Frank Writeman's search for his son, Jack leads him to New York City, a major hot spot for unclaimed vampires. He soon partners up with Dr. Harold Robinson, a mentally unstable werewolf hunter, in an effort to find his son before the mysterious Wintermen, a race of mutated vampires who want to claim Jack for their own growing ranks. With Frank's fragile probation with the werewolves and Harold's tendency to shoot everything in sight, Jack's chances of being rescued grow more unlikely with every passing day.
The continuing story of the Writeman family as Frank is joined by a crazed werewolf hunter in the race to find Jack before the mysterious Wintermen.
Excerpt
1.
Hunter of Hunters
December, 2006
Gregory watched the two young girls exit the night club and knew that he had found what he’d been waiting for all night. He was hungry, even more so than usual due to the fact that he hadn’t fed the night before. Unfortunately, that had also made him rather weak.
Still, he felt confident that he’d be able to handle both of them. They each had a small build; they were deeply involved in some silly conversation about the importance of finding a man that wasn’t afraid to cry, and best of all they were both extremely inebriated.
Yes, this would be a piece of cake.
As the girls walked down the nearly deserted sidewalk, Gregory followed by walking along the rooftops of the old apartment buildings that lined the street, biding his time and waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
At one point the vampire glanced down and saw that the blond girl’s large breasts were very nearly falling out of the low cut tank top she wore beneath her jacket. He felt slightly aroused at the sight of the cleavage and was pleased to know that there was still some human left in him after all. He may have to do more to her than just drink her blood.
It wasn’t surprising that the girl’s attire was so thinly layered; the unseasonably warm fall had led into an unseasonably warm winter. This was not necessarily a bad thing for unclaimed vampires, mostly because it kept The Wintermen out of New York, at least a little while longer.
There was a bit of a chill in the air tonight, however, and Gregory wondered briefly if it would be cold enough for the strange vampires to make their presence known. He supposed it didn’t matter one way or the other, when it came right down to it; he’d still be a vampire, although the idea of spending three quarters of the year in the arctic wasn’t very appealing to him.
The two succulent targets had just made their way across the next intersection and began walking along a tall wall of white, painted plywood that was set in place to keep passer bys from the construction that was going on in the lot beyond during the day. It was here that Gregory found the opportunity to strike.
Using his amazing strength, he lowered himself down the buildings archaic, brick surface like a spider closing in on its prey. After reaching the ground, he moved swiftly and silently across the street to where the girls were now stumbling against each other in an effort to make it home. With the exception of the intoxicated duo and their stealthy pursuer, the street was completely deserted.
Gregory could hear the two girls giggling as he drew closer to them. The sound made the organ in his jeans stiffen ever so slightly, and the vampire couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so excited.
With inhuman speed he made his move.
Jetting forward and grabbing the girl with the smaller chest by the hair, he swung her hard into the plywood wall. There was a sharp cracking sound as the wood splintered, and the girl fell to the ground, unconscious.
Gregory seized the other girl by the throat and pinned her to the sidewalk, then quickly maneuvered his body so that he was straddling her pelvic region. The girl’s hands scratched frantically at the vampire’s arms, but to no avail. Gregory relished in her sad attempt to escape.
“I’m going to take care of your friend later,” the vampire growled, “first I want to have a little fun with you.”
With his free hand, Gregory reached into the front of the girl’s tank top and ripped it away along with the lacy bra beneath. Her large bosom spilled out with the delightful buoyancy of a disturbed waterbed mattress.
The vampire cupped one of the breasts in his hand and marveled at how quickly the nipple hardened as the cold, night air licked at it. He then looked down into the girls eyes and opened his mouth wide, revealing the hideous fangs that dropped down in front of his normal canines.
Painfully sober now, the girl tried hard to scream, but Gregory’s strong hand was squeezing her wind pipe and she was getting just enough air into her lungs to keep her alive.
Just as the creature leaned down to sink his teeth into the girl’s young, supple breast, a great force came out of nowhere and threw Gregory across the street, slamming him hard into the brick surface of an old apartment building.
The pain Gregory felt after the impact was even more foreign to him than the sexual arousal he had felt before. With a great deal of effort, he got to his feet and dropped into a defensive position, looking wildly from one end of the street to the other, teeth bared and ready to rip into anyone who would dare to interrupt his meal. The only beings in sight however, was the half naked girl sitting on the ground trying hard to catch her breath, looking as confused as he felt and her still unconscious friend.
Cautiously, the vampire began to walk back toward the girls, unwilling to give up his dinner so easily.
“No!” the conscious girl pleaded in a tiny voice that was no more than a painful whisper. “No, please.”
Retractable claws sprung from Gregory’s fingertips and he lunged at the girl, all the while feeling great disappointment in not being able to partake of the woman sexually.
This time he saw it coming, a black blur speeding toward him like a shadowy ghost, and was still unable to avoid the attack. The specter’s fist shattered Gregory’s nose sending bone fragments racing into his brain. The attack would have killed a human, but the effect on the vampire was only disorienting and enraged him more than anything.
Trying to match the mysterious shadow’s speed, Gregory began to swing wildly with his claws like a belligerent drunk in a bar fight, never once landing a blow.
Finally, the newcomer placed a large hand on the vampire’s chest and pushed him off his feet. Gregory was lifted and once again slammed against the brick of the apartment, but this time the hand remained on his chest and he opened his eyes to look at the face of his attacker.
Before him stood a man draped in heavy black robes, his head covered with a hood that kept most of his face hidden. He was a solid being after all, only his intense speed gave him the appearance of a ghost. From the nose down (the only skin visible) the man’s complexion was as white as a blank sheet of paper and his lips trembled slightly as he opened his mouth.
When the robed creature brought his mouth down, nearly meeting Gregory’s with a soft kiss, the vampire could see the fangs as they slid into place. It was only then that Gregory realized who the stranger must be.
The man began to make an odd sucking sound with his mouth and a glowing, white steam started to pull from between Gregory’s lips and pour down the attacker’s throat.
Soon, all reality seemed to slip away from Gregory and he knew, before long, he would be dead, but if anyone could hear his final thoughts, they would know that a wintermen had killed him.
The wintermen had come.
In the end they'll all be dancin'--all them ones that didn't die.... Dance with me in the shadows amidst the lightning and the thunder, and all that nu-cu-lar debris. See the big bang from the other side, and then open that cellar door. Go down into
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