I’m Glad You’re Dead (The Preternatural Chronicles Book 1)

by Hunter Blain

  In the distance I could hear the fire brigade approaching the smoking alleyway. I couldn’t let them find Ulric’s fanged skeleton. I would have to remove his remains and bury him.

  I looked around desperate for anything to put the roaring flames out.

  An idea struck me and I walked up to the flames, feeling the heat threaten to conflagrate me. I stuck my arms out to either side, like a bird stretching its wings before flight. I was going to slam my hands together at supernatural speeds to put out the fire. That’s when I remembered my broken wing which had stopped spurting precious blood, but remained, well, gone. I commanded body to start the healing process as I figured out a different plan. An idea struck across my mind like a bolt of lightning.

  I slammed my only palm flat on the cobblestone with enough force to send out shockwave. I was thrown back into the opposite wall of the alley where I was briefly stunned. The air also smashed into the fire and scattered flaming debris in all directions in a beautiful explosion. Captivation took hold as I watched flaming debris rocket toward the heavens. Doubt and then worry replaced the awe I experienced as the make-shift napalm slowed in midair, stopped, then changed course, heading back down.

  Time was running short, but I couldn’t help but watch what I had just done. A sickening feeling bloomed in the pit of my gut.

  “Shite…” Was all I could manage as flaming wood landed on nearby buildings. With helpless eyes I watched as they began to ignite the materials around them. They were going up faster than a painstakingly prepared camp fire. Within a few ragged breaths, the entire block was smoking.

  Screams began then. Men who were already approaching the alley called out an urgent warning, but the flames were growing rampant, feeding on the buildings with an insatiable appetite.

  Footsteps approached.

  I snapped myself out of the horror of my impulsive action, scooped up Ulric’s charred remains, and ran. There was a vague awareness, and even awe, that my arm was healed up to the wrist now. I continued to run as my eyes drifted to my hand that was beginning to sprout.

  I ran with Ulric’s shrunken frame curled in my arms; partly out of practicality, and partly out of the loss I was trying to fight back in my head. Though he was going to kill me at the end, he was all I had known for the last 200 years. Even if I wasn’t aware of the time passage, that is still a hell of a long time to travel the world with one companion. It was like the stories I read where the protagonist was forced to kill their abusive spouse or parent. They felt a crippling grief at having to take that kind of action against someone they loved, no matter the reason.

  As I reached the edge of the city, I turned and was hit by a brick wall of guilt. Just north of The River Thames and west of the Tower of London was glowing orange. Even in the blackness of night I could see the billowing smoke blotting out the stars, creating a divide in the heavens. I felt like an evil doppelganger to the righteous Moses.

  After what could have been hours of watching the glowing in the city grow, I was met by the first tendrils of the sun. It was time to finish this.

  I dragged Ulric’s corpse to a nearby tree and dropped him at the base. Lifting my freshly grown palm, I sent out my blood into the dirt, creating two shallow graves. While holding the dirt in the air, I looked at Ulric with a frown.

  “You may have lied and manipulated me, but you also made me what I am. Your part is over. Rest now,” I said with reverie. I pulled his smoldering body into the grave and laid the dirt on him.

  I climbed into the other hole and let the dirt rest on top of me just as the sun peaked over the horizon.

  My mind raced with the surreal events that had just taken place. I forced the thoughts to settle into reality. This had happened. Ulric was dead.

  I was free. The world was mine.

  But with Commander Godwin dead, what was I to do? What was the point in existing with no hope for vengeance? Hating Godwin had become a part of me, and I had redirected that hate toward my maker.

  A tear freed itself from the prison that was my eye and absorbed into the dirt as unconsciousness took me.

  Chapter 19

  Now

  I followed the screams of terror. Most of the time, mortals disregarded supes as a trick of the mind—they’ll see a glimmer of an apparition, or a giant fur covered beast dash between bushes—then quickly tell themselves they were just seeing things. But when a giant, hulking monstrosity is rampaging down the street just after sunset and ripping people apart, the dread sinks in.

