“The same reason why the other side will send agents,” Evelyn said. “To figure out what we are up to.”
“Is that why you accepted their offer?” Grace asked.
The lady had been invited by the staff to create a whole series of art pieces. Evelyn was a master painter and sculptor, and had the opportunity to create works that would catch the eyes of guests for decades.
“Of course not,” Evelyn said before giggling. “First and foremost, I’m bored.”
“So why not have a bit of fun while he’s off to war?”
“Exactement,” Evelyn said. (Exactly.) “Besides, if it helps the cause…”
Disclaimer: This novel is an work in progress and readers may encounter grammatical errors and inconsistencies. Please view this a draft and not a published work.
The allure of The Grand was its neutral status. Vampires on opposing sides of the conflict were said to be safe within these walls. Having the telephone bugged says otherwise.
“I suspect every room is bugged,” Evelyn replied. “When they are done, I suspect this wand will always glow red.”
She suspected that some would view that as being neutral. No one has an advantage over another.
“Then why are we here?” Grace said.
“The same reason why the other side will send agents,” Evelyn said. “To figure out what we are up to.”
Disclaimer: This novel is an work in progress and readers may encounter grammatical errors and inconsistencies. Please view this a draft and not a published work.
“I will not tolerate any further lapses in etiquette, Grace,” Evelyn said. “Am I clear?”
“Y-y-yes, mistress,” Grace said.
From a hidden pocket built into the side of their travel bags Grace produced a little metallic cylinder and handed it to Evelyn. The lady took a sip of blood from a flask, and within a minute the device emitted a soft blue glow.
“Be a dear and draw my bath,” Evelyn said.
Evelyn made her rounds through the room, the water closet, and the adjoining maids quarters. The colour remained consistent until she approached the bed. The device transitioned to a purple and devolved further into a bright red as she neared.
Disclaimer: This novel is an work in progress and readers may encounter grammatical errors and inconsistencies. Please view this a draft and not a published work.
The maid opened the door and took a quick look down both ends of the hallway. After confirming they were alone, she went back inside and barred the door.
“All clear, Evelyn,” the maid said.
“Pardon?” Evelyn said in Parisian French.
While the tone was harsh, and her eyebrow was clocked and that impish smile confirmed it was part of the act. Nevertheless Evelyn moved her lips to say ‘Sorry’ and slapped her maid hard across the face.
“M-m-my apologies, m-m-mistress!”
Evelyn cupped one of her ears, before using her hand to make an all around signal. The maid nodded, and went for their bag.
Disclaimer: This novel is an work in progress and readers may encounter grammatical errors and inconsistencies. Please view this a draft and not a published work.
The courtier walked out on the hall and shortly thereafter a long progression of rough two dozen staff walked in carrying in bags and that was followed by several pairs carrying steamer trunks. All of it was stacked neatly by the door, and every single one retreated from sight before either of the women could say anything.
With the last man done, the courtier lingered long enough to ensure there were no additional instructions. When it became clear they were ignoring him, he excused himself and closed the door behind him.
This concluded the first of what would be many training sessions. Maxwell, the night concierge, felt it was best to work up the night staff in dealing with difficult clients. This happened to be the same demographic who tend to decapitate waiters due to their tone.
Disclaimer: This novel is an work in progress and readers may encounter grammatical errors and inconsistencies. Please view this a draft and not a published work.
“We are aware,” the maid said. “That being said, if my mistress were to discover that she was deceived…”
The rest was left unsaid to leave plenty to the imagination. While the power behind that threat was at war, in his element, they saw no need to volunteer that detail.
“Understood, my lady,” the courtier replied. “Permission—(to bring in your bags.)”
“Be quick about it,” the maid said.
Disclaimer: This novel is an work in progress and readers may encounter grammatical errors and inconsistencies. Please view this a draft and not a published work.
“She is,” the younger one said. “This room barely qualifies as furnished.”
The man tugged at his high collar and cleared his throat. Meanwhile only the maid looked at him, because her mistresses deemed him to be unimportant.
“This is the best room we have… for now,” the courtier said. “The hotel is still under—(construction).”
“We are aware,” the maid said. “That being said, if my mistress were to discover that she was deceived…”
Disclaimer: This novel is an work in progress and readers may encounter grammatical errors and inconsistencies. Please view this a draft and not a published work.
The courtier opened the pristine white doors with gold trim leading into the suite on the fourth floor of what would be known as The Grand. When he moved out of the way a black haired beauty with fair skin and piercing green eyes walked inside. She wore a formal gown and corset, along with a jacket as they had just arrived.
