Mortality Bites - The COMPLETE Boxed Set (Books 1 - 10): An Urban Fantasy Epic Adventure

by Ramy Vance

  Now that they weren’t souped-up creatures anymore, they were vulnerable and a hell of lot easier to take down.

  During the early days, you could kill an ex-vampire right in the middle of Times Square and as long you could prove that the guy bleeding on the street was, once-upon-a-time, a demon, the cops were more likely to give you a high five than read your Miranda rights.

  Those were the golden days. Golden days that lasted about six months. Then the politicians and police got their shit together and they came up with some kind of amnesty program. A clean slate. A do-over. After all, the rules had changed and vampires weren’t vampires no more—they were human.

  “Well, fuck that!” Simione mutters as George and Ryan jump in the van.

  “Fuck what?” George asks.

  “I was just thinking how that bitch keeps getting lucky. We need to make her unlucky.”

  The two brothers nod, grinning. “What’s the plan?” This from George—obviously.

  “Stake out the hotel. Maybe we’ll get lucky and she’ll come back in the dead of night, drunk and ripe for the—” He draws a finger across his own throat.

  George chuckles, but Ringo isn’t laughing. He’s got that deadly stare going for him. Like he can’t wait to kill her. The boy’s hungry. Good.

  Putting a heavy hand on the silent kid’s shoulder, Simione nods and says, “But let’s grab some grub, first. Can’t serve justice on an empty stomach. There’s a diner not too far from here.”

  ↔

  They drive by the diner and lo-and-behold, the kid’s Mustang is parked out front. Grub would have to be grabbed later.

  Driving slowly past the place, they look in the window … and Simione cannot believe what he sees. Not only is that middle-aged vampire bitch sitting there, but so is her daughter.

  “Katrina,” he mutters to himself.

  “What’d you say?” George asks.

  Simione ignores George, staring at little miss Katrina Darling with her lush auburn hair and million-dollar smile. She looks so good, so innocent. So harmless. But Simione knows better. He knows who she really is …

  So we got us two targets, he thinks. Time to plan, figure out a trap and determine the best course of action to take them down.

  But—like the old expression goes—humans plan and God laughs.

  Except it isn’t God laughing, Simione knows. It’s Katrina and her bitch mom. They’re laughing.

  Laughing like they don’t have a care in the world.

  Simione’s idea for plans and traps and courses of action goes out the window.

  “Suit up, boys,” he says, gritting his teeth. “Time to take these bitches down.”

  WHEN AN ANGEL SHATTERS A WINDOW, USE THE DOOR

  When my father started the Divine Cherubs, what most believed his mission statement to mean was that humans were taking the role of angels on Earth and hunting the nasty things that go bump in the night.

  Few knew that what he actually meant was they were to hunt me—his little “cherub.” At first I was hurt that he’d use my nickname against me. Every time I heard that a Divine Cherub was in town or saw one of those child-like masks, my heart would flutter with a combination of fear and despair.

  I’d also wonder if one of the men beneath the mask was my father.

  But then my father died and his Divine Cherubs charged on without him throughout the centuries, fortunately unorganized and more of an old boys’ club than anything to be taken seriously.

  I hadn’t seen one in decades. After the GrandExodus, I hadn’t expected to encounter one again.

  Now I was human, sitting in a diner near my university, and the last thing I expected was to see a Divine Cherub—and certainly not one of the organization’s legendary Hunters.

  Let alone three.

  ↔

  THEY CAME CRASHING through the window and my old instinct flooded into me. This was a life-or-death scenario that I had played out many times before and I immediately got up to meet their attack, completely forgetting that I was a human.

  With the adrenaline flowing and my temporary amnesia, I half-expected my vampire strength to kick in. I targeted their leader—the biggest guy at the front—meaning to throw him back out of the window they came crashing through. But instead of easily repelling them like I had done for centuries, my arms met stone.

  I mean, actual stone. Either this guy was a freaking gargoyle or he was wearing something underneath his black, button-up shirt. He paused for a second, his crisp green eyes behind the mask meeting mine. The corners of his eyes crinkled, and I guessed he was smiling.