  This doesn’t happen often, of course, as there are rules against revealing yourself to mortals. Rules that are punishable by death. But demons don’t give a damn. This one in particular seemed to revel in the limelight.

  I bounded down the street, passing half eaten bodies with looks of horror permanently etched into their faces. Sporadically I passed by a supe who’s human skin had fallen away with their demise. Trolls, faeries, goblins, ogres, and even rebellious demons were strewn about, all trying to stop the mortals from gathering proof of our existence.

  Then, I saw it.

  It stood the size of a house. “Holy shite!” I yelled in panic. It was the demon from my nightmare. I skidded to a halt and started to hyperventilate. The creature heard me and began the long process of turning around. Terror gripped my body and filled my muscles with concrete. I couldn’t move.

  Its sunken, red fire eyes spotted me, and the giant maw of the mouth slowly turned up into a smile. Within its massive body, a deep rumble began that moved up its throat and escaped its mouth.

  “Mo-squi-to,” It rumbled, barely audible with the sheer force of its voice. Windows shook and car alarms went off. I peed a little.

  It charged impossibly fast at me, intent on doing its masters bidding and killing the last vampire; or so I assumed by the sparkle in its eye.

  Instinct took over and I crouched while leaning to one side, making it look like I was about to run in that direction. He took the bait and changed course like a speeding train on a curving track. I juked the opposite direction and willed my blood through my palms, then put my hands together forming a giant Viking long sword. I swung with all my might at the creatures back as he passed, trying to stop his momentum. The blood-sword struck armor and shattered. I cried out in shock as the moderate power required to create the weapons was now lost. A flash of doubt entered my mind as I either didn’t use enough energy, or the demon somehow cancelled my power. I would have to be more careful, and as Ulric taught me, use a clear head.

  In my moment of bewilderment, the monster swung its massive, bone spiked arm and hit me dead on. Bone spears piercing my torso and face at my cheek. I flew what had to be several hundred feet down the street. But luckily, a sturdy panel van made of solid metal broke my momentum. A giant, me sized crater bent the van nearly bumper to bumper, forcing the ends to try and meet like a folded piece of paper. Stuck in the middle, I pried my limbs from where they had imprinted and forced myself into a ball. I wriggled until I was facing side to side and found purchase with my feet and hands, pushing the van apart. Once there was enough room, I let myself drop to the ground and muttered, “…Jell-O…”

  My intestines were hanging out of one of the holes in my stomach, so I did what any normal person would do and pushed them right back in. After a moment, the holes knitted themselves shut. I felt somewhat of a relief that he didn’t use hellfire with his attack.

  The brief reprieve was short lived as I both felt and heard the monster’s footsteps approaching.

  I turned with a new focus. I refused to be beat by some pawn of a demon in my town. Teeth clenched, eyes narrowed, I stared at my opponent and tried to find any weakness in his armor. There were gaps between the plates about six inches apart to allow for movement and bending. For as big as he was, this meant he was not as agile as I was, and provided a perfect place to focus my attacks. But I would have to be in close range to be effective.

  Through my palms, I manifested two gladiuses that were made for speed and st
abbing rather than blunt force. I stood my ground as the creature confidently approached. A toothy smile twisting its face.

  Closer and closer it came, crumbling the cement beneath its monstrous feet. I bent my knees.

  Only a few more steps and I would be within its reach. I crouched lower and moved my center of gravity into my legs.

  It took a deep breath that sounded like the wind from a tornado, and bellowed directly at me, throwing me slightly off center. My eyes blurred and ears rang, but I held fast, feeling its movement beneath my feet. Once it thought I was incapacitated from its verbal assault, it ran the remaining steps.

  I acted. My eyes refocused and I sprang forward with enough force to high five the clouds, had I been going straight up. The street shattered beneath my feet as I propelled myself impossibly fast in the direction of my prey. The monster had a brief look of incredulity before adjusting and reflexively swinging its massive arm in a wide arc.

