The Sword of Anubis
Please, India, tell me what you know.
She raised her chin and looked into his eyes. I know nothing.
Morgan shook his head. She was lying. Frustration welled up inside him. He wanted
to scream. He wanted to take her by the shoulders and shake the information out of her.
He ran a hand through his disheveled hair. Most of it pulled free from the tie at the back
to fall across his face.
Violence would not get him what he wanted. He made a placating gesture with his
hands and took a deep breath. When he spoke again, his voice was ragged with the
strain of the long, hard road he d taken to find the vampire. Nicolai was once my
father s friend. He murdered him the same way he killed your grandfather. For months
I have tracked him and tried to get close enough to kill him. I almost had him in
London. He must not escape again. He stared at her, willing her to see the pain and the
need in his eyes. Tell me what you know, please. I will avenge your family as well as
my own.
India shook her head. I don t know that I can trust you, Morgan. It could mean the
end of my life. Or worse. Nicolai Kesslanski might get his hands on the one thing that
has the power to make him invincible. That same power is the only thing capable of
destroying him. If he gets his hands on it... She shuddered. No. I have to protect it.
Please, India. Morgan s eyes beseeched her.
India hesitated. I am sorry. I cannot tell you what you want to know.
1
Brittany Kingston
The Sword of Anubis © 2008 by Brittany Kingston
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted
in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including
photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system,
without permission in writing from the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places and incidents either
are the product of the author s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any
resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is
entirely coincidental.
An Eternal Press Production
Eternal Press
206 - 6059 Pandora St.
Burnaby, British Columbia, Canada,
V5B 1M4
To order additional copies of this book, contact:
www. eternalpress.ca
Cover Art © 2008 by Ally Robertson
Edited by Deborah Nemeth
Copyedited by Sherri Good
Layout and Book Production by Ally Robertson
eBook ISBN: 978-1-897559-38-3
First Edition * September 2008
Production by Eternal Press
Printed in Canada and The United States of America.
2
The Sword of Anubis
Brittany Kingston
3
Brittany Kingston
Also by Brittany Kingston:
Where the Night Things Are
Whisperings of the Soul
The Music Box , Paranormal Bedtime Stories Anthology
Coming Soon
Shadow on the Crystal
4
The Sword of Anubis
Dedication:
To Tiger, Nigg and Mickey, Dixi and Rambo, C.J. and McCaffrey, Oscar and the fishy
dudes, all of whom enrich my life with love and laughter every day.
5
Brittany Kingston
Morgan de Ventana scanned the crowded Place du Carrousel, his dark eyes narrowed
against the glare. The street urchins he d paid to be his ears and eyes returned with
rumors of an uprising. Paris was in the grip of a growing spirit of hatred, and violence
was a tangible scent in the air.
Intimations that the Bastille would be attacked hung in whispers from every corner.
Soon, blood would be shed in the streets, and Morgan wanted to be away from Paris
before that happened.
A furtive movement caught his attention. It was a mere silhouette within the
darkness, but it was enough. He turned the collar of his black leather coat up to hide his
face. The sun descended towards the horizon, causing shadows to slink across the
streets. Nicolai Kesslanski wouldn t step into the open yet.
Morgan hunched his shoulders and moved closer to the wall of the Cour des
Tuileries. He cursed the inherent height that set him head and shoulders above most
men. It wasn t always possible for him to be ambiguous in a crowd.
As the shadows deepened, Morgan followed Nicolai along Rue du Carousel. He
knew if he got too close, Nicolai would sense his presence, so he stayed as far back as he
dared. Still, he didn t want to lose sight of him. It had been easy to track him along the
winding, narrow lanes, but as the crowd thinned, it proved more difficult to remain
unseen. When his quarry slipped around the corner into a major carriageway, Morgan
flattened himself against the corner building to watch. He would be exposed if he tried
to cross the street now.
Nicolai approached a row of carriages and paused to talk to the driver. Morgan held
his breath. If Nicolai took a cab, there would be no way he could keep up on foot. He
6
The Sword of Anubis
was desperate not to lose him again. The horses tossed their heads, uneasy in the
presence of the predator.
Nicolai laughed with the cab driver, then walked on, confident in his anonymity.
