Mortality Bites: A New Adult Fantasy Novel (Mortality Bites Book 1) Read online

  Mortality Bites

  Ramy Vance

  Keep Evolving Studios

  Contents

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  1. A Beginning of Sorts

  2. Vampires, Others, Professors and Football Players

  3. History Is for the Hyenas

  4. Beggars Evidently Can Be Choosers

  5. Libraries Don’t Just Have Books, You Know

  6. Part 2—Prologue

  7. Roommates Ruminate

  8. DayStalker, NightWalker

  9. Vampires Aren’t Only Humans

  10. Dirks and Lipstick

  11. Human Security Securing

  12. Hyenas and Denial Are Like Oil and Water

  13. Part 3—Prologue

  14. Activists Play Football, Too

  15. Wise Sages and Pale White Riders

  16. Snakes and Sages

  17. The Truth, the Whole Truth, and Nothing but the Truth

  18. Jessica Fletcher, You Are Not Darling

  19. Sticks and Stones Hurt Waaaay Less than Words

  20. Up, Up and Away!

  21. Part 4—Prologue

  22. On a Hill, Beneath a Neon Cross, Waiting for Dawn

  23. Check Out What’s Been Checked Out

  24. Let’s Party Like It’s Your Last Day on Earth

  25. Screaming the Gods Back

  26. Changelings, Hyenas, Warriors and Angels

  27. An Ending of Sorts

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  About the Author

  Please Review

  Mortality Bites Series © Copyright <<2018>> R. E. Vance

  Example Copyright notice: All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to five years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

  For more information, email: [email protected]

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  A Beginning of Sorts

  TODAY—

  “We disappointed them,” the monster says, pulling the ropes.

  The old librarian groans in pain as the ropes force his arms and legs apart so that he hangs like Leonardo da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man.

  “Please,” the librarian mutters. “We didn’t disappoint them. The gods … they just left. That’s all.”

  The monster gives a final tug of the ropes to ensure they are secure, then calmly walks past the librarian. “No, you’re wrong. We turned our backs on the old ways. We forgot the fundamental rule when appeasing the gods,” the monster—the old librarian’s torturer—says as it browses the library’s rare-items display. It pauses on the item it wants, touching the cool glass with a light, almost casual finger. The monster’s lips crook up in satisfaction. “This modern world, with its iPads and smartphones, its Wikipedia and unlimited data … it forgot that this … all of this … is because they willed it. Without the gods, we would be monkeys picking the ticks off each other’s backs. Stupid, arrogant modern world—to think that they actually believe they can go on without the gods.” With one powerful, angry fist, the monster shatters the display glass.

  “Don’t do this. Please. It will not bring them back. Nothing will bring them back!”

  The monster ignores the old man’s pleas, pulling the ancient obsidian blade from its stand and caressing its tip. The blade is sharp, and a tiny stream of red blood drips from where it tore into flesh. “Blood. We forgot about blood. About how it is the essence of true worship.”

  Approaching the helpless librarian, the monster holds the blade aloft and starts muttering ancient ritualistic words.

  “Stop this. Please. I beg you,” says the librarian, but he knows his pleas are useless. He’s read the history books; he knows what these old rituals entail. The fear and suffering of “that which is sacrificed”—him, in this instance—is part of this. According to the texts, the harder the one who is sacrificed holds on to life, the closer the gods pay attention. Mustering the last of his pride, he closes his eyes and silences his cries. Death is coming—there is nothing he can do about that. But at least he can deny this monster some of the satisfaction.

  The creature opens its eyes and, lifting the ceremonial knife high above its head, cries out an ancient incantation that no human ear has heard nigh on a thousand years.

  As the blade punctures his heart, the librarian utters a silent prayer—not for the gods to intervene, he knows that is useless—but as comfort to himself in his last moments. After all, this old librarian was once a priest, and old habits … well, old habits do die hard.

  Vampires, Others, Professors and Football Players

  YESTERDAY—

  When I was dead, all I wanted was to be alive. Now that I’m human again, all I want to do is die. Or shrivel up and disappear. I’ve never in my life been so embarrassed.

  It all started when I walked into Professor Hayes’s class and some smart aleck decided to open the drapes without any warning. Light streamed through the window and I, of course, freaked out, jumping back to avoid the sun’s rays … and right into Justin Truly’s arms.

  Justin Truly—sophomore, McConnell Hall president, straight-A student and all-around hunk—and here I was in his arms, freaking out (did I mention I was freaking out?). And why? Because I was afraid of a little bit of natural light. Oh, the horror … the HORROR!

  “Are you OK?” Justin asked.

  “Yeah. Old habits die hard, I guess.”

  “Old habits?” He lifted a curious eyebrow in my direction, and my heart skipped a beat.

