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James’s Note: I know these days alot of people are kinda over vampires. I do get it. Twilight was the culmination of them being done to undeath. But I still love them, espeacialy when they’re explored in some interesting ways. And yes, my vampires eat ice cream. From a chemical stand point, it makes sense. So does coconut water, but that’s not as funny as a whiskey float.

---

Israel rode with me and gave directions to a club on the even seedier side of downtown. My mini slipped through the streets of Houston like an oiled ferret. Ever since I had it magically reconstructed, it just seemed to do everything a little bit better. I’d only had to fill it up a couple of times, it’s already amazing gas mileage apparently having been amplified. It also handled like the laws of physics had decided not to be too hard on it, because it was a good car who had been through a lot. 

We pulled up in front of a nondescript  block of a building. The front was boarded up, but if you went around back there was a bouncer standing next to what was obviously now the main entrance.

The bouncer, who looked like he was auditioning for a post apocalyptic biker gang, gave me the Ojo until Israel strode up and shook his hand. I was disappointed that it didn’t appear to be a super secret squirrel vampire handshake, but it did get us in the club.

Once inside, we were met by another vampire, this one with a truly epic mohawk. His respect for Israel was clear in his body language. They might have had their differences, but these vampires definitely held my new associate in high esteem. 

The vampiric version of a cockatoo lead us through the club, past the writhing bodies on the dance floor and the palpable cloud of hormones that surrounded the mass of flirtatious singles at the bar. Unusually for a bar, a surprising number of people were eating various creative ice cream dishes, in addition to the usual alcohol. This would seem strange until you realize that milk has a similar make up to blood. While it won’t give them any nourishment, dairy is one of the few human foods vampires can actually eat.

Israel and I ended up in what I assumed was one of the VIP lounges. Like the rest of the club, there was a notable lack of windows. The couches we were sitting on were plush and comfortable. There was even a ridiculously attractive redhead working the bar in the corner. She smiled at me and leaned forward, showing a level of cleavage that would have caused a television sensor to self immolate in protest. I blushed ferociously and became very interested in the wallpaper. Okay, so I’m not good with girls in these kinds of situations. Sue me.

Much to my horror, this did not go unnoticed by Israel. He leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, “I think she likes you.”

“Silence, vampire,” I snapped back under my breath, my embarrassment growing like a horrible red homunculus.

Israel grinned like an evil vampiric god of mischief. “Come on Witcher man, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you didn’t have much experience with the ladies.”

Apparently the look on my face betrayed me. Israel raised an eyebrow and then seemed to grin even wider. 

“Wait,” he whispered, “You’ve got to be kidding me. Are you actually a…”

“I swear to the Living God, I will shoot you in the crotch.” Apparently the crazy eye I was giving him was enough to convince him that I might not have been entirely joking.

Israel held up a hand in surrender. “None of my business. I just wouldn’t have thought it out of a modern, worldly man like yourself.”

At this point there was so much blood rushing to my face, I was probably giving all the nearby vampires a contact high. I leaned forward closer, whispering even lower, desperate not to be overheard. “I’m a little old-fashioned, OK? Besides, it’s not like I get a ton of opportunities to date in this line of work.”

There were other reasons that my romantic experience was somewhat, well, limited, but they weren’t the sort of thing I wanted to go into in a club full of vampires.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24

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Sharon’s Note: It’s hard when you can’t help. Don’t panic. Listen to the person who needs you and they’ll tell you what to do. Warning: Saddle up, lock and load.

---

Poor, traumatised Brian managed to talk me through the makeup of the group. My two remaining guys were Ethan and Mike, and Mike was unconscious. Lucky bastard. They had brought one pistol with silver ammo and a half full shotgun. Besides them were Barbara, a woman whose arm was badly broken from the sounds of it, and two boys, ages twelve and ten. That was all that was left of a group of twenty hikers and my team. 

