Vampire Apocalypse Read online

  VAMPIRE APOCALYPSE

  by

  J. Thorn

  Vampire Apacolypse

  Published by Rain Press

  Copyright © 2018 by Rain Press

  All rights reserved.

  Ebook Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  (Vampire Apacolypse is based on the characters created by J.R. Rain; the use of story situations and supporting characters from the “Vampire for Hire” universe is authorized by J.R Rain.)

  Vampire Apocalypse

  By J. Thorn

  MAIN MENU

  Start Reading

  Acknowledgments

  Other Works

  About the Author

  Table of Contents

  Edited by Laurie Love and Eve Paludin

  Proofread by Laurie Love

  Cover Design by Kealan Patrick Burke

  For more information:

  http://www.jthorn.net

  [email protected]

  Table of Contents

  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

  Acknowledgments

  Other Works

  About the Author

  1

  Samantha Moon always found her conversations with the dead to be much more interesting than those with the living.

  “The perp’s name is Juan. Blue bandanna and a teardrop tattoo beneath his left eye,” she said.

  “Height? Build?”

  Samantha closed her eyes and placed her hand just above the chest of the still-warm corpse.

  “Five-ten. Stocky. He wore a black leather vest.”

  Detective Braden scribbled into his reporter’s notebook, a massive hand swallowing the yellow pencil. His red mustache twitched as he wrote. His eyes were tight and black in the shadows of the nightclub’s storeroom.

  “Anything else?” Braden asked.

  “Nothing relevant,” Samantha said. “That should be enough to get you an ID and possibly, a warrant. I guess I don’t have to tell you the murder weapon.”

  Braden stopped writing and turned his head sideways. He shoved the pencil behind one ear and the notebook into the back pocket of his khakis. The detective sighed as the beat cops continued working on the crime scene.

  “Let me guess. A knife.”

  Sam smiled and crossed her arms. The open wound in the victim’s back meant it could have only been a knife. Or a shark attack. “Buck knife. Probably twelve inch.”

  “Someday, it’s going to get out that the Fullerton PD keeps a psychic on retainer.”

  “I’m not a psychic. How many times do I have to tell you, Detective?”

  “Maybe until I understand how you’re able to come up with enough information on a perp to get an arrest. I know you’ve been working with Detective Sherbet, but that doesn’t mean he has any idea how you do it either.”

  When they retire, I’ll explain necromancy to them. Right now, they’d never believe I’m a vampire, let alone a vampire with the ability to talk to the dead.

  “We always get a DNA match. You arrest the bad guy, right?”

  “I guess we do, P.I. Moon. That doesn’t mean it’s any easier for me to deal with you. You know how I feel about all that hocus pocus b.s.”

  “It’s not magic. I have a way of seeing the crime scene that you and your officers don’t. It’s not any more magical than listening to a radio or a podcast over a wireless RSS feed.”

  Detective Braden whistled and pushed a hand through his smoldering red hair. He rested the other on his service revolver that stuck out from a waistband holster beneath a short-sleeved polo shirt.

  “My teenage daughter has a smartphone and three tablets. She’s always doing something techie on those damn things. Probably listening to podcasts, like you.”

  Sam smiled again, her bright red lips glistening.

  “Yeah, I’m sure she’s spending all her time doing that. Not chatting with boys.”

  Before Detective Braden could reply, a uniformed officer stepped between them. He looked at Samantha, his eyes traveling from her flowing dark-brown hair down to her shiny patent-leather boots. The man tried to hide his admiration of her full breasts and curvy hips. The boys at the precinct had told some pretty wild stories about the stunning brunette private eye, Samantha Moon.

  “Sir, we have a hit in a CJSC database.” He turned his back to Samantha. “Should I put out the APB?”

  “What’s his name?” Braden asked.

  “Juan. Juan Ortizo. Known associate of the 18th Street Gang, one of the Sureños. They run drugs from Long Beach to Anaheim.”

  Sam crossed her arms over her chest and rocked back on her heels while winking at Detective Braden.

  “Got a mugshot?” he asked the officer. “Oh, and let her see it.”

  The officer held his phone out and turned it so Samantha could see the screen, but he kept his body facing Detective Braden.

  I wonder what those guys say about me in the locker room after their shifts. I’ll bet it’s all true.

  “Short. Stocky,” Samantha said to Braden.

  “That’s our man,” he said to the officer.

  Braden waited for him to walk away before taking a step toward Samantha. He stood a foot taller and could easily fit two of her inside of his frame.

  “I’m serious. I don’t know how long Sherbet and I can keep the mayor in the dark about your involvement with our PD. The guys, they fear you. Worse yet, they don’t trust you.”

  “Do you?” Sam asked.

  “Fear you?”

  “No. Trust me. Do you trust me?” she asked.

  “What choice do I have? I can’t let these drug lords destroy my hometown. I grew up here. My family is here. This is all I know. If I have to get my intel from a witch, so be it.”

  “A witch? Is that what you think I am?”

  “No,” Braden said, his eyes darting left.

