a vampire novel.
Big guns, lots of ammo, and a vampire to kill
This novel is available for sale at www.amirapress.com
Hope you enjoy the excerpt I am providing!
Writing this story may be difficult for it is a long sordid tale full of memories. I need to do this, lest I forget any of the amazing details of the often fucked up life I’ve led. My story is a legacy worth remembering. I only hope that memories do the deeds justice.
This is my story, laugh, and cry, I know I sure fucking will.
* * * *
It was Friday. Same shit, different day, different year. Every day seemed to run into the next since he left. He just up and walked out one day. I didn’t know where he went, or for that matter if he was still alive.
My name is Ariana Reynolds. I was a bartender, a freaking bartender, for crying- out- loud. I worked in some sleazy vampire bar on the wrong side of the fence. There were nicer vamp bars, but my attitude was not congenial enough to suit the finer establishments. Fine by me, what did I care? I got to wear pretty much whatever the hell I wanted and talk American slang. Which to me meant the F-word in every sentence? Ian, my boss and owner of Wolf’s Den had only one rule, no donating blood. Good, I didn’t open veins for the dead bastards anyway.
Wolf’s Den was a dark little hole in the wall bar. At least that is what it looked like from the outside. Dark tinted windows added mystery, a neon sign graced with the name of the bar, and a painted lion’s head with fangs hung on the door. Go figure. Most vampires wouldn’t even look twice at the entrance. All they saw was a dingy little crap hole that wasn’t worth their time. Fine.
Once you got inside it was a whole different ball game. Neon flashed everywhere, and you could see the state of the art D.J. station next to the stage across the room. Black, mirror top tables reflected the recess lighting, a dance floor located in the center of the room that looked like black marble, but was most definitely not, and a stage with a large red curtain to conceal most of it. You could see part of the monolithic stage, it had the same black lacquer finish as the dance floor and by the sheer size of it, I guessed that it was almost as deep as it was long. I had no idea when or if it had ever been used, but it added a bit of flair to the place.
We may not have gotten the nicest clientele, but we probably got some of the strongest. I had a compelling belief that Ian was the leader of the most powerful kiss of vampires in the city. A kiss is kinda like a motorcycle gang, the most formidable rule. Ever heard of survival of the fittest? It is like that, the strong consume the weak. Ian didn’t admit to being the leader but he didn’t go anywhere without backup.
My boss Ian was always yelling at me about my shitty attitude, which didn’t bother me because I yelled right back at him about his shitty bar. He kept telling me that he would fire me, but so far, talk was all it was. I think one of the main reason’s why he did not kick my ass to the curb was because I packed a Sig Sauer P228 nine millimeter. In fact, I carried two of them. One in a fanny pack with quick draw, and one in a cross draw shoulder holster. I also carried one hundred spare rounds of silver shot ammo in a thigh rig. That was the only substantial firepower I carried on my person. I also carried a pocket pistol. Two shots of twenty-two caliber, it’s a derringer, small enough to fit in the palm of my hand. On top of the guns, I also carried three knives with the highest content of silver that good money could buy. You never knew when one of our clientele was going to do something stupid.
The silver content was especially important for making the undead dead. Lead ammo might slow down younger vampires but the older ones could walk through it like rain. Most people wouldn’t even have noticed I was carrying all this firepower if I had kept my dead cow on. Dead cow is just another way of saying leather jacket. The fact is, that it would get so hot in a packed bar I would have to take off the dead cow. That is the only reason why most vampires left me the fuck alone.
Now, I should explain to you how a vampire bar works. Humans could come in and order a drink but all we carried was whiskey and beer, so we didn’t get very many suits after the workday was done. I guess we didn’t cater to their needs. Anyway, we had about fifty regular human volunteers. They were there strictly for opening veins. They didn’t get paid in money from Ian, but they did get what they wanted, and that was to get off. Most vampires could make donating blood more orgasmic then sex. Even really good sex. It must have sucked not to be a vampire . . . The Wolf’s Den was almost like a strip club; some patrons got V.I.P passes and took their volunteers into private rooms. Sex was not supposed to be going on but hey, if they didn’t tell, then I wouldn’t ask. Ian made it very clear to me that I was not allowed to donate sex or blood regardless of the desire, or in my case lack of desire to do so.
Ian, my boss was about six foot eight and built like a brick shithouse. About mid-forties, well mid-forty plus however long he had been a vampire. I only say so because his hair was the blackest of black except at the temples, a little grey mixed in, and ultimately sexy. Also, he had crow’s feet around the eyes and laugh lines around the mouth. Who knows, to me he felt about six hundred and forty. His eyes were turquoise. Freaking turquoise, like the Native American jewelry that you buy in downtown Santa Fe. I asked him once if his eye color was a side affect of turning undead. He just looked at me as if I’d insulted him. I took that as a no. Oh, did I mention he was the biggest freaking Indian I had ever seen.
I should explain, that while Ian and I fought like siblings, we were actually kinda friends.
Now back to my attitude problem. My lover left me. His name was Raif and he was my soul mate. He was the one that got me this job with Ian. He was also the one that got me into guns. I used to ask him if he was always packing, he’d just smile and say, “Don’t leave home without one.” We hunted vampires together. He was a vampire bounty hunter. Vampires might have had some legal status, but the laws concerning vampires were very strict. All vampires had to register with the government and were treated like ex-cons. If one person cried foul play against a vampire it went on their record. Three strikes and you were out. There weren’t very many old-timer vamps in the U.S. At least none that were over three hundred years old. The very old vamps didn’t like the fact that the laws made it so easy to execute them. Ian was an exception to that particular attitude. He didn’t care one way or the other, he always made sure to keep his nose clean.
Raif was about six foot three, and all man. He had a body like a navy seal. All muscle, but not muscle bound. What I mean is he could cross his arms. I hadn’t heard from him in over a year. I couldn’t think of a single good reason why he wouldn’t let me know he was okay. It was easier for me to believe he was dead; rather than, maybe he had gotten tired of me. He had blue eyes that would turn an almost lavender in color when he went to that place that all men go when they are turned on. I used to call it sex eyes. I never looked at the eyes of the men I screwed anymore, so I hadn’t seen that look in a long time.
After Raif left, I carried on with my life like he would be back in a few days, then it turned into a few weeks, after three months I had a break down and Ian had to drag me kicking and screaming out of my house to get me back to work, and on with my life. It wasn’t too hard for him to manhandle me. I mean, he was a vampire. I guess super human strength was a perk. I asked Ian if he knew anything about Raif, and he told me no. I knew he lied, but I never had the guts to ask him again. Then again, maybe I didn’t really want to know.
Life had gone on and I tried to make it as normal as I could. The word normal and my life are a contradiction in terms. But nonetheless, life fucking went on.
Excerpt
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