  As the arcing limb was about to hit, I leapt and placed my feet on its wrist, then started running up its arm toward its center. The demon leaned back to avoid my approach, but this only widened the gaps between his torso plates. Still running, I pulled my arms back into a striking position and then lunged forward, jumping off the appendage and toward the house-size of his center mass. My left blade struck the corner of a plate and shattered, causing me to gasp as the lightening went through my body that was caused by the permanent loss of energy, but my right blade found purchase and drove into the demon’s chest close to the heart. The creature roared in immense pain and momentary panic. Viscous black oil spurted from the wound, spilling the creature’s blood.

  I hung from his chest like an ornament, still stunned from the loss of the first gladius. This gave the beast time to recover and he grabbed my entire body from chest to knees with his massive meat hooks he called hands. I recovered at the last second, just before his hands closed around me, squeezing my body like an ancient, gargantuan serpent.

  The focus I had was melting away as fear crept its way into dominance. My head shot back and forth, desperate to find any way out.

  He brought me up to his rows and rows of razer shark teeth.

  “Oh great,” I panted. “Now you’re going to bore me to death with your master pla..”

  He shoved me into his mouth and started to chew.

  Chapter 20

  London, 1666

  As night began to swallow the light, consciousness trickled back into me like water dripping through the ceiling and into a bucket. Once the sun had fully retreated, the rest of my mind sprang back into place.

  I lifted myself out of my shallow grave and rubbed the dirt from my eyes. After shaking my head and slinging earth from my hair and ears, I looked at Ulric’s small mound.

  “Sleeping in tonight I see?” I asked the mound. Reality fell upon me like a crumbling brick wall, and my face and heart were pulled down from an unseen weight that threatened to pull me back into my hole. I stuck a dirt coated hand out and set it gently on the mound, afraid to disturb the remains.

  As I looked at the grave, a flickering of orange light on the grass caught my attention. I looked out over the River Thames and noticed even more of the city was ablaze.

  My heart stepped off the ledge and plummeted into the depths of my guts and my throat tightened to the point where I was confident that, if I had to breathe, I wouldn’t be able to at this moment.

  I stood up, letting a mass of dirt fall to the ground. Clouds of light brown wafted out and were carried off by the wind, freed from the earth.

  Looking at the orange city, my first instinct was to help. But what could I possibly do? My last attempt had created the situation. Not to mention the fact that fire is to vampires, what dry land is to fish; our arch nemesis. Well, that and sunlight. And not consuming blood. Ok, so it wasn’t our only arch nemesis, but it was one of our nemeses. Flames plus vampire equal dead. D. E. D. Dead. And now, there was only one left in the world.

  Realization pierced my heart: I was the last of my species.

  After a few moments of wallowing in self-pity, I set my jaw and rushed toward the inferno that was once the heart of London.

  As I crossed The River Thames, I let my senses flow freely. PS told me to run from the situation, making it harder to utilize my predatory senses. In my mind, I grabbed PS and shook him with vigor.

  “This is MY body and we will do as I command. Now pick up that feck’n rein and let’s do something good for a change.”

  With hesitation, PS grabbed one of the reins and my senses flooded with preternatural energy. We were aligned for a common goal.

  I scanned the area with my eyes, looking for heat signatures, but the heat from the flames made that unreliable at best. Letting my eyes close, I focused on my hearing, taking in sound from several blocks away.

  Footsteps came first, accompanied by the sound of sloshing water. Several hurried steps followed close behind. I opened my eyes to see a line of men carrying buckets of water, running as fast as they could without spilling their precious cargo.

  Closing my eyes, I focused further out. The whimpering of a dog caught my attention and I zeroed in on where it was coming from. Running at blinding speeds, I leapt and exploded through the window of a second story building. Smoke filled the upstairs, making it hard to see. Another whimper. I burst through the thin wall separating the rooms and found a puppy curled up in the corner, scratching at the wall with all its might.