They were inside the instant protection circle that standardly went out with every team. It was a clever bit of magic that shipped out with all teams. Nothing could breach the circle, which looked simple ring made from 30 feet of thin copper wire. Anyone could use it with a minimum of knowledge. The only down side was that it was a very hungry magic. Someone had to hold the little wire tail on the inside while the spell drained their life away to keep them safe. The circle could literally drain your entire life force, and in distressingly little time. 

“Okay, you’re holding the tail now?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

“Give it to Ethan.” 

“What? But he said it would make someone sick if they hold it too long, and he’s half dead.” Brian’s voice was getting higher as I heard panic starting to take over. The werewolf was howling in the background. It was a perfectly reasonable time to lose his shit, but no one could afford the luxury.

“It’s ok, Brian. Take a breath.” I took several deep breaths into the microphone for example while typing instructions down on my note program. “Holding the tail for a few minutes won’t hurt him, and you need to buy yourself all the time you can. You’re going to give it to Ethan until he get’s woozy, then the ten year old, then . . . do you think the woman could hold the shotgun?”

“I think Barbra’s barely conscious, so no, I don’t think so. Besides, she’s afraid of guns.” There was a hysterical edge to Brian’s laugh. 

“Okay then, change of plans. You have the pistol, right? Give the older kid the shot gun. Still have Ethan hold it first, then Barbara, then the ten year old, then the older one. You take it absolutely last. You’re the only one there with silver ammo, so you have to be up and around to take a shot if I . . . we don’t get there before the circle fails.” One of the hunter’s who was temporarily at Hearth walked by my door. I didn’t know him well, but I held up a hand to stop him. As he walked up, I pointed at the instructions on my screen, telling what all needed to be done. “Okay, Brian? I’m putting you on with Ronnie. He’s going to walk you through taking care of everyones wounds while I get everything ready for your rescue party. Sound good?”

“Ye. . . yeah. Okay.”

Ronnie frowned, but took the headset as I shoved it into his hands. I’d left only a basic description of what needed to be done, but my fellow hunter could do first aid over the phone as well as I could. I needed to gear up.

Hard Hunting
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James’s Note: In this episode we get a little more insight into vampire society. I always love getting to make up societies from scratch. I feel like your standard urban fantasy vampires are a great stand in for modern society and if nothing else, an interesting way to reflect on our problems.

---

Israel nodded, “That would be our own wayward sons. I wanted to rile people up, like we did in the old days. I wanted to make people yearn for freedom. Turns out I did too good of a job in some people’s cases.”

“You see, in the Brotherhood, we’re all about working through the system. Take me for example. I’m plenty old enough to hold a city. I might not be a match for some of the great old Methuselah’s out there, but there aren’t enough of those to preside over every city anyway. I’ve even been offered a few, but I won’t take them. Instead, I’m trying to be a voice that says we can run things a different way. Yes, vampires are dangerous. So are humans. There is a way forward through voluntary association, democratic process, and the non-aggression principle.”

I was already starting to see where this was going. “And I’m betting that wasn’t happening anywhere near fast enough for some of your young brash revolutionaries.”

“You’d win that bet. We try to adhere to the non-aggression principle. The only acceptable use of violence or force is to prevent the use of force and violence on another. Some of our members were of the opinion that they had been aggressed upon their entire existence, so force and violence were already justified a thousandfold. We tried to explain why that was a bad idea. Even disregarding the moral question, you’re left with the logistics of trying to make war on beings who could make an angry mob walk off a cliff by asking nicely.” 

Israel sagged in his chair, tilting back again. “But they wouldn’t listen. After a while, we had to disassociate with them. So they formed their own group.”

Israel looked grave. ”They’re called the guillotine Society.”

Now this I found interesting. “So all the threats vandalism and graffiti…”

Israel nodded. “That would be them.”

“So you think they’re responsible?” I asked.

Israel snorted. “Oh hell no. For one, I doubt they could get their shit together well enough to even attempt this kind of maneuver much less actually succeed.” 

That was probably a good point, but there was always a chance Israel was underestimating his wayward sons.

