Preview Excerpt of Blood Ties: The Second!

I know that I am really late getting Blood Ties: The Second released, so to help with that I am going to post some excerpts to my blog.  I am still working on the second Bane Pack novel as we speak, but hopefully this will help any fans stay in touch with their favorite werewolves until I can finish the book and get it published. I'll start with the preview that I have at the back of Blood Ties: The First, and then next week I will post new content.

Enjoy!

Blood Ties: The Second

Part One: Hunter

 

“Are you sure this is where it went?” Kendra hissed, trying to keep her voice low. She could feel sweat trickling down her spine from the humid, summer air.

“Shh,” Felix whispered, shooting a warning look at her.

Kendra rolled her eyes and stared at a dark alley between a CVS and a deli called The Sub Shoppe. Pretty soon they could hear a man screaming followed by the sounds of a trash can being overturned.

“That’s our cue,” Jenna said. She had a huge, eager grin on her face.

“You know your friend is slightly crazy, right?” Conor added, looking at Jenna. She shot him a dark look.

“I don’t think you really have any business throwing out the crazy coin, Mr. Gave-In-To-My-Blood-Hunger-And-Killed-People.”

He growled angrily at her but Kendra restrained him.

“Quit fighting, both of you,” she whispered to them. “Everyone needs to be focused.”

“But…,” he tried to say.

“You deserved it, now let’s go,” she commanded.

The four of them moved toward the alley where the screams were coming from. They’d been tracking a Wendigo through the city. It was a nasty, nearly hairless beast with long, pointed ears, wispy white hair and sickly yellow eyes. Its grotesquely huge maw was filled with long, yellowed fangs. From the records Jenna obtained, both its claws and its fangs secreted a clear, odorless neurotoxin that paralyzed its victims so they couldn’t run away when it devoured them. Kendra shuddered at the thought of some creature hovering over her while she was completely powerless, ready to eat the flesh off of her while she was still alive.

She breathed deeply for a second, calming herself. Then she looked to the others.

“Let’s get that thing,” she told them. Then she shifted into her monstrous wolf form, her auburn fur shining under the light of a street lamp. Felix grabbed her clothes and stuffed them into a backpack he was wearing. She saw Conor morph into his wolf/human hybrid form. Jenna whirled a pair of silver short swords while the wind picked up around Felix.

With a rough howl, Kendra moved into the alley. The rest of her team followed.

The Wendigo was a nasty piece of work. It was as horrible to look at as she feared. When it saw them coming, it backed up a step, its potential victim was a limp form on the rain-soaked alley floor.

Its eyes flashed yellow.

“Get awayss,” it hissed as it let its backward-facing knees bend and its overlong arms drag on the ground. Kendra could see its venom dripping off both its fangs and claws and made a mental note not to let them near her. “Thiss iss mine meal.”

Kendra growled.

Conor barked out a terrifying roar.

Jenna went into a casual fighting stance.

Felix’s eyes flashed bright blue.

The Wendigo stood there, hovering protectively over its next meal.

They all stood that way for a split second. Then Kendra charged. The Wendigo let out an ear-splitting sound and she recoiled. The noise pierced her skull like razor blades and she stumbled. Her giant paw slipped in a puddle and she went tumbling into the side of a dumpster. Conor didn’t fare any better. As soon as the sound left the creature’s mouth, he was on his knees with his hands clamped to the side of his head. His wolf form melted off his features and he was human again. Jenna would’ve been next, but Felix threw a cocoon of magic around themselves, protecting them from the sound wave. When the thing’s mouth snapped shut, he dropped it, reshaped his magic and sent two spinning disks of compressed air at it.

The Wendigo was fast, but not fast enough. It dodged one of the disks, but the other one severed its right arm just below the shoulder. It fell to the ground with a meaty sounding thud. Yellow ichor flowed out of the stump and it let out a pain-filled screech.

Kendra got back to her feet, her head feeling slightly dizzy. Conor’s ears trickled blood, but he managed to get back to his feet too and shift again.

The Wendigo seemed to know it had lost. It turned and tried to flee.

Kendra ran full out. There was no way in hell she was letting that thing loose in her city. She was almost to it before something flew out from behind a darkened doorway and tackled the monster to the ground. There were several shouts and grunts.

She slowed and stopped, watching events unfold. The thing that had tackled the Wendigo was just a man. Although, judging by the way he fought, a very dangerous, capable man.