  “Yeah …” I said, but to be honest, his question hadn’t penetrated my brain. He was cute before, but that eyebrow lift … that eyebrow lift just upgraded him from cute to irresistible.

  But then I remembered where I was. More important, I remembered who I was. A normal human girl—and not some three-hundred-year-old vampire. Well, ex-vampire. “Ahh, I mean … I was daydreaming and … the sudden appearance of the light startled me and … well, I’m a jumper.”

  Justin continued his oh-so-incredibly cute curious-eyebrow trick. “I see. First-day jitters, huh?” He ran a hand through his thick, lush black locks and I just about died—again.

  “I’m working on it. But like I said—”

  “Old habits—yeah, I got it.” He gave me a wry smile and extended his hand. “I’m Justin.”

  “I know,” I said, staring down at his perfectly
formed fingers, as if Jesus Christ Himself were offering me a drink from the Holy Grail.

  “And you are …?”

  I looked up again. “Me?”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, you.”

  I shook his hand. “Ahh, Kat. Katrina. Kat.” Smooth, girl. Smooth.

  “Kat. I see you are aptly named.”

  I gave him a curious look of my own, sans the eyebrow trick. Harder than it looked.

  “You know, old habits and all. You always land on your feet.”

  “Feet?” I asked. “Oh, I get it. Because I’m a jumper. And a cat. Kat.”

  “Bingo,” he said, shooting his pointy finger my way.

  What did that mean? Did he just shoot me dead? Figuratively speaking, of course. Or was the finger a good thing? Like he was acknowledging me in some kind of affirmative, kudos kind of way?

  Being human is so hard.

  Before I could think of anything to say back, I was saved by a stern, loud voice that cried out, “Will everyone take your seats? Now, please.”

  The class was starting. Phew.

  Justin gave me an after you gesture and I took the nearest seat, which was way up in the auditorium, hoping he would sit next to me. But the sophomore football player didn’t, opting instead to walk down the steps to the front row.

  A dark-skinned boy a few rows in front of me gave me a thumbs-up and said in a deep foreign accent I recognized to be from West Africa (where was that? Ghana?), “Smooth, girl. Very smooth.”

  Yeah—smooth like sandpaper. So much for having a great first day.

  Professor Hayes slammed two folders down on the table. “Why did the gods leave?”

  Of all the questions I expected to be asked on my first day during my first class, this wasn’t one of them. Especially because no one knew why the gods had left. Their GrandExodus happened four years ago, and scholars, philosophers, theologians and scientists alike debated what had prompted them to go. The truth was, no one knew why they left and no one would ever know.

  We’re not gods, and therefore god logic is not something we’re capable of.

  There was a chuckle in the room.

  Professor Hayes pointed in my direction and said, “Glad I was able to surprise you—and yes, a very good answer, but incomplete.”

  Crap, I was speaking to myself out loud again. It was something I did a lot. I don’t mean to, but I guess after years of being a lone hunter and creature of the night, you get used to talking to yourself. And as for being embarrassed about it, that was new, too. Back in those days, I’d simply rip out the throats of anyone who dared laugh at me.

  Talking out loud was another old habit I really had to get under control.

  Professor Hayes smiled at me, his pudgy chipmunk cheeks squishing his eyes, making him look like the Santa Claus version of Clint Eastwood.

  I stared back, not daring to say—or think—anything.

  “You, in the back row,” Professor Hayes said. “What is your name?”

  “Ahh … me?” I started, but before I could get my name out, a voice in the front row said, “Katrina. Kat for short. Careful, Professor Hayes—she’s a jumper.”

  Justin Truly.

  The auditorium chattered with muffled giggles.

  Professor Hayes shot Justin a look and said, “Katrina …?” He dragged out my name like I was supposed to complete it or something.

  Oh, yeah—complete it. “Darling,” I said. “Katrina Darling.”

  “Miss Darling,” the professor said. “Your answer is absolutely right. We don’t know. All we do know is that the gods did exist—once—and that three days from now will mark the four-year anniversary of their departure. We also know they did not take it upon themselves to explain their behavior, instead leaving with a simple message of …?”

  He raised his hands like an orchestra conductor, and at his cue, the class sang out in harmony, “Thank you for believing in us, but it’s not enough. We’re leaving. Good luck.”

  The gods’ last message to the world, and something every living creature heard at exactly the same time. I’d never forget where I was when I heard that voice in my head. How could I? That was the precise moment I reverted back to human. Vampire no more. Thanks, gods.

  It was a strange transition, to say the least, and abrupt as all hell. I was turned when I was fifteen, and I’d spent the last three hundred years as a teenager trapped in an immortal body. An immortal body that needed blood to survive.