“Besides,” he added wearily, “if by some miracle they had managed to pull off this kind of take down, the devastation would have been apocalyptic. Not a single one of them is even out of their human lifespan. Their vampiric powers amount to parlor tricks. I’m sure you know that when it comes to vampiric power, that first century is when we really start to mature. The only way they could take down a master vampire would be the human way. They’d probably need an ICBM to take out a bastard like Conchobar. From what you showed me of that picture, it just doesn’t look like their MO.”

It was my turn to sigh. “I actually agree with you. I have to admit, so far I’m kind of stumped. My next step is going to be to go talk to these Guillotine gentleman. I’m sure that’ll be as much fun as giving a grizzly bear a root canal.”

“Um, about that. No offense, Witcher man, I’m sure you can take care of yourself. In fact, I’m pretty sure you’re so able to take care of yourself that if you go storming in there asking questions, we’re going to end up with a bunch of dead vampires. That is literally what I created this entire stupid organization to keep from happening. So I’ll make you a deal. I’ll come with you and introduce you in. All I ask is that you don’t kill anybody.”

I wobbled my head back and forth in a weighing the options kind of gesture. “Sounds reasonable. I won’t kill anyone who doesn’t kill me first.”

---

Sharon’s Note: This week we have a special guest writer, so everyone make sure to drop a like for Daniel Scott! This is a fun and creepy story, and there’s more where that came from so make sure you stop by https://inarktavia.wordpress.com/ . Warning: Journey to the twilight danger zone.

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01/04/31

Blood in stool again. Will have to re-evaluate diet and go a little easier on the sauce. The corpse in the corner of the bathroom is beginning to reassemble itself again. Before long I am going to have to axe it back into a bloody brick-a-brack. I should really find a more permanent solution but you know what it’s like; you have a bad day at the office, answering to idiots the entire day, come home and the only thing you’ve got to eat is homemade pasta that is fourteen days passed from being inedible and even longer from edible, and the neighbour’s cat has somehow found its way into your house and shit on your favourite leather armchair. The only thing that makes you feel better is disembowelling and lopping the parts off a corpse of a body of a complete stranger who appears to be invulnerable. 

We all have days like that right?

There you go. I’m not alone after all. Try to think of the last time you thought about murder. I guarantee you enjoyed it, and why? Because nobody caught you. And every time I take a swing it is nothing but cathartic. Each swing is at a different person. Each swing’s a tiny shot of dopamine. The arm? That’s my neighbour. The chest? My boss. And every digit on the hands is every moron that I spoke to that pissed me off. There’s a release within the muscles and before you know it one giant blast of euphoria that has me in hysterical laughter and tears. Actions with no consequence; now that’s my idea of a beautiful world, like enjoying a vindaloo without having to deal with the flop sweat and the barrage of stomach cramps and…

Note to self: Reduce the number of times I bring shit up in a page. Possible complex.

Point is there is no such thing as murder if your subject can’t ever die.

I have no idea where the cadaver came from; the thing just appeared one day and ever since I’ve been using it as my own personal stress machine. Occasionally the head finds its way back on and we talk for a moment – me to it because it usually lacks a jaw. 

Occasionally, I like to watch the eyes reform in the sockets as they always change colour from brown to blue to green and violet. I like violet best. Often, I keep them untouched.  

I’ve no idea what it is either. I’m unsure if it’s human – when it’s not a broken jigsaw – or if it’s male. I tried kicking it in the crotch a few times, but the damn thing didn’t even so much as blink. I took another moment to wait for it to heal. I enjoyed watching the sinews and bones and the pale skin stitch itself back together whilst I hum Frère Jacques and wash.

14/04/31

Shopping is done. Wanted to make pancakes and bacon but the milk in my fridge shares a large resemblance to the rice pudding my grandmother used to make.

The body is talking. I can’t understand it. It’s not a language; more of a series of clicks and gargles but each time it holds its hands up as if it was begging for its life. 

Well, I suppose I better get in my cardio for today. For today’s regime: cricket bat with Kenny Loggins, Danger Zone.

P.S. Bruises have appeared on my body and ribs are sore. Unknown as to how they got there

30/4/31

Coughing and spluttering.