Morgan let his breath hiss out through his teeth and followed him along a short,
narrow lane, where every doorway had steps that led down into the street and a small
alcove at the top. He didn t care if anyone saw him run from alcove to alcove. It was
more important that he not be seen by Nicolai.
It had been a long time since the two of them had met face to face. Last time Morgan
cornered him, the ensuing battle had nearly torn The Kindred s London safe house
from its foundations. Nicolai had almost killed him that time. Morgan had been forced
to run and hide in the hope he would recover and grow strong enough to hunt him
down again. Hatred burned in his soul like a beacon. If he wasn t careful, Nicolai would
sense it and know he had been found.
Morgan clenched his fists against his need for revenge. He wanted to spill Nicolai
Kesslanski s blood so bad he could almost smell it, but first, he needed to know what
had drawn the vampire to Paris.
The vile creature skirted the triangular block. The way he stopped to read the street
numbers suggested he sought a particular address.
Morgan kept to the shadows and waited.
Twilight deepened as the descending sun set fire to the cloudy sky. Some boutique
owners were locking up for the evening but most of the sidewalk cafés were already
deserted. Nicolai slunk into a small book shop.
Morgan braced himself in an alcove across the street and took out his spyglass. He
had to hold his breath to still his hand. Nicolai never left witnesses to his evil business.
Everyone inside that shop was in danger.
A glance revealed an elderly proprietor and a young woman behind the counter, but
no customers. Morgan centered his circle of vision on Nicolai. He seemed to be engaged
in an argument with the old man.
Morgan snapped the spy glass closed. He crossed the carriageway and pressed
himself against the building next to the shop. He could hear Nicolai s voice raised in
anger. He fought down his desire to race into the shop and confront him. He was so
close that the hair on the back of his neck prickled, but he could ill afford to rush this. If
he made a mistake now, Nicolai would flee and the chase would start all over again.
Morgan splayed his hands against the warm stone of the building and tried to let a
measure of its patient solidity seep into his bones.
Give it to me. I know you have it.
I have no such thing. The older man s voice trembled despite his show of bravado.
I know nothing of these matters.
You lie!
No, m sieur, you are mistaken.
Do you take me for a fool? I will tear this place apart if I have to.
Please, m sieur, I beg of you, for the sake of my granddaughter, leave our shop in
peace.
7
Brittany Kingston
Peace! I ll give you peace.
A sudden icy blast made Morgan s coat billow around him like the wings of a large
bird of prey. A shadow flew from the door and was gone into the dusk. Morgan sprang
into pursuit, but a scream tore through the fabric of the street clatter making him skid to
a halt. He paused to glance over his shoulder at the shop. When he looked back for his
quarry, the shadow had gone. He cursed his lost opportunity. Nicolai was too
dangerous to lose sight of.
Morgan slipped into the book shop. The young woman was kneeling beside a prone
figure.
My Grandfather, she sobbed. Help me, m sieur.
Morgan crouched and gently turned the old man onto his back. Where his throat
should have been was a grizzly, gaping hole. He rose and, with a fatherly arm around
her shoulders, drew the young woman away from the blood that pooled on the floor.
I am sorry, mademoiselle. There is nothing I can do.
Did...did you see him? The girl looked up with large, tear-filled eyes. He...he
went... She pointed a shaking finger.
Several soldiers ran into the shop shouting, creating needless chaos. When the
carnage was assessed, one of them was sent to fetch a doctor. Two gendarmes pushed
their way through the soldiers and tried to clear the scene of everyone who didn t need
to be there. In the confusion, Morgan guided the young woman into a chair.
The older of the two gendarmes pulled another chair across to sit beside her. Concern
deepened the map of lines etched into his face. Can you tell me what happened,
ma moiselle?
Morgan stood behind the chair with his hands on the young woman s shoulders as
she answered the questions in a voice devoid of emotion. His mind wasn t on her, the
shop, or on the old man. He wondered how far away Nicolai was and how much
further he d get each moment he tarried. Had he lost him? Had all these hard months of
tracking come to naught because, for one moment, he d been distracted by a young
woman s distress?
A doctor finally appeared. He performed a cursory examination of the body and
pronounced the man dead of a dog attack. He took a swig from his hip flask and wove
his way back out onto the street. At the gendarmes insistence, the soldiers arranged for
a hearse to carry the corpse to the mortuary.
