Blood Crazed

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Blood Crazed - book excerpt

Prologue: Forgotten Dreams

Once upon a time, in an enchanted land,therelived a beautiful princess. Merely a child, she lived a charmed life adored by all the kingdom:her parents, the King and Queen, and all the royal courts and commoners who bowed at her feet.

On the eve of the princess’ birth, it was the grandest day of all in Erewhon. From as far as the azuresea,noblemen and noblewomen from all the four seasoned courts arrived in gilded carriages dressed in their fine, satin gowns and frockcoats, bringing precious gold and rare spices of cinnamon and saffr onto honor a very special princess born of extraordinary abilities.

Throughout the majestic kingdom, all the subjects, royal, and the masses revered the newborn princess. There was promise of eternal goodwill over all the enchanted land.

Every night at bedtime, tucking the royal princess in her cozy bed, the Queen and King would share stories about a great privilege,anoble duty bestowed upon her young majesty. One day when the child was old enough, the princess would sit upon the golden throne and rule her father’s kingdom. And when the perfect time came, she’d give her hand in marriage to a handsome prince, and together they’d fill the castle with mirthful children and live happily everafter.There would never be any threat of war. Peace would prevail forever in Faeryland; precious dreams of a parent. And for a while, the dreams were bountiful. Peace and prosperity blanketed the enchanted land for five years.

Then one night, happiness was ripped from the peaceful land. A storm blanketed the kingdom with vile resolve. Dark, brutal clouds gathered, devouring the night’s glistening stars. Hallowing gusts swept over the villages, destroying everything in its wake as thunder roared, sending violent bolts of lightning streaking the angry sky with fierce tenacity.

At a frightening moment’s notice, the princess’ shutters burst open with a loud crash, and a looming silhouette of a man appeared on the window ledge, but an ordinary man, he was not.

Mighty black wings cast dark shadows over the man’s face as evil slithered its way into the child’s room, poisoning the air with malevolence.

Quiet as a mouse, the fair princess lay under the cover, shivering from the intruder, listening. Talons scraped the royal floor as the echoing sound of water dripping grew louder closer. Tap, tap, tap, the noisestilled the child’s breath.

In a blink, the princess’ blanket disappeared and sharp claws snatched her up into the grimarms of a strange dark-winged man.The young child was so terrified, not a sound uttered from her delicate lips, not even a whimper escaped.

With the royal princess tucked in iron arms, the strange winged man, in three long strides, climbed onto the window sill and unfurled his dark wings. Lightning streaked the ominous sky jolting the princess with forbidding. Ignoring the small child’s trembling, the dark winged stranger shoved off the ledge and ascended into the grim sky. Higher and higher, his black wings fluttered in a slow, powerful motion disappearing into the blackness.

Rain and bitter wind slapped at the princess’ face as she squeezed her eyes closed, trembling beyond her imagination.The tiny princess prayed to the goddess that this strange winged man was merely a bad dream. But that stormy starless night, the child’s prayers went unheard.

The princess’ mysterious disappearance left the land shattered. Sorrow spread over the magical kingdom like the black plague.Mad with grief, the King ordered the Royal Guard to search the land from the emerald forest to the snowcapped mountains. Not a stone was to go unturned.

After burdensome days and nights of searching, the Royal Guard,heavily shouldered and with grief-stricken faces,returned to the King and Queen,announcing their forlorn failure.

The princess was lost forever. And since that stormy night,blight fell upon the enchanted kingdom, and the King died of a broken heart,and the Queen died of great grief.

The Assignment

The Present

I loved Manhattan. If I could choose one place in the world to live, it’d be Ninety-First Street between West End and Broadway. My favorite street to stroll. I especially loved spring with the towering cherry blossom trees swaying in the gentle breeze, scattering its pleasant perfume, shading the majestic brownstones, row after row. It stole my breath every time.

Ownin gone of these lovely row houses with its impressive curb appeal would be a dream come true. I imagined myself sitting by the bay window sipping tea on a lazy Sunday watching people stroll by.

Every day I’d make a stop at my favorite shop, the Levine Bakery, for a delicious sweet roll and hot coffee. Maybe have lunch at my favorite eatery, Café Bee. They had the best pancakes.

One of the many great perks of the city was easy access to the sights throughout the five boroughs riding the Transit. Or taking a lazy walk, enjoying the view, to a popular restaurant?There was so much to choose from.

Inspiration abounds from all corners of Manhattan: art galleries, Central Park, theatre, and ballet. The city was alive and never rested.

I belonged here among people from all walks of life. No one seemed to notice anyone. They carried on with their daily lives, closed off with their own troubles. No one saw me.Alone, with only my thoughts to keep me company, I walked the streets, passing strangers, ate the food, and fed the pigeons like any other typical New Yorker, continuing to be invisible, going unnoticed, unseen. I lived like a ghost. No one knew me or my secret.

No matter how hard I tried to fade into the crowd, my secret clung to me like an infectious disease. One day, my fate would come and force me to face my demise. I felt it in my bones. But for now, I carried on. Did my job and kept my opinions to myself.

***

Just as I slipped the key through the door, my cell blasted its silly ringtone,Manamana. Stupid. But it made me laugh. Hands full of two grocery sacks, I didn’t bother to look. Other than the occasional wrong number, John was the only person on my contact list. John, my handler, insisted I stay invisible,fading into the pedestrian traffic. Dress like the common folk heading to work. Blend. Never stand out.