The lining of my chest feels like it is on fire. There is blood, lots of blood. My lips and beard drip and drop claret onto my bare chest. That corpse is back again; its legs akimbo, clothes were torn, and the head has somehow managed to reattach itself. Also, the skin still hasn’t managed to grow back yet, so I am constantly met with the lidless stare from a pair of precariously balanced, bright green eyeballs and an endless smile. 

It knows it’s winning. I’m sure it would be laughing if it could but fortunately, I’ve ripped out its voice box and have been using it as an ashtray.

15/05/31

Carmen Suite No.2: Habernera plays in the background. The place stinks of rotting meat and shit. I can’t even tell if it’s that thing or me anymore

Haven’t left the apartment in over two weeks. I honestly don’t know if I can. My legs have given in. I feel weak and my head is throbbing; I can feel my heartbeat in my tongue. 

The creature is standing above me, almost fully healed, its wide eyes constantly flit from me to the window and its lipless smile has an endless vengeance written on it. A cold realization is spreading through my body.

This is my last entry.

01/06/31

First entry. Blood in stool again. There appears to be a body rotting on my floor. It is conscious and that of a man. I should report this to the police, but a better idea has spawned in my head.

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Sharon’s Note: If you keep pushing, keep fighting, you’ll eventually find help, of course, sometimes only you can help yourself. Warning: If you want something done, you have to do it yourself.

---

“Bernard here.” The voice was deep and smooth.

“Yeah, this is Joy Harker. I’m an operator at Hearth. My team is in despearate need of back up. They are rescuing civilian from a werewolf and everyone else is already answering the call for another werewolf incident in the area. Can you give me your status and location?” I stopped myself from begging immediately.

“We are on stand by for our current mission, but I can’t give you our location.” 

“Please, my team needs help!” Forget pride. I was going to beg. “There’s a bunch of civilans that are walking right into the woods with a wolf and my guys went in after them. Please!”

“Some people would say they’re taking their lives into their own hands by breaking protocol.” He mused.

“They’re only doing what we’re all supposed to be here to do. . .” I began, but he quickly cut me off.

“I didn’t say we weren’t going to help. Where’s your team located?” Almost ready to cry when he said that, I read the coordinates off to him. “We’re going to drop everything here and we are on our way. . .”

“Oh god, thank you so much. . .” He cut me off again.

“We are coming as fast as we can, but we are hours away. Chances are, we’re only going to get there in time to clean up the bodies and scoop up the wolf. Tell them to hold out if they can. We are on our way.”

I closed my eyes against the encroaching panic. “Thanks either way.”

He didn’t say anything else, he just hung up. My hands were shaking, so I pressed them hard into the table to steady them. I closed my eyes and tried to take some deep breaths. I had to try three times before I could fill my lungs without them hitching. For about five minutes I did nothing but sit there and breath. When I was in complete control again, I turned to my computer. 

There wasn’t much I could do for my team at the moment except prepare, so by God I would prepare. I researched everything I could about the park, going over maps and news. I made sure I had all the literature on lunar based werewolves. If my team called me and needed anything, I was going to be ready.

It was a little over a half hour later that the my team’s coms came back on. 

“Um, hello?” I didn’t recognise the voice but there were whimpers and roars in the background. 

“Who is this and what’s happening?”

“Um, my name is Brian. We were attacked by . . . oh God, it’s a werewolf. It’s a real werewolf,” He whimpered.

A civilian. Shit.

“It’s going to be ok, Brian,” I said as soothingly as possible. “Can you tell me what happened to the men you got the headset from?”

“He’s dead,” Brian whimpered. “They’re all dead except for two of them and one won’t wake up and the other guy is bleeding a lot. He’s the one who told me to call you and ask for backup.”

I swallowed hard. “Yeah. My name is Joy and I’m going to try and help you. 

“Are you backup? Are you coming to save us?”

I closed my eyes, feeling colder than the air conditioning could account for. I promised, “We aren’t just going to leave you there, buddy. Now talk to me.”

Hard Hunting
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Sharon’s note: There are sometimes lines that have to be crossed to protect the things that matter. It’s important to know how far to push things when you need to. Warning: Main character is not giving up just yet.

