One Vampire to Stake (Anthem City Series Book 1) Read online

  Contents

  Copyright

  Mailing List Sign Up

  Dedication

  One Vampire to Stake

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Epilogue

  Author's Note

  Copyright 2017 Isaac Knight

  All rights reserved.

  Isaacknight.ca

  Cover Design by Melody Simmons

  Mailing List Sign Up

  Want to be the first to find out about my next release? Then head over to IsaacKnight.ca and sign up for my newsletter!

  For Kyla

  One Vampire to Stake

  The Anthem City Series

  Book 1

  By Isaac Knight

  Chapter 1

  Three daggers flew through a candle-lit office. They stopped in mid-air, turned 90 degrees, then blazed across the room, cutting the wicks of three separate candles.

  Rayley Gold snapped her fingers and the daggers returned to her desk, each stabbing through a separate pile of paperwork. She brushed her hair out of her face and examined the vampire standing in front of her.

  He said his name was Vlad, which she thought was a bit on the nose for a vampire. He looked like he had been turned when he was in his twenties, and the corner of his lip was pulled up in an eternal smirk.

  Vlad nodded to the severed candles. "If you wanted to meet me in a low-light situation, all you had to do was ask. I'm more than willing to accommodate."

  "Your face was making me nauseous," Rayley said. "Felt I should kill the light before throwing up over such a fine suit. How many decades did it take you to save up for that?"

  "This old thing?" Vlad smoothed his suit jacket. It must've cost more than most cars. The vampire sat in the chair across from her. "I have a case I'd like to discuss with you."

  "A vampire has a problem?" Rayley opened her desk drawer. "Huh. Can't seem to find my tiny violin."

  "Probably for the best, you look like a horrible musician." Vlad shifted in his chair and picked at the crease in his dress pants. "You're familiar with Count Magnus?"

  "Never heard of him," Rayley said sarcastically. In her opinion, there were only two kinds of vampires: the kind you couldn't trust, and the kind that were in urns.

  Vlad grinned, showing his fangs. "They warned me you'd have an attitude."

  "I don't work for vampires."

  "They warned me of that too." Vlad looked unconcerned. "But I think you'll find my offer one worthy of your attention. How many times does a girl in your… situation… get a chance to save the entire city?"

  "Sounds like a lot of work."

  Vlad placed a pouch on the desk. Coins, half-gold and half-silver, spilled out. "You could become a rich woman. Of course, then you might have to stop killing people. Kind of takes the fun out life, doesn't it?"

  Rayley grabbed the pouch. "I didn't take the job so I could kill things."

  "But it's one of the perks," Vlad said. "Count Magnus has been holed up in the Midnight Tower for the past decade. He's an excellent fighter, and he's well-guarded. I need someone to kill him for me."

  Rayley snorted. Take out Count Magnus? Sure. And right after she did that she'd eat brunch with God and go walking on the surface of the sun. "The old bat's harmless."

  "Not entirely," Vlad said. "He's recently come into possession of a particular object. The Black Oracle, I believe it's called."

  Rayley rolled her eyes. What a waste of time this was turning out to be. "The Black Oracle isn't real."

  For once, Vlad dropped his smirk. "I can assure you, it's very real. And it's very dangerous."

  Rayley leaned forward. Her hands were itching to use her daggers on this idiot vampire for wasting her morning. "You're telling me that the leader of the vampires has come into possession of an object that lets him manipulate his entire race?"

  "Unfortunately."

  "Let's play this out," Rayley said. "Count Magnus gets the Black Oracle. Has it in his possession. What's he going to do with it? How's he going to change the vampire race?"

  "I believe he intends to remove our sense of morality."

  "You have a sense of morality?" Rayley asked, hiding her genuine question in a veneer of sarcasm.

  "As surprising as it might seem." Vlad stared at the daggers on the desk. "Our evolving sense of morality, combined with some powerful magic to cull our urges, is what's allowed the vampires to live in peace with the rest of Anthem for centuries. It's why we pay humans to donate blood instead of cornering them in an alley and having ourselves a nibble."

  "So Count Magnus wants to use an object — one that doesn't exist — to remove the vampires' sense of morality, in order to…"

  "Start a civil war," Vlad said simply.

  "You're insane."

  "No more than Magnus." Vlad flipped a coin through the air and caught it. "The vampires were on the brink of extinction with Magnus made a deal that allowed us to survive. Now there's a healthy number of us — more than enough to cause trouble for the other races inhabiting the city."

  "If things are so good, why would he want to start a war?" Rayley asked. "Vampires won't be the only ones who die."

  "He believes in the old ways. He believes that we are creatures of night, apex predators. That it should be us alone that decide the fate of the city. That humans should be our slaves, and so on and so forth."

  "Who supports him?"

  "He has the Black Oracle. Doesn't need support."

  Of all the cases Rayley had received through the past three years, this one was by far the craziest. "Why would you want him dead? Sounds to me like this could be a pretty sweet deal for the vampires."