The Wendigo tried to swipe one of its clawed hands at the guy, but he nimbly dodged out of the way. He clamped one of his hands on the thing’s wrist, twisted with his body, and used the monster’s own momentum against it. In the blink of an eye, the Wendigo was sailing through the air until it crashed headfirst into a brick wall. There was a sickening crunch and then it fell to the ground in a lifeless heap.

Jenna walked past the stranger and over to the Wendigo. She hovered over it, one of her swords glinting in the light cast from an overhead lamp.

Kendra clearly heard crackling pops coming from the creature and knew that it was healing its broken neck and skull.

She let out a huff of breath.

Why do these things always regenerate? she asked herself.

Before it could fully heal, Jenna took her sword and quickly severed its head. She backed away from it and turned to look at the man that had fought the Wendigo. He wasn’t looking at the monster though, he was staring in dumfounded shock at the two werewolves still in the alley with him.

“W-what’s going on?” he asked, his voice shaky. His eyes went back to the Wendigo. “What was that thing? It tried to eat my friend. And what are they?” He pointed to Kendra and Conor, although Conor had shifted back into his human form. The man looked at him questioningly, blinking his eyes. “I mean that?” He looked to Kendra.

“Don’t worry, Mr…?” Jenna asked, waiting for him to supply his name.

“Dr-Drake Harper,” he stammered. “What is that? Am I going crazy?”

“No,” Jenna responded, her voice kind and sweet. She went up to the man and gently laid a hand on the shoulder of his dirty, ragged shirt. From the way he was dressed, it was pretty clear he was homeless. His shirt was stained and had a number of rips and holes in it. His jeans were nearly shredded, and the sole was coming off one of his sneakers. His blonde hair was filthy and unkempt and he sported a rough-looking beard.

“You’re not crazy. We can explain all of this to you, if you want, but first we need to take care of your friend. We’re gonna get him to a hospital, okay? Stay here with those two,” she gestured toward Kendra and Conor. “And don’t worry about that creature. Our people are going to clean up its remains.”

The man glanced nervously at Kendra.

“Don’t worry, she’s a big puppy. She won’t hurt you,” Jenna said, smirking slightly at Kendra.

Felix went over to the injured man that the Wendigo had originally targeted. He was also homeless, his dark skin nearly ash grey. His face was seamed with wrinkles. His brown eyes were open and staring, and he had tears running down the corners of his eyes.

“He’s got a deep laceration to his side and some venom around the wound. We need to move him quickly.”

“You ready?” Jenna asked.

Felix stood back up and tossed the backpack to Kendra. She snatched it out of the air and it hung from her muzzle. She walked, almost daintily, behind a dumpster as Felix, Jenna, and the homeless man vanished in a cyclone of air. Drake’s mouth opened in a wide O of surprise.

Kendra shifted back, opened the backpack and slipped her clothes back on. Then she walked out from behind the dumpster, Conor coming up beside her.

“I’m Kendra Henner. This is Conor Dewar,” she said, trying to sound friendly. But this Drake guy wasn’t having any of it.

“What happened to the big dog?” he asked. “Was that you?”

He was rapidly getting hysterical.

“It must be the PTSD,” he mumbled to himself.

Kendra raised an eyebrow at Conor.

“We’ll explain everything,” she responded. “Just try to be calm.”

“Calm?” he cried. “I’m losing my fucking mind and you want me to be calm?”

He started advancing toward Kendra, his eyes hard and angry. Conor stepped protectively in front of her.

“I want answers,” Drake told them, becoming openly hostile now. “I’ll get them too, even if I have to wring both your necks to do it.”

He flexed his fists, popping out the muscles in his forearms. Before he could attack, however, Felix and Jenna came whirling back into the alley. Felix saw the look on Drake’s face and knew he had to do something to stop him

“Sominus,” he said, pointing at Drake. A blue spark zipped from the end of his finger and smacked into Drake’s forehead. He immediately collapsed to the ground, snoring loudly.

“What did you do?” Jenna asked, outraged. She ran to Drake, checking his vitals.

“He’s under a sleeping spell,” Felix told her. “It’ll wear off in an hour. He’ll be fine. The only reason why I did it was because he looked like he was about to attack Kendra and Conor.”

“He was,” Conor grumbled.

“Well, how would you react if you were human and been attacked by a monster only to be left with two other monsters?” she asked, getting defensive.

