The Scandal of Vampire Cults: The Obliterated Word
His only friend is dead. Garbazhio, the Elven Vampire, returns to Junkyard City after being betrayed. He searches the city for clues about the Wizard Raphuesh who had conned his friend to betray him. After the betrayal and death of his friend, he is determined to take his revenge on the Wizard.
In the middle of his focused vengeance, he becomes trapped in a circle of lies and hatred of the Vampire covens. The Vampires are being hunted by a police force of Ogres, controlled by an unknown benefactor. While chasing Vampires, someone is consolidating the covens power and using it to subvert normal people..
He befriends a fellow Vampire called Scruta. He is another refugee from the deserted Wizards Mall. He finds value in his knowledge as well as his skills in magic. He helps to fight away the armies that attack them.
They are trailed by a mischievous child, a pilfering, pick pocketing thief. The boy knows more about the lies around the city than anyone else. They are trapped between two opposing forces while keeping the boy from wandering into more trouble.
But Garbazhio finds another reason to keep tabs on the boy, his mother is a splendid beauty that he wishes to have a bite of. She eventually leads them to a final battle with the Wizard and the Vampire cults.
If you like dystopian fiction, post-apocalyptic thrill rides, Elves, Dwarves, magic; and of course Vampires, you must take a bite of this book.
This book is intended for adults only: it contains violence, blood, language, sex, nudity and very adult situations.
Book Excerpt:
He led me to the Spirit Bank. (I didn't have the energy to write down the First National blah, blah… so I’m just going to call it the Spirit Bank.) The building started out typically normal for a bank, lots of marble, a fountain and overdone oak finishing that was peeling. (Not sure what it was peeling from, considering I had never seen the sun breach the smog.)
The inside was a different story. The marble floor was covered in slime, or ectoplasm if you will. Shades, spirits, specters and ghosts hovered about the room (Which theoretically was all the same thing but they were different sizes and shapes and colors.) From what I could tell, the vault was on the second floor but the stairs and floor had been removed. Only the dead employees could reach it. Certainly the lack of stairs was a deterrent to robberies. From my perspective, it appeared to be quite chaotic. Spirits wandered aimlessly from customer to vault. There was no tellers or adding machines or bars, nothing but an open space with customers waiting on the floor and spirits hovering over our heads, racing around like they were having track meets.
I looked to my newest comrade. My look said, “Are you kidding me?” He responded with another look that said, “Yes, this is it.”
It should be noted that I smelled something. No, my Vampire senses cannot smell spirits. They have no “real” smell, just that cold air smell. The smell was something familiar that reminded me of Basoora’s home. I looked about the foyer, trying to find a zombie; it was the first thing that I considered. After a few seconds, I disregarded the smell, thinking it must had been the lingering stench when the Dwarf had visited Spirits Bank.
We were immediately noticed by one of the spirits. It turned abruptly, stared for long minutes and then wisped towards us. In a hollow voice, it said, “May I be of service to you.” Behind its voice, an echo of chimes sounded.
I stammered, “I am looking for some information on a friend.”
“Do you have notarized documentation proving a relationship between you and your friend?”
“Uh… not really. He came to an abrupt end…”
“Were you acquainted with him on his last moments?”
“Um, yes?” The answer came inquisitively because I couldn’t understand the significance of the question. No sooner did I say it that three spirits descended from the ceiling and circled me. They looked shadowy compared to the others that fluttered with a blue and green haze. They spun counterclockwise while chanting numerical figures. I could have only assumed that all of the dead were accountants interrupted before they reached the afterlife and coaxed into the Spirit Bank.
It took a few seconds and then my head hurt. They were worming through my brain. I could feel their cold fingers sifting through synapses, flipping through memories like index cards. Eventually they found the Ash City battle. They saw us fight for our lives. Then I had bit him. The spirits stopped. Their chimes, chants and whispers echoed in loud quakes. Then they floated to the ceiling.
The spirit glared at me with heavy eyes. “You have a strange way of interacting with friends.” The spirit quaked a little and then stated, “You do not have proper clearance to access his accounts.”
I countered, “I just want to know about his acquaintances, the person who paid him…”
It interrupted, “That information cannot be divulged to you.”
I felt Scruta tugging on my arm, apparently requesting to leave. Of course, I ignored him. My stubborn side always overwrote my senses, my instincts and any rational morsel in my brain. My logic was that I didn’t ask for him to be there. His decision was at his own risk. Anytime, he could have left on his accord. I was sure that he was a big boy; didn’t need me to hold his hand.
I pressed, “All I want was a name, some direction…”
The room froze. I have to admit that my Vampire senses did much of the same thing. I knew that time hadn’t stopped but it sure felt like it from my standpoint. The spirits were frozen in their tracks like someone pressed a pause button. They hung in the air while watching me. The other customers were smart enough to curl into balls and wait for the terrifying episode to subside.
Instinctively my hand rested on the hilt of my sword. My feet had a different inclination; they started shifting towards the doors. I never understood how one part of the body could have a different inclination than the others. After all, there was only one brain. Just like the penis. It thought one way; its smaller will seemed to override any rational thought from the brain.
The spirit hovered closer to me and I squealed, “Perhaps I could talk to a manager?”
From its actions, it looked stumped for a moment. It thought to itself and then nodded. We were airlifted and sent towards the third floor. No elevators, no floors, just walls and doors. The Manager’s office looked over the bank’s lobby. We were gently set down and then abandoned on the edge of the doorway’s threshold.
I peered into the room without taking a step inside. There didn’t seem to be anyone there. It was a typical office with an oak desk, padded chairs and shelf of books that no one read.
“See the manager?” Scruta questioned, concerned that I made the wrong choice. I was also concerned. “Do you even know the manager?” he said, apparently annoyed.
Again mentally, I reminded myself that he wasn’t invited. “Is it the Consolidator?”
“Not bloody likely,” he responded sincerely. In the last couple of hours, I had realized that my new friend was not accustomed to sarcasm. I was starting to think he was a stray dog, thinking the way that he followed me around. There was a strange innocence about how he perceived the world, even for an older man. There was something “too accepting” about his behavior.
A toilet flushed. A sink turned on. I then realized that the manager was in the john. The door opened and a hulking creature came out. I expected something more ethereal, but something more material arrived. He was fat, really fat. He waddled back and forth on his two legs. He squeezed into a brown suit and white shirt with a tie that had pictures of flies on it. Other than his fatness, there was one last thing unusual about him. His head was a toad.
Without thinking, I exclaimed, “What the fuck is that?!!”
Scruta sighed aggressively, tugged on my sleeve and explained, “A Laotion from China.”
I turned to my friend with a puzzled expression printed on my face. “A what?!!”
“Chinese myth of the Toad King, Lao. They were said to be descendants of him.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Still not thinking about the words that were flying out of my mouth.
Copyright 2012, 2014
by Jax E. Garson
Watch trailer here: http://youtu.be/OdFZlVSdIAU
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