Vampires heir 1 greymant.., p.1
Vampire's Heir 1: Greymantle Chronicles: Book Six, page 1
Vampire’s Heir 1
GREYMANTLE CHRONICLES
BOOK SIX
J DAVID BAXTER
Copyright © 2023 by J David Baxter
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to action, events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Design and Production by Silver Paw Publishing.
Editing services by Dale McDowell.
Cover design by J David Baxter
Hardcover: 978-1-953708-27-4
Paperback: 978-1-953708-26-7
Ebook: 978-1-953708-25-0
For more on the Greymantle Chronicles series see:
Jdavidbaxter.com or GreymantleChronicles.com
This book is dedicated to:
My parents for fostering and enabling my life-long love of scifi and fantasy stories.
My oldest friend, Lawrence Verrett, without whom this particular world would never have evolved.
And especially to my wife for her support, patience, and invaluable assistance in getting this novel polished and completed.
Contents
1. Worst Buffet Ever!
2. Dream a Little Dream
3. Now What?
4. Hitting the Casino
5. Getting the Hell out of Dodge!
6. An Embarrassing Snack
7. Flying the Sinful Skies
8. Settling In
9. Executive Assistant
10. Chapman Hurley, meet Daniel Fox
11. Welcome to Fantasy Island, not!
12. Buying a Bunker
13. Oopsie, that was a Mage…
14. Time passed
15. Aura Detection
16. Moar Enchanting!
17. Stop, Kami-time!
18. Blades up!
19. A Messy Rescue
20. Testing and Travel
21. Honky-tonk Biker Fangbois
22. I Scry with My Little Eye
23. I Love It When A Plan Comes Together
24. Secret Revealed
25. Lunch and Learn
26. Feeding the Data Monster
27. An Unexpected Date
28. Letting Someone In
29. Relax a Little
30. Protection Magic
31. Dinner and a Relationship?
32. Good ‘Ol Boys Club
33. An Unexpected Invitation
34. Jury of My Peers
35. So Much for the Easy Ones
36. A Vampire, a Mage, and a Rabbi walk into a ar…
37. Calm Before the Storm
38. It Ain’t Easy Being Green!
39. Ding, Dong…
40. Cleaning Up After Myself
41. Ungrateful Mages
42. You Can’t Go Home Again
Afterword
About the Author
Also by J David Baxter
Show your support!
Chapter 1
Worst Buffet Ever!
Nate had tried to warn me…
I hadn't listened, though. Maybe because Nate had always been a jerk to me when he was a kid and made fun of my name, Chapman Daniel Hurley. I had tried to ignore it. Being several years older, it shouldn't have mattered to me. Unfortunately, I never liked my name, and I was self-conscious about it, which made Nate's teenage mocking a little too effective. That may be why the guy's statement about my garnet-set bronze pendant being magical seemed like some kind of strange roundabout jab. If only I could go back now and ask the jerk what he had meant and how he could have known.
Ugh… I'm getting ahead of myself.
Let me back up and start from the beginning of this terrible night.
This should have been one of the greatest nights of my life. My friend Barry and I were in Vegas, ostensibly to attend a Cybersecurity conference for which my employer was footing the bill. In truth, we were there to enjoy ourselves. I had never visited Sin City before and had heard all my life how much fun it could be. Its dining was legendary, with hundreds of great restaurants and dozens owned by celebrity chefs. Then, there was the gambling and the dream of hitting it rich. It might be a long shot, but I had nearly ten grand in the bank to spend or gamble away, thanks to that server build that Nate had commissioned a few weeks ago.
He was my friend Marcy's nephew, and he seemed to have matured a lot since his teen years, but what did I care if he was willing to throw his money around like that? I would have even put up with him mocking my name the way he had as a kid, using that annoying fake British accent. "Oiy, Mr. Chapman Hurley, sir, be a good Chap and fetch me a crumpet."
Never mind that we were both born and raised in Texas, and his fake accent was atrocious. I needed to put those thoughts out of my mind. The real question is how he had known my pendant was magic. I didn't believe in magic, so I ignored him. At first, he had just said, "It's pretty cool; looks magical." That hadn't been enough at the time to make me notice. Still, a minute later, he got a funny, serious look on his face and added, "Hey, be careful of that pendant; it really does look magic. Never know what something like that might do."
That had been all. Nate didn't elaborate, and I had dismissed his comment then, unsure what to make of it. I mean, who believes in magic in this day and age?
Well, I do now, but it's far too late for that to matter. What's done is done.
Crap, I'm still getting ahead of myself and not getting to the point.
The point is, I'm dead now. The magic pendant did its thing. Only, I'm still determining if I'm happy about that. I guess I should be happy. Obviously, I'm not actually dead, just undead.