Behind her there was a younger woman with blonde hair and blue eyes. While a child of the Normands, brimming with blue blood, the younger lass wore the simple dress of a maid.
The lady stopped in the middle of the room and motioned for her maid to approach. They exchanged a few words while the courtier looked on with a grin reminiscent of a man’s testicles being gradually squeezed in a vice.
Disclaimer: This novel is an work in progress and readers may encounter grammatical errors and inconsistencies. Please view this a draft and not a published work.
It is my pleasure to introduce The Van Helsing Incursion, the third installment of the Clara Grey Adventures, a Dark Fantasy series about a hunter who hunts things that go bump in the night! This is my fourth release in as many years, and while part of a series, I consider this book to stand on its own.
After a lifetime of hunting creatures that haunt our dreams, a flapper, turned fallen angel, gives a budding relationship the chance to grow. Should be a snap? Think again!
During the Roaring Twenties, Clara Grey hunted things that went bump in the night. On her final mission, she paid the ultimate price to rid the world of a powerful foe. As a reward, she ascended to Heaven and joined its ranks as an angel.
Hunting things that go bump in the night is child’s play when compared to juggling relationships.
Ninety years after her death, Clara fell to Earth intent on saving a soul. While her mission was a success, an act of self-defence barred her from returning to Heaven. Lost in the modern world, Clara was forced to seek out unlikely allies to navigate through those uncertain times.
Four months later, Clara has settled in with Elizabeth, a young woman she saved shortly after descending to Earth. For a gal who had sworn off anything that hinted at normalcy, she learns that being average is not as easy as it seems.
Alas, repercussions from choices made on that fateful mission have not been idle. Her enemies trigger a chain of events that will force our fated femme fatale to act. Is Clara prepared to deal with the fallout? Will her allies come to her aid? Or must she stand on her own?
Before reading on, be sure to consider: Hunting things that go bump in the night is child’s play when compared to juggling relationships.
The Van Helsing Incursion is also available in print on Amazon.com.
Even in the dark, Evelyn had no trouble seeing the trail of blood that led from her doorway and ended at the bed. She never considered taking him to his room, despite it being closer.
“Is there even a bed in there?” Evelyn wondered, seeing how she had never been inside.
Instead, she brought him here, to her room, her inner sanctum. A room filled with clothes, makeup, jewellery, and choice pieces of artwork that she cherished. Even though her studio was somewhere else, the room always bore the faint odour of paint and that never failed to set her mind at ease.
The impact with that truck had been violent. Evelyn had seen similar wounds on those struck by cannon fire. Fortunately for him, most of the injuries were internal, so there was no need to regrow appendages.
She observed how his chest was caved in and that meant some of his organs either gave way or were ruptured during impact. Most of his ribs had been broken, as were several vertebrae, and a quick run through wild dark hair told her there was a multitude of contusions.
If he were mortal, this would have been a death sentence. Evelyn witnessed plenty die from less and noted that it was fortunate he had not been cut in half. While such impacts were not always fatal for their kind, it did require a great deal of blood and willpower to rejoin the separate halves.
Even now, Marc was quiet. With his eyes closed, he was, in essence, dead to the world. She had seen others in this state, expending all of their strength to heal, a process that took time. She wondered if he had the strength to pull through.
Evelyn quietly walked over to her dressing table. She rifled through an assortment of cosmetics, some long forgotten that dated back to the early twentieth century, until something sliced her finger open. Instead of pulling away, she pushed in further to retrieve a dagger.
She could have chosen the main gauche under her pillow, but that might have disturbed Marc. Evelyn looked down at the thick red blood pooling around the cut. With a bit of focus, the wound sealed itself leaving behind a single drop of blood.
Evelyn looked at the burn on her wrist and ignored the pain. Aggravated damage caused by fire needed a lot of energy to remedy and for now, that could wait.
The imp made her way to the bed and smeared some of blood onto his dry lips. Even in this state, his instinctual need to feed remained. She watched his lips part followed by his tongue that probed for more. In that moment, he looked very much like a man stranded in the desert, dying of thirst.
Their kind constantly battled with their hunger, the conscious mind struggling to control their baser needs. There were many who lost their minds to the beast and, driven to madness. Those who became feral had to be put down without mercy. The weak had to be culled to preserve the whole.
Hence, her dilemma. In this state, her stoic soldier was not in control of his faculties. With his hunger left unchecked, the situation could turn on her. They had been together for centuries; no mortal would ever experience the bond they shared, and yet…
By now, Evelyn was gripping the blade to her dagger so tightly that her hand quivered. Without a second thought, Evelyn exposed her good arm, then buried the blade into her wrist. The pain was exquisite at first and she let out a soft moan. As the blade travelled up the vein the pain intensified until it burned into her mind. She bit down hard, the muscles in her jaw bulging, while her teeth strained as though they were about to crack. But, she persisted.
