H.T. Night's 8-Book Vampire Box Set

by Night, H. T.

  “Can I go with you to the E.R.?” she asked.

  I looked at her and she seemed as concerned as anyone could be in a situation like this but my Spidey senses were out and this girl was a world-class con-artist. That was the only explanation, and why she was running around with guys who jumped on cars and fought strangers in the middle of a busy street. “Yeah,” I said. “You’re coming with me because I don’t have time to drop you off.” From a distance, I saw a hospital near Beach Boulevard.

  I turned right and made my way around the block to the emergency room. I hobbled into the back and filled out the necessary paperwork and waited almost five hours for them to fix me up. I didn’t say a thing about my fight later on. There was no way I’d be cleared by this guy to participate in my match tonight. I was not going to let anyone else know about my injury.

  I had already been checked out by California Commission Doctors and cleared to fight yesterday. They would have no idea that some idiot would bite off a chunk of my shoulder the night before my fight and there was no way I was going to say anything. I would fight one-handed if I had to. Southpaw, even.

  It was 10 a.m. by the time I got out of the E.R. I was scheduled to fight at 6:00 p.m. that night. I could have gone home to get four to five hours of sleep and still have been reasonably refreshed. I purposely didn’t take any of the pain medication that the E.R. doctor had prescribed for me because I didn’t want to be loopy. But damn, my shoulder was killing me. I figured I could use the pain as motivation for my fight.

  I started driving down Beach Boulevard. “Okay, where do you live?”

  Sasha was quiet.

  “Where do you live?” I demanded.

  Sasha sighed loudly.

  “I’m waiting,” I continued.

  “I don’t really have a place to stay.”

  “Huh? When did your boyfriend break up with you?”

  “He didn’t exactly break up with me.”

  “Did you break up with him?”

  She paused, “No.”

  “Well, where is he?”

  “I don’t know, he’s kind of missing.”

  “You mean he just up and left!”

  “That’s what I’m hoping. My boyfriend was married himself and was putting me up at an apartment in Brea. About a week after I met you, he just quit contacting me. I called him several times and even drove by his house. I can’t exactly call his wife or go to the door and ask her where he is.”

  “I hate to tell you, Sasha. He wised up and went back to his wife.”

  “They usually do.”

  “Then maybe it’s time to quit living a hundred miles an hour and get a real job and quit all this shit of living on the edge 24-7.”

  “I know. You’re right. He never paid the January rent at my apartment. About a week ago, I was evicted. Then, I was staying with a friend in Balboa, and he got real needy and possessive. He got physical with me tonight, and I didn’t want our friendship to go there, so, I waited for him to fall asleep and I took off.”

  “Where is your car?”

  “A couple of days ago, it got impounded.”

  “For what?”

  “Unpaid parking tickets.”

  I just drove, staring straight ahead. It was a cloudy day, and this was far too much drama for my taste. “Let me get this straight. You have no car and no place to stay. Do you have a job?”

  “Well, I’m an actress.”

  “That’s not a job unless you get royalties for a commercial. Let me put this another way, do you have any money for a motel?”

  “No.”

  “You’re broke?”

  “I have about $17.00.”

  “And that is why you called me, you knew I was a good guy and you thought you could weasel yourself in my life for a couple weeks until your next move.”

  “You have it all wrong, Tommy.”

  “Do I?”

  “You do!” she said, emphatically.

  “How so?”

  “I’m running.”

  “From who?”

  “I’m running because I’m afraid I might have done something really bad.”

  I pulled over into Carl’s Jr. parking lot. “What did you do?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “That’s not good enough. How do you not know if you’ve done something bad or not?”

  “There is more to me than meets the eye.”

  The nerve of this girl! She was talking to me all cryptically after what I just went through for her. “What?” I said. “Are you a special agent or a bounty hunter?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “What are you?” I was now getting pissed off.

  “You’re not going to believe me, so I just shouldn’t tell you.”

  “Look, you turned my entire night upside down and you probably fucked up my fight. So guess what? You are telling me exactly what your deal is!”

