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Now I had the attention of all the fighters.
if I hadn’t already had their ears and eyes.

I continued, “Tonight it ends! Tonight, this
underground dungeon that he calls a prize arena is finished! Join
me, fighters! Join me! It doesn’t matter if you’re Carni or Mani!
Tonight, we fight together! They might have fire power! But we have
something far greater! WE HAVE IMMORTALITY!”

I dropped the microphone and all hell broke
loose. The fighters turned on the soldiers and all-out war erupted
inside the arena.

It was the beginning of a battle for the
ages. I wish I could tell the tale that it was a massacre in favor
of the fighters that were being exploited. But it wasn’t. It was a
massacre, nonetheless, but for both sides.

Yes, the fighters did prevail, but not
without a serious number of casualties. In less than a half hour,
hundreds died in that arena. Most of millionaires and billionaires
got out alive. No one had any beef with them. They were just
bloodthirsty fans. Some didn’t make it out, and that was
unfortunate.

Mani and Carni fought aggressively alongside
one another on this night. It was a beautiful sight to behold.
Within minutes, we turned the arena upside down. Fires broke out
and nearly every soldier died. The ones who didn’t fled like
cowards. When all was said and done, only one hundred and twenty
Mani and Carni survived. We lost more than half our men.

In the end, the only casualty that mattered
to me was Romero’s life. He was going to pay for all seven of his
deadly sins and whatever other ones he had committed in his
lifetime.

He had made it out to his helicopter. He was
about five miles just outside the compound, flying the helicopter
by himself.

I got word that he had taken off out of
there. I had never appreciated being able to fly more than I did at
this moment. I took off in the direction of the helicopter and I
caught up to him shortly.

He was zigzagging the chopper across the
sky, trying to avoid me, but he knew his fate. I flew above the
helicopter and looked him in the eye from outside the window. I
wanted him to see my face. I got to the open doorway of the copter
and grabbed him and ripped him from his seat. I held him in my
arms, 5,000 feet in the air.

“Please, Josiah. Spare me! At least let me
become one of you. Please don’t let me die,” he screamed, as he
dangled in the sky.

“Romero, you’re the worst human being, or
immortal for that matter, that I have known. You don’t deserve to
live your life as either.” With that, I dropped him and watched as
he fell to the ground below. It was finished.

I flew back to his compound. By this point,
the entire compound was set on fire, Waco style.

To the left of the compound, the remaining
fighters stood in an open field, watching the place blaze up. I
flew over and landed in front of them.

The one hundred and twenty Carni and Mani
who stood in front of me no longer had any direction or purpose. I
was about to give it to them.

As Romero’s compound went up in flames
behind me, I stood in front of these amazing warriors who had
fought for something tonight that was as great as any human or
immortal could ever fight for. Tonight, they fought for their
freedom.

“Warriors!” I yelled to the men, “Tonight,
you have proven that you could stand and fight alongside enemies.
Tonight, I ask you to join me in one more battle, a battle greater
than even your freedom, a battle that will free all of us from the
bondage of hate. Will you join me against an enemy even worse than
the man we defeated tonight?”

“We’ll follow you anywhere, Josiah,” a Carni
man yelled out.

“So will we!” a Mani man yelled, too.

I looked around the group. These were the
toughest men in the world and they were now on my side.

I finally had my army.

Chapter Thirty-three

Before we went home, I went to the Deity to
see if Lena and Tommy had made it there okay.

When I arrived there, I went down into the
bunker myself. I made my way to the back room where I had
previously met the Deity. Both Tommy and Lena were lying on the
floor being cared for by the Deity and some children.

Tommy looked up at me and smiled. The
children had done a pretty good job cleaning him up.

“You did good tonight, Tommy,” I said.

He nodded his head and smiled. “We
good?”

“We’re good,” I said. “Romero won’t be
exploiting any more immortals. Romero won’t be doing much of
anything.”

I looked at Lena and she seemed to being
doing okay. The children were giving her food and water.

“Are you okay?” I asked Lena.