  "I like how things are now," Vlad said. "I like being able to saunter to the store and pick out two bottles of aged blood. I like being able to go out at night without fear of getting attacked. And I like being able to seduce human women." He cocked his head to the side. "Are you thinking about me naked?"

  Rayley said nothing, but one of her daggers flew out of her desk, the blade touching Vlad's throat before he could move.

  He eyed the floating dagger. "Bit of an overreaction, don't you think?"

  "What I think is that you're lying." Rayley left the dagger at Vlad's neck. She figured it'd give him something to think about for later. "That you're some nobody vampire who wants to throw dissent in the ranks and use it as an opportunity to climb the tower. As such, I will not be taking your assignment."

  Vlad slowly pushed his chair a
way from the floating dagger. He stood and smoothed his suit. "I'll be around, Ms. Gold."

  Rayley pushed the pouch of coins across the desk. She pocketed a few that had spilled out. "Consulting fee," she said.

  Vlad waved the pouch away. "Keep the rest. Come to the Crumbling Crown when you're ready to get started." And with that, he marched out of Rayley's office.

  Once the door was closed, Rayley let her dagger fall back to her desk. In her experience, vampires did two things very well: look attractive and lie. But to tell a lie so extreme? Count Magnus and the Black Oracle? A centuries old vampire with everything to lose attempting to start a civil war?

  It was so far out of the realm of possibility.

  And yet, her gut told her that Vlad wasn't lying at all.

  Chapter 2

  Forrex gently placed a silver and gold coin on his scale. He adjusted the weight until they matched, then plucked the coin from the scale and held it to the sunlight as he squinted for imperfections. He was a short, older man, with a chin like an anvil.

  Rayley leaned against the wall, careful not to disturb any of the numerous scales cluttering her boss's office. When anyone provided him with payment, Forrex would weigh each coin individually. He claimed that some people might file flakes of precious metal off the side of the coins, and if they did, he wasn't getting his full value. Rayley didn't see why it mattered — a coin was a coin, regardless of its imperfections. And besides, who would waste an afternoon filing slivers off?

  She reached into her pocket and rubbed her thumb along her consulting fee. If Forrex knew that she'd skimmed off the top, he'd have her hand for a trophy.

  "Do you think he's telling the truth?" Rayley asked.

  "Is a vampire ever telling the truth?" Forrex removed a coin from the scale, set it on a stack of other coins, then scribbled its weight into his ledger. "But I hope he is. A civil war would be good for business. We could raise our protection fees."

  "Great. More protection jobs." Rayley sighed. Protection jobs were the worst. You'd expect people who've hired you to protect them to be careful. But, if anything, the fact that they'd hired protection made them more likely to do something stupid. "I don't think cash is the biggest issue, though. If Count Magnus is up to something… it could be a blood bath."

  Forrex finished weighing Vlad's payment. "And if he's not, then we're the fools who tried to assassinate a prominent leader without just cause."

  "So what do we do?"

  "We? We do nothing," Forrex said. "And you will stand down."

  "Shouldn't I at least poke around?"

  "Poke your nose in other people's business and you're liable to lose the nose," Forrex said. "Things are going well for you here. Haven't had a complaint in months. Your ten-year contract is almost up. It'd be a shame to put such a mark on your record."

  "Again, isn't this a bit bigger than my record?"

  Forrex ushered Rayley out of his office. He closed the door and activated six different locks. You'd have an easier time breaking into a bank vault. "It's unwise for our business to be seen getting involved in anything that even relates to politics. We have clients of all kinds — if we show allegiance towards a particular persuasion, we may lose our clients on the other side."

  "I still think I should check it out," Rayley said. "Ask around. See what's up."

  "If you're so determined…" Forrex sighed. "Follow."

  The short man grabbed a torch from the wall and led Rayley through the dimly lit maze that was his business. They arrived at a room no larger than a broom closet. Forrex took one last look to make sure no one had followed, then closed the door.

  "I can only tell you this so many times," he said. "You need to back away from this job."

  "The vamp's already paid."

  "Call it a consulting fee."

  "He seemed confident we'd take the job."

  Forrex dismissed the thought with a wave of his hand. "Have you ever known a vampire that wasn't confident?"

  "I still think I should at least take a look and talk to a few people."

  "I was afraid of that." In one swift move, Forrex slapped a single handcuff onto Rayley's wrist. It gave off a subtle purple glow.

  She immediately tried to shake it off. "What the hell?"

  "It's precautionary."

  "For what?"

  "To prevent you from doing something stupid," Forrex said. "And to prevent you from jeopardizing my business. If you attempt to leave the slums at any point in the next week, you'll be leaving your hand behind."

  To prove his point, something jagged rubbed against Rayley's wrist. She was too angry to flinch. She drew her daggers.