When everybody had gone, Morgan closed the shop door and bolted it. Can I escort
you anywhere, ma moiselle?
She shook her head.
Is there anyone I can fetch to stay with you?
Again, she shook her head.
Morgan frowned. He didn t want the burden of caring for this girl, but his conscience
wouldn t allow him to leave her alone after she d witnessed such horror. Where do
you live, ma moiselle?
Above.
Are you sure there is nobody I can call? A friend, perhaps?
8
The Sword of Anubis
Her brown grief-stricken eyes looked up at him. There is was only my
grandfather and I, m sieur. Thank you for your kindness, but I will be all right. She
rose to see him to the door.
Morgan admired her determination not to appear weak, but when she swayed and
had to grasp the back of the chair for support, he was quick to come to her aid.
No. She waved him away.
Morgan s frown deepened. At least allow me to pour a drink for you.
I will do it, m sieur. Tea, I think. Will you join me?
Morgan had a shot of whiskey or brandy in mind, but he nodded. In the corner, he
spied a mop and bucket. No doubt the young woman was preparing to scrub the floor
after the shop closed for the night. How quickly our dull little routines of life can be
destroyed, he thought. While he waited for her to emerge from the kitchen at the rear of
the shop, Morgan cleaned away the traces of Nicolai s latest victim.
The young woman reappeared and placed a laden tray on the reading table in the
centre of the shop. India, she said.
Pardon ma moiselle?
My name. India. She poured two cups of tea. My parents had a passion for
travel. She placed a cup in front of him with hands that still trembled. It could have
been worse, m sieur. My mother had a great fondness for Timbuktu.
Morgan laughed. I am Morgan de Ventana.
Then you are a foreigner. And the man you followed here?
Morgan regarded her. How do you know I followed him?
I saw you across the street. Her expression hardened. Who is he?
Nicolai Kesslanski.
India nodded as though confirming a long-held fear.
She reached for the milk jug but Morgan gripped her wrist. You are not surprised.
No. India pulled away from Morgan s grasp and sank onto the chair. It is a name
I know well. That man killed my parents in the most horrible way. Grandfather said he
would return one day to finish what he started, m sieur.
Call me Morgan. Why did he kill them? What does he want?
She stared down at the table. How should I know?
You know.
India offered the milk jug to Morgan. When he declined, she poured milk into her
own tea and sipped it, careful to keep her eyes averted.
India, please, you must tell me.
There is nothing to tell.
Please, India, tell me what you know.
She raised her chin and looked into his eyes. I know nothing.
Morgan shook his head. She was lying. Frustration welled up inside him. He wanted
to scream. He wanted to take her by the shoulders and shake the information out of her.
He ran a hand through his disheveled hair. Most of it pulled free from the tie at the back
to fall across his face.
9
Brittany Kingston
Violence would not get him what he wanted. He made a placating gesture with his
hands and took a deep breath. When he spoke again, his voice was ragged with the
strain of the long, hard road he d taken to find the vampire. Nicolai was once my
father s friend. He murdered him the same way he killed your grandfather. For months
I have tracked him and tried to get close enough to kill him. I almost had him in
London. He must not escape again. He stared at her, willing her to see the pain and the
need in his eyes. Tell me what you know, please. I will avenge your family as well as
my own.
India shook her head. I don t know that I can trust you, Morgan. It could mean the
end of my life. Or worse. Nicolai Kesslanski might get his hands on the one thing that
has the power to make him invincible. That same power is the only thing capable of
destroying him. If he gets his hands on it... She shuddered. No. I have to protect it.
Please, India. Morgan s eyes beseeched her.
India hesitated. I am sorry. I cannot tell you what you want to know.
Morgan stared down into the delicate cup he held. He had an almost overwhelming
desire to crush it to pieces. I understand. I am a stranger, and for all you know, I could
be a friend of that animal s. He glanced into her eyes. Please, believe that I am not. I
am an honorable man, India, and I need your help to destroy the beast that Nicolai
Kesslanski has become.
He sipped his cooling tea. How much should he tell her? How much violence and
tragedy could she take in one evening? Why should he even care? He had his own
demons to vanquish, and baring his soul to a woman simply wasn t his way. But he was
convinced that she either knew, or had, something that could help him, and unless she
told him, Nicolai could once more slip through his grasp.