“Yes, I am,” she reached her arms out to
me.

I knelt down and hugged her. “I am so sorry
that this happened to you,” I said.

“Josiah, it had to happen,” Lena said.
“Everything had to happen for all things to come to pass.”

I looked over at the Deity and said, “She is
starting to sound like you.”

The Deity smiled and said, “You have an
amazing woman, Josiah.”

“I know I do.” I looked over at Tommy and
said, “I have an amazing best friend, too.”

“Josiah,” the Deity said. “You’re going to
need to take Lena back and get ready. You will have more challenges
to come not to mention a couple of bundles of joy.”

I smiled. “I can’t wait.” I sat down in
between Tommy and Lena and just collapsed.

“Are you okay?” Lena asked.

“Yeah, Josiah,” Tommy said. “What about
you?”

“I’m great guys.” I paused and then said,
“Oh, by the way. We are going to have a few more houseguests, one
hundred and twenty to be exact.”

They both looked at me, surprised.

I leaned back on the ground of the bunker
and knew from this moment on, my destiny and my family were one. I
was forever going to live by one strict code to defeat Krull: That
strict code was ‘One Love.’

To be continued in:

Vampire Love Story Book #5

Available in ebookstores everywhere

Return to the Table of Contents

Part One

Published by H.T. Night at Smashwords.com

Copyright © 2010 by H.T. Night

All rights reserved.

(Author’s note: All characters depicted in
this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.)

Dedication

I dedicate this novel to my family.

Acknowledgment

Special thanks to Eve Paludan J.R. Rain,
April M. Reign and Sandy Johnston for all their help.

Chapter One

Practice was a bitch. Mo, my trainer, kicked
my ass. These five-hour practices would have to stop once I was
champion. That was a long way off, considering that I only had one
professional fight behind me. I knocked out the poor guy in less
than a minute; I had a long road ahead of me until I got to the
top.

I’m a mixed martial arts fighter in the
state of California. I was a collegiate wrestling champion for
Arizona State, and after college, there wasn’t much I could do when
my only skill was wrestling other guys on a cold, hard mat. So, I
went into mixed martial arts training and got quickly addicted to
the sport. So much so that I decided to make it my career.

Practice was rough tonight because I was
still nursing a pretty serious hangover from the New Year’s Eve
party, the night before. I hardly ever drink, but there are certain
events in the year that qualify as drinking nights, and New Year’s
Eve is one of them.

The year was 2006, and I had just turned 22
years old. College was a breeze for me; I zipped through my four
years and got a degree in Theater Arts. Yes, that’s right, I said
it; I’m a mixed martial arts fighter who also has a Theater Arts
degree. I took every kind of class when I was at Arizona State and
I found that my acting classes were the most fun. And, I’m all
about fun.

But tonight wasn’t about mixed martial arts
or theater. Tonight was about unwinding at my favorite dive bar. I
wasn’t sure if I was going to drink, considering I drank half the
tequila in Mexico last night, but I still had some party left in me
and I needed to feed the beast.

My muscles hardly got sore anymore unless I
took a pounding in the gym. Tonight, I took such a pounding. I had
recently installed a huge Jacuzzi-style bathtub in my apartment.
So, I figured I’d check out the ambiance of the bar and maybe have
a tiny, little drink. Then I go home and soak my overworked muscles
and joints against the bubbling jets of my Jacuzzi.

I was so hung over and exhausted that I
wanted to go to a bar where I knew I would have zero chance of
getting into a fight. I have to admit, I love to fight and my
specialty is putting douchebags in their place: on the ground, face
down. I’m not talking about the clueless guy who is socially inept
and tends to stick his foot in his mouth repeatedly at a bar when
it comes to talking to women. I’m talking about the meathead, the
abrupt bully who is always trying to physically cut you down to
build himself up. I didn’t pummel douchebags for talking crap, I
pummeled them in physical self-defense. I’m a walking target for
douchebags, because I look like a challenge, I’m about six feet,
two inches tall, and have a thick physique. I have an exceptionally
small waist in comparison to my shoulders, which gives me a nice ‘V
shape’ as the ladies often mentioned. My looks have been compared
to a younger Hugh Jackman with more of a rugged edge. I have to
admit, I love the ladies, and they seem to love themselves some
Tommy. Guys, on the other hand, especially guys in packs, seem not
to be so Tommy-friendly. I usually kept to myself because frankly,
I could fight every night of the week, if necessary. It was as
natural to me as breathing.