“We’re not monsters,” Conor replied.

“Sorry…werewolves,” she responded.

“What are you going to do with him?” Kendra asked.

“I don’t know yet,” she responded. “I can’t just leave him here. Maybe I’ll take him to my dad’s and we can talk to him there.”

“Just as long as you keep him away from us,” Kendra told her.

Jenna glared at her, but didn’t respond. She looked to Felix instead.

“Help me with him,” she ordered. Felix sighed heavily and went over to her. He bent down, placing a hand on both Jenna and Drake. “See you guys later.”

They vanished again.

Kendra turned to Conor. He smiled at her and hugged her close to him.

“Some date night huh?” he asked, kissing her.

She returned it with pleasure.

“I always knew you were a hopeless romantic. Do you always take your dates to such intimate, beautiful locales?” she joked, trying to ease her own exasperation. This was the fourth date night that Jenna had ruined, and she was beginning to think her best friend was doing it on purpose.

Jenna Bishop was a Defaeco Knight, a very secret group of Knights Templar that fought all the monsters that modern society said didn’t exist. Conor also happened to be a werewolf and one that had a very bad past. Awhile back, he’d given into his blood hunger, the wolf part of his nature that was enthralled with hunting and killing anything it came across. Because of that, he’d gotten put on the Defaeco Knight’s list of creatures that needed to be taken out, but had managed to avoid confrontation with the shady group of monster hunters. Since then, he’d cleaned himself up and reclaimed his humanity. Now he was Kendra’s boyfriend and Jenna hated that fact.

“Only the best for my girl,” Conor said, looking around at the dirty, trash-ridden alleyway. He kissed her again, but it was strained. Both of them seemed to know that Jenna was doing her best to sabotage their relationship. All the jokes in the world couldn’t ease that kind of tension on their relationship.

They waited together for a quarter of an hour before an anonymous white panel van pulled up at the mouth of the alley. The doors slid open and two Pages, or Knights-In-Training, hopped out. They were both young, barely in their twenties. One was a male that still showed signs of acne on his face. The other was a cute girl dressed in a fitted shirt with a beach scene on it and stained jeans. She was also stomping around in military-issue combat boots. She strolled up to them, a smile on her face.

“Got another one for us I see,” she said, cheerful. The guy didn’t bother talking to them. In fact, he was trying to do whatever he could to be as far away from them as he could.

Kendra immediately ran up to the girl and gave her a hug.

“Gwen!” she practically yelled, nearly jumping up and down. She’d met Gwen only a couple of months ago, just after she’d struck up her new treaty with Elijah, but it felt like she’d known her for years. With her sharp, sarcastic tongue and witty jokes, she’d been really easy to talk to and get to know. It was one of the few friendships in her life that she didn’t feel like she had to work to obtain. Instead, it had been something genuine and easy. “You didn’t tell me you were back.”

“I got in like three hours ago.” She stretched. “Man, I hate planes. My ass still feels half-numb.”

“How’d you like London?”

“It was pretty sweet,” she responded. “Loved the pubs. And the guys.”

“Mind helping me with this?” the male asked in a dry, slightly irritated voice. “Or do you want me to report back to Mr. Bishop that you aren’t capable of doing your job?”

Kendra shot the man a dark look and he immediately paled.

He turned and walked away.

“Dick,” Gwen whispered beneath her breath. She hugged Kendra again and stepped back. “I gotta help him. Call me later okay?”

“Sure,” Kendra replied.

They watched the two Pages carry off the body, the Wendigo’s severed arm tucked underneath the guy’s armpit. After the creature’s body was in the van, they came back and hosed off the yellow ichor.

Gwen said a final goodbye, and then the van drove off.

“Come on,” Conor said. “Maybe we can still salvage what’s left of our date.”

They left together, heading for the closest restaurant they could find.

| | | | |

Drake woke up in a dark room and on a mattress so soft, he practically sank into it. But maybe woke up was the wrong word. It was more like he twitched himself awake, his

body jerking uncomfortably. Visions of nightmare creatures with long talon-like claws and ripping fangs, of huge monster dogs, and half-man/half-wolf-like beings rampaged through his mind. When he woke, he could almost see them hovering in the air in front of him.

He took deep, calming breaths. He focused on breathing in and out until those wraith-like images disappeared. Then he looked around the room. It was enormous. The walls were done in rich wood paneling and expensive, designer furniture was everywhere.

