The Complete Vampire Project Series: (Books 1 - 5)

by Jonathan Yanez

  Two black-cloaked figured emerged from the shadows, both wearing matching steel masks. One held a machete in his hand, the other a steel pipe. Sloan took a step back, her right hand on her sword. They circled her, one in front the other, directly behind her.

  “I’m going to give you one opportunity to surrender.” Sloan drew her sword and flicked on the mage power. It hummed in hungry anticipation. A dull red glow emanated from the blade itself. “In the name of the queen, I order you to stand down.”

  As one the two attackers fell on her, Sloan charged forward, slicing clean through the first assailant’s machete and severing his head. In one smooth motion, Sloan turned to meet the second threat.

  He came at her with the pipe raised over his head. Before he had a chance to bring it down, Sloan skewered him through the heart with her blade. Her sword burned a hole into his body without the slightest pause. The black robes the man wore lit on fire at the prolonged touch of the mage sword.

  Sloan withdrew her weapon. The burning dead man fell to the ground in a ball of flame. Both through the machete, and bone and flesh, the sword had never hesitated. For all of the resistance she met, Sloan might as well have been slicing through paper.

  Heavy footsteps made Sloan turn to address a new threat. There was no need. Lieutenant Baker had arrived with the regiment’s vanguard. Mouths were open, eyes wide as they took in the decapitated figure along with the other burning corpse.

  “We’re in the right place,” Sloan switched off her mage sword. “Buckle up, I don’t think The Order is in a talking mood tonight.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Jack

  Anger at the mention of his father sought to unsteady Jack. The comment that proved The Scar remembered he was able to channel magic further rattled his resolve.

  Jack rolled out of the way from the first attack. His move was barely made in time. The Scar was just as fast as the soldier in the queen’s presentation earlier that day.

  The young magician recovered from his roll, throwing a knife at the assassin’s back. Much faster than any human had a right to be, the assassin turned and dodged out of the knife’s arc.

  Jack’s stomach twisted into a knot. Before The Scar could mount another attack or fear took hold of his heart, Jack rushed into action. He sent the last two knives spiraling through the air, followed by another two magical blasts of green energy. The Scar was fast enough to dodge one, but could he dodge four projectiles at once?

  Jack’s gamble paid off. The assassin ducked the first knife, but the next three projectiles hit their marks. The last blade lodged in The Scar’s left forearm. The two green blasts of magic struck him in the torso and right thigh. The scent of burned flesh filled the area with its putrid smell.

  Jack felt heat radiate from his body. Both of his hands were alive with dancing, green magic. Already he could feel the draw of energy begin to sap his strength.

  The three wounds Jack inflicted would have been enough to bring down any man. Jack’s heart caught in his throat as he watched the assassin remove the blade as if it were a splinter. The Scar ignored the magical burn marks on his body altogether.

  “Nice little trick.” The man code-named Night Walker ripped the cloak from his body, throwing it to the side. His torso was a mess of criss-crossing scars over a canvas of pale skin. Smoke still came from the wound on his torso. The gaping crater of cooked meat didn’t seem to faze The Scar in the least. The members of The Order, who were momentarily stunned by Jack’s show of magic, roared their approval. They watched on with hungry eyes as The Scar advanced yet again.

  Jack clenched his teeth, now more frustrated than afraid. He could clearly see where his attacks had landed. The pain and loss of blood, however, did nothing to hinder the advance of the assassin.

  The flames from the braziers danced around the dark room as Jack circled his opponent. The noise of the crowd was gone. All that mattered was the next few seconds of combat, the next few seconds that could mark the end for Jack.

  The Scar leaned down to pick up one of the fallen throwing knives.

  The one and only thing in Jack’s mind was to control the weapon in his attacker’s hand. If he could disarm the assassin, Jack knew his chances of survival would rise tenfold.

  When The Scar attacked, he went for a punch with his non-weapon hand to Jack’s ribcage. Pain lanced through Jack’s sternum as if something was broken. He forced his mind to focus past it. He only had eyes now for the assassin’s right hand holding the throwing knife.