So, my dive bar of choice is a place called
Shiners, because everyone knows my name and respects my
contribution to society. I did see the irony in the name of the
dive bar and it was like an “in” joke, every time I walked in past
the sign and patted it, for luck. My goal for my contribution to
society, in Shiners and elsewhere, was to make sure that all of my
women knew that they were delicate, beautiful creatures—I did all I
could to make sure each one was satisfied. Line them up! I liked
all women, big and small, black or white. They are all God’s
creatures and if the night is right, the lucky chosen one would
make a run to my hot tub with me, and walk out with her knees
quivering and a smile on her face. But don’t misunderstand my
intentions, I’m not sexist or a pig. I love and adore women and I’m
a gentleman to the utmost degree. But, I am usually on the prowl,
and the cuter, my prey, the more I raise my game. My game is
simple. I’m the bad boy. Sometimes quiet, sometimes outgoing, but
never the braggart. I usually just give tidbits about myself and
allow their imaginations to infer the rest. My technique seemed to
be working for me. I rarely lacked for female company, but had no
steady girlfriend. I had never felt like I needed or wanted
one.

I pulled my black Mustang into the Shiners
parking lot. The bar is about two miles from my gym. I worked out
in Anaheim Hills at a gym that specializes in mixed martial arts
training. The parking lot was unusually empty for a Thursday night,
but then again, it was New Year’s Day; most people were already in
bed after a long day of watching football and pigging out on
Christmas leftovers and beer. I didn’t have the luxury of eating
like a pig since I had to keep my weight around 175 pounds. And
beer was pretty much forbidden for fighters. It was said that beer
put on weight faster than any food.

I got out of my car and stepped on the
crushed gravel parking lot. It was a reasonably cool evening, so I
decided to grab my leather jacket from the back seat of my Mustang.
It went well with my immaculate white t-shirt and Levis 501
button-front blue jeans that molded to my hips like they were
custom made. I had showered and cologned up at the gym and I looked
and smelled like a warm, summer day. But, because I had a hangover,
I knew my breath was probably yucky. It was Altoid time! I reached
in my left pocket and pulled out a container of wintergreen
Altoids. I tossed a couple in my mouth. Considering Altoids were
the most I had splurged on my diet all day, I thought it would be
okay to knock back a couple more.

I put on my coat, straightened my clothes
and then looked at myself in my driver’s-side mirror. My eyes were
a tad bloodshot from my workout but I didn’t have any eye drops, so
I decided not to worry about it. Besides, it was kind of dark in
Shiners. My dark brown hair seemed a tad messed up, but then again,
I couldn’t walk into a bar looking too immaculate. I had learned
that a slightly scruffy look could be appealing to women.

I walked across the parking lot and counted
a total of five cars. Was there anyone inside? Worst-case scenario,
I could chat it up with Megan, the bartender. She was cute and was
well-endowed and I could at least get my flirt on. Practice makes
perfect.

I opened the door to the bar. The door had
peeled-off paint on the outside, and they covered the inside with
big beer advertisements.

I peeked in and Jonesy, the doorman, was
there sitting on a stool looking bored to death. He was a rather
large man with a giant head. He looked like he could be an extra in
a motorcycle movie.

“Tommy, what’s up, brother?” He stuck out
his fist and bumped it with mine.

“Not much, Jonesy.” I knew I wouldn’t have
to show my ID, and I was actually glad not to. I had been going to
the bar since I was eighteen. If they’d ever wanted to see my real
I.D., they would know I had pulled the wool over their eyes for
four years with a fake one.