  A few hurried steps and I was scooping the puppy up in my arms and leaping through the window. I leapt a few times and was on the bridge again, away from the reach of the fire. I set the puppy down and quickly petted his head. I noticed my arm was wet and I looked down to see a small ring of urine forming at the edge of my fancy coat. I scowled at the puppy who wagged his tail and yipped at me, then smiled. How could I stay mad at that?

  A child’s scream pierced the night’s air that only my ears could detect. Turning on my heels, I ran in the general direction of the sound and came to a building that was fully engulfed. Another shriek rang out. It was coming from the center of the top floor. A woman fought against two men who were restraining her from entering the building. With each scream, the woman’s eyes went wide, and the men had to use everything they had to keep her from running into the beaconing flames. It was as if the conflagration had set a trap and was willing as many victims in as it could in its short lifespan.

  My eyes vigorously searched for a way in that wasn’t a gateway to a room of fire. An idea struck, and I turned and ran back to the bridge.

  The puppy was still there, cleaning his fur. He looked up and saw me run and jump over him into the river below. The cold enveloped me in an embrace that would have stolen the breath of a mortal. Floating to the surface, I reached out with a blood-whip and caught the bridge where I pulled myself up with one solid tug.

  The puppy ran up to me, tail wagging and yipping his excitement as he did.

  “Stay here my friend, I will return,” I told him before starting my run back to the building.

  With a few bounds I was back and flying through the air right into the mouth of the raging inferno. The screaming had stopped. With a quick glance, I took note that the woman had collapsed to the ground and was sobbing uncontrollably into her hands.

  The fire embraced me as I landed in the top floor in a crouch. The heat was immeasurable to my supernaturally laden skin. Clenching my jaw, I crawled on my hands and feet toward where I had thought the sound came from. Within a few moments, I found a closet where the flames had just started to lick. I blew out air I had stored in my lungs and extinguished the door for a few moments. Reaching for the door knob, I pulled back at the contact of the super-heated metal.

  I began to steam as the protective layer of water had begun to boil on my skin. My hair and beard started to singe, sending white smoke into my nose and signifying time was running out.

  I manifested the first thing that came to my mind, and slammed the blood-hammer down on
the door knob. It broke off with a clatter to the ground, bringing a chunk of the dried wood with it.

  I yanked the door open and was met by the odor of cooking flesh. With the smell came the associated memory of my mother, and for a moment, I was paralyzed with a flood of emotions. Even though it was almost 200 years ago, the memory hasn’t degraded, and it felt as fresh as the night it happened. It’s an unexpected flaw in becoming a vampire that the books never mention; perfect memory recall without degradation. When a mortal loses a loved one, time eases the pain by dulling the memory.

  Tiny, bloodshot eyes looked at me from beneath a blackened forehead, freeing me from the prison of my memory. I picked up the bald child under her neck and knees and rushed through the flames and out the window. I landed in the alley where no one was standing, and an idea came to me.

  With my mother still stinging my heart and mind, I say, “Please work,” as I willed blood from my palm and over the girl’s exposed skin. It covered her entire head including her blistered lips, leaving little holes for her nostrils. There was a moan that escaped her throat and she began to writhe, ever so slightly. I focused the blood flow over her arms and legs, willing my own energy into her skin. I was careful not to throw too much of myself into her, as I wasn’t sure what would happen. Plus, I was still exhausted after my battle with Ulric. I hadn’t fed yet and fatigue was knocking at my door. PS nodded at me in my head and I focused on the blood returning into my body.

  As the crimson life left her skin, a beautiful little girl, complete with a full head of hair was laying in my arms. Her eyes fluttered open but were unfocused. I ran the back of my hand over her cheeks and said, “It’s going to be ok. You’re ok.” She shifted her head to me, put one fresh hand on my cheek and asked in the sweetest voice I had ever heard in all my years, “Are you an angel?”