  Sasha paused and then looked me in the eye, “I’m a werewolf.”

  Chapter Six

  I hit the brakes, pulled over, threw it in park, and stepped out of my Mustang. I walked to the sidewalk that was parallel to Beach Boulevard, breathing hard. What kind of nut job did I get myself involved with?

  Sasha stepped out of my vehicle and walked over to me. Cars were whizzing by and it was pretty chilly. I was still dressed for a pickup basketball game at a local park, but I didn’t care. I had heard enough. I needed to take this woman to a halfway house where they treated mentally-ill patients.

  Sasha sat next to me on the curb. I didn’t even feel like arguing with a crazy person. I didn’t feel like talking at all and needed to get home so I could rest.

  “Do you believe me?” Sasha stared deep into my eyes. What a con job. She was good. Her eyes were as sincere as I had ever seen in my life.

  “Do I believe you?” I repeated.

  “Yes, do you believe me?”

  I looked at her and gave her a look that said, ‘You can’t be serious.’ I just laughed out loud.

  “So, you don’t believe me.”

  “Sasha,” I said. “A werewolf? Really? It gets more ridiculous by the minute with you. You’re not well. You’re either crazy or a pathological liar. Either of those choices isn’t someone I need to be associated with. Listen, I’m going to take you to the Radisson Inn and I’m going to pay for three nights. Stay there and figure out your next move.”

  “How secure are their rooms?”

  That was a strange response. “They’re secure. It’s a fancy hotel.”

  “Can you padlock yourself in from the inside?”

  “I don’t know. I would imagine so. Why?”

  “Because tomorrow night is the first full moon.”

  “Oh, you’re right.” I said, condescending. “We better make sure we lock down the furniture so you don’t break anything, being that you’re a werewolf and all.”

  “We should!” Sasha said, as serious as a heart attack. Wow, she was Looney Tunes.

  We went back to my car I drove down a couple of streets and pulled into the Radisson Inn. I got out and went to the front office and paid the guy cash. I had to show a credit card and that made me nervous. I didn’t know if one of Sasha’s many wonderful traits were that she was also a kleptomaniac. I walked Sasha up to her room and stopped in front of her door.

  “You want to come in?” she asked.

  I gave her a look that must have answered the question before I said it, “No, I’ll pass. I’m exhausted. I need to go home and sleep. I’m done, Sasha. Have a good life.”

  Sasha looked at me and with a wishful tone in her voice said, “I wish you believed me.”

  “So do I,” I said. “It would at least explain your erratic behavior.” I turned around and walked down to my car and didn’t look back. I got into my Mustang and headed onto the freeway and got to my apartment in about 20 minutes. I went straight to my bed and crashed. I looked over at my clock, it read 10:15. Maybe I can get four hours in.

  I closed my eyes and I had
a bizarre itch come over my body. I scratched all over and each scratch felt a bit euphoric. I was sure satisfying the itch in a way that was almost therapeutic.

  I rolled over and protected my shoulder and fell asleep almost instantly. I woke up about one hour later. Someone’s car alarm was going off outside. What an asshole! Turn it off!

  I got up and went outside to yell at the jerk. I could hear the alarm and it was loud as ever. I began walking down the street, trying to find the car alarm. The closer I got to where the sound was coming from the more my ears felt like they were bleeding.

  I must have walked a half mile down the street. How fucking loud was the asshole’s alarm? Finally, I got into mini mall parking lot and there was a little yellow Volkswagen bug alarm just screeching away.

  There were people outside and I was shocked they weren’t floored by the noise like I was. This was the loudest alarm I had ever heard. It sounded like ten sirens going off at the same time. There was a guy walking toward me and he seemed pretty unaffected by the noisy alarm.

  “WHY ISN’T ANYONE TELLING THAT GUY TO TURN OFF HIS ALARM!” I screamed at the top of my lungs.

  The guy mouthed “Why are you screaming? It’s just a car alarm. It’s no big deal.”

  “JUST A CAR ALARM?!!” I screamed even louder. “IT COULD WAKE THE DEAD!”