---

“Hey, Will! You know that favor you owe me?” I asked with mock cheerfulness.

“Now is really not a good time, Joy.” He said, shouting to be heard over the comotion of hunters trying to organize.

“It’s never a good time. I need that favor,” I insisted.

He made a disgruntled noise. “Alright. Say it fast. We’re about to go after a werewolf.”

“Yeah, I know.” I crossed my fingers and did something despicable. “I need you to get your team leader to leave that hunt and go help my team at weeping lake. It’s just twenty minutes from your location and . . .”

“Are you crazy?” Will hissed. “We have a werewolf here in downtown. . .”

“And I have one at the lake. There’s a big family reunion there. With kids. Probably lots of them.” It was a cheep shot. I took it anyway. “Come on, Will. There are plenty of teams there to deal with that werewolf. My team is all alone.”

“Even if I could convince my team to leave this fight . . .” 

“Which I know you could do if you really wanted.” Bill was a good team lead and his men respected him. If he told them to go, they’d go.

“Maybe.” Bill sighed. “I’m sorry, Joy. I can’t do it. It’s just numbers. There’s more risk for a downtown attack. I can’t do it.”

“Won’t.” I snarled. “If you’re not coming, it’s because you won’t, not can’t. If you’re going to leave my team to die, at least admit it.”

There was a long pause before Bill said, “Fine. I won’t.”

“Ok, guess I know what a favor from you is forth then.” It was scummy, and wasn’t fair, but my team was going to die. I’d do anything.

“Guess so. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“I know.” I hung up. Ok. One last shot.

All teams were currently listed as active except one. It didn’t have any members listed, just the team lead and team name; Typhon. It had no listing for location, and that usually meant it was a secured op and we weren’t supposed to contact them. Fortunately for my team, I wasn’t much better at following instructions than they were. 

The leader of the team was a guy named Bernard. I’d never spoken to him. There were rare few hunters in our organization I wasn’t on a first name basis with. Between that and the lack of listen location, it marked these guys as our equivalent of spooks. I really wasn’t supposed to call them.

Hard Hunting
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James’s Note: This week, we get to talk a little about the American revolution, which is particularly relevant to the events of this story. From founding fathers to vampire governance, we’re going to hit a lot of points here. Maybe someday I’ll tackle a story set during the revolution, since I’ve read a few and most of them were disappointing.

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I extended my hand across the desk. “My name’s Daniel McAllister. I’ve been hired to investigate a recent death, and I’d like to ask you a few questions. I’m a Witcher man.”

I watched his eyes very closely as I said that. Unlike some people who have the true sight, I can’t actually tell if someone’s lying. But a lot of practice has made me pretty good at guessing the truth behind people’s reactions. 

When I mentioned a death, he was both surprised and concerned. He could have just been a really good actor, but my money was on genuine. When I mentioned I was a Witcher man, the concern became the dominant flavor. Concern being a perfectly normal reaction in anyone talking to a Witcher man, I chalked that reading up as neutral.

His grip never faltered as he finished shaking and released my hand. “Well, my name is Israel and I run this misguided little organization we call the Brotherhood of Blood. If the elder vamps have hired you to pin some feeding gone wrong on one of my guys, I want you to know you’re getting played. Any actual members of the Brotherhood are part of a strict accountability society. We each voluntarily keep a log of all the humans we feed on that can be accessed by any other member of the society.”

I have to admit, this isn’t what I was expecting at all. The way  the Brotherhood had been described, I was expecting a bunch of the vampiric version of basement-dwelling hotheads. Not only did this guy have his ducks in a row, they seemed to have been taught to goose-step.

I raised my hands placatingly. “I’m not trying to pin anything on anyone. Yes the elders hired me, but I’m an independent actor. I’m not going to report anything I don’t believe is true. If they don’t like my findings, they can shove them down their blood holes.” 

Israel’s wince indicated that, for some reason he would have trouble articulating, blood hole was now on his list of unacceptable swear words. This only made me smile a little.