  Then he grabbed my two wrists, twisted with unnatural strength, and threw me against one of Mama’s unshattered walls. I crashed into the decorative plates Mama (or whoever owned this place) hung on the walls with a thud.

  Both Egya and Justin were up in a flash. Justin, being nineteen and never having the benefit of once being vampire or werewolf, sought to meet the smallest of the three head on. Strength against strength … and the poor guy didn’t stand a chance. His adversary simply put a hand on his chest and pushed, sending Justin flying toward the kitchen in the back.

  Egya, on the other hand, had centuries of experience. Seeing how strong these guys were, he opted not to attack head-on. Instead, he got close and then dropped to his knees, using the freshly waxed floors to slide past his attacker.

  Once behind him, he grabbed one of the tables and smashed it into the guy’s back. Human or not, Egya was strong. As were the tables—they were commercial beasts designed to endure endless parades of customers, waiters and bussers. Heavy and well-made. Getting hit by one of those in the back was the equivalent of getting hit by a wall.

  But the guy must not have gotten the memo—he took it like it was nothing, turning around and pushing Egya out the front door.

  Justin and Egya out of the picture, the biggest guy turned on me, yelling to his cronies, “Get the other bitch!”

  “She’s gone,” said the smallest of the three.

  “What do you mean, gone?” he said, scanning the diner.

  Yeah, what do you mean, “gone”? I scanned the diner too, and sure enough there was not a trace of my good ol’ mom. I guess she wasn’t that different after all … always running away when things got too hot, daughter be damned.

  But just when my judgmental rage was reaching full throttle, I heard my mother yell, “Darling—to me!” Then she threw a motherfreaking meat cleaver at the guy closest to me.

  She was in the kitchen, hand reached out in my direction. I didn’t need to be told twice. Miracles happen every day—why gawk at one when it’s handed to you? I jumped to my feet, over the counter and through the window where my mother’s arms were there to help me through.

  Once I was inside, she threw something I didn’t quite see, followed by a bottle of whisky stuffed with a cloth already on fire. The thing exploded like a fireball, creating a pool of fire between us and the three hunters.

  “What a waste of whisky,” she said. “This way.”

  “What about Justin?”

  “He’s already outside.”

  “And Egya?”

  She groaned in frustration and grabbed my wrist. “I see your habit of always doubting your mother hasn’t changed,” she groaned as she pulled out back.

  Outside, I saw Egya grinning in the driver’s seat of Justin’s Mustang, Justin in the back, clearly dazed from the attack.

  He looked at me with glazed eyes. “What the—?”

  “Your mother is one fast-thinking lady,” Egya said, leaning over and opening the passenger’s side door. “She threw me the keys just before she threw the Molotov cocktail.”

  So that was what she threw. Keys. I had to admit—kind of badass.

  “Come on, girl. We gotta ride!”

  I jumped into the backseat, my mother the passenger seat.

  Once inside, Egya cried out, “Shadowfax—show me the meaning of haste!” and slammed on the accelerator.

  What a dork.<
br />
  MUSTANGS, CONFUSED BOYFRIENDS AND LAUGHING HYENAS

  Egya drove the Mustang away from the diner and it took all of seven seconds for the guy who understood the least about what was going on to break the silence.

  “What the friggin’ … effing … fuck was that?” Justin cried out, his eyes wide with fear.

  “Language, dear, I am your elder—and from the way you two look at each other, a potential mother-in-law.”

  At this Justin blushed, before repeating in a far more controlled tone, “What just, erm … happened?”

  “We were attacked, dear.”

  “Mother, stop calling him ‘dear,’ ” I said.

  “Your wish is my command, darling.” She turned back to Justin. “Honey, those men were—”

  “They were after money or something—they clearly were after something,” I cut in. “Just your average, everyday robber.”

  Smooth, girl, real smooth!

  My mother was no idiot. She got it immediately that I didn’t want my three-hundred-year-old secret out of the bag—the secret that I had major daddy issues. She gave me a sly wink and said, “The way they move, I suspect they were there to shut Mama’s down.”