  When the gods left, I happened to be drinking from the neck of my—ahem—my latest victim: a vicar I found wandering the fields alone at night in a Scottish meadow near the town of Oban. I was halfway through with him when the gods’ message rang in my head. In an instant, my fangs retracted. Unfortunately for both me and the vicar, I had bitten deep enough that my front and bottom teeth gripped flesh, and as said fangs retracted, a substantial squirt of his blood shot up into my mouth and down my throat.

  I pulled away and promptly—elegantly, prettily even—threw up.

  Only moments earlier, the taste of blood had been something I’d craved. Now it was something I detested.

  I would later find out that when they left, the gods took most of their magic with them. And me being a creature made from that very magic, I became a magicless, boring human again.

  Wiping away the blood from my mouth, I thought, What the hell just happened? Evidently, I’d spoken this thought aloud, as per usual, because the old vicar was nodding at my question vigorously, also experiencing his own existential crisis. His face was painted with fear and his vestments were painted with his own blood, which still streamed from his neck. But the fear on his face wasn’t of me—it was fear of whatever that message was. In some odd comradery, we walked into town together, not speaking, not really acknowledging each other’s existence.

  As we passed an old pub, its TV blaring, we glimpsed images from the local news with the big bright letters that confirmed we weren’t the only ones who had heard the message. In fact, everyone in the world heard it. The gods were gone. What we’d all heard was true. My own newly grown human canines were proof.

  But them leaving and me turning human wasn’t the strangest thing to happen that night. Not by a long shot.

  No, the strangest thing was the appearance of the Others. Seems that when the gods left, they closed all their domains, forcing mythical creatures of all religions, fables and fairy tales down to Earth. Centaurs, dragons, mermaids, nasnas, encantado—you name them—all fell down. Fairy tales raining from the sky.

  And to think—prior to that day, I’d thought I was the biggest and baddest monster to roam this Earthly plane. Sometimes my arrogance astounds me.

  “That’s right,” Professor Hayes continued. “Thank you for believing in us, but it’s not enough. Not enough for what? To sustain them? To nurture them? To hold their interest? We’ll never know. All we do know is that whatever we once gave them, whatever it was that had kept them here for millennia, was no longer enough. Or perhaps it had never been, and it took them that long to realize it.”

  Professor Hayes adjusted his glasses and let out a heavy sigh. “Will the Others in this classroom please stand up?”

  A dust of pixies, an oni demon, a raiju, three fairies, two angels, an Incan apu and a gargoyle all stood up. I considered standing myself, but I wasn’t an Other. Not anymore, at least. My current human status—and my desire to not embarrass myself in front of Justin Truly again—compelled me to remain in my seat.

  But if I’m honest with myself, that wasn’t the only reason I stayed seated. Truth was, I was ashamed of my past. When I think about all my victims—my human victims—I just want to rip out my own throat and watch myself bleed to death.

  Morbid, I know. I’m working on that, too.

  Besides, I used to be a freaking demon. Surely that counts for something in explaining my past … umm … indiscretions.

  “Others,” Professor Hayes said to those standing in the auditorium, “I welcome you to my class. As you
r professor, I speak for everyone here when I say that I am proud to be part of the only university on this good great Earth that accepts Others as students.” He eyed the students who were still seated. “For any humans who don’t approve, or who distrust them, this is what I say to you—they live among us now. Deal with it. Intolerance, hatred, fear—these happen outside of these hallowed halls. Those destructive ideologies have no place here. Do you understand?”

  The auditorium was silent.

  “I said, do you understand?”

  A mismatched chorus of weak yeses could be heard in the lecture room. Not the most resounding acknowledgment of Professor Hayes’s ultimatum, but it would have to do. It had only been four years. Change takes time.

  “Very good,” Professor Hayes said, motioning for the Others to take their seats again. “Let’s get started. History is not going to teach itself.”

  History Is for the Hyenas

  The rest of the class went pretty much like you’d expect a history class to go. Dates, events … yadda, yadda, yadda. Given that this class focused on the Industrial Era and I’d actually lived through that, I was surprised at how inaccurate so much of the history was. I flipped through the textbook, reading about the rise of machines that forced farmers out of the fields and into cities to find work, about overpopulation and pollution that made day-to-day life miserable.

  That’s not what I remembered.

  I remembered people having more time to think, to dance, to sing. To play. Social classes were beginning to break down and, for the first time ever, the common man had a chance to be more than to carry on in whatever menial profession his father did.

  It was a good time. Not the best, but far better than what had preceded it.

  Not that I was going to say anything to Professor Hayes. I was a normal human girl in her late teens. Normal human girls in their late teens do not have firsthand experience of the early 1800s.

  And to think that I thought this class was going to be a breeze. Now I would have to learn everything they claimed happened and use it to replace everything I knew had actually happened.