Morgan took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I will trust you with what I know,
then I will ask that you trust me in return.
India watched him in silence.
Nicolai was not only my father s friend. He was his partner. They worked for the
Museum of Madrid as archeologists, until something happened to them on an
expedition in Russia. My father returned alone and said that Nicolai was dead. He
never spoke of how, and the body was not recovered.
Morgan gulped the rest of his tea down. Three years later, Nicolai appeared at our
door and demanded that my father give him an artifact he had found in Egypt. My
father refused and Nicolai, he hesitated, ripped his throat out. Two years later when
my mother was on her deathbed, she whispered to me of a dagger hidden in a box
beneath the floorboards of our cellar. She gave me the key and made me promise not to
rest until that unspeakable evil was vanquished from this world. She told me I had to
find a book in which were written the words that would give the dagger the power to
send that evil monster back to the underworld where he belongs.
India gasped. The sword of Anubis.
Morgan stared at her. You know of it?
10
The Sword of Anubis
India nodded. My grandfather spoke of a dagger said to be made from the tip of the
sword of Anubis, Egyptian God of the underworld. He searched for it for most of his
life, hoping it would not fall into the wrong hands.
Morgan put his hand inside his shirt and took the dagger from a leather sheath
hidden against his body. He placed it on the table.
India picked the dagger up and turned it over in her hands. Her fingers traced the
ivory hilt that was carved into a likeness of Anubis. She handed it back to Morgan.
He slid the dagger back into its holster. India, did Nicolai come here for this
dagger?
No. She sat for a moment, worrying her lower lip with her teeth. She took a deep
breath and rose from the table. Come with me.
Morgan followed her through the kitchen and up a narrow flight of stairs to the
living quarters.
In her grandfather s small office, India walked over to a painting on the wall. My
grandmother, she said as she removed it. She took a letter opener from the desktop
and slit the wall paper. She peeled it down to reveal a compartment beneath, then took
a tiny key from the chain around her neck and unlocked it.
Morgan watched as she opened the secret door and removed a heavy package
wrapped in oil skin.
India placed the package on the desk and unwrapped it. She stood aside to allow
Morgan to see. The Book of Whispers.
Morgan ran his hands over the well-preserved binding. There was a likeness of
Anubis tooled into the leather and Egyptian hieroglyphs underneath it. He opened the
cover and looked at the ancient scripture. This is what Nicolai killed your grandfather
for?
Yes. She turned to a page halfway through the book and pointed to a hand-painted
illumination of the dagger. Your father was killed for the dagger, and my father and
grandfather for this book. Together, these artifacts have great power.
Morgan stared at the hieroglyphs he couldn t read.
India gave Morgan a sad smile. She ran her finger along the text and translated, Oh
vilest of the undead, with these words, I cast you into the underworld.
India continued in the ancient language of Egypt, and Morgan could almost hear the
whispered voice of Anubis himself. The leather sheath heated up beneath his shirt to
the point where he removed the dagger to prevent it from burning him. Holding its
ivory handle, he watched the metal blade take on a dull red glow before it brightened to
white hot. A golden aura appeared around them. When India stopped speaking, the
aura disappeared and the metal cooled. Morgan touched it. It was just an ordinary
blade again.
India closed the book and rewrapped it. My father and grandfather made certain I
knew how to read it. She looked up into Morgan s face. Nicolai suspects the book is
here. I am certain he will return for it. She shuddered.
But he doesn t know I have the blade. Morgan drew her into his arms and rested
his chin against her head. And he doesn t know I have tracked him down. I will not
11
Brittany Kingston
leave you unprotected, India. Together we will find a way to send him into the
underworld. The book acted as a barrier of propriety between them, making him feel
safe from the intimacy of their contact. He drew back so he could look down into her
eyes. You believe me, do you not?
I do. I only wish I was as confident as you of defeating him.
Morgan pulled India close, comforting her and finding comfort in her nearness. It
had been two years since he d been in the arms of a woman, and he liked the way
India s tall, willowy body fit against his own. Her warmth ignited feelings he d
suppressed more out of necessity than any desire for celibacy. Unbidden passion now
stirred and hardened in his groin.