  As the blade arced down toward his skull, Jack called on his magic. A bright green knife grew from his closed right fist and came to a sharp point. Jack pushed his own magical knife skyward, impaling The Scar’s hand from the edge of his palm, up through his thumb.

  The shock was enough for The Scar to lose his grip on the knife. Jack pulled back his blade, pleased with the result. The feeling of victory was short-lived as his assailant recovered with inhuman speed and caught him with an uppercut that made Jack lose concentration. His green knife dissipated. Jack saw spots of black. Pain exploded in his head. He fell to his knees.

  Jack’s mouth was filled with the metallic taste of blood. He spit out the crimson substance without thinking.

  The Scar pressed the attack. The sight of blood brought on an almost manic state as he charged once again. A manic fire burned in his eyes.

  Jack’s mind fought to stay conscious. He struggled to his feet, ignoring the pain. He felt as if his ribs and jaw were broken.

  It seemed The Scar was done with talking. His right hand was a charred mess. He was limping. A mix of dark blood and smoke rose from the wounds across his body. Still, he came forward.

  Jack did his best to channel the full force of his magic once more. Without the use of his wand, his efforts at producing a powerful attack were fruitless. He was exhausted and half delirious. He needed a moment to think and gather himself. Green light sparked across his fists, despite his weakened state. Jack landed strikes to the assassin’s neck and throat, his attempts feeble at best.

  The Scar wrapped his good hand around Jack’s throat.

  Jack felt his feet lift off the ground. He tore at the grip around his neck, but it was useless. The Scar wasn’t a man at all. Jack had been fighting him as if he were still hindered by the same limitations as a mortal. Jack gasped, air coming in short, shallow gulps. His heart pounded in his ears like the slowing beat of a drum as he died.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Jack

  Jack heard the commotion at the same time he felt the grip on his oxygen supply slacken. Gunshots permeated the air. Jack was thrown against one of the lit braziers, sending a shower of sparks across his body.

  Jack’s oxygen-deprived mind tried to make sense of the scene developing in front of him. There was screaming and shouting from every direction. Jack scanned the benches in the stands. He tried desperately to bring some order to the chaos. Everywhere, black cloaks were either fighting or fleeing from New Hope soldiers.

  To his right, Aareth was bent over double. He was pleading with the woman who stood above him, her sword raised and ready to strike.

  “It’s you. I know it’s you,” Aareth was shouting, tearing at his shirt to reveal the tattoo over his heart. “You have the same one on your wrist. Remember, Brenda, remember! You have to fight this.”

  Jack struggled to his knees.

  Aareth was pointing from his tattoo to the mark on his executioner’s own wrist. Jack was too far away to see if she shared the same mark, but he could see dark lines etched into her skin.

  Whatever Aareth was saying to her wasn’t enough to convince the woman. With a violent strike, she struck sideways across Aareth’s neck. The heated weapon ate through Aareth’s dark hair and came to rest less than an inch from his throat.

  Sloan appeared from the chaos, bringing her own weapon down just in time to halt the deathblow. Sparks exploded into the air like fireworks at a major celebration. A shower of white hot embers fell a
cross Aareth’s face. If the cinders burned him, the man showed no hint of pain. All sanity had left Aareth.

  “Sloan, don’t hurt her,” Aareth yelled. “Brenda, you have to stop this!”

  As fast as the assassin who grappled with Jack, the woman Aareth so desperately believed was his wife attacked Sloan. Their blades moved through the air so wildly, they became blurs of red and blue light. Over and over again the swords clashed, sending explosions of sparks into the night air.

  Jack made it to his feet, his head buzzing from a combination of pain and the sounds of chaos. He didn’t know what he was going to do to help, but he had to try.

  A hand grabbed him by the shoulder and heaved him to his feet. Jack jerked his arm back before he realized who had come to aid.

  “Take it easy. It’s me,” Abigail looked around with wild eyes. “Elizabeth read your thoughts when you left with Aareth. She told Sloan and me what was going on.”