Once satisfied with the incision, she paused, considered her actions, and completed an all-around incision. She then hovered the open wound over Marc’s mouth, and permitted blood to flow.
As the blood poured from the wound, she observed his head rise to find the source. Evelyn brought up her arm to keep out of reach, but his need to feed was so strong that his eyes opened—wide and wild. In that moment, she knew that meant trouble.
Marc reached out and gripped her arm with such strength that the bones in her forearm fractured. Evelyn dared not pull away, at least not yet. He needed her and she would not back out now.
When his lips reached the wound, Evelyn became enraptured. She rarely experienced the pleasure, the ecstasy, of having another vampire feed from her. Her eyes dilated, her nipples hardened, and her vulva radiated with heat. It came as no surprise that all her self-control faded away.
The more he took, the weaker she became. Her will to fight waned. A part of her tried to hold on, but that too lessened over time.
Just as her mind was ready to capitulate, the phone chimed. The artificial tones broke through the deafening silence and dragged her consciousness back to the forefront.
Her eyes fluttered open and she witnessed what was going on. Evelyn jumped onto the edge of the bed, her feet supported by the heavy oak frame. Then, with all her might, she tried to pull away from Marc.
The incisions had already weakened the skin on her arm. As she pulled away, the epidermis tore further until it separated from the fat and muscle below. Despite his grip, all he could do was hold onto the empty sleeve. With no other source of blood, he licked her discarded flesh but that would not satiate him for long.
Evelyn had no interest in lingering around, so she chose the better part of valour. She vacated the room and triggered a failsafe that sealed the door shut. Marc’s paranoid insistence on having such features installed turned out to be prophetic.
“Not that I’ll be thanking him for that,” Evelyn said.
With no response nor hint of movement from within, Evelyn relaxed. In that moment, the pain, held at bay by the emotional turmoil, flooded her mind.
“Maudite putain!” Evelyn yelled.
She looked down at her arm and witnessed the severity of the damage. What remained of her skin was loose, stretched, and oversensitive.
Evelyn was in awe of how all of the muscle, sinew, tendons, and bones were attached to one another. She normally showed little interest in such matters, seeing that this was unrelated to art, or fashion. However, this was her arm and it showcased an aspect of her that she had forgotten long ago… deep down, she was human.
Clara’s comments today about selling her soul had left an imprint. She loathed to admit it. She desperately sought out that spark of life, one powerful enough to survive death. Perhaps Evelyn should have made her move on that stunning flapper a century ago.
Still, that train had already left the station, just like everyone else in that restaurant had turned to dust. Yet that hunter remembered their encounter and the debt incurred. Sure, Evelyn ended up with a burnt arm, torn skin, and a beaten sire. However, it could have been far worse for the both of them.
At the time, those words had been said in jest. Evelyn was an impulsive creature, one who rarely stopped to consider the depth of actions. That night, she chose to spare Clara because the girl was easy on the eyes. The favour Clara did them by ridding the world of that feral vampire simply made it easier to sell to the others. Besides, why waste such a scrumptious creature?
Tonight, she learned how the tables had turned and was now indebted to Clara. While Evelyn said those words in jest, the hunter was dead serious. She would have been better off indebted to the mafia, since the worst they could do was break her legs or shoot her.
The pain in her arm transformed from a dull throbbing to a radiating pain. Evelyn winced and concentrated until the wound scabbed over. She was weak and could not afford to heal any further. The risks of losing control to her own hunger were far too great.
Instead, she walked to the front-door closet and peeked inside. Her hand slid through the rows of coat hangers until she found just what she needed. It was a simple black leather trench coat, lined with silk. In this weather, it would provide minimal warmth, but that mattered little to the dead.
She slid into her coat and winced while her arms tunnelled through the sleeves. It was fortunate that the pain lessened once the material settled, although any movement would be sure to remind her of these injuries. Ready, she tied a bow using the attached belt, which made her hourglass shape pop.
Evelyn needed to hunt, so it paid to turn a few heads. On the plus side, if things got a bit messy, then the gore would wash off the leather.
Before reaching for the door, she hesitated and walked back inside. She found her phone, ignored the slew of notifications, and when satisfied that it was charged, walked out into the night.
Disclaimer: This chapter is currently in development. There are likely typos, errors, omissions, inconsistencies and so forth. Please do not treat this as a polished and completed work!