  “Mama’s?”

  “Yes, honey—isn’t that the name of the diner? Clearly whoever owns Mama’s is connected.”

  “Connected?” Justin repeated, his voice skeptical.

  “I’ve seen it before. Mob flair-ups—fights, going to the mattresses, that kind of stuff.”

  “And you’ve seen it before?” Justin asked.

  Sure, on The Wire, Sopranos, The Godfather, all the classics, I thought.

  Egya howled at this, but both Justin and my mother gave me a blank look.

  “Darling, I know things. I’ve told you before. I am employed by—”

  “Mother …” I said in a warning tone.

  “My point is, I know things, and that had mafia beef written all over it.” The way she said beef sounded so unnatural it was like a fish trying to roar out of water.

  “But it doesn’t make sense. For one thing, they came right at you,” Justin said, looking at me. “And they were wearing your mask, and—”

  My eyes widened at this and Justin immediately took the hint, shutting up—but it was too late. Shit.

  A few weeks ago the dorms were attacked by a fanatical human who thought that if she sacrificed enough students and spilled enough innocent blood, she could please the gods enough into coming back. Egya, Deirdre, the Avatar of Truth—Mergen, sweet guy—and myself had successfully fought her off.

  And I had been wearing my father’s Cherub mask when doing so.

  Almost no one knew about that except Justin, who had seen me put it on. And now he was blabbing about that in front of the absolute last person I wanted to know what had happened.

  My mother had clearly heard him, and in a dry, humorless tone, she said, “Moonlighting as your father, I see.”

  I tried to ignore the comment, but knowing how my blemish-free cheeks work, I was sure I had turned bright pink. “Never mind that now,” I mumbled.

  Mention of my father confused the others. Justin’s eyes met mine, open wide in confusion, and I tried my best to mentally project that I would tell him everything when we were alone. Promise.

  He projected back that I better.

  I had hoped I’d be able to keep my secret from him a bit longer—like sixty or seventy years. You know, death-bed confessions and all. But that was a luxury I could no longer hope for. Not if I wanted to keep him. Now I could only hope that when I did tell him, he’d still want to be with me.

  “We should call the police,” Justin finally said.

  “Already done,” my mother said, wiggling her cellphone.

  “What? When?” I asked.

  She shrugged, seemingly unconcerned. “Sometime between pulling Justin out the back door and setting the place on fire, I believe?”

  We fell into an awkward silence that was momentarily broken by Egya saying, “So … anyone still hungry?”

  When no one laughed, he grunted and joined us in our uncomfortable hush.

  I was painfully aware of Justin’s eyes on me. He wasn’t going to let this “father” stuff rest for long. Boy, did I miss the days when I could hypnotize humans, or I had the strength to simply knock them out. But continuing to keep Justin in the dark was a no-go—neither was dropping him off at home with those Cherub maniacs on the loose.

  “Well,” I said, unable to take the quiet anymore, “we can’t just drive around aimlessly. We need somewhere we can think. And talk.”

  Egya snapped his fingers and said, giggling, “I have just the place,” as he turned on a winding road that led up the hill.

  ↔

  MCGILL UNIVERSITY and the city that houses it are built on a hill. Well, technically it’s a volcano so dead that even the gods couldn’t get it to burp before they packed up and booked it. At the top of the hill stands a big neon cross that, despite the absence of the god it was built for, the city decided not to turn off. Tax dollars be damned. As a vampire—ex or not—crosses make me nervous, and yet I’d found myself basking under its neon glow more than once. Maybe I secretly figured it was the last place a Divine Cherub would come looking.

  “Really? Here?” my mother said as soon as Egya’s destination became clear. Then, believing that Justin and Egya didn’t know that we were ex-vampires (although I could see a dawning realization in her eyes that Egya knew more than he should), she adopted a softer tone. “Love your innovative thinking. Both a safe haven and tourist spot. Bravo.” She was trying to spin as much levity in her tone as she could, but we all could sense the stress in her voice.

  Once at the cross, I jumped out of the car and waited impatiently for Justin to get out. The second his feet touched the asphalt, I grabbed his hand and pulled him into the brush.