  “Well, I guess having your mind read isn’t always a bad thing,” Jack rasped through his swollen throat. “But it’s too dangerous for you to be here. You should—”

  The look on Abigail’s face was one that would turn flesh into stone. Jack stopped halfway through his sentence.

  “If you say I should have stayed home instead of coming to help you, I’m going to kick you in the groin.” Abigail stared at Jack, leaving no room for argument. “Do you know how hard it was staying hidden while I trailed Sloan and her regiment? I’m not going to sit around while you three risk your lives. Besides, who’s the one who needs help right now?”

  Jack couldn’t argue with her. Abigail had placed one of his arms around her shoulders and was half-supporting his weight at the moment.

  “Okay, but…” Jack’s voice trailed off. His eyes moved from Abigail and caught up with the mayhem around them. Whatever Order members had decided to fight instead of run from the queen’s army were rethinking their strategy. Jack could see, in every direction, black robes and steel helmets being tackled to the ground.

  “Sloan, no, don’t!”

  Aareth’s scream brought Jack’s attention to the two women still battling with mage swords. Casting all sanity aside, Aareth stood between Sloan and the masked woman he so desperately believed was his dead wife.

  “Get back, you idiot.” Sloan bent her knees. She brought her sword high with both hands, ready to attack again. “She’ll kill you.”

  As if to punctuate her words, the masked woman lunged at Aareth. Once again, Sloan was barely in time to push Aareth to the side and parry her strike.

  Aareth fell into the woman, knocking the steel mask from her face. Abigail and Jack were still yards away, the former helping the latter walk. Jack was close enough to see the familiar face of Commander Brookhaven.

  “Brenda! Brenda!” Aareth screamed like a man possessed. “It’s me. It’s Aareth. It’s me!”

  For a brief moment, something like recognition passed over Commander Brookhaven’s face, but like a vapor against wind, it was gone.

  “There! There, help the captain.”

  Now that most of the members of The Order had been detained, soldiers were coming to aid Sloan.

  A wild gleam crossed over the commander’s face. Jack had seen the same look a hundred times before while tracking in the Outland. It was the same mad expression that came over cornered animal’s faces.

  The commander took off at a run for one of the fiery braziers.

  “Stop her!” Sloan screamed as she gave chase. “Cut her off!”

  Jack and Aareth were in no condition to race after the escaping commander. Despite his weakened state, Aareth stumbled after his wife.

  “No, no, don’t leave me again!” Aareth fell to his hands and knees. “Brenda! Don’t leave me again!”

  Abigail still supporting Jack was useless to lend aid, as well. It wouldn’t matter. In a few seconds, the commander reached the brazier, striking it with her blue mage sword. One of the metal legs supporting the large bowl of fire was severed in two.

  Red hot fire spilled forward, creating a fiery wall between the commander and Sloan. All of the exits were guarded, but that meant little to the escaping commander. Two soldiers standing sentry at a side exit abandoned their batons and reached for their sidearms. Two shots rang through the air as the escaping commander raced toward them.

  Jack couldn’t believe his eyes. The gleaming blue sword actually deflected the bullets. Two quick strikes decapitated one solider and impaled the other. Even before their bodies fell to the floor, she was gone.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Aareth

  He was going mad. He knew that. Not only was he seeing his dead wife, but an animal rage was also building inside of him, clouding his better judgment and transforming him into something terrifying. But if he knew he was going crazy, didn’t that mean he was still sane? Crazy people didn’t realize they were crazy … did they?

  Aareth remained on his knees as he watched the woman he loved, and lost, and found again, escape. He knew he should be happy she’d made it out alive. He just couldn’t lose her again. The woman he had fallen so desperately and totally in love with was still in there, somewhere. Whatever had happened to her, he would find the truth and a way to reverse what had been done.

  Rough hands violently shaking him finally brought him out of his daze.

  “Aareth, Aareth, are you all right?” Sloan looked him up and down for injuries. “Are you hurt?”