India had never been held by a man. How was she supposed to feel? What was she
supposed to do? No-one had ever told her it would feel this good. Parts of her body
tingled with needs she d only ever heard whispered about. When his manhood
hardened against her, she pulled away from his embrace, her face aflame to match his
heat. She stepped back to straighten her skirt.
With a husky laugh, Morgan drew her into his arms again and kissed her lips. He
didn t know why he did it, but he felt he had to. He released her, watching for a sign
that she was displeased with him. She blushed, but didn t move away.
India smiled and shyly touched her fingertips to her lips. It grows late, Morgan.
Will you stay for a meal?
I would like that.
Good. Her brow furrowed. I will have to get used to eating alone now that
Grandfather is... India let the words trail off into a sigh. She took a deep breath and
started down the stairs. There will be funeral arrangements to make tomorrow. She
sighed again.
I wish there was more I could do.
Oh no, Morgan. You have been most kind. India walked through the kitchen and
out into the book shop. Although she hadn t lit the lamps, the glow from the street light
outside was sufficient to see by. She hugged the precious book close to her chest. I
must put this somewhere safe first.
I will keep it safe. Nicolai Kesslanski stepped from the shadows. Give it to me.
No! India jumped back. How did you get in?
Nicolai advanced, holding his hand out for the book.
Morgan pulled India into his arms for protection.
Surprised, Nicolai halted. Morgan de Ventana, how nice to see you again.
The pleasure is all mine, Nicolai. As he pushed India behind him, he whispered,
Read the words.
India opened the book to the place marked by a ribbon. She had rehearsed this
moment over and over in her mind. Her shaking fingers traced the hieroglyphs. This
was not how she d pictured the scenario would go. In her imagination, she had always
been much bolder.
12
The Sword of Anubis
Morgan glanced back at the page. It was too dark to read the scripture, but he could
still make out the illumination of the dagger. He prayed that India knew the words by
heart.
Hoping to take Nicolai by surprise, Morgan launched himself at the vampire and
knocked him to the floor. Say the words, he yelled over his shoulder.
Nicolai managed to pull his knees up to his chest. With a thrust of his legs, he sent
Morgan flying backwards against one of the heavy bookshelves. It swayed, then
toppled, coming to rest against the next row of shelves.
Books rained down on Morgan. He put his arms over his head for protection,
expecting the bookcase to land on him. When it didn t, he scrambled out, pulling the
dagger from its sheath.
Nicolai turned to stare at India. The open tome was balanced on one hand and her
other hand rested on the exposed page; her eyes were closed. Nicolai recognized the
words she spoke. Stop!
India faltered. She glanced up.
Read! yelled Morgan. He grabbed Nicolai from behind and threw him to the floor.
India squeezed her eyes shut and chanted the scripture out loud. Shadows seethed
around the shop. A deep whisper echoed the words she spoke. The dagger in Morgan s
hand glowed white hot, and an eerie gold luminescence enveloped them.
Enraged, Nicolai flew at Morgan. He tore the scarf knotted around his neck to expose
the flesh beneath.
Morgan struggled, fighting to keep his throat out of reach. He only had to hold out
long enough for the words to work their magic. He gauged his moment to plunge the
dagger into Nicolai s chest, but the vampire was quicker.
Nicolai caught Morgan s wrist in an iron-like grip. He wrenched Morgan around by
the arm and threw him against the shop counter where he lay stunned. Sneering,
Nicolai lunged for him, but somehow, Morgan found the strength to roll out of reach at
the last moment.
The dagger threw off sparks. If he didn t use it now, the moment would pass.
India chanted the words. Her voice gained strength as her desperation grew. The
deep whisper also strengthened. No longer just echoing her words, the unseen presence
now led the incantation.
Although Morgan feared for India s life, he knew she wouldn t falter. His own
strength had all but drained from him, and he was sure he wouldn t last much longer.
A tall shadow detached itself from the gathering darkness. The strong, resonant
voice that had joined India s belonged to the materializing form.
The shadow of Anubis fell over Nicolai Kesslanski. As he turned, horror blanched his
already pallid features.
Morgan seized this opportunity. He summoned what strength he had left and
plunged the dagger into the middle of Nicolai s back.
