The vampires retribution, p.1
The Vampire's Retribution, page 1
Table of Contents
Excerpt
Praise for M. Flagg
The Vampire’s Retribution
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
A word about the author…
Thank you for purchasing
Wounds streaked his cheeks; blood matted his hair. Slashed chest, arms pierced several times—hours of fighting plunged him into weariness no human could endure.
“So be it, I’m ready. One swift stroke of a silver blade across my neck and I turn to dust and bone. My soul will burn for all eternity.” He pictured Alana. “My Guardian… my love, from the first moment I saw you, I was yours forever. I couldn’t tell you. I couldn’t put you in danger again.”
His fading mind turned to the motivation behind his vengeance. “Lukas, my precious gift, I have always loved you, little boy. I promised myself long ago that the bastards would pay.”
He could thrust and parry with the best swordsmen of any dimension. He had centuries of practice. More than ready, he raised his blade for what would be the last time. Now so weary, a strange sensation rippled across his unbeating heart.
“Is it finally over?” he shouted to the clouded heavens. “I signed away any chance at salvation a year ago to save my son! Have I at least made amends for some small fraction of my past?” A resonant “no” echo through his conscience. Because he’d done so much damage as a vampire, during his long existence. He’d never earn deliverance from damnation.
Yet, as much as he thumbed his nose at death, he feared the finality of it. And he couldn’t go on much longer.
Praise for M. Flagg
“A fresh voice in paranormal has arrived.”
~ N.N. Light’s Book Haven
“Flagg’s writing style varies from exquisite word choice and imagery in many descriptions to the simplistic in other situations.”
~ Bitten by Books
His Soul to Keep - “This novel makes you want more and more. I highly recommend it if you love a wonderful sci-fi plot along with your romance!”
~ All Romance E-Books (5)
Night of the Crescent Moon – “I couldn't stop turning the page. I love vampires and M. Flagg delivered. Martine carried the story and never let go. Unrequited love buried so deep as to become unrecognizable and all too human emotions in this paranormal world make Night of the Crescent Moon a must read!”
~ Linda J. Parisi, Author of the Blood Rogue Series, 2022 HOLT Medallion Winner
The Vampire’s Retribution
by
M. Flagg
The Champion Chronicles Book 1
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
The Vampire’s Retribution
COPYRIGHT © 2008, 2023 by M. Flagg
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com
Cover Art by Rae Monet, Inc.
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First Edition, 2023
Trade Paperback ISBN 978-1-5092-4928-2
Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-4929-9
The Champion Chronicles Book 1
Previously Published 2008
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
This book is dedicated to my family and friends who encouraged me to believe I had more stories to tells after a long creative drought. I’d be nowhere without all of you.
Chapter 1
Son and Father
Lukas Malone ran as fast as the wind, following sense-memory to a section of New York City that had once been familiar territory. The sight of two old buildings brought back many uncomfortable feelings. Everything in this world is not always what it appears, he thought as he hung in the shadows. If he’d had an innocent’s eye, this alley would look deserted with smoky fog swirling over rutted pavement. Only wide enough for a car, the passageway had debris strewn against its brick walls. Rusted garbage bins long ago chained with worn locks lining the other end’s high fence. It had seen better days.
This wasn’t the touristy side of the city. Rotted and abandoned except for rodents—and Hell-beasts visible at the far end. I know what they are, and I know who they want. They were in battle, engaging the tall, bloodied Champion with broadsword in hand, who stood before a flying creature’s leathery hide—no doubt an ungodly assailant that had slipped through the inter-dimensional portal.
If Lukas were a normal teenager he’d be clueless. Just like the occasional human who staggered by, too drunk or drugged to know what was occurring in this, the final hour before dawn. His stomach churned and cramped because he knew the vampire, and every unnatural sense tingled. Somewhat startled by the reality of what he was witnessing, he didn’t know why it was happening, but he knew the vampire was in the type of struggle that leads to the end of one’s existence.
Disturbing memories from a year ago, mercilessly driven to sink a stake into this particular vampire’s undead heart, flashed through his brain and his heart pumped wild as if jarred awake from a nightmare. The truth? He didn’t want to face them, and he swiped at his eyes. His shoulders slammed against a rusted door on the alley’s left side knowing the Hell-beasts didn’t see him; didn’t know who he was or why he was here.
“Just don’t fuckin’ lose, Michael,” he muttered under his breath.
