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

by Night, H. T.

It was now or never, I thought. If I was going to do this, I needed to do it right away...and then what? Although a fall through the trees wouldn’t kill me, I wasn’t immune to broken bones. Yes, I healed quickly, but not in my current poisoned state, where everything was sluggish, where I felt less than human.

  I waited, debating. Parker took another step up and positioned herself under me.

  She reached up...

  Her fingers, I saw, were clawed. Although her host was human, the demon inside would eventually take over the body and reveal its true nature.

  With one hand holding onto a sagging branch, she used the other to reach under the hem of my jeans. It could have been a cold snake working its way up through my pants. Despite myself, I shivered.

  Do it now. Do it.

  Except I didn’t do it. I was suddenly unsure if dropping down was the best answer. Maybe it was the holy water and garlic in my system that made me doubt myself. And so I watched and waited, virtually helpless.

  “Is this some kinky sex thing?” I asked, trying to be glib, using the last of my strength to utter those silly words.

  With her hand groping me under the bottom hem of my pants, she suddenly slashed hard across my ankle, using her sharp nail to open my skin. A furious burning raged through me and I winced.

  “Now, that wasn’t so bad was it?” she asked, drawing her hand out. I saw that her index finger dripped blood—my blood.

  She brought her glistening finger to her mouth, grinned wildly, and then popped it in like a bloody lollipop.

  I waited. She waited.

  She gasped and her body contorted wildly. She kept contorting until she was left sagging on the branch.

  The demon, I knew, was gone.

  And now the blonde girl, whoever she was, began a slow slide off the branch. I should have let her drop. No doubt she had asked the demon to posses her, because demons need an opening, a weakness, an invitation. Somehow she’d summoned it. No doubt she deserved whatever was coming next.

  But, dammit, if I was going to play hero, I had to do it all the way. I didn’t let her drop alone.

  Too weak to do much else, I slid off the branch I had been perched on, took hold of the young girl, and together we crashed down through the tree. I did my best to protect her, taking the brunt of the breaking limbs, some of which tore through me.

  Luckily, none of the shattered branches pierced my chest, or I’d have been hanging there like a vampire shis kabob.

  Near the base of the tree, the branches thinned out and we dropped freely. I turned slightly in mid-air and made sure she landed on top of me.

  Which she did.

  Mercifully, the branches, although tearing through my skin, had slowed the fall. And even more mercifully, we had landed on a thick pile of moss and ferns. No real harm, perhaps the first good news I’d had in a few days.

  The girl also seemed mostly unharmed.

  She was also fully human, and I knew there was only one way to purge the poison from my system.

  I needed a fresh feeding.

  And as I lay with the girl in my arms, I drew just enough blood from her neck to return my strength, but not enough to cause any real harm to her.

  As I stood, leaving her curled within the moss and ferns, the wound on her neck already healing, I felt stronger than I had felt in quite some time. The girl would awaken soon, no doubt confused and weak as hell. But at least she was alive. Whoever she was.

  Now, where had the demoness gone with my blood?

  I had no sooner thought the question when the earth beneath me shook and a great roar filled the sky. I think I had my answer.

  I dashed through the woods and, at the edge of the clearing, I pulled up short. On the raised dirt platform, the stone statue was moving. As it rose from its crouched position, it threw back its head and let loose with another terrifying roar.

  I really shouldn’t have been surprised to see the statue moving. After all, I myself had recently inhabited it. But what did surprise me was that as the statue stepped away, it revealed what appeared to be a hole. A very deep hole.

  So deep that I suspected it went straight to hell.

  After all, pouring free from it were shadowy, winged figures. Demons.

  Dozens of them.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  In my limited experience, demons tend to inhabit hosts, usually flawed people who leave themselves vulnerable to invasion and possession.

  And although I had encountered a few lesser demons in my day, I’d never seen such a horde all at once. And never had I seen them in their true forms—if indeed that’s what these badassed winged creatures were.

  They swarmed around the statue like hummingbirds around a sugar jar. They were the size of monkeys, although they had leathery, bat-like wings and hooked claws.

  After a moment, they began swooping from the air toward the slowest of the fleeing security guards. Screams ripped the night as several of them were seized and dragged into the air. The demons were small and had trouble gaining altitude with the extra weight.

  I was still looking around for the demoness, but I was getting a bad, bad feeling. A feeling that she had tricked me yet again, and now it was Parker in the statue, getting ready to party.

  Sure enough, the winged demons carried their human Kibbles n’ Bits straight back to the statue, which hadn’t moved much. The first demon flung its limp cargo into the statue’s stone jaws, and the mouth opened with a rumble. Then the jaws clamped closed, and I heard the distinct crunching of bone amid the shriek of pain. Blood squirted out like black rain.

  The statue grew a little more flexible with the feeding, and the next few demons circled in a holding pattern around the statue’s head, no doubt waiting for the next special delivery.

  I didn’t care about Erasmus, who was on his knees in awe before the giant statue, not realizing he’d been tricked just like I had.

  The security guards were probably in on the sacrifice, so maybe this one had it coming. But it was probably just another asshole wanting a paycheck. To watch an innocent person die was too much to take. Despite all the atrocities I’d committed in my past, I still knew good from evil. And that stone, cold-hearted bitch was definitely evil.

