Unleashing Vampires: A paranormal revenge novel (Unleashing Series Book 2) Read online

  Unleashing Vampires

  C. J. Laurence

  Contents

  READER INFORMATION

  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

  Acknowledgments

  Where To Find C.J. Laurence

  Also By This Author

  READER INFORMATION

  You will consistently notice the spelling of the word ‘magic’ as ‘magick’ throughout this series. This IS intentional and NOT a spelling mistake. Some of you may already be aware of the difference between the two, but for those of you who aren’t, here is a brief overview to give you a better idea:

  Magic is something attributed to magicians. The likes of Paul Daniels, Harry Houdini, David Blaine, David Copperfield, Derren Brown, Dynamo…

  Basically, those who are skilled in the fine art of optical illusions.

  Magick is something attributed most famously to Aleister Crowley. Those of you who are familiar with his name will no doubt already know his famous quote – ‘Magick is the Science and Art of causing Change to occur in conformity with Will.’

  In essence, the addition of the letter ‘k’ distinguishes spiritual discipline from stage magic and sleight of hand tricks.

  Where it concerns my characters, and the forthcoming tale, it is used from the perspective of magical realism, hence using the alternative spelling.

  Copyright © 2018 C.J. Laurence

  Unleashing Vampires

  www.cjlauthor.com

  All rights reserved.

  Cover Designer: LKO Designs

  Second Edition.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  For everyone who wishes they could start over…

  Chapter One

  Lina

  I remember everything from that day like it happened seconds ago. Lucifer thinks because he gives us wolfs bane, it’s been blocked from our memories.

  But he’s wrong.

  He doesn’t know what Lilith does to help us keep our memories. She wants us to keep them because they are, after all, what made us who we are.

  That day is so deeply engrained in my very being, I don’t even know who I could potentially be without that tragedy.

  My sister, Arana, is dominated by it. She’s so consumed and driven by fury, she wouldn’t exist without that memory.

  Lilith loves it. She calls us her ‘death angels.’

  It’s odd, down here in Hell. It’s not quite what people imagine. People often think of roaring fires, endless torture, murder, demons wreaking havoc, but that’s not the case at all. It’s strangely peaceful.

  Lilith is extraordinary. Her entire aura demands attention and she exudes a lethal elegance that hypnotises anyone who lays eyes on her.

  I’m not surprised Lucifer is so taken with her. Or perhaps it’s because there are no others to compare her to. We’re not seen as being in the same league as Lilith—we’re just her minions, in training to do her work above ground.

  The Lamia is Lilith’s domain. Her little ‘baby’ as she calls it. There aren’t many of us, perhaps two dozen at most. She likes to keep things simple and on the down-low.

  Me and my sister are the youngest Lamia by ten years. That’s a huge gap. You would think that would mean we would be nurtured and cared for by the older women. Be allowed all the nutrition that we need and have room to grow.

  Wrong.

  It put us at the bottom of the pecking order. On a full-moon only, the Lamia are allowed to lure human men beneath the earth and into the pits of hell. It was quite a treat to be able to bring ‘food’ ‘home.’

  With my sister and I being the bottom of the hierarchy, it meant we were left the dregs of any blood in the men’s veins.

  There was nothing wrong with that, it was still sustenance, but I knew from the pleasure induced moans from the others that the early draws of blood were the best.

  Lilith had a special ‘stick’ as she called it. To anyone else it was a freaky, huge ass scythe. On a full-moon, the older Lamia would bring men down to our lair. Some would be consumed immediately, others would be saved for training. The stick would determine what men would be staying for longer than an evening.

  You may be wondering what training there would be in seducing a man, but I assure you, it’s so much more than that.

  Down in Hell, things work a little differently. Time moves quicker for a start. I don’t quite understand the science of it all but it’s something to do with being closer to the core of the earth and magnetic fields.

  Along with this, other things are different such as the effects certain foods have on your body. As part of the Lamia, we both acquired tattoos. Intricate, colourful purple roses adorned our left forearms, beautifully inked into our skin.

  The ink was no ordinary ink. Having been mixed by elves, it harboured properties that enabled whatever was drawn on the skin to be produced in reality. If a puppy had been etched on my skin, I could have produced a puppy by simply stroking my right palm over the tattoo.