“However,” I continued, “this is a completely different kind of murder.” 

I pulled out my phone, and showed him one of the pictures of the dead vampire, the words ”No More Kings” prominently displayed by the body. Israel’s expression went on a long and complicated journey that may have at some point crossed paths with two hobbits on their way to Mordor. It started with abject horror at the mutilated vampire corpse, moved to confusion as he appeared to recognize the vampire in question, finally ending up in what looked suspiciously like a migraine. 

Israel deflated back into his chair. “Okay, okay, I know that looks bad, but you gotta understand, there are a variety of reasons that can’t be what it looks like.”

I nodded, because secretly I was in agreement with him but I wanted to hear his version. “Lay it on me then, Israel. What is going on in this suspiciously incriminating photograph.”

The exhausted vampire sighed heavily. “First of all, we don’t use that slogan anymore. Yes, I used it a few times in the early days, because I thought it would get people fired up. Besides, it took me back to my misspent youth as a son of Liberty.”

“Wait,” I interrupted in spite of myself, “ you were an honest-to-god Son of Liberty? Like you did hooligan shit with the founding fathers Son of Liberty?”

Israel smiled wistfully. “ Yep, and it always seems so strange to hear them called that. I mean, I didn’t hang out with all of them. Washington would never have hung out with common rabble like me, but I was good friends with Thomas Paine, who I would pit against any werewolf for sheer ferocity. I also swore that I would never, under any circumstances, attend any party thrown by Ben Franklin ever again. I never did find my clothes, and to this day, over a hundred years later, I’m grateful that I have no idea what happened in that pigsty.”

God, I had so many questions, but I had to focus. “Okay, back to the slogan. I’m guessing if you don’t use it, there’s someone who does?”

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Sharon’s note: So, as we were leaving the house yesterday, I told my husband, “A lizard crawled out of the dragon’s mouth.” His response was, “Cool first line, I want to hear the rest of that story.” This exchange is slightly less strange if you know what a dragon head door knocker. So . . . here’s the story. Warning: Characters with a half-baked crusade.

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The lizard crawled out of the dragon’s mouth to glare like only an unhoused reptile could. 

“Oh, look at the cute little lizard. He thinks he’s as fierce as a dragon.” Cordelia said in a syrup sweet tone. She repositioned the skull on its white plastic table and the lizard hissed.

“That’s a speckled flame tongue.” Isk peered around the giant case of recording equipment in his arms. The orc often got roped into carrying things, but he rarely seemed to mind. “There’re some theories that they are actually distantly related to the great grays that were prominent in this area. We should get some shots of them.”

“Is this a great gray?” Peaceblossom picked the little reptile up before it could disappear into the eye socket of the dragon skull. She squealed and dropped it when it snapped at her and it scuttled away into the nearby underbrush.

“That little thing couldn’t hurt you if it wanted to, Peace.” Cordelia snickered, and Peaceblossom considered hating her for just a moment. Cordy wasn’t bad, she was just . . . Cordy.

“Well, I didn’t know that. Why are we even shooting outside today?” Peaceblossom glared at the surrounding forest. It was objectively lovely, and supposedly this was the ancestral homeland of her people, but she was not a wood elf. She was a dark-room-lit-only-by-computer-screen elf. She didn’t do nature.

“I really want people to get a feel for the creatures we’re trying to save.” Cordelia was getting that mad gleam in her eye that always preceded a speech about her passions. “If we’re going to stop the destruction of these majestic animals, we have to make people connect with them.”

“Crazy human.” Peaceblossom muttered. “Why do we keep letting you drag us out on these projects?”

“I’m contractually obligated,” Isk said, digging through one of the cases. “It’s a clause of the boyfriend code.”

“Okay, then why do I keep going along with it?”

“Because you loooooooove me!” Cordelia threw her arms around Peace’s neck and tried to kiss her cheek. Peace groaned and shoved at her.

“As funny as that is, we need to get started.” The orc held up a tiny microphone with a clip. “I promised Nikhol in the biology department I’d get the skull back to him by five tonight.”