That was quite a shock, and I'm still getting used to it. You see, I made the mistake of interfering with a robbery and got ganked for my troubles.
Barry and I had arrived in Vegas that afternoon. We had rented this little AirBnB just off the Strip. It was a nice neighborhood, or so we thought at the time. The house was built in the late 70s or early 80s and had a pool in the backyard. It wasn't anything to write home about, but I couldn't argue with the price of cheap.
We had settled in and unpacked and were about to head out to the casinos for dinner, planning to demolish some unsuspecting buffet and make them regret their 'all you can eat' policy. It was early, only about 8:15 or 8:30, but being the winter solstice, the sun was down, and the stars and moon were out. Not that you could see many stars with the light pollution in Vegas. Even so, the moon looked particularly cool, and I couldn't help but notice that it was shaped just like my pendant.
I might as well digress a bit more and describe the evil thing. I had purchased it at an estate sale in Dallas a few weeks before. Some old guy had kicked the bucket and didn't have any heirs or something. The agent at the sale had grumbled about his plane going down with his inheritors all on board, causing a mess of paperwork.
I might seem a little callous, but after what happened to me tonight, I don't have a lot of sympathy for the guy. As I was saying, it was a high-end sale, not something I would typically attend, but the guy had been a client of the company I worked for, so I had heard about it at the office.
I found a cool-looking old pendant at the estate sale. A layer of dust coated the surface. It took a wipe down with my shirt sleeve to clean off the smudges and reveal its true luster. The metal was tarnished but aged in that wonderful patina that comes from having been handled by people’s hands over centuries; the beaded patterns were raised above the surface and polished. The center stone looked like a garnet, but I couldn't be sure.
It looked like a piece of costume jewelry, like something someone would wear with a Viking cosplay: vaguely Celtic with swirls, and not made of gold and fine gemstones… I could have easily sung, "One of these things is not like the others," as I looked at the items displayed on the table. All the other watches and jewelry were high-end pieces, Rolexes or gold and diamonds. Here this thing was, looking like some reject from a historical reenactor's closet.
It looked cool enough for me to ask about it—I mean, really, who doesn't love ancient geeky stuff? When I asked, the agent told me she didn't know anything other than it had been found in an ornate wooden box among the old man's things.
"I supposed it was just something with sentimental value he had picked up in his youth or something. Looks like Art Deco to me, but it's not gold, just bronze, and the gem is only a garnet. If someone cleaned it up, it would be worth a couple of hundred dollars, but I've got to liquidate the estate, so if you are interested, I'll take $30.”
Idiot that I was, I jumped at the chance and bought it, thinking it might be valuable since it had been owned by some old rich guy and had been part of a rather pricey collection. I took it to a local jeweler and had it looked at, but no luck. The appraiser told me it was just a costume piece. Bronze and fitted with a garnet. She offered me a hundred bucks because she said it would go well with her Renaissance Faire costume.
She wasn't wrong. Still, rather than Art Deco, it looked like some ancient Viking or Celtic design to me. Except that it didn't look that old. If anything, after the jeweler had taken it out of the ultrasonic cleaner, it seemed almost brand new without the dirt and grime it had previously been coated
Looking back, I should have taken her offer; maybe I'd still be alive.
And that brings me back to what happened tonight. We were just about to get into my old beater of a car: a 1990s Honda CRX that I had gotten as part of the deal I made with Nate for the server build. It had held up surprisingly well on the drive from Dallas despite having over 250,000 miles on it.
That was when we heard a scream from a couple houses over. It didn't sound like someone was just yelling in anger or surprise. It was a sound full of fear and desperation, the 'Oh, shit, I'm about to die!' kind.
Barry hesitated, but I rushed to the end of the driveway to see what was happening. I was just in time to see a couple of guys shoving a big-screen TV into the back of an old van. It took me a second to analyze the scene, but it was obvious. The man screaming must have come home from an evening jog just in time to see his house being robbed and tried to stop them.
Unfortunately for him, besides the two guys manhandling the TV, there was a third robber, and he had a knife. It wasn't just some switchblade or pocket knife either. It was big enough to catch the moonlight and look scary even from where I stood.
Barry had caught up to me and urged, "Just call the cops, man! Don't get involved…."
Barry was smarter than me.
Big-ass-knife-guy had grabbed the homeowner by his shirt, put his blade to the guy's throat, and was hissing something at him, probably threatening him to be quiet. Still, the jogger was too panicked to listen and kept screaming.
I felt ice in my guts. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion, while at the same time, it was all happening too fast to think.
I instinctively knew Stabby McStabberton was about a second away from slashing the dude's throat. He looked almost as panicked as his victim due to the screams. The guy was going to die if someone didn't do something.
