Vampires Don't Sparkle: Deathless Book 3 (2 page)

Blair, Bridget, and Steve decide to pursue Irakesh, but not before Blair sleeps with Bridget (yes, his cheating ex. Poor Liz). They catch up with Irakesh in Larkspur, just before he finds the Ark of the Redwood. Blair once again gets his ass kicked, and this time the cost is higher. Bridget dies, and even though she cheated on him, we still feel bad because she redeemed herself at the end. Well most of us feel bad. Some fans wrote in to say the bitch got what she deserved. Heartless, people. Just heartless.

Meanwhile, Director Phillips continues his investigation of the Old Man. It turns out the Old Man is
really
old, nearly two hundred. He serves a deathless named Usir, a name we later learn is a synonym for Osiris.

The Director starts a brief civil war, freeing Liz and Jordan. He arms Liz with Object 1, a super-powerful magical sword. Of doom. Since that’s a really long title, let’s just call it what the Director does: Excalibur.

Yuri pilots Liz and Jordan to San Francisco, where they link up with Blair and Steve. They attack Irakesh on the Golden Gate bridge. During the fight Trevor (very predictably) breaks free from Irakesh and joins the good guys. But not before shooting Jordan in the face. Again. It happens like four times in the book.

Unfortunately, they aren’t able to stop Irakesh. He detonates the nuke he stole, destroying a chunk of the Golden Gate bridge. He channels the energy from the explosion into the Ark of the Redwood, charging up the battery and giving him control of a fully powered Ark.

Meanwhile an enraged Blair attacks Cyntia, desperately seeking vengeance for Bridget. Cyntia’s much stronger, and more powerful, so he comes out on the losing end. His body is shattered and broken, but before Cyntia can kill him Liz uses Excalibur to slay Cyntia and drain her essence.

The heroes are in pretty bad shape, especially Blair. He realizes their only hope is throwing everything they have left at Irakesh. Steve convinces him to give up the access key to the Mother’s Ark, which powers up Steve.

Irakesh attacks, showing what a fully-powered Ark Lord can do. The heroes get their collective asses kicked, and it looks like this is going to be the last book since Irakesh has basically won.

Then Blair throws the hail Mary. He uses his shaping to alter Irakesh’s helixes. Since Irakesh is a deathless, and the Mother designed the access keys to only work for werewolves, the key leaves him. It shoots into Blair, who is now a super-powered Ark Lord. He turns all the zombies on the bridge to ash, and kicks the crap out of Irakesh. The heroes teleport inside the Ark, where they imprison Steve and Irakesh.
 

Director Phillips calls Jordan using a satellite phone, warning him that the Mohn Corp is compromised. He lost his civil war, and the Old Man is handing Mohn over to a deathless named Osiris. They’re heading to London, where Very Bad Things (tm) are happening.

Just to throw a little salt on the wound, the book ends with Steve telling Irakesh he can light walk (teleport) from the cell, so they can escape and head to the Ark of the Cradle, where Ra rules.

The cliffhanger for
No Mere Zombie
wasn’t as bad as the one in
No Such Thing As Werewolves
, but we were still left with a lot of questions. You’re about to get answers, because you’re holding
Vampires Don’t Sparkle
, the third book in the series.

I hope you enjoy it!

If you do, please consider leaving reviews for any or all books in the series. I’m an indie author, and reviews are vitally important to my success. You might also consider
signing up for the mailing list
to hear when
Deathless Book 4: The Great Pack
is available (or my other tie in series,
Hero Born
). If you do, I’m happy to give you a free copy of
The First Ark
, the prequel that explains a bit more about who the Mother is and where the zombie virus comes from.

Okay, enough rambling! On to
Vampires Don’t Sparkle
…

Prologue- Osiris Locked Out

11,000 BCE

Osiris surveyed the assembled druids as he strode down the path and into the stone circle. Eleven of the most powerful men and women in his domain, each tending to one of the tribes. They were unperturbed by the steady drizzle, a near constant that had developed over the last few decades. It was one more sign the world was changing.