  When blood was introduced to our human bodies, the first few days were horrible. We were both sick, a lot. Vomiting up blood is not pleasant by any means. My sister broke down in tears, begging for us both to be released. Of course, her desperate pleas were ignored.

  Lilith tended to us both personally during our ‘adjustment.’ Once three days had passed, everything seemed to turn around. Our bodies no longer rejected the blood. After this point, our limbs grew stronger, our muscles more lithe. Our hearing became more acute and we developed the ability to send out sound waves with a simple breath.

  After two weeks, we were mastering the art of shifting into bats.

  Yes, bats.

  Chapter Two

  Arana

  It’s strangely satisfying to know that you’re deceiving the King of Hell, Lucifer himself.

  Ever since that horrific day when our unknown older sister damned us to Hell, Lucifer fed us wolfs bane, grinning wildly as he th
ought our memories were being kept at bay.

  However, he didn’t know that Lilith had her own herbal remedy to cancel out the effects of the wolfs bane—deadly nightshade, belladonna. Just one berry cancels out all the effects of the wolfs bane.

  Lilith and I have a special bond. She says she sees a certain fire in me that she wants to keep alive. The way she can do that is by letting me keep my memories. All of the rotten hatred burning through my veins is what drives me to do this job.

  The Lamia seduce men but there’s a catch. We can only have them if they’re in a committed relationship. In other words, we kill cheaters. If you’re a committed guy and happen to run into one of us, you better hope you’re not weak at giving into temptation.

  After our ‘childhood incident,’ trust is not high up on my list of qualities. I don’t trust anyone. It irks me when people do trust in others and are let down by them. It’s a great fuel to make me want to do this job. I’m doing those women a favour, saving them from a broken heart and dis-respect.

  We’re allowed ‘topside,’ up on earth, when we hit twenty-one. In Hell time-scales, that’s thirteen weeks—a week is the equivalent to a year topside. This means in thirteen weeks, I’ll be an adult. It sounds so crazy but every time I look at myself in the mirror, I can see changes. It’s invigorating.

  Each moment that passes fills me with such joy because I know I’m one step closer to seeking my revenge. Getting my own back on the vile bitch that ruined our lives.

  And the best bit is she won’t even see it coming.

  Chapter Three

  Kyla

  Thirteen weeks later

  Thirteen weeks. Only thirteen weeks have drifted by since the death of my mother and her husband.

  And since I nearly died too.

  Well, not died but nearly became inhabited by the ghost of an evil but powerful witch.

  My ancestor, Alice, disappeared from my mind. Azazel and Balthazar, the demonic duo, went back to Hell. On September 21st, the autumn equinox, down they went, back to Hell and all their grisly demon duties.

  You would think finding your demi-soul would mean they get a brief reprieve but apparently not. The only thing that can release them from their Hell duties and their demonic curse is breaking their curse and that means going through a test.

  The test is living through their most horrific crime and still being able to love them.

  Sam doesn’t know this yet. I pity her because it means she has to go through what Cassia did—Azazel’s wife from centuries ago.

  To break Balthazar’s curse, she has to still love him despite his most horrendous act. I’m not sure if she’s strong enough to do that. What Balthazar did to Cassia is unthinkable. Even though I know the guy, it’s still hard to think of him being like that towards a woman.

  Now though, it’s the lead-up to Halloween. With it being only ten days away, I’m looking forward to my first ‘All Hallows Eve’ and being a powerful, elemental witch. I am already itching to play and freak some humans out, just for fun.

  So far, I’ve used my magickal abilities to enhance my life. Don’t judge—who wouldn’t?

  Of course, the first enhancement was the obvious riddance of my mother and her pest of a husband. The second enhancement was rewarding myself with the career and life I’d always wanted.

  My gran, bless her heart, scowled at me when I’d magicked up my doctorate in criminal psychology, but grandad just laughed.

  We all knew I didn’t need six years of study and a piece of paper to tell people I knew who had killed someone.

  So, I now proudly had the letters PhD after my name. Yep—Kyla Marshall, PhD. How cool does that sound? I never thought in a million years something like that would happen.

  I’m now a freelance consultant for all police forces around the United Kingdom. They come to me for any advice, tips, or profiling on any case. I’ve already cracked two cases and am already working a third.