There was an awful moment of silence. The last word was spoken. Blue fire flared
from the dagger and the vampire screamed in terror. He twisted and flailed, trying to
clutch at the ivory hilt in futile desperation.
13
Brittany Kingston
Anubis waved his hand. Blackness deeper than night descended over them all.
When the unnatural darkness lifted, Nicolai Kesslanski was gone.
Morgan reached for India and clung to her.
Anubis turned toward them, his canine eyes glowing gold. He retrieved the dagger
from the floor and sheathed it in a holster slung around his hip. Without a word, he
held out his hands.
India laid the open book in his paw-like hands and looked up into his face with great
reverence.
Anubis closed the book with loving care. He bowed his head then stepped back into
the shadows.
Morgan ran to the counter and fumbled to light the table lamps. The smell of warm
kerosene pervaded the shop as the amber glow of the lanterns chased the shadows
away.
India threw her arms around Morgan s neck and kissed him on the lips. It is done,
Morgan. It is over at last.
Morgan returned the kiss, still unable to think clearly.
They both jumped when the lock on the shop door burst apart. The door swung open
and wind swirled in from the night.
Standing before them, with a ghastly grin on his face, was India s grandfather. The
hole in his throat was now bloodless but still agape, revealing ragged bone and
dangling sinews.
What shall we have for supper, Indi?
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The Sword of Anubis
About the Author
Author, artist and Gypsy stone reader, Brittany Kingston has won countless
competitions for poetry and short stories in several genres, most of which have
appeared in publications both online and in print. Her articles on the art of writing
have been published in magazines and ezines all over the world. When she s not
chasing cattle all over Glenloth or creating elemental spiritual artworks in ink,
Brittany Kingston immerses herself in her science fiction writing and follows her
alien characters through countless adventures all over the multiverse. Her poetry
anthologies Where the Night Things Are and Whisperings of the Soul are currently
available from Eternal Press, along with her short story The Music Box , which is
included in the Paranormal Bedtime Stories Anthology.
You can find Brittany online at http://www.freewebs.com/brittanykingston.
Her official blog site is http://authorsmind.blogspot.com.
15
Coming soon from Eternal Press
by Brittany Kingston
For years Whisper has hunted his arch enemy, the vampire Santez de Aragon. Whisper intends
to kill the vile murderer and put an end to his evil ways once and for all.
Katherine Browning finds herself attracted to the tall, handsome Gypsy, who wards off the
unwelcome attentions of her brother s tutor. But soon she discovers that Whisper is not what he
appears to be.
Whisper tightened his grip on his sword. I will never be like you.
Santez circled their tight arena. You are me. Do not deny you lust for blood the same way I
do. You crave it. You take it wherever you can. You can t get enough of it. His eyes, like
embers, ignited when his gaze came to rest on the frightened face of the girl. So much the
sweeter when virginal, no? His stare challenged Whisper. Deny that you want to drink her
blood. Deny that you want it so bad you can already taste it.
Whisper glanced at Katherine. The haunted gaze that caught at the edge of his vision sent a
chill up his spine.
Deny it!
Whisper? Katherine took a step backwards.
Santez laughed. Tell her what you are, gypsy.
Enough, Santez! Your quarrel is with me. He lunged forward swinging the sword, but
Santez moved quicker. By the time the six-span blade had completed its arc, Whisper found
Santez between himself and Katherine.
Nothing would have pleased Santez more than to have seized the girl and taken her right in
front of Whisper, but the gypsy demanded all his concentration, and the girl slipped beyond his
reach. He snarled, half crouching, ready to spring. I should have made you wholly a vampire
when I had the chance.
You were never strong enough, Santez. My will was stronger than yours then, and it is even
stronger now. Try me.
No. Santez s voice was a low growl; his instinct for blood was overtaking his reason. He
fought it. He had to keep control. I no longer desire your company for eternity. I shall rip your
throat out and feast on your heart tonight.
The Sword of Anubis
Available now from Eternal Press
by L. A. Wilson
Lorne Jagger meets a spellbinding stranger in an inn Seńor Altair Salvar, a vampire
from the terrible days of the Spanish Inquisition. Mesmerized by Altair s charismatic
power, Jagger begins a strange relationship with him, a battle of wills between human
and immortal a battle for immortality, or a trip into obsession and dark desires?