The assembled figures encircled the raised dais as he stepped atop it, kneeling in unison as they’d done many times. The cowls of their hoods shrouded their faces in shadow, but he didn’t need to see them to know who they were. He’d selected each during their childhood for their talent in shaping, and he knew them as intimately as he did his own limbs.

“The time has arrived at last,” he began, a rare note of sadness running counterpoint to the rain. “I must leave you, to slumber away the gulf between ages.”

“Master,” Alaunus said, rising to his feet and throwing back his cowl. His long fiery hair was bound with a leather cord, not so very different from Osiris’s own. “My visions have failed me. I see little of the coming days. I do not know the way. What is to become of us?”

The distress in his voice pained Osiris, but there was nothing he could do to forestall it. He owed them honesty, particularly Alaunus. The man had the sight more strongly than any servant Osiris had met in the last nine thousand years. “You will age and die. The power you draw from the sun is fading, and in a matter of hours it will vanish entirely.”

No one spoke, save the rain. Osiris couldn’t blame them. How would he react to such news? Even having known it for so long, it still shocked him to his core. He possessed a link to the First Ark. He would continue on, slumbering away during the dark time, until the sun’s strength returned in the Age of Aquarius.

“Is there nothing to be done?” Britannia’s clear voice rang out as she too rose to her feet. She raised delicate hands to remove her cowl, dark hair spilling down her shoulders as she met Osiris’s gaze.
 

“The cycle turns,” Osiris said, wishing it were otherwise. “But all is not lost. Many places of power remain. These Sources will contain energy for a dozen generations. Hundreds, if they are not tapped too heavily. Some part of your power will survive with them, if you husband it. So too will artifacts survive.”

He illustrated the latter by sliding the tooled leather sheath from his shoulder and offering his sword, hilt first, to Britannia. Her mouth fell open as she stared at the golden hilt, and shocked whispers broke out from many cowls. The weapon was sunsteel, one of only a handful in the world. Its power was incalculable, and Osiris had wielded this one longer than these people’s civilization had existed.

“My lord, I am not worthy of this. None of us are,” Britannia protested, yet she took the hilt reverently. She slung the scabbard over her shoulder, tears in her eyes.
 

His gift made it all real to them. He was departing their world, and by leaving the weapon he was passing his stewardship to another. “The weapon’s strength is incredible. It may well last your descendants until the next age. Teach them. Let it become a symbol, a remembrance of the great power their ancestors wielded, and that they will one day wield again.”

“As you say, my Lord,” Britannia replied, dropping to her knees and wrapping a protective hand over the golden hilt.

“There is much you must prepare, and precious little time to-,” Osiris began, but broke off as unexpected power stirred within him.
 

It began as a low buzz, but quickly built to a crescendo of gathering energy. He lurched forward, barely aware of Alaunus as he rushed in to catch him. Power gathered within Osiris, much as it did whenever he shaped. Yet this wasn’t his doing, wasn’t his command. Whatever was happening was beyond his control, the strange power bubbling within him like a cauldron about to boil. Then silver light burst from his eyes and mouth, the fire of the universe searing his very consciousness as it departed.
 

This cannot be.
His risen whispered, an odd mix of awe and shock.
 

Osiris shuddered as the access key left his body, bereft of the Ark’s incredible power for the first time in many millennia. He lay against Alaunus’s chest, shivering in the rain as he struggled to understand what had just befallen him. There was only one explanation. Someone had bound the First Ark using a Primary Access Key. It should be impossible, but the proof was undeniable.

“A terrible calamity has just befallen the world,” he said, forcing himself to his feet. The assembled druids watched him in silence, their expressions horrified. “The First Ark has been stolen. I must reclaim it, or I too will perish along with all of you. The thief will take its power into the next age, and the other Ark Lords will be unprepared when next they awaken.”

No one spoke. What could they say? Osiris didn’t wait. He gathered himself, blurring north with all the speed and fury he could muster. The wind and rain whipped at his cloak as he bounded over hills and through valleys. He ran for long minutes, crossing the land he knew so well, faster than it had ever been crossed.