Grabbing the worn lock, and with a simple yank, Lukas ripped it off to slip into darkness. The air in the abandoned factory hung heavy with dust and a stench of rancid oil. Mold covered its walls. Rows of rusty hooks and greasy chains. Many smells assaulted his mystical senses—he could list each one. Okay, so I’m different, but so is he…
Hours ago, it had all come back, including what many others who knew of their world called the vampire. “Mystically enhanced…a Champion, a unique creature of the night,” he whispered, almost too terrified to breathe. Tight against the inside wall, his chest heaved while he planned his next move. So many troubling memories hammered his brain that it refused to clear. Then he inched his way to a filmy window to watch. The friggin’ dreams were real. I’m not a normal kid, which makes this entire past year a lie. Fifteen for a day and it’s all gone.
His keen eyes scanned the action. Distance was inconsequential. Like his unnatural parent who fought the Hell-beasts, he possessed heightened senses far beyond human. After being rescued by Michael from three evil sorcerers on the eve of his thirteenth birthday, what followed was a year of stalking and viciously attacking his savior. Lukas couldn’t recall why… but whatever the reasons? They were all wrong. Flat wrong, he now had to admit. Staking his unnatural parent had been like pure intuition. Back then, it consumed him dusk till dawn. How had his memories been changed? He had to know. Michael had the answer to that gnawing question. He studied the mayhem in the passageway and saw the proud vampire through a different lens. It wasn’t the Hell-beast that frightened him. It was losing the Champion.
These things are programmed to kill you. Damn. You really pissed something off in a big-ass way. And Lukas doubted the final outcome. The mindless minions seemed to run on autopilot, a never-ending procession of death. With a turn, his fist clipped the wall, and just as quickly, his knuckles stopped bleeding. He wanted to fight the demons himself. One by one, he’d work his way through the Hell-beasts, slashing, gouging, disrupting their focus from the obvious target. A year ago, he would have been cheering them on. Not now. And shame on me for trying to destroy you.
Maybe it was the year of being just a normal kid that tempered the hate in his heart for the vampire. He’d never get the answer if the Hell-beasts succeeded in destroying the only connection he had to this world. Another thought came, which upped the guilt-factor. Was this fight because of him? Once again, only Michael had the answer.
He studied the action and the reality of the situation became surreal. Hell-beasts kept lunging through the portal. Blinking rapidly, he rubbed the moisture out of his eyes with his shirtsleeves. Emotions would only confuse him. Angry at himself for not knowing his next move made him antsy. He pressed against the window. Why had his life changed tonight? It was hard to think clearly, yet he knew the exact minute when reality shifted…May 20, 2005, at precisely 12:06 a.m. while standing at a payphone in Grand Central Station. In a panic, he had to call his parents after wandering the city streets in a fog. “The number doesn’t exist,” said a sympathetic operator. “Let me connect you with the police, okay? Hold the line for 9-1-1—”
His hand shook and his stomach soured as he hung up the phone. Both lives, real and unreal, collided in his mind blending horror with love and hate with happiness. Thinking took a nosedive, and he had raced back to the NWT building, where he’d been earlier. The way his curiosity peaked, entering the penthouse and how he recognized Michael’s scent—something a normal kid could have never done. Then in a state of frenzied confusion, he found Michael’s brownstone. Seeing it forced him to face other images—crazy ones. Finding the alleyway took full concentration, but he’d made it; craved a fight. And now the fact slammed into him like a shocking slap across the face: that vampire was his solitary link to life.
“This is fucking suicidal,” he mumbled as he squinted through the dirty glass. “Even something like you won’t survive this. They’ll destroy you. I swear I’ll get to you, and for the first time, not to shove a stake into your heart.” Maybe a simple strategy was best. Shadow the alley inside the building and get closer to the action. Yeah. He knew what he had to do…with no room for error.
He took one step as every unnatural sense tingled. Like being caught in a spider’s web, Lukas couldn’t move forward and wasn’t about to move back. But instead of another step, he found himself thrown face-down on the cracked, oily cement floor. He opened his mouth and sucked in stale sawdust.
Like a volcano ready to erupt his rage began to build and he yelled, “No! Not now. What the fuck? You won’t keep me from him…whatever you are.” Tears burned his eyes as he struggled against an unseen force. A heaviness thickened around him and he grit his teeth. And at that very moment, as if the space between heaven and earth had opened, he saw Helena in angel-form whispering, “My dearest Lukas. You had to know.”
Michael Malone met his punishment head on—the penalty for toying with immortal evil.
He had given NWT a bloody nose and he had just destroyed three ancient sorcerers. Arriving in the narrow passageway between two brick buildings, he had ripped off his shirt, flexed his muscles, and had readied his stance.
This was payback.
“Are you ready to end my undead existence and escort my soul home to Hell? Come and get me, you ugly sons of bitches,” he sneered, proud to have duped the Triumvirate of Evil. His two-fisted grip on his trusted broadsword drove it clear through another Hell-beast’s heart. With one booted foot on its leathery neck, he pulled his weapon out. Manipulating human or demon was child’s play for immortal sorcerers. However, this creature of the night had planned…and he had gotten sweet revenge.