  “No, asshole, your voice can wake the dead. Get a grip, will you?” The guy walked past me and got into his car.

  Huh? I looked over at another man calmly walking out of a bagel shop, pressing his keys that stopped the blaring obnoxious alarm. His alarm stopped and I could finally hear again. My ears were literally stinging. Damn, that was loud!

  The guy got into his little yellow bug and left. I looked around; there must have been a dozen people outside and not one of them cared. That alarm was so loud it woke me from a mile away. A mile?

  I turned around and went home. Well, so much for sleep. I had a fight tonight, and Mo wanted me there by 4:00 p.m. Los Angeles was about an hour away on a Saturday, so I thought that I better just get ready. I could sleep when I was dead. Which, at this rate, wouldn’t be much longer.

  I put my fight bag together and then took a long shower. I thought about my opponent and how Mo trained and prepared me for my fight. I needed to quit worrying about one-night stands and car alarms.

  I wrapped my shoulder good and tight, so that no one would know that I was butchered the night before. I would need to let them know I was wearing the bandage as a precautionary measure. A lie. I hated lies.

  I got to the arena and I met with Mo in the training room. We were the first one up, so, I needed to get my head on straight. I told Mo I slept on my shoulder wrong and that’s why I bandaged it up. He wanted to look at it, but I told him it wasn’t a big deal. Little did he know how bad my shoulder ached and that I had 45 stitches in it.

  My opponent was exactly my size, but I was younger and quicker. My ground game was one of the best in the business. Mo and I went over a few key points and soon it was time for my second professional fight.

  Chapter Seven

  I stepped out into the ring for a professional fight with a veteran fighter and could only use the left side of my upper body. The only strategy I had, considering the condition I was in, was to break him down and get him to the mat so that I could do a submission move. I was in for a painful night.

  After the opening announcements, I went back to my corner and Mo was outside the cage yelling instructions. “Just like we ran it in practice Tommy, you got this.” Little did Mo know what I was truly dealing with.

  Round one. I rushed out and Vasquez circled me. He knew he didn’t want me to shoot into his legs and have our fight on the ground.

  I threw a left. He blocked it easily. I telegraphed it too much. Vasquez came into me and we began to pummel our arms, trying to gain control. I locked my arms around his head and shot underneath his legs with my left arm and got him in a fireman’s carry. There was a problem with that move; I was forced to use my right shoulder. Crap, the pain was intense! The pain only made me angrier. I slammed Vasquez to the floor of the ring and took control. I shifted my weight, trying to get my legs inside his legs. Vasquez was face down on the mat and I was riding him like a cowboy on a bull. Except, I had this bull under control! I dropped a series of elbows with my left arm.

  “Use your right arm!” Mo yelled at me.

  I was waiting for just the right moment where his neck would be left open so I could sink my arm in for a choke submission.

  He was guarding it beautifully, and it was impossible for me to get my arm through. So, I continued to hammer down my left arm on the back of his head and neck.

  I went into complete spastic mode. I unloaded 10-12 consecutive punches and elbows and I could see Vasquez weakening.

  Just give me an opening, I thought. I’ll choke you out and then we can all go home. Then it happened—he used his arm to try to get position by placing them on the mat. And for a brief second, his neck was exposed and that’s all I needed. I got my left arm underneath his Adam’s apple in a blink of an eye. I yanked up and tightened it with my right arm which gave me an immense amount of pain.

  He shifted his body, trying to get out. He was a veteran and he wouldn’t tap out lightly. He fought me off for a good 20 seconds, and then I saw the most beautiful thing in sports: my opponent tapped out. That only meant one thing. He gave up and threw in the white flag. I had my second first-round knockout.

  I jumped up and I looked at my shoulder and I was bleeding through my shoulder wrap. I had torn out a number of my stitches. But it was worth it, I was still undefeated. Granted, I was only 2 and 0, but I’d take it.

  Mo came into the ring and he hugged me and looked at my face. “I didn’t notice you were sporting a beard before.”