For when Jagger learns the true nature of the Spaniard, he becomes obsessed with the
desire to be made nosferatu, an obsession that drags his wife and friends down with
him into a place of murder and lies. And yet there is something far more profound to
this vampire than Jagger could ever know until he discovers the true meaning of the
words In Blood Covenant.
Jagger stood paralysed in Altair s arms, feeling the pain of the bite now dulling to a
throbbing ache, everything changing inside him as Altair s teeth penetrated the nerves
that carried the messages of pain to his mind, messages speaking deeper to his now
altered consciousness.
He felt the bite course through his entire body, down every pathway of nerves and
flesh. He did not struggle against this penetrating sensation; he fell into it, suddenly
lived in it, swallowed, devoured. Dying?
He heard Altair s deep moan of pleasure, felt his hand stroking through his hair, all
of him taken, embraced by a power beyond knowing as the vampire stripped away
everything that remained of normal life within him. He found life in this moment close
to death, and he slumped in a strange peace, releasing all of his pain into Altair s
mouth.
17
Brittany Kingston
Available now from Eternal Press
by Kristin Battestella
Antonio Welshire was sadistic even before Mestiphles turned him into a vampire. Over
the centuries, the patriarch has had his favorites his tormented wife Elizabeth and her
exotic sister Ann, just to name a few. Victoria's whims rival that of her father's, but
daughter Samantha spends the decades looking for an end to her macabre existence.
Not all of Antonio's dark children want to be part of the Vampire Family. They've
survived coven wars and persecutions, but can they survive each other?
Catherine? Antonio s shadowy figure stood at her door. The tiny flame shortened
in a clump of wax as the maid looked up.
Yes, sir? She set down her quill. You sound different, sir. Are you ill?
Yes. He stepped toward her. I need your help.
The dim light shined in his face. He couldn t see. His eyes felt bloodshot, and his
hands seemed pale as the candle flickered. He put his hands on Catherine s arms. She
felt warm to his cold touch. Sharp teeth cut the inside of his lips.
Antonio s voice trembled. His hands shook. I need your help.
Of course, sir. She put her arms on his, but Antonio shook and felt the muscles of
his forearm clench. What can I do? Here, sit down.
His arms came around her waist. Antonio heard her blood rush and saw her face
flush. He put his head down on her chest. She trembled, but held Antonio s head.
Such overwhelming! He spoke more to himself than Catherine. His words and hot
breath were muffled against her. Now I know what Mestiphles meant. I know what to
do. I need to do it. I have to have it!
I ll get some water. Catherine was about to get up, but Antonio clenched his hands
tighter around her.
No, he said hoarsely. His nails dug into her sides, and she winced. Antonio relaxed
18
The Sword of Anubis
his grip, and she allowed his hands to roam. He unlaced her dressing gown. His hands
stopped shaking, and bewitched, Catherine gave him total control. He pulled the
loosened gown off her shoulders and swept Catherine to her feet in one swift motion.
Yes, he knew she was captivated and paralyzed. He could be so frightening, yet
masculine and desirable. Antonio put his head to her neck and bit the pumping jugular.
She flinched, but her blood flowed into Antonio s mouth. The short life drain was
ecstatic, but soon grew empty. Her life was now in him.
Antonio let Catherine s limp body fall to the bed. He had her, and now he wanted
more.
19
Brittany Kingston
Available now from Eternal Press
Where The Night Things Are
by Brittany Kingston
Fun poems that explore all things dark and spooky. For those of you who love a good
horror story, ghost tale or just a little paranormal creepiness, enjoy these poems about
things that go bump in the night&
Gargoyles Watch
When skies grow dark
and cobble stones gleam
in the circles of brilliance
around street lamps,
gargoyles blink
grey, stony eyes
and stretch day-cramped
muscles.
20
The Sword of Anubis
Unseen by all
who scurry below,
they watch
with creaking smiles
as day dwellers
leave streets, alleys
and lanes
empty.
When all but the
night creatures have
scuttled away, they unfold
lichen-clothed wings
and glide from their
watch posts to gather
on rooftops to
talk.
Empty eyes know
the sins of the city, and
stone hearts are heavy
as stiff lips speak
in moss-toned voices of
wrongs that need righting
and plights of
despair.
21
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