It was a challenge to fade into the crowd with my bright ginger hair. My handler insisted I use hair color, mousey brown. That was the one time that I’d put my foot down. He could’ve shot me for my defiance, but I didn’t care. I asked for only one thing—my hair color.

To most, my imposition might’ve seemed inane. My hair was the only thing I owned. I’d never been given a recorded name, no birth certificate, no proof I existed.My identity was zero. I walked among humans, faceless. So John compromised. I wore hats.

I made a mad dash to dig my phone out of my oversize bag as I stepped inside my house.The brush of warmth rushed over me. I inhaled the soothing heat. I’d forgotten my coat this morning. The whole walk home, a stiff breeze coasted up my thin, cotton blouse, and my hands were stiff and numb. I didn’t realize how chilly Manhattan was in spring.

My stay here was only temporary. It was a shame too. I loved this beautiful brownstone that John had provided for me. The deep mahogany wood floors, bay windows,a turn of the century marbled fireplace,along with an impressive matching staircase leading to three bedrooms, was more house than I’d ever use. But the idea of filling it with family was a notion that I didn’t dare dwell on. In my line of work,family would not be doable.

It was always the same story. Never staying in one place long. Once I completed an assignment, I headed off to the next.

I supposed I was lucky. I never wanted for anything. John looked after me, taking care of the arrangements while instructing me of my duties.

I covered the V-Files. Many folks knew nothing about the existence of vampires other than film or fictional books. Little did the general consensus know the truth. Whenever an infestation arose, the Society sent me in to exterminate.

I’d just finished a job and thought I’d celebrate tonight with a special dinner and a glass of my favorite red wine, Carneros Pinot Noir.

“Ah!” I found my phone at the bottom of my bag, hidden under several items. I knocked my lipstick and billfold out of the way and dug my fingers around the phone. Swiping the green button to answer, I barked.“God! What now?” John never called for personal reasons. All business and no sense of humor.

“Must you always be so snappy?”

Holding the phone with my chin pressed against my shoulder, hands full of groceries, I used my foot to kick the door shut and made my way into the small galley kitchen. I mindlessly dropped the groceries on the counter and blew a long strand of hair out of my face. “Let me guess. You have another assignment for me.”

“Aren’t you on your game today? Now be a good girl and pack your things. I’ve already arranged for your flight. Your landlord, Ms. Wilson, is aware of your departure. By tomorrow, she won’t remember that you ever existed.”

“You mean erasing her memory? After flashing that little gismo in her face, the poor woman won’t remember her dog’s name. How can you do that to an innocent person and sleep at night? What about the long-term effect?”

“Your landlord doesn’t have a dog,” he said drily.

“That’s not my point.”

“Out of bounds. You’re out of bounds, Phoenix. You don’t get to complain or even have an opinion. You do your job. That’s all you should concern yourself with.”

“I know. I know. A slave has no rights, right? I’m to shut up and do my job and eat all my greens.”

“You’re lucky you have me for your handler. Anyone else would’ve had you dead in a manner of seconds.”

“Yeah, yeah! I’m a lucky girl, all right. I carry an implant inside my body that has enough gun powder to blow up the whole block if I so much as veer down the wrong street. Up in smoke in a matter of seconds.” Anger coursed through me. “I get it. You and the Society have me on a tight leash.”

“I don’t make the rules, Phoen. I only enforce them.”

I rolled my eyes. “There are times I hate you.”

“Yes, but I am the only caretaker you have.”

My appetite suddenly vanished, and cynicism stepped in its place. I reached inside one of the grocery sacks, pulled out a steak wrapped in white paper and dropped it into the trashcan. I listened to the loud thud as it landed. I’d been drooling over that juicy steak and looking forward to watching a mindless movie tonight. Just a little quiet. No-fuss, no-muss, and no interruptions. I should’ve known better. I huffed out a long breath. “What’s my assignment?” Ire churned in my voice. I didn’t care if John heard my frustration. He was a stone wall when it came to my feelings anyway. Considering my needs was like a Tupperware party. It didn’t interest him.

“Your plane ticket is in your coat pocket hanging in the closet. You have a midnight flight heading to DFW Airport. From there, there will be a gentleman waiting for you holding an envelope with money and the keys to a Harley, candy apple red. You’ll leave from there and head southeast to Witch Haven, Louisiana.”

I grabbed the wine bottle out of the sack and stared at it longingly. “Never heard of the town.”

“It’s a quaint little Podunk town overrun with supernatural activity. It’s become conspicuous. Too many people are disappearing. I want you to handle it.”

“What’s my cover?”

“You are a divorced woman, setting up a pub. Your living space is above the joint. I think you’ll fit in just fine with your charm.”

“Ha, ha! Funny guy.” People kept their distance from me.Not sure if it was the vibe I seemed to put out, but folks often kept on the opposite side of the street whenever they saw me coming. Maybe it was the constant sneer on my face. I generally didn’t speak much. Less words, less explaining, less folks prying into my affairs. It was a safety precaution. Not for me but if the Society or best known as the Illuminati, discovered someone knew about their precious contrivances, he’d be dead before the sun rose the next morning.