He quickly got out of bed, his heart still hammering in his chest.

Where the hell am I? What is going on?

The door opened and a very pretty blonde entered. She flicked on the overhead lights, and Drake squinted a little until his eyes could adjust.

“I’m glad you’re awake,” the girl said. She looked familiar. A second later, his mind supplied the answer. Her name was Jenna Bishop, a model and one of the city’s social elite. Her father, if he remembered, ran a successful marketing/media company.

“What am I doing here?” he asked, and not pleasantly.

“You should get cleaned up. We have a lot to talk about,” she told him. She glanced at a door off to his left. “There’s a shower in there and some clean clothes. I wasn’t sure what would fit you, so if they don’t, let me know and I’ll find you something different. Oh, and there’s also clippers, shaving cream, a razor, and some deodorant.”

She left without another word, leaving Drake very confused.

He looked at himself, looked at the bathroom door, and finally gave in. It would be good to get clean. Being homeless was depressing on so many levels, but the biggest thing he hated was not being able to get clean. The grunge of living on the streets seemed to seep into his pores, like it stained him. No matter how many gas station sinks he used to clean it off, it never seemed to be enough. It was always there.

He went over to the door and opened it. The inside looked more like a five-star spa than someone’s bathroom.

He walked over to the stand-up shower, took his dirty, ragged clothes off, and stepped inside. He put the water on as hot as it would go and just let it run over his head and shoulders for a while. It felt like heaven.

He stayed in there for over an hour, cleaning and scrubbing at himself. When he got out, he toweled himself off and wrapped it around his waist. He swiped a hand over the fogged up mirror and looked at himself. His blonde hair was too long and his beard was thick and scratchy. He wasn’t used to that. He was used to his Jarhead haircut and seeing himself like that was unsettling. He didn’t even look the same.

He grabbed the clippers and took them to his beard first. He watched the hair fall lazily to the sink. Then he grabbed the shaving cream and razor and shaved the rest off. He looked at himself and after a little hesitation, grabbed the clippers again and took them to his hair. It wasn’t exactly his high and tight, but it was definitely better than his long blonde hair and he looked more like himself than he had in years.

His eyes traveled to the warped, twisted skin of his shoulder and side, the result of a severe burn he’d gotten in Afghanistan while on tour there. He rubbed his fingers over

it and all he could remember was the pain. The pain of knowing that he was burning alive. The pain of seeing all his friends dying around him.

He slammed a fist on the counter and turned away from the mirror.

He found the clothes in a neat pile on a plush seat. He quickly put them on. They were somewhat tight. He was bulkier across the chest and shoulders than their original owner, but it didn’t bother him too much. They actually looked pretty good on him. The shirt was a soft, maroon button-down that he left open at the throat and the pants were a pair of khaki slacks. He laced up the expensive leather shoes and walked out of the bathroom.

He planned to just glide out unseen and leave this over-luxurious place, but as soon as he opened the door, the girl (Jenna, he reminded himself) was there to meet him. As soon as she saw him, her eyes widened a little and she looked at him appraisingly.

“You look…,” she paused, searching for the right word, “really good.”

“Uh…thanks,” he replied, embarrassed.

Jenna just stood there for a moment, looking at him. She seemed to realize that she was staring and snapped herself out of it.

“Um…come with me,” she said, grabbing his hand. “There are some things we should probably talk about.”

The pale, talon-clawed creature shoved itself to the front of his mind, making the bomb blast he’d been in seem like child’s play by comparison. He shuddered slightly, wishing that it had been some weird, elaborate hallucination instead of reality. Judging by how serious Jenna was being, though, he doubted his mind had made up the whole thing.

Strangely, that made him feel a little better. At least he knew he wasn’t going crazy.

She led him through the enormous house and into what looked like a den. Sitting on a leather sofa was Jenna’s father, Elijah. He knew the man only by reputation and what he read in the newspapers. Apparently, cutthroat businessmen were even afraid of the guy.

As soon as Drake entered the room, however, Elijah got up and walked over to him. He held out his hand.

“Drake Harper, I’m Elijah Bishop. It’s a pleasure to be in the presence of a real American hero,” he said.

A surge of anger hit Drake at the comment. He wasn’t a hero. The only thing that made him one was being the only survivor in a blast that had killed all of his fellow soldiers and friends.

“Been reading up on me, Mr. Bishop,” Drake said, his voice dry.