  “Darling,” my mother called out, “this is hardly the time for a snog. The Quad’s nowhere near here!”

  I know it wasn’t right, her being my mom and all, but I gave her the finger and pulled him deeper into the tree line until I was sure no one could hear us. She’d done worse to me, trust me.

  Before I could say anything, he bent down and kissed me. “You OK?” he asked.

  That’s Justin—always says the right thing in a shitstorm of wrong.

  “I’m OK,” I said. “Are you?”

  He kissed me again. “Of course. What else did you expect?”

  “I don’t know. For you to be more human. Yelling, maybe a good ‘What the hell is going on?,’ perhaps a ‘What are you keeping from me?’ ”

  He nodded. “So … what are you keeping from me?”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  “Can’t or won’t?” He stared at me like he was trying to drown me in his ocean-blue eyes. “I know that you’re not an ordinary girl, Kat, just like I know that was no mafia attack. Those guys wore your mask. They were gunning for you, not the diner. Who are they? Former members of your”—he paused, thinking of the word—“gang? Humph—maybe your mom was right.”

  I chuckled. “She’s a fantastic liar … and her lies always have just enough truth to keep you from knowing the truth-truth.”

  Justin nodded, but he still looked confused. “And the truth is …?”

  “First of all—not a gang, more like a clan. Scottish, remember? Secondly, they’re not the ex-members—I am. Well … sort of. And lastly, I don’t—”

  “I know, you don’t want to tell me.”

  “I do, just in the right way. It’s so complicated, and in this rushed, intense situation, I’ll say the wrong thing and—”

  He kissed me. Hard.

  I pulled away. “And you’ll—”

  Another kiss.

  “—never speak to me again.”

  He kissed me again, pausing to say, “Who said anything about speaking?”

  ↔

  I CONVINCED Justin to let Egya, my mother and me speak in private. I could see that he was hurt
that Egya was privy to information he wasn’t, but he also understood enough to know that the reason Egya knew more than he did was because we weren’t an item. Justin and I were. And in a strange way, that meant I had to protect him from that information. For now, at least.

  So he nodded, getting into the driver’s seat of his car and waiting for us to finish our palaver.

  My mother’s laughter broke into my apparently spoken-aloud thoughts. “Palaver, darling? Your speech always gets so archaic when you’re stressed.”

  I ignored her dig at me and looked over at Egya who, surprisingly, said nothing. He didn’t even laugh.

  “So he knows?” my mother asked.

  Egya nodded. “If by he you mean me, and by knows, you mean know that you and your daughter both had fangs once-upon-a-time, then yes.”

  “And did you have fangs? Once-upon-a-time?” my mother asked, lifting an eyebrow.

  “Indeed, I did. Hyena.” He lifted a hand like he was at an AA meeting.

  “Vampire,” my mother said, lifting her hand in the same manner.

  When I didn’t lift mine, she said, “You must learn to play more, darling.”

  “Divine Cherubs tried to kill us, Mom. Vampire hunters.”

  “Exactly—perfect time to laugh. Weren’t those masks silly?”

  I closed my eyes tight and counted to three. Out loud. Once calm, I said, “We’re human now. What about the amnesty program?”

  “You know what that group was like—they love their oaths and grudges. I suspect that they are of the variety that don’t give a damn about amnesty.”

  “They’re not human, that’s for sure.”

  Egya and my mother gave me a confused look.

  “How do you know?” Egya asked.

  I returned their looks with one of my own. “Did you see them? They were far too strong. The big guy threw me like I was a stack of newspapers. No human—no matter how strong or well-trained—could do that so easily.”

  “Hate to break it to you, but you barely weigh as much as a stack of newspapers,” Egya said. “Maybe a lightly packed knapsack.”

  “First of all, thank you, but we all know that’s not true. I may be light, but I’m not that light. Also, I’m well-trained. I know how to manipulate my body to work against a throw, and he cut through my defenses without exerting anything remotely resembling effort. No, he was an Other—and one that knew what he was doing, too.”