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” she said. “If you want the crimes solved and the violent criminals put away, I can help you but—”

  “I know, I know. Sherbet told me I have to trust you and not ask questions. Yeah, I got it.”

  “The first time that the DNA evidence doesn’t match the suspect I hand you, fire me,” she said.

  “Oh, don’t worry about that,” said Detective Braden. “Nobody’s perfect and I wouldn’t let an innocent person go to jail if you messed up.”

  His words stung. She’d never ‘messed up’ a case for the Fullerton PD.

  Samantha couldn’t recall how many crimes she’d solved. Since turning six years ago and becoming a vampire, things were different. Harder. She’d decided that it would be better for her kids if she somehow kept up appearances in the community of some semblance of normalcy. A normal life. A normal mom. She could go out during the day, but it was painful—she had to cover up with protective clothing, a hat, and sunglasses. The notion of sunlight burning vampires alive had come from Hollywood—they’d almost gotten it right.

  Once the kids went to sleep, Samantha had all night to solve crimes. Even if that meant talking to the dead to find their murderers.

  ***

  The coroner arrived and unfolded the black body bag. Several officers helped to position the body of the young thug so they could zip it up and remove it from the basement of the nightclub.

  “You have a drug war on your hands,�
�� Sam said to Braden. “In the past six months, nobody involved in this violence has been innocent. Neither the living nor the dead.”

  Braden nodded and rubbed his mustache. He shrugged to concede the point to Samantha. It would be hard to argue that Fullerton was not in the midst of all-out gang warfare.

  The officers lifted the body and carried it up the steps while the coroner followed, tapping on the screen of a tablet computer. He nodded at Detective Braden but did not look at Samantha.

  “They love me,” she said.

  “They’re scared to death of you.”

  Samantha waited for the coroner to disappear up the steps. Despite the active crime scene in the basement, the DJ kept the incessant club music thumping on the dance floor above their heads.

  “I think I am, too. There’s only one way you can know what you know.”

  “Not true,” said Samantha. “I could be God. I could know everything.”

  The last of the uniformed officers climbed the steps, leaving Samantha and Detective Braden with nothing but yellow crime tape and the coppery smell of spilled blood that had pooled and splattered on the floor.

  “Enough. I’ll tolerate your dark arts to catch the bad guys, but I won’t tolerate blasphemy.”

  If you only knew , she thought. God isn’t the only immortal force in the universe.

  “I guess we’re done here,” she said. Her stomach was growling with the sudden onset of blood hunger, but far be it from her to contaminate an active crime scene by dipping her pinkie into the pooled blood after he left.

  “Yes, we are done,” said Braden. He grabbed his navy blue windbreaker with “POLICE” across the back and pulled it over his polo shirt. Braden walked to the staircase and reached the third step before turning around and facing Samantha. “Thanks for your help,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “Of course, Detective. Anything to help the boys in black.”

  Samantha waited for Detective Braden to leave before she sat down on a crate of wine. She pushed her long, brown hair from her oval face and exhaled. She felt tired, but she wouldn’t sleep. At least, not the way she used to. Samantha tried to remember what it felt like to wake rested from a good night’s sleep and yet, the memory slid by like a lone leaf pulled by a river’s current.

  She dragged her boot along the concrete floor and looked up at the cobwebs dangling from the beams overhead.

  What am I doing?

  Samantha was no longer sure that her role in the ongoing gang war was worth it. She had previously assisted detectives Sherbet and Braden on several cases, mostly on domestic violence disputes that had turned fatal. The husband always did it. Braden didn’t need a vampire necromancer to tell him that, although Sam was happy to put the scumbags in jail. This gang war felt different, as if the “eye for an eye” mentality meant she’d be constantly arriving at crime scenes, implicating one felon for the slaughter of another. It felt pointless.

  It’s what I do. Some of the creeps I find on my own, evil men without a criminal record or arrest warrant. I feed if I have the time and opportunity and clean up the scene. Nobody gets hurt except the wicked.

  Samantha stood and brushed the dust from her black jeans. She looked around one last time before walking up the steps. The voices of men and the flashing lights of police vehicles replaced the thumping bass and strobe lights of the club.

  Braden had enough of that , she thought. Probably threatened the DJ with a disturbing the peace citation.

  The forensics team arrived as most of the beat cops left, but a few stood next to the bartender, taking notes as the man relayed what relevant information he had on the murder that took place beneath his nightclub. Samantha walked past them, catching snippets of thoughts like the melodies of popular songs.

  “…sorceress.”

  “…in league with the devil.”

  “…witch.”

  She smiled at the men as she walked past and through the empty dance floor toward the back door. Samantha pushed the bar on the door and stepped into the alley. The smell of stale beer and fryer grease filled the air and she thought it was probably better than the smell of dead flesh, but only slightly.

  Her black minivan sat behind the dumpster and the parking lights flashed as she unlocked the door with her remote. A white streak illuminated the sky and a roll of thunder followed a half-second later.