  They flew into the air, each settling a few inches from Forrex's face. The man looked at the blade impassively. "As a side note, if I were to have an unfortunate accident… you'd still lose your hand."

  Rayley wanted to throttle her boss. "You willing to trade your life for my hand? Seems like a bad deal."

  With the tip of his finger, Forrex gently redirected the point of the nearest dagger until it was facing the ceiling. "I wouldn't trade my life for your hand. But I don't have to worry about that, do I?"

  "I wouldn't be so sure," Rayley snapped.

  Forrex ignored the floating daggers and stepped past her. "I don't have to worry, because you're not willing to trade your hand for my life, either." He reached for the door knob. "Feel free to let yourself out when you've calmed down. But I'd advise against leaving the slums." He giggled, pleased with himself.

  Rayley stood alone in the closet, fuming. She scratched at the handcuff on her wrist. She didn't buy Forrex's excuses for not investigating — she'd never known the man to turn down a good paying job, and they'd done some deeply unethical tasks before. There was something else going on; something Forrex wasn't telling her.

  But if she wanted to figure out what it was, she needed to find a way to get this stupid handcuff off.

  Chapter 3

  Toads croaked throughout the swamp. The air was hot and muggy. As she sloshed through the murky water, Rayley felt something slither against her ankle. She shuddered and climbed the side of a mossy bank.

  At the center of the island, a young witch with vibrant purple hair sat with her legs crossed. She wore so many necklaces and bracelets that she made a clattering sound whenever she moved. Currently, she was staring at a wooden road sign that wouldn't stop spinning.

  Rayley cautiously approached. She could never tell when Morgana was in the midst of performing powerful magic, and when she was just screwing around. Most of the time it seemed Morgana couldn't tell either.

  "What's with the road sign?" Rayley asked.

  "Lovely, isn't it? I created it to help people find their purpose. It's pointing at mine right now."

  "It's still spinning," Rayley said.

  "I suppose my purpose is constantly changing," Morgana said. She always sounded like she was speaking from somewhere far away, her mind never fully engaged in the present. "But if I sit here for long enough, maybe it will stop."

  "How long have you been at it?"

  "Four days."

  "Have you eaten?"

  Morgana gingerly touched her stomach, a vacant look on her face. "I suppose I haven't."

  "Here." Rayley held out a slightly crushed apple pie.

  The road sign stopped spinning, pointing directly at the food.

  "I suppose that does give me an immediate purpose," Morgana said, taking the pie and conjuring a fork. She took one bite. "It's quite filling, isn't it? Are you here because you've reconsidered my roommate idea?"

  "My life doesn't really work if there are other people in it," Rayley said.

  Morgana looked disappointed. "Oh. I wish you'd reconsider." She pointed to the bracelet. "That's lovely, where did you get it?"

  Rayley tugged at the glowing purple handcuff. There were several small cuts along her wrist from where she'd tried to pry the thing off with her daggers. "Forrex felt I needed to accessorize."

  "That'
s funny," Morgana said. "I never took him as a keen observer of fashion. But it does look good."

  Rayley held out her wrist. "There's some magic in it. Can you help me take it off? Preferably without taking off my hand?"

  Morgana finished her apple pie. She poked at the handcuff. "Removing your hand would be easiest. You're sure you'd like to keep it?" Morgana asked. She sounded sincere. But she would — most witches spent their time dealing with powerful magic; they didn't have time for things like sarcasm.

  "Yes," Rayley said. "I would like you to remove the handcuff, but I would like to keep my hand attached to my body." She enunciated each word carefully, looking directly into Morgana's silver eyes. Asking Morgana for help was dangerous — she might only pay attention to half of your request. Once, the witch had been hired to help someone fight a particular troll. Morgana had agreed, then immediately conjured a troll, defeated the troll she conjured — which wasn't particularly difficult — then taken her payment and flew away before her client could explain that no, he didn't want her to fight just any troll, he wanted to fight a specific troll.

  Morgana held Rayley's wrist. She examined the handcuff from all angles. "There aren't any runes," Morgana said. "But I can see the magic inside. It's also dangerous, isn't it? What a peculiar gift."

  Rayley didn't feel like explaining that her handcuff wasn't technically a gift. "Can you help?"

  "Oh yes," Morgana said. She placed her palm on the handcuff and started muttering. Her silver eyes turned white, a few sparks flew, and a thick cloud of smoke puffed out from the handcuff.

  Rayley waved the smoke away, only to find that she still wore the magical handcuff.

  Morgana held up her hand. She now had a handcuff on her wrist. "A duplication curse. How clever."

  "What?" Rayley asked.

  "Anyone who attempts to remove the handcuff by magical means will have a duplicate placed on them," Morgana said. "But I think it's nice that Forrex was kind enough to let me have one of my own."

  "Not planning on leaving the slums anytime, are you?"

  "Let me see…" Morgana looked at her road sign, which was now spinning so fast it had become a brown blur. "I suppose not."