“Come on people, let’s save some dragons!” Cordelia crowed. Peaceblossom rolled her eyes.

“Cordy, Babe? Why don’t you do a little rehearsal while I get things set up.” Isk smiled at his girlfriend, and handed Peaceblossom a handful of thin black cables. “Peace, could you untangle those please?”

“Ah, now I see why you brought me.” The nerd elf grumbled and began picking at the Gordian knot. What she wouldn’t give for that sword that cut everything.

“We brought you because you’re our friend, and you’re good with computers and stuff.” Cordelia gave a little oh-you wave and took position behind the table. 

“Not that kind of computer geek.” Peaceblossom grumbled and glanced at the orc. “How do you know how to do this? You’re a biology major.”

“I can have hobbies.” Isk wrinkled his nose and lowered his voice so Cordelia couldn’t hear. “Hobbies that I’m just now picking up and am figuring out as I go.”

Peaceblossom snorted and turned to watch Cordelia as she practiced.

“This skull belongs to a Great Gray Northern Arcadian Dragon. They are the smallest breed of Greater Dragon on the Arcadian continent, and up until twenty years, they were most prevalent here, in the Casius Springs Nature Preserve.” Cordelia stared off into the middle distance, speaking in a tone usually reserved for people talking about abused animals in shelter commercials.

“They’re actually more prevalent in the area south of Camelot,” Isk said while looking back and forth between the camera and his phone. 

“Right,” Cordelia pulled her phone from under the table and made a note. She mouthed through some lines and then put the phone back where she got it. She shook her hair out to make it extra fluffy, then arranged her bra to make her boobs look extra perky. When Peaceblossom groaned, the human hissed, “What? Boobs equal views.”

“And you’re okay with this?” Peaceblossom asked Isk.

He smirked. “Am I okay with people seeing that I have the world’s hottest girlfriend? Hells yeah.”

“You two are disgusting.” Peaceblossom returned to untangling her cables.

Cordelia made a quick air kiss at her boyfriend before resuming her super-serious stare at an invisible camera.

“When the Protected Magical Species Act was passed, it was supposed to make these preserves a safe place for all magical creatures and there has been an increase in population for creatures like unicorns and wolpertingers. What most people don’t know is that the PMSA specifically leaves certain creatures off its lists. Creatures our government finds ‘undesirable’ are not just left to fend for themselves, but have bounties places on their heads. Dragons, one of the most culturally significant creatures in our world are now tottering on the brink of extinction, and I’m here to tell you what is happening, and what you can do about it.”

Cordelia turned to look at her friends. “So, what do you think?”

“You’re going to knock ’em dead, babe.” Isk beamed. ‘We’re going to get a lot attention with this.”

She turned to Peaceblossom. “Well? What do you think?”

Peace stopped fiddling with her knot and looked her friend up and down. “I think you have another one of those lizards in your hair.”

“EW!” Cordelia squealed and swatted at her head, looking for the non-existent lizard while Peaceblossom laughed.

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James’s Note: Here we bring in one of my favorite charters, Israel. I love vampire stories that play around with vamps from different time periods, but they never seem to pick any of the cool ones. We’re just getting to know him here, but I hope you end up liking Israel as much as I do.

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While I might not be sold on the idea of this all being wrapped up with a little bow for me, my strongest and indeed only evidence pointed to the Brotherhood, so that was where I had to start. 

I pulled up to a shody office, located in one of those grimy strip malls that almost always contains a pawn shop. As a matter of fact, this one did contain a pawn shop. It also contained a donut shop, laundromat, and a very dodgy looking storefront that purported to be a church. The office was unlabeled except for the address. The door was open even though it was the middle of the night. Considering this was a vampire run establishment, that wasn’t surprising.

As I walked in, I was mildly surprised to find the place was at least clean. While it wasn’t exactly run down, the contrast with the opulence of the penthouse I had just visited was somewhat jarring.

Behind the desk that had almost certainly come from Ikea where it had enjoyed an unpronounceable Swedish name, sat a harried looking man in his twenties in a suit that had almost assuredly come from Goodwill. He was currently shouting at someone over the phone.