Double-cross executed smooth and simple. For one entire year, he kept his precious soul hidden to appear cruel and ruthless. The evil sorcerers never suspected his deceit. He enlisted two gutsy humans to accomplish tonight’s treasonous act. Why had he enlisted humans to aid him in his revenge? They had mystical abilities, which they put to good use. But using them also triggered a purge of everything moral—perhaps confirming how even with a soul, evil still existed within him.
If they don’t make it out alive, it’s on me alone.
Nevertheless, Michael stood tall and proud as the portal spewed forth its macabre army intent on his destruction. Hell waited for him. He would suffer in eternity. For over a century, he controlled the beast within him. Mastering that which swallowed his soul on the night of his turning in 1690 allowed him to recognize right from wrong; to choose right over wrong. Even as he focused on this final battle in his own private war, the deplorable decision to involve two human beings in his vengeance clearly added to his guilt.
Centuries ago, when he was alive, he hadn’t been particularly interested in following the moral highroad instilled in him by a very principled British father and mother. His own unethical brashness paved the way to his undeath. Once sired, he quickly gained a reputation in the vampire world. His aptitude for killing? Lethal. Legendary. He cleverly eluded the stake for more than two hundred years, unlike the majority of his kind.
Then came December of 1890—the last full moon of the year. His desire for human blood reached a lustful peak as never before. The holy women whom he drank to death never had a chance at survival. In the convent’s chapel, he laid out their bodies as if to defy the wrath of a God who abandoned him the night he was sired. Drunk on the sweetness of the innocents’ blood, dazed by the depths of his evil nature, he threw himself through a portal when it opened at the base of the altar.
Instead of bursting into a cloud of dust and bone, Michael landed at the feet of an angel, an Old One. She called herself Helena, and in her hands, she held what he had lost long ago on the night of his turning. The essence of the decent man he could have been was right before his eyes. In the inter-dimensional space, which exists between heaven and earth, he begged to own his soul once again.
Helena empowered him with mystical knowledge. Michael would learn to harness the beast-within as well as the desire to drink human blood.
Over a hundred years of wreaking havoc on demons instead of humanity led him here. To his final battle. There were some twists and turns along the way. He had been deceived by a dark seer in league with the sorcerers. It was because of her, what she gave him, that he was in this ungodly fight. But he had also experienced the love of a mystical woman, a Guardian of Souls. He would always love his Guardian. But the dark seer? How deep her deception ran. It was because of her that his child had been born and had suffered.
He waited. He planned. Now, fifteen years later to the day, he had done something about it. Slicing through another Hell-beast, he shouted, “This hocus-pocus voodoo screams of you, Clayton. Sorcerers’ liaison, my ass. You’re a sordid piece of human scum who brokered a deal with me.”
A year ago, unable to get through to his brainwashed child, Michael Malone took Clayton Mails’ quick-fix offer, authored, of course, by the continent’s Triumvirate of Evil. The sadistic man presented an easy solution and one Michael couldn’t refuse—to create an uncomplicated life for his raging boy. Lukas wouldn’t remember being raised by Helena far away from Manhattan and he wouldn’t remember hunting Michael Malone. His human son wouldn’t remember Helena’s brutal death, nor the following years of captivity in the sorcerers’ realm. All his son’s terror and suffering simply wiped away. Clayton swore the enchantment was permanent. Swore his son was finally safe. Swore his boy would have a happy, normal life. Knowing Lukas was safe, he threw caution aside and hacked his way through the next Hell-beasts with renewed purpose.
A father’s vengeance laid its murderous claim on this passageway in the hour before dawn. The end of his undead existence was imminent. Michael steadied his resolve. He thought about his son. Fifteen years ago… A sweltering May night. Taking air into his dead lungs, he then breathed life into the newborn’s tiny body and marveled at his baby’s cries. The act held both fear and awe. A human child! The name Lukas came to him. He didn’t know why, but immeasurable love filled his soul. And the desire to protect. But then a portal opened, and Helena appeared in human form. She vowed to raise his son where the child would remain undetected by any evil thing in this gritty city. Only a miracle could have allowed conception and birth— only a miracle with mystical consequences. To keep his son safe, he buried the knowledge of the boy’s very existence deep, deep down in his soul.
Another Hell-beast charged, and he thought about Clayton Mails as he thrust his sword into it. You’re the bastard who knew the sorcerers had killed Helena and had taken Lukas. They turned an innocent child into one devoured by rage. And yet, he had taken Clayton’s deal.
Michael continued his final fight. “I gave him life, damn it! You made him crazy… and his enhanced abilities made him lethal. It’s why I will end this.” One brutal swipe of his broadsword severed the head of the next Hell-beast.
