky step backward. His neck hot and his chest tight, he jabbed his fingers under the rim of his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “It’s not real,” he whispered. “He’s not real. If you don’t look, he won’t be there.” Lowering his hands, he dared to look again.
Blue moved toward him, every step threatening and calculated.
Cooper stumbled back, and something hard pressed against his leg. He lost his balance and tumbled down on top of the bike. Sharp metal stabbed into the center of his back. He winced and stifled a cry. Blue cocked his head to one side and narrowed his eyes so only slits of bright blue peeked through. Rolling off the bicycle, Cooper dug his fingers into the sand and scrambled away from the ghost until his back was against the tree. Blue followed, stretching a broad hand out toward Cooper’s throat.
The temperature around him dropped instantly, the humid air turning ice cold and spilling over Cooper’s entire body, chilling him to the bone. When Blue finally made contact, it wasn’t with Cooper’s throat as he’d feared. Blue covered the top of Cooper’s head with his heavy hand, tightening his icicle-like fingers around the skull.
A jolt of current passed from Blue’s clammy palm to the crown of Cooper’s head, stifling his attempt to scream. The tightly coiled knot in his stomach seemed to burst into a million tiny pieces, and wet heat rushed through his veins like hot candle wax had been spilled all over his insides. The explosion of energy bottlenecked in his fingertips and throbbed for release. Cooper clenched his fists. Tears pooled in his eyes as he forced them shut again.
A ringing echoed in his ears, like the sound of the chapel bell but louder and trapped inside the confines of his brain. An internal, bright light blinded him. His eyeballs pulsed in their sockets from the unbearable pressure.
Determined fingers dug into his skull. He couldn’t escape. Blue would crush him with his bare hands, and nobody was around to save him. A single tear pushed out from under Cooper’s eyelid and ran cold down his cheek.
Then the darkness came.
Chapter One
Present Day
A coarse tongue caressed Cooper’s jawline with feral precision. Teasing whiskers tickled his skin, gently luring him out of an alcohol-laced slumber. A warm and woolly weight rested on his chest. It shifted and repositioned, emitting a throaty rumble as it moved.
With a measure of trepidation, Cooper eased open his eyes. The incessant licking stopped. A pair of gold eyes peered back at him, brimming with affection and curiosity. Purring with seductive satisfaction, a fat, white cat sat squarely between his bare pecs, like his chest was a mountain peak that had been claimed and conquered.
“Get off me,” Cooper scolded in a half whisper. He shooed the feline dominatrix with one hand and wiped his jaw with the other. The animal sized him up with a cocked head, rose, and sauntered off his chest, dropping to the floor with a soft thud.
G
od, he hated cats. Unfortunately, his true nature was like catnip to them. They sensed things in him that people didn’t. Dark things. A draft drifted over his bare skin, sending a chill through him. He propped up on his elbows and scanned his unfamiliar surroundings.
The morning sun slipped through half-open, white plantation shutters, reflecting off white bedding, white walls, a white club chair in the corner—lots of white. Where the hell was he? What time was it? And where the hell were his pants?
He eased back down on the mattress, and the naked body lying next to him stirred. Oh, right. Marco? Matthew? Mario? Whoever it was, it rolled over and slung a lithe arm over Cooper’s chest.
Shit.
He stared up at the ceiling and then closed his eyes tight. If he didn’t look, there wouldn’t be anybody there. At least that’s what he told himself in times like those. He opened one eye and peeked over at sleeping beauty. As usual—still there.
Cooper sighed and studied the angular face of the Latino boy who just a few hours earlier had been priority target number one on his hunt. A nameless, personality-deprived young stud without an intellectual thought in that pretty little head. Just the way Cooper liked them. Easy to bed, easy to leave, and nothing of substance to tempt him otherwise. He reconstructed the events of last night in his head—the thumping music, the gyrating go-go boys, the nagging vibration of the phone in his pocket.
Dammit. The missed calls. Dismissed was more like it. What had he been thinking? He ran his hand through his hair and exhaled a quiet sigh. Jesus. He hadn’t been thinking. Not with his head anyway. Lillie Mae would be worried that he never answered. He needed to call her back.
Sliding his butt stealthily across wrinkled sheets, he edged toward the side of the bed. He was nearly free until the guy’s hand fell from Cooper’s chest onto the mattress and he opened his drooping, dark eyes.
Let the awkwardness begin.
The guy rubbed his sleepy eyes and directed them at Cooper. “You looking for the bathroom?” The accent was just slight enough to remind Cooper of the desire that had stirred inside him when he first hit on the guy at the bar.