  Samantha looked up where a thick haze hid the face of the moon. It glowed like a light bulb wrapped in cotton. She opened the door and slid into the bucket leather seats. Sam wirelessly connected her phone to the minivan’s stereo system as AC/DC came alive through the speakers. She raised the volume to ten in hopes of drowning out the voices in her head. Her ability to snag thoughts and speak to the dead allowed her to keep the city from erupting into an all-out drug war, but at the same time, it gave her no relief. She didn’t expect to gain such powers when she’d first turned, but then again, there wasn’t a manual on transitioning into a vampire. Like the thousands of immortal beasts before her, Sam would have to find her own way through the world of the undead.

  The first drops hit the windshield, reminding Sam of blood dripping onto pavement. She flicked the windshield wiper and within minutes, the rain came down so hard that the wipers did nothing but smear water and light across her field of vision. She waited, listening to the water drumming against the roof.

  Samantha put the minivan into drive, swerved past the dumpster and headed out on to the 57 Freeway, directly into an unusual and ferocious Southern California thunderstorm.

  ***

  The rain drove hard into the minivan, sheets of water turning and twisting in the headlights. Samantha felt the tires lift and slip as the asphalt turned into a sheet of polished onyx.

  Slow down and stay off the brake , Sam thought, the voice in her head sounding more like her father’s than her own.

  The 57 wove through Chino Hills State Park like a black ribbon wrapped around a forest. The guardrails flew by the minivan, each one marred by the bumper of a car or truck unable to stay in the lane. Sam had driven the road many times and yet, this unlikely storm challenged her driving skills. She eased off the gas pedal and let gravity pull the vehicle down the slow hill. The music blared from the speakers as she tried to distract herself from the crime scene frozen in her mind. The details hung inside her head like a negative from an old camera.

  Nobody ever said being a vampire was easy.

  The wind pushed at the minivan and Sam gripped the steering wheel with both hands, feeling the sharp stab of panic in her chest. A car accident could not harm her the way it would have before the turn, but her primal instinct for preservation remained. Sam took a deep breath and blinked.

  “Maybe I should pull off the side of the road and wait it out.”

  She spoke the thought as if the minivan might answer.

  Samantha leaned forward, attempting to get a better look at the road between manic sweeps of the windshield wipers. The rubber blades tossed water back and forth but never quite cleared the glass. The minivan’s headlights illuminated the wall of rain and now, a soft glow crept in from the sides of the road.

  “Fog, too. Wonderful.”

  She reached up and turned off the stereo before glancing in the rearview mirror. She saw nothing but water rolling down the rear window. Another gust rocked the minivan and Samantha felt the vehicle slide sideways. For a moment, she relaxed as the tires grabbed the asphalt, but it only lasted a moment. The rear of the minivan swung counterclockwise and Samantha turned the steering wheel into the slide.

  “Shit.”

  Samantha didn’t need the special powers granted to her by her vampirism. She wouldn’t need telekinesis or clairvoyance to see what was about to happen. Her mortal eyes showed her all she needed to see.

  The rear quarter panel on the driver’s side struck the guardrail first. The minivan’s steel skin screeched as it slid across the galvanized metal. Sam wrestled the steering wheel out of the spin, but it no longer did any good
. She felt the minivan spinning, an unnatural and queasy sensation, like being on a carnival ride. The road turned to the right, freeing the minivan’s left side from the guardrail on the opposite lane and thrusting it across the double yellow line and into the guardrail on the right side of the road. Rather than sliding along, the minivan slammed into the metal, knocking Samantha into the center console. Her knee struck the gear shift and she cried out in pain.

  It’ll heal. But damnit, it still hurts.

  She didn’t have time for another thought because the road curved and threw the minivan out of it like a slingshot. The vehicle spun completely around twice, pinning Samantha against the driver’s side door. The grill of the minivan broke through a seam in the guardrail, exploiting a shoddy spot weld.

  Samantha saw the silver glow of headlights on the guardrail disappear as the beams shot outward into the night. The engine roared, no longer kept in check by the friction of tires on pavement. Samantha felt the sickening, weightless sensation as the weight of the minivan’s engine pulled the front end down into a nose dive. The free fall pitched her back into her seat and she closed her eyes, waiting for the sudden, inevitable impact.

  Let’s get this car crash over with , she thought. I have laundry to do. And I’ve already missed Judge Judy.

  2

  The minivan’s grill slammed into the mud, but the bumper held in place as the rear end of the vehicle rotated forward and flipped over.

  Samantha remained buckled into her seat, her eyes closed as the windshield shattered into thousands of fragments of rounded safety glass. The reinforced steel roof prevented the ground from crushing her body into the interior, but it didn’t stop the vehicle’s momentum. It kept rolling and then slid sideways down a gulley, breaking through trees as if they were matchsticks.

  Samantha felt the dirt and debris tearing at her face as the minivan slalomed down the embankment on the driver side. The initial impact smashed the headlights, although Samantha could use her extraordinary vision to see a boulder now less than twenty feet away. She braced herself for the impact and the pain. Being immortal was not the same as being free from pain.