At long last he arrived at the Valley of Hidden Voices, the place he and his companions had discovered so many millennia ago. Back during the last ice age when the world had been frozen and harsh. He stared up at the massive black pyramid, the First Ark. Its sleek surface was untouched by the rain, untouched by time itself. It hadn’t changed in any way since the first time he’d laid eyes on it, though the land itself was different now.

A low thrum of power resonated through the land around Osiris. The Ark itself vibrated, then the structure began to sink, descending into the earth with alarming finality. Osiris understood what he was seeing, but he could scarcely believe it. Whoever had stolen the Ark was putting it into stasis, preparing for an age bereft of power.
 

It was exactly what Osiris had been planning to do, but now he was trapped outside with no way to reach the safety of the rejuvenators. No sanctuary to weather the ravages of time.

There was only one god who could have orchestrated this, could have found some loophole that allowed him to break Osiris’s bond with the Ark. Set. His treacherous brother had returned, and now controlled the most powerful of the great Arks.

Did he know of The Well? What if he opened it? He could doom them all, and even if he did not he would possess an advantage over every other Ark Lord. The rest would slumber away the gulf of time, but Set would be able to wake periodically, to use the vast reserve of power to sustain his life. The others would have to husband their reserves, gambling that it would carry them forward to a day when the sun would again sustain the Arks.

Not so Set. He would emerge more powerful than ever, and this time Osiris would not be there to oppose him. Could not be, for no matter how clever he was there was simply no way to survive for thirteen millennia without the aid of an Ark.

Chapter 1- Angel Island

Trevor reflexively reached for his cell phone to check Facebook. Then he remembered Facebook no longer existed. Neither did his iPhone, or any other electronic device. They’d all been destroyed in the wake of the sun’s coronal mass ejection, or CME as it they’d come to call it. Had that only been eight weeks ago? How ironic that he should find that more strange than the fact that he was, for all intents and purposes, a walking corpse. His heart no longer beat. He didn’t need to breathe. His skin felt cool to the touch.

Then there was the mouthful of razor sharp fangs. Not quite as obvious as the black claws where his fingernails had been, but much more unnerving whenever he smiled. It was impossible to miss the almost palpable aura of fear he left in his wake as he passed through the encampment. It was a different flavor than that caused by his companion, despite the fact that both were mythological predators. People trusted werewolves—more so than walking corpses, anyway.

He and Commander Jordan made their way past the last knot of refugees, finally reaching the top of Angel Island. The heavily forested little spur of land was just a few miles across, connected to Sausalito via a ferry that had stopped running when the CME had wiped out most of the electronics required to run it.

Now the only way to reach the island was using one of the more conventional sailboats that ringed it, a vast fleet of them gathered from all over the bay. They bobbed up and down on soft blue waves, sails blindingly white in the afternoon sun. Trevor glanced up at the fiery orb, untroubled by its brilliance as he would have been while still alive.

“We’re running out of room,” Jordan said, stepping up to join Trevor. The beefy man wore a black T-shirt and grey cargo pants, which somehow managed to look like a uniform despite the fact that he no longer worked for Mohn Corp. “Food isn’t an issue yet, but space is.”

He was right. The entire island was dotted with small clusters of multicolored tents, most liberated from the REI store in Corte Madera. They were up to almost three thousand people, which was more than the island was able to support. Sanitation was fast becoming a problem, as was supplying the place with fresh water.

“Maybe it’s time to start clearing the rest of Marin,” Trevor suggested. He turned to gesture at the blackened remains of the Golden Gate bridge. A full quarter had been destroyed in the nuclear blast that Irakesh, the ancient Egyptian god, had unleashed a few weeks ago. “Thanks to baldy, the southern border is clear. If we can block the Richmond bridge, all we have to worry about is any zombies that wander down from the north.”

“How many can you control, do you think?” Jordan asked, peering at Trevor through unreadable sunglasses.

“I don’t know yet,” Trevor replied with a shrug. He faced north, staring up the harbor towards Larkspur. Bad memories there. That was where he’d helped Irakesh kill Bridget. He wasn’t sure if Blair had forgiven him for that. He certainly hadn’t forgiven himself. “I’d guess a few hundred. At the very least I can set up a beacon to draw them to me. You and the others should be able to kill them.”