  Outside of that, Sam and I have taken on the huge task of renovating the Worthington mansion. It’s more than big enough to accommodate the both of us and our guys when they return in March.

  In total, the sprawling house has twelve bedrooms. Sam already has ideas of a football team of kids. I put it down to her wolf lineage. Although, from what I gathered, that was a problem—something to do with some old curse and all the females in her line being cursed to only have two children each. I’d promised her I’d look into it once I’d mastered my abilities.

  Since mother’s death, Gran has kept her distance. I know she needs to grieve the death of her only child, so I haven’t pushed it.

  Grandad is a different kettle of fish. He seemed not bothered in the slightest and calls me at least every other day, just wanting a general chat and to see what progression I’d made with my elemental talents.

  I’m curious, as well, about my half siblings that are someone out there in the world. There is obviously a reason why there are four of us alive at any one point.

  I seem to have more of a natural affinity with earth magick than any of my other abilities. Did that mean each one of us had more of an affinity with a particular element than the others? Why was that? What use could that possibly be?

  Today is a peaceful Sunday morning and all I have to worry about right now is getting over to Gran and Grandad’s in time for lunch. I love Gran’s roast dinners—they really are the best. My stomach is already grumbling at the thought of creamy mash potato, tender chicken, and heaps of onion gravy.

  Throwing on a pair of skinny jeans and a turtle neck black jumper, I grabbed my car keys, held the door open for my faithful friend, Maxi, and headed out to my car. Eager for my delicious food, I rushed over to the idyllic little cottage I’d always loved so much.

  With one minute to spare, I strode through the door, all smiles and hugs.

  I’d barely sat down before my mobile was shrieking into life. I sighed and pulled it from my pocket.

  When I saw an unfamiliar number, I frowned. The digits 1212 at the end of the number rang a distant bell in my memory but I couldn’t quite place it. Instinct told me to answer it though. I had a feeling it wasn’t a PPI call or an accident claim line.

  “Hello,” I said, trying to sound cool and casual.

  “Is this Miss Kyla Marshall?” A man’s voice sounded down the line. He sounded young but full of authority.

  “Speaking.”

  “Hi, Miss Marshall. My name is Detective Chief Inspector Spencer Phillips and I operate out of Scotland Yard. Do you have a spare moment please?”

  My gut churned over. Was this to do with my mother’s murder?

  My mother’s husband, Tony, was the son of a politician. Tony’s father had not let his son’s overnight disappearance drop.

  To outside eyes, the entire family had up and left, seemingly vanishing into thin air. Neighbours and friends speculated my mother forced Tony to do it because she found out about all of his ‘indiscretions.’ His family suspected foul play.

  The desire to tell Tony’s father the true depravity of what happened to his precious son was almost soul-consuming, but I resisted. He was after all, the reason why Tony did what he did to me.

  “Of course,” I said, trying to hide the shake in my voice. “How can I be of assistance?”

  Grandad gave me a curious look over the top of his newspaper, probably wondering what had me acting so polite.

  “I was wondering if you would be able to offer us your help, please. Last night a new case landed on my desk and I’m rather perplexed to say the least.”

  “Ok,” I replied, intrigue already rearing its head. I’d never had Scotland Yard on the phone. This meant something big was going on. “Would you like to meet, or do you want to email me the details?”

  “If you could give me your email address that would be great, thank you. This case is peculiar. Four murders occurred last night. All in a town not far from you—Minster Arch. The times of death pretty much crossover—as in the killer would have had to hav
e gone from one body to the next all but immediately.”

  “How are you certain it’s the same killer?”

  “Because of the MO. Each body was absolutely drained dry of blood and each of them had a purple rose left behind.”

  Dread hit me like a bolt of lightning. Instantly, my gut told me this was supernatural. Exactly what though was a different matter.

  “Ok.” I relayed my email address to him. “Ping me over the details and I’ll take a look this afternoon.”

  “Thank you, Miss Marshall. I’ll have my secretary call you tomorrow to schedule a meeting. Always nice to put a face to the name.”

  The line went dead before I could respond.

  Knowing my grandparents would have heard the whole conversation with their magickally aided hearing, I wasted little time in giving them a surprised look.

  “Any ideas?” I said, looking at Grandad.

  He pursed his lips and looked at Gran. “I have my suspicions, yes.”