  “I’m fine,” Aareth lied. He was bruised in a dozen different places and bleeding from his left temple and lip. His long, black hair still smoked from where it was cut by Brenda’s mage sword.

  “You were going to get yourself killed,” Sloan started in on him, now sure he was physically fine. “What good is that going to do anyone else?”

  “She’s my wife, Sloan.” Aareth grimaced as he regained his feet. “Somehow she’s alive. I have to find her.”Aareth understood the second’s hesitation in Sloan’s eyes. The kiss they shared wasn’t something he had forgotten or would be able to ever forget. In a different place and time, maybe things could have worked out. But Sloan deserved to know the truth about Brenda.

  “Well, your wife is the commander of Doctor Oliver Livingston’s personal security team. She won’t be hard to find, now that we know who she is.” Sloan cleared her throat. She refused to make eye contact with Aareth. “We’ll send out a notice to the city police and have her in custody soon.”

  Aareth nodded dumbly as Sloan turned to her men to give orders and sort out the prisoner transfers.

  Jack and Abigail made their way to Aareth’s side. Lack of sleep and food made him slow to notice their approach.

  “You going to make it?” Jack rasped through his swollen throat. “I’m sorry we couldn’t stop your wife.”

  Aareth just nodded. He knew he owed more to Jack, the person who stood by his side through the events of the night. At the moment, it was all he had.

  “So your wife is alive.” Abigail tried to find a glimmer of hope in their dire situation. “That’s good, right? We’ll help you find her, Aareth. We’ll figure out what happened to her.”

  Aareth nodded again. His mind was a million miles away. Something was nagging at his thoughts. It was a legitimate concern he would have picked up on in an instant under any other circumstance. Like a lightning bolt, it hit him.

  Aareth snapped out of his trance like someone woken from a nightmare. “We have to find her before the city police or soldiers do. She won’t be taken alive. You saw her fight today.”

  “Then we’ll do what we do in the Outland when we’re tracking a target.” Jack offered Aareth a hand. “We set a trap.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Sloan

  He was definitely a fool, maybe even a bit of an idiot, but he was her friend, and for a moment there had been the possibility of something more.

  Sleep wasn’t even an option that night. After ensuring the captured members of The Order had been secured and transported for int
errogation, Sloan had turned the scene over to the city inspectors.

  Now, in the early hours of the morning, she was sitting with Aareth in the palace. Together they waited for the queen. Just looking at him, Sloan knew he was in no mental state to even be awake. Aareth refused medical treatment, insisting they speak with the queen immediately. Sloan had only consented because she, too, needed a conference with the queen before making a move on the most powerful man in New Hope.

  Sloan retreated into herself. It was time to be the leader both men and women respected now. Fantasizes of love, a life with someone who cared for her, were shattered like they always would be.

  “Whatever your plan is, you need rest and food.” Sloan studied Aareth with a raised eyebrow. “I could take you now with one hand tied behind my back. If Commander Brookhaven is your wife, like you say she is, she’s a force to be reckoned with. She’s good with a sword; maybe even better than good. She was prepared to kill you tonight. Whether you want to believe that or not, it’s the truth.”

  “Sloan, I don’t know what’s happening to me, but the moment we shared—” Aareth struggled for the next words. “You and I—”

  “Save it.” Sloan crossed her arms over her chest. “What matters now is that we get answers from Edison about what’s happening to you, and we find your wife.”

  “It’s not her.” Aareth slowly shook his head. “Whatever was done … has changed her. She was never even a fighter.”

  “Well, she is now. She’s an assassin.” Sloan thought back to the quick decisive killing strokes her adversary had tried using against her. The way the woman had fought, there was no room for quarter, no sympathy in her moves. “And she won’t hesitate to kill.”

  “She needs to be taken alive,” Aareth pleaded. Even past the exhaustion, his voice was firm and clear. “Please, Sloan, she needs to be taken alive. This isn’t her. She’s being controlled somehow. You’d like her if you knew her.”