  She spat out the sodden uniform and a couple of bones, and the waste spun to the ground around Erasmus. By now the compound was empty, and a couple of gunshots rang out as other security guards tried to save themselves from the flying critters.

  I was fully recovered by then, the young woman’s blood coursing through my system and energizing me. A vampire buzz is unlike anything I’d ever experienced in my human life. My senses were heightened and my skin seemed electrified, and the fluttering of the demon’s wings was like a mighty wind against me. The trembling of the ground rolled up through my feet and the moist aroma of the mountain air was rich in my nostrils, as was the tempting smell of the blood dripping down the demoness’s chin.

  In a weird way, I felt fully alive—or at least in the full mockery of life that only the undead can feel.

  But all I could think about was rescuing the people that had been snatched by demons. Not all of them were security guards, as I saw fluttering robes and blonde hair dangling beneath some of the flying creatures. Apparently the demons had invaded the grounds and found fresh prey.

  Parker had gotten what she wanted from me—a feeding.

  And I’d gotten what I wanted from her—a feeding in return, from the abandoned host she’d granted me.

  I could have called it even and left Cloudland forever, granting Parker all the power she’d ever craved and letting her have dominion over her flock of demons and Erasmus Cole, the man she’d pretended was her father.

  But my blood—such as it was—still boiled from her previous trickery, and the way she’d played the innocent victim and deceived me into helping her.

  And despite not having been human for so many, many years, and despite the cold spot in my chest where a heart once raged with passion, I had a burning desire fo
r revenge.

  With no weapons at hand to take down a twenty-five-foot statue, I figured that instead of bringing the battle to Parker, I’d have the battle carry me to her.

  I burst out of my concealment and ran toward one of the buildings, flailing my arms like I was one of Erasmus Cole’s Cloudland disciples. Even though I was no longer wearing a robe, I figured a winged demon fresh from the bowels of hell pretty much perceived that one fleeing person was as good as another.

  I ducked my head as if I was scared, but in truth, I didn’t want any of those claws to puncture my neck. I hadn’t seen any of the demons feed, and they seemed intent on serving their newfound goddess, but the sight and smell of blood makes monsters of so many of us.

  The only difference was, instead of heading for the safety of the buildings, I bolted straight toward the dirt platform.

  It took only moments before I heard the flapping of wings and one swooped down behind me. I braced and then felt the claws dig into my shoulders, hard enough to get a solid grip but not tearing through my shirt and piercing the skin.

  Just before I was borne aloft, I reached down and grabbed the item I’d been seeking: the ceremonial stake that Parker had dropped.

  As I was lifted into the air, someone screamed, and I thought it was one of the teen blonde runaways, it was so high and girlish. Instead, it was The Answer, Erasmus Cole, wriggling beneath one of the demons. So much for personal growth through self-empowerment...

  The stake in hand, I relaxed and let the demon carry me into the chilly night. Up high, without the branches of the tree to shield the view, I caught the full glory of the glistening Mount Shasta and could understand why humans fell under its mystical spell.

  But at the moment, I had a different type of spell to worry about, and I thought I’d be next on Parker’s menu.

  Instead, the demon that had snatched Erasmus Cole made a beeline for the stone bitch’s mouth, obviously an overachiever that hoped to get a right-hand seat at the throne.

  I recognized the irony of Erasmus finally learning the true meaning of sacrifice, but I doubt he appreciated the lesson. Because the demon laid him squarely between the statue’s creaking basalt lips, and they came together with a loud clatter.

  I was close enough to see Erasmus’s eyes widen in shock and pain. In his last moment, he stared at me, and I could have sworn he smirked a little bit, as if secretly pleased that at least he wasn’t the only one to serve as Parker’s late-night snack.

  But the smirk died away with a final scream, and Parker slurped and sucked, draining his vital sauces into whatever passed for the belly of the beast. The statue was invigorated by the fresh feeding, and she threw open her mouth to roar, letting Erasmus’s crushed corpse fall to the ground while dark, glistening blood streamed down Parker’s chin.

  She raised her arms into the night, as if acknowledging the mist-shrouded mountain, and she took a couple of lurching steps toward it. I wondered if the statue had some innate connection with the mountain, born from its stone and harboring its power. She was moving much better now, more strong and fluidly, and I knew the feeling, because I was also rejuvenated from my recent feeding.

  As the demon clutching me soared through the chilly air toward Parker’s head, I tightened my grip on the stake.

  I couldn’t help gazing at her hard, smooth neck and wondering if my fangs were strong enough to pierce it.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Just as that thought occurred to me, I saw that something was happening to the stone itself. It seemed to be changing color or shape. Or both.

  No, it was changing composition.

  Indeed, it seemed that the more blood the entity consumed, the more the stone transformed into something living. It wasn’t quite there yet. It was still somewhere between flesh and stone, parts of it pliable and horrific, like a collaboration of Stephen King’s and H.P Lovecraft’s worst nightmare.