“Look Nicolai, I don’t care how much they’re offering. We are not a goddamn NASCAR team and we don’t take sponsors. Besides, I know his type. The money starts off free, just to make sure you’re good and grateful. Then, you’re slowly asked to do things, purely out of your sense of gratitude. Before you know it, you’re the expendable foot soldiers in an elder vampire war. Don’t ask me how I know. Tell him to shove his money up his ass, if he can still remember which orifice that is after so many years of disuse.”

He slammed the phone down and collapsed backwards in his chair, narrowly failing to flip over backwards. He suddenly noticed me and straightened, looking slightly embarrassed. But, to his credit, only slightly.

I smiled. “You must be Israel.”

“That’s right,” he replied, “ what can I do for you?”

I did an almost cartoonish routine of looking around and behind me to make sure we were alone. “I want to talk to you about the Brotherhood of Blood.”

Israel’s eyes narrowed, and then he sniffed. Vampires, at least of his sort, have a very strong sense of smell. I knew he was performing a check of my vampire credential, which I was spectacularly failing.

He eyed me suspiciously, but not unfriendly. “Okay, you’re definitely not a vampire but since you know about the Brotherhood, I’m also guessing you’re not here to talk about the light bill. At least I really hope you’re not here to talk about the light bill. I’m a little behind, and if they’re sending supernatural entities to collect my overdue utilities, then I’m screwed.”

Damn it, I thought, what is with vampires today and actually being likable.

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James Gray: In all societies, vampires in this case, there are always people who have power, and people who chafe under their rule. When something goes wrong, the outspoken are usually blamed, but things aren’t always what they seem. Any similarities to real life are left entirely up to the reader.

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Anton eyed me quizzically. “I take it you finished your examination. Here, take this file. It should clarify any details that are in question.” 

He handed me a folder held in a very nice leather binder. Really, was there anything these vampires didn’t overspend on?

I started flipping through it, and the contents were extremely interesting. It was an intelligence report on several vampires, as well as the organization they belonged to. It looked like something that would have been prepared by the FBI, if the FBI used expensive parchment-like stationery and liked a bit of calligraphy here and there.

The organization was called the Brotherhood of Blood, because vampires apparently are not the most original when it comes to naming things. The report said the Brotherhood was an organization of vampire’s that opposed the rule of the elders. Included were the names of several members, including their supposed leader, Israel Adams.

Also included were several letters written to various vampires who held positions in the current power structure. They ranged from the satirical, to the impassioned, to the clearly unhinged. There were several photographs of graffiti, a few accompanied by vandalism. One showed a vampire club whose front windows had been busted, their door broken down, and graffiti spray painted all over the walls. All the graffiti had one phrase in common. No More Kings.

I looked up from the file back to Anton. “Yep, that’s pretty clear. I’d call that an open and shut case. Except for the part where that’s obviously a load of bullshit and someone is trying to set these guys up.”

There went Anton’s eyebrow again, communicating that he secretly suspected I had fallen on my head as a child, possibly while eating lead paint. “So you don’t think the Brotherhood of Blood is responsible?”

“I think someone wants me to think they are. Doesn’t mean they’re not, but this is all a little convenient. I’ll have to complete my investigation, but I’m definitely open to different possibilities. I would even be considering your master as a suspect, if it weren’t for a key fact of the crime scene.”act

“And what f is that?” Anton asked.

“The fact that it’s still here. If two master vampires had fought in that room, not only would the room be gone, but I wouldn’t have wanted to live in the apartment below them, or in the building two blocks down for that matter. Whatever happened in there, it was not your run-of-the-mill throw down. Which is the same reason I’m not sold on it being these Brotherhood of Blood knuckleheads either.”

I could tell Anton didn’t like that. His mouth got very thin to the point I was afraid it might disappear into the quantum void. 

“I’m sure you know your business, Witcherman.” His tone implied he knew no such thing.

Some time later, after having to repeat endlessly that they would have my results as soon as I did, I was cruising down the road heading into one of the seedier parts of downtown Houston to follow my first lead.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24

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