  Huh? I never grew facial hair in my life. I had an easy routine where I shaved in the shower each day. That was an odd thing to say. I felt my face and felt stubble and hair. What the hell? I shaved before I came down here. That was odd.

  The announcer said I was the winner by knockout and the referee raised my right arm and I nearly passed out from the pain.

  I showered up after the fight and the arena doctor re-stitched my arm and warned me to never fight again without coming clean about an injury. He told me that would be my ticket out of MMA because I put the company in jeopardy with the state by fighting while injured. He told me that luckily, I was still ‘a nobody’ so it wouldn’t make ESPN. It was nice to be considered ‘a nobody’ by his own organization after my two consecutive first-round knockouts.

  I headed out to the parking lot by myself. I looked up in the sky and saw the full moon as huge as I had ever seen it. I stopped in my tracks and just stared at it. It was weird. I had never gazed at a full moon or any kind of moon for that matter. But for some reason, this particular moon on this particular night was almost giving me a religious experience. I felt this intense feeling and it was all directed at this moon that I was staring at in the middle of the Staples arena parking lot.

  I got into my vehicle and drove home alone which seemed a bit sad, considering the night I’d just had. I didn’t have many friends and that was just the way it was. I didn’t party or celebrate that much. I was exhausted and I wanted to go home for a long winter’s nap. If I properly set the mood in my bedroom, I had a good 14 hours of sleep ahead of me.

  When I got to my apartment, I checked on my stitches that were redone by the fight doctor. I knew I was going to be out of commission for a while. This sucked, but that’s what I got for getting involved with a girl who was trouble.

  I got in my room, put on my favorite musical soundtrack, Les Miserables, London, on my CD player and went right to bed.

  I laid still, listening to the greatest musical score of all time and tried to nod off. But I couldn’t fall asleep. I felt hot and itchy and it seemed like I could hear every single car on the freeway passing by, every car door shutting and every dog barking. It was starting to drive me
nuts. One hour became two hours, and two hours became three hours. I had to face it, I couldn’t sleep.

  I needed to do something that would tire me out. You would think after fighting an MMA match with one of the toughest motherfuckers in the world at my weight and with a bum shoulder, that would be enough to send me to sleepyland. But that wasn’t the case tonight. I needed a sleeping pill or some NyQuil. I decided to find a 24-hour drugstore. I also felt weary and I couldn’t quite make out what was wrong with me.

  I began sweating profusely as I went out to my car. I got into my car and just sat there, staring at the full moon. What was it about this damn moon that seemed to be the only thing to make me feel right?

  I looked at the spider-web crack in front of my windshield and it made me even more nauseous. I decided to head out. As I drove my body felt as hot as it has ever been. It was like I was having a fever and breaking one in the same moment. Then the weirdest thing happened: I didn’t feel like driving to the convenience store. I passed it and got on the freeway. Why? I had no idea. I felt sick and gross and the more I drove toward the moon it seemed to settle me down and made me feel better. I followed the moon all the way down to San Bernardino. Why? I had no idea. I took the 91 freeway east and went on the 15 to Bakersfield. Where was I going? I passed a couple more freeways and could tell I was heading in the direction of the San Bernardino Mountains. I didn’t know what possessed me to pull over to the side of the road, but I did.

  The moon lit up the sky like a chandelier. I stepped out of my Mustang and made my way to the right, where there was nothing but desert for miles.

  I could hear growling and snarling in the distance. What the hell was that? What could be out here in the middle of nowhere? I had a pair of binoculars in my glove compartment. I got them, got out and stood on my hood in about the same place where that asshole had put a dent into it the other night. I looked through the binoculars in the direction of the snarls and moans. I looked on and what I saw nearly made me pee my pants. I saw about a half a dozen bonfires, and surrounding the bonfires were the biggest wolves I had ever seen. I kept watching, trying to figure out what the hell I was looking at. There were black ones, white ones, brown ones and others that seemed to be calico-colored. They were all 6 to 7 feet in length. Some were howling and others were wrestling and growling.