  Blood dribbled from its rapidly transmigrating lips. Lips that had once been stone, but were now stretching back to reveal a deep, black maw, with rows of curved, ivory-colored teeth. I could have easily been looking into the opening of a cave with so many stalagmites and stalactites.

  But I wasn’t. I suspected I had been duped once again. I suspected for this creature’s transformation to be complete, it needed one last meal.

  One last blood sacrifice.

  It needed me.

  And all my precious vampire blood.

  Jesus, I’d stepped into it again.

  Above me, the demon beat its black wings. The wind of its downdraft thundered over me. I sensed the hate and evil coming off the creature, the repellant emotions spreading down to me like a living, foul thing. Its black talons hooked under each shoulder, gripping my upper arms. A painful deathgrip, for certain, but a pain I ignored.

  One thing I knew how to do was kill an immortal. Demons were no different. Especially demons who inhabited living bodies, be it flesh or stone. Kill the body, destroy the creature. Or at least, send the creature back from whence it came.

  I glanced up at my dangling right hand which still held the stake tightly. How strong was I? Very strong, fully rejuvenated from my recent feeding. Strong enough to take on a flying demon? I didn’t know, but I was about to find out.

  As the stone creature that was rapidly turning into something more than stone opened its mouth wide, waiting for its special-delivery meal, I reversed my grip on the stake—and had a moment of panic when I nearly dropped the damned thing. I had just enough leverage to drive the point hard into what would pass as a calf on the demon that held me.

  Another thing I know about immortals...nothing is impervious to silver.

  I stabbed down hard—and although bullets might have bounced off its black hide—the silver stake plunged deep inside. The creature shrieked and jerked violently, and released its grip on me.

  I dropped like a rock.

  But there was a method to my madness. I was falling short of the hungry mouth...and directly toward the beast’s heart. Did I really believe that a stone statue had a heart? No. No more than I had a heart, as my own human organ had quit beating ages ago and been replaced by an ancient rhythm of misery.

  There was dark magick at work here. Otherworldly magick. It was, after all, such magick that kept me alive—and fueled the beast before me. In a strange way, we were of the same flesh, birthed from the same dark hole in the universe.

  Who created such magicks, I didn’t know. Toward what purpose, I knew not either.

  But one thing I did know was this...dark magick can be undone, and one such way was a silver stake. Be it through undead flesh or living stone, the silver would drive the demon out.

  I wondered how much of Parker—the human Parker—was still in the thing, and if she would die along with the creature.

  Great. Another innocent victim on my scorecard.

  But I couldn’t let that stop me.

  And as I tumbled through the night air, falling toward the beast, I righted myself.

  I held the silver stake out before me with both hands.

  And drove it deep into its stone chest.

  The statue bellowed. Except it really wasn’t a statue anymore. It was something else now. Something living. Something from mythology. It could have been a Titan. It could have come from the pages of The Odyssey. Or stepped out of the Arabian Nights, but whatever it was, whatever it had become, it was dying.

  And it would not go quietly into this good night.

  It thrashed wildly on the dirt stage while I hung from the protruding stake handle with all my strength. The monstrous creature began stomping and shaking, and I could have sworn even Mount Shasta cowered with fright.

  Finally it swatted at me and I went flying, landing head over ass in the nearby grass. When I sat up, I saw that the stone statue had completed its transformation even while it writhed in its death throes.

  Standing on the stage was something straight from the bowels of hell. A blackish creature with wet-looking sk
in. It towered over me, and as it threw back its head and roared with rage, I realized with some certainty that I might have been looking at the devil himself.

  And if not the devil, surely one of the most vile, wickedest, bitching-assed entities I had ever seen.

  It clawed at its chest and found the silver stake. The creature pulled it free and heaved it aside, but it was already much too late. Having witnessed the deaths of vampires and other creatures of the night, I knew the damage was already done. The center could not hold. Steam hissed from the wound.

  Overhead, the flying demons circled their dying dark goddess.

  Then, one after another, they dove down into the exposed pit on stage, tucking in their wings and disappearing from view.

  The demoness—or perhaps even the devil—dropped to a knee. It held its chest, where steam continued to hiss through the small puncture wound. It raised its head and its red eyes fastened onto me. I think I might have swallowed. I know I scooted back in the grass.

  It seemed like the creature might fall over. It was certainly leaning heavily in one direction.

  Instead, the red light disappeared from its staring eyes, and the black flesh was replaced by stone again. The lifeless statue had returned—a statue that was even now teetering on stage.

  I watched as it slowly fell over, crashing with such force that the ground shook and a dust cloud erupted.

  When the dust settled, I couldn’t help but notice that the statue had fallen directly over the pit into hell.

  Sealing it completely.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  I wasn’t in the mood to hang around and answer police questions about the death of Erasmus Cole and several others. Let them try to come up with a logical explanation from the testimony of the drugged-out Cloudland groupies, or some dimwitted security guard.

  Cloudland was a cult, so the square press would deliver the typical horror stories and veiled moral lessons about the dark mastermind behind what would likely be called “group suicide.” Erasmus Cole would get a zillion hits on his website, and probably a few losers and loners would be inspired to join the cult. Maybe even some charismatic idiot would try to take charge.