“I like to be aware of who my daughter brings home,” he replied casually. It was meant to be a joke, but Drake didn’t laugh.

“Why am I here?” he said instead.

“To the point, I see. I like that in people. Not many of your type left these days.” He gestured to a chair next to him and Drake sat down.

“Would you like anything to eat? Or something to drink?” Elijah asked.

Drake ground his teeth angrily, trying to quell his rising impatience.

“If you have something you want to talk about, talk. I wouldn’t waste your time and I would appreciate it if you didn’t waste mine.”

Jenna looked at her father, uneasy. He smiled reassuringly at her.

“Of course,” Elijah said. “You’ll have to excuse me. The nature of our conversation is somewhat delicate. I thought easing you into it would be more practical. I apologize.”

“What did I see tonight?” Drake asked. “I thought I was losing my mind, but the way you people have been acting is telling me that it was all real. Right?”

“I’m afraid so,” Elijah replied, his voice weirdly calm. “Humans have fought hard to make themselves believe that the monsters in the legends and myths of old are all fake, made up fairy-tales. It makes them feel better. My organization, for lack of a better word, was formed to take care of the things that prey on humans. We’ve been around for centuries.”

“Monsters are real?” Drake asked. He would’ve loved to disbelieve the man or to write him off as some eccentric millionaire, but the things he saw (and couldn’t stop remembering) were telling him that Elijah was speaking the truth. “And your organization fights them?”

“I belong to the Order of the Defaeco Knights, a very ancient sect of the Knights Templar. My daughter is one as well. We protect people, Mr. Harper. It is an old calling, but everyone that joins is dedicated to our mission,” Elijah explained. He looked very seriously at Drake. “You asked me if I’ve been reading up on you and you’re right. I have been. You were a Gunnery Sergeant in the United States Marine Corps. You’ve received numerous commendations and medals, including a Purple Heart. You’ve done two tours of duty in Afghanistan, but during your last one, your platoon was caught by an IED. You were the only survivor. You were married, but during your first tour of duty, your wife was mauled and killed in an animal attack. Since returning to the States, you’ve held several different jobs but none of them for more than a week. You have no current address and, judging by your appearance when my daughter brought you here, no means to support yourself.”

“What exactly are you saying?” Drake asked. He was angry that this man knew so much about him, but there didn’t seem to be a whole lot he could do about it. He was angrier, however, at the fact that he brought up Lora. That was a wound that never stopped hurting and just hearing her name was enough to grind the knife in so deep it made it hard for him to breathe.

“You are a hero, Mr. Harper, whether you want to admit it or not. When the Wendigo attacked your friend tonight, you fought it. Not many people would do that. You have training. You have courage. You have everything we look for in a new recruit,” Elijah said. “I want you to join the Order.”

Drake looked from Elijah and then to Jenna. They were clearly serious about the proposal. He didn’t hesitate or waste any more time giving them his answer.

“No,” he promptly said.

He got up and started walking out the door.

“I’ll pay you back for the clothes,” he told them as he walked out of the room.

He was almost to the door when Jenna caught up to him.

“What are you doing?” she asked, angry. “My father is giving you a chance to make a real difference. You can change your life and you’re just going to throw that all away?”

He ripped his arm out of her grip and got right in her face.

“Why should I protect humans?” he shouted. “That thing I fought doesn’t pretend to be anything other than what it is. Humans,” he laughed mockingly. “Humans are the worst monsters on this planet. Humans trick children into blowing themselves up. They will murder, rape, torture, or slaughter other people just for kicks. Why the hell should I try and save humanity? We’re a virus that won’t stop consuming and ravaging this world until nothing is left.”

He opened the door and was in the hallway.

Jenna spoke and he froze in place, listening to her.

“You’ve seen people do bad things and I’m sorry about that, but there is still hope for people. They are still good. They don’t deserve to be hunted and killed by things they have no protection against.”

Drake paused for a long time, thinking on her words. All the horrors he’d witnessed in his life seemed to jump into his mind, disgusting him even further. He remembered all the pain he’d been through. So much pain. Losing his wife, watching people do horrible things to each other, seeing his friends being killed ruthlessly, watching his platoon get blown up. All of it.

“Yes,” he replied, “they do.”

He walked away from her and didn’t look back.

That concludes this week's excerpt. Stay tuned next week and I will post some more.  Thanks.

Rustin