I didn't need to look around again. There wasn't anyone around other than Barry and me, at least, no one who could stop what was about to happen. I wanted to avoid getting involved. I really did. This week in Vegas was supposed to be a vacation to remember for the rest of my life, not because of seeing someone get killed or trying to save them.
My dumb ass couldn't stand still and watch it happen without at least trying to stop it. I'd feel guilty for the rest of my life if I didn't do something.
I wished Barry would do something. He was a black belt in karate. Unfortunately, I knew him too well. It was not in his nature to put himself at risk. He had trained hundreds or thousands of hours in self-defense, not so that he could get into a potentially deadly fight, but because he was afraid of conflict. It was crazy, but it was true. I respected the heck out of his IT skills, but I'd known him long enough to know he wasn't someone I could count on to have my back in a situation like this. I didn't blame him, but still, I couldn't watch someone die.
I yelled as loud as I could, "Hey! Let him go!"
Jack-the-Ripper whirled around, eyes wide, realizing his worst fears had come true. All the man's screaming had drawn attention, and now there were witnesses. He quickly looked around but saw no one other than Barry and me. He hadn't let the man go, however.
One of the two guys at the truck yelled, "Let's go!”
The thug with the knife shook his head, "I can't afford to go back there; we gotta make sure these assholes don't talk. Hold onto this one while I take care of these idiots."
I had been moving toward him while that exchange had occurred. I don't know what I had hoped to accomplish but did succeed in causing Stabby to take the knife from the throat of the guy and shove him roughly toward the accomplices.
"Yay, I succeeded…." That thought was filled with much sarcasm and was about as dry as the desert surrounding the city.
I looked around but found nothing to defend myself with, and now instead of coming to the rescue, I needed saving. I yelled over my shoulder, "Barry, stay where you are and call 911!"
I halted my own advance at the same time, but it was too late. The scruffy thug charged at me with that big knife that looked like a machete now that I was closer. I swear, the damn blade was a foot and a half long, at least. I was about to turn and run when I tripped over a crack in the sidewalk and fell on my ass.
Now I was really panicking and scrambled to my feet, but the guy kicked me from behind, causing me to sprawl out, scraping my hands on the concrete. I tried to roll with the fall, but the best I managed was to stumble back to my feet and turn to face him. I might die, but at least I wouldn't do it with a knife in my back. Besides, he was too close now, and I could not run without getting stabbed.
I'd like to say I faced my death with dignity and put up a hell of a fight, but it didn't go down like that. When I squared off against him, he slashed at my face and cut my cheek from ear to chin.
Despite the adrenaline, it still hurt like hell. Blood was streaming down my chin and neck in seconds. They say head wounds bleed a lot, and this one sure did.
My would-be killer tried to take another couple of swings at me, but I miraculously dodged one, and the next hit my pendant.
I should have been thankful for it deflecting the blow. It would have severed my jugular after all, except the damn pendant chose that moment to make its own attack. In hindsight, it wasn't an attack, but that was how it felt to me then.
The chain, which should have been loose enough to slip easily over my head, suddenly felt tight, like someone was using it to choke me, except the only person behind me was Barry. I could hear him screaming into his phone half a block away for the police to show up, "Because we are being murdered, that's why! Just get them here now!"
I didn't hear whatever else he said because that was when I felt the real pain begin.
There was a stabbing sensation in my throat. It felt like the two points of the crescent moon were digging into my skin, which they were. Then instead of feeling more blood loss where the thing was piercing my neck, it felt like I was being injected with liquid fire.
I don't know if you've ever had an IV or some other shot where they pump something into you, but it was like that, except filled with napalm.
I don't know what happened with the burglar turned murder-hobo, but he was no longer my primary concern. I was literally being choked to death while the pendant injected me with the blood of an ancient vampire.
Actually, THE ancient vampire, the one that started them all.
I didn't know that yet, though. At that moment, all I knew was that my heart was struggling to pump liquid magma through my veins. Every inch of my body hurt more than anything I'd ever experienced. Everywhere, and all at the same time!
Luckily that's when I blacked out and no longer felt like I was burning alive from the inside out.
Chapter 2
Dream a Little Dream
As my vision began, I found myself standing outside a circular hut of mud-daubed walls and a thatch roof surrounded by ancient trees. A woman in furs crouched over a fire, chanting words that sounded foreign to me, yet I understood their meaning perfectly. Surrounding her was a thick atmosphere of magic and dread as she painted strange symbols around her using her own blood.
I wish I could say it was a fever dream, and I woke up in the hospital, and everything was all better, but there was no denying what I experienced.
I will spare you the details since it wouldn't translate well anyway, and I mean that literally. She was speaking to me in ancient proto-Indo-European or something. It was some pre-bronze-age shit, but I understood her perfectly, thanks to the magic.
