C.O.T.V.H. (Book 3): Extermination (3 page)

“Guy” watched from his seat atop a five-gallon bucket as the Bishops’ truck drove across the dam, headed back to Lubbock.  His stringer of fish hung nearby on a thick branch.  Three raccoons batted at it with their paws trying to knock it down.  “Enjoy, my little friends,” he smiled.  “I will see if I cannot catch you a few more.”

“What are you doing here, Gaius?” a familiar voice said from behind him.

“Michael,” Gaius said, not bothering to turn around.  “Have a seat.”

“I asked you a question,” Michael replied in a very heated tone.

“I said have a seat,” this time putting force into his words.

Michael obeyed, dropping to the dry ground next to his Maker.  He stared cold, hate filled eyes at him.

“Calm yourself,” Gaius ordered.  “I promised you I would not harm the boy and I will not.”

“Then why are you here?”  Michael ground his teeth.

“I was curious.  I wanted to see the humans that three of my children went to war over.”  He lifted his eyes meeting Michael’s.  “I must say I was not impressed.  They were so easily deceived.  A little blood stored inside my cheek, clothing I acquired from some pitiful little man whose blood reeked of alcohol . . .” he nodded to a drained naked body, hidden under a nearby log.

“Pathetic are they not?” a booming male voice said, appearing almost from thin air.  “So weak, so frail.  I could have feasted on all three of them and there would  not have been a thing any of them could have done to stop me.”

“I would have killed you if you had, Macro.”  Michael rose from the ground, extending his talons.  The beast before him stood taller than any man should, close to seven feet.  A long mane of blond, almost white hair fell down over his shoulders, draping over a patched fur coat made from the skins of dozens of Watchers.  “I suppose Livilla is here as well?”

“Why would she bother herself with something as trivial as Hunters?”  Macro smirked.  “Stupid boy.  She has more important matters to deal with than three pitiful humans.”

“Those
pitiful
humans helped kill nineteen of Livilla’s children,” Michael laughed.  “And if I’m not mistake they took out a dozen of yours as well.”

Macro’s temper flared, his long fangs protruded from his mouth.  “Traitor!” he roared.  “I know it was you that gave them the location of our home!  For that, Michael, I will kill you where you stand!”

“I gave them no such thing!”  Michael yelled back.  “You are a fool, Macro, for thinking you could stand up to the might of both the Coalition and the United States Government!  Your arrogance brought this apocalypse upon us!  How many times did I warn you and the council?  How many times?!  This isn’t Rome, or Medieval Europe, these humans have the ability to wipe us all from existence!”

“Silence!”  Gaius shouted.  “You two fools are scaring the fish away!”  He reeled in his line to find an empty hook.  He glared at Macro then turned to Michael, “If either of you so much as thinks of trading words again, I will rip your heads from your necks and feed you to the fish!  For once can we not have a calm, civilized conversation?”

“Caligula . . .” Macro started.

“Silence!”

Gaius opened a small red and white cooler sitting next to him and pulled out a bloody piece of liver.  He popped it into his mouth like a piece of candy then offered one to both of his “sons”.  Macro greedily accepted one.  Michael refused, his eyes filled with disgust.

“Delicious,” Macro licked his fingers then reached for another piece.  “There is nothing so sweet as the taste of infant’s blood.  It is so . . . untainted.”

Gaius slapped his hand away, “The rest is for the fish.”

Michael sighed, “Gaius, please.  I beg you.  Put a stop to this.  I gave you everything, and in return you gave your word.”

“On that, Michael, you are mistaken.  I gave
you
everything
. 
I gave
you
immortality.  There is no greater gift.”

“You cursed me,” Michael lowered his head.  “If I had known the cost . . .”

“You would have accepted it all the same,” Gaius said.

“You are a fool, Michael,” Macro said, then shut his mouth as Gaius gave him a burning stare.

“Be gone,” Gaius said, with a wave of his hand, “both of you.  Leave me in peace.  Continue your pathetic little war if you must but leave me out of it!”

Macro and Michael rose and without a word faded back into the night.  Gaius popped another piece of liver into his mouth then baited his empty hook.  “Here fishy, fishy,” he said, casting out his line.  He couldn’t help but smile to himself,  “Everything continues to go as planned.”

“You play a dangerous game, brother.”  Livilla’s form emerged from the lake, squeezing water from her long red hair.  “Why do you do this?  You could end this war with a single word.”

“Dear sister, where is the fun in that?” he smiled.

“What of the humans?” she asked, kneeling down next to him.  “Though I hate to admit it, Michael is right.  They are becoming more dangerous by the day.  What should we do?”

“It is simple,” Gaius smiled.  “If there is one thing humans love it is to kill each other.  So, let’s give what they want.”

“How do we do that?”

“I have already made the arrangements.”  He popped another piece of liver into his cheek.  “A whisper here, a suggestion there, a few million dollars placed is some very fanatical, very dangerous hands.”  He chewed thoughtfully.  “Soon, very soon, the Hunters . . . the Americans, will all learn just how fragile they really are.”

Chapter 1

Jake

The Bishop Residence

Lubbock, Tx

September 10, 2001 3:53am

Jake lay awake the entire night before his first solo hunt.  He had trained for two and a half years for this very day, had dreamed about it, but now that it was finally here his nerves were on edge like a teenager going on his first date.

The red numbers of the alarm clock stared at him, almost taunting him.  
Just thirty more minutes, 
he thought to himself.  
Thirty more minutes until the alarm goes off . . . then it all begins.  No more training, no more games, no more pissed off drill sergeants riding my ass, just me, my guns, my axe, and a vampire . . . I must be out of my freaking mind.

As he stared at the glowing red 4:30am, the zero turned into a one then seemingly just as quickly became a two. "Twenty-eight more minutes," he said aloud.  Rolling onto his left side he draped his hand over the side of the bed and ran his fingers lovingly across the engraved handle of his double headed axe,
Judgment,
which sat leaning against his nightstand
.
He gripped it in his right hand then pulled it tightly to his chest.  
Please God,
he prayed, rolling onto his back, still clutching the axe.
Please don't let the alarm go off. Please . . .
 his eyes grew heavy, closed, and for the first time that night he finally slept.

Jake's eyes opened to the ghostly image of Donnie hovering above him.  Blood oozed out from between his shredded, broken lips.  "Take care . . ." he wheezed.  "Take care . . ." his lips continued to move but no more words would come.  Jake struggled to move, to cry out, but his body would not cooperate.  Before his eyes Donnie began to rot.

Huge globs of clotted blood mixed with putrefied flesh fell in clumps from his decaying body.  Jake tried to close his eyes, to shield his mind from the horror he knew was coming.

Bit by tiny bit Donnie's rotted flesh fell away.  His cold, foul smelling blood rained down in a shower, pooling around Jake’s eyes.  The intestines fell out in a heap splashing on Jake’s chest and wrapping around his neck like a squishy noose.

A thick layer of blood, guts, and gore enveloped Jake, filling his mouth, nose, and ears.  Only a repugnant, grayish skeleton remained of what was once his best friend.  Its ghostly, boney fingers stretched down yanking at Jake’s hair.  “Take care . . .” the boney jaw moved then fell off.

The alarm went off and Jake opened his eyes.  Warm tears ran down his cheeks and a cold sweat covered his entire body.  He lay completely still.  Unable to even blink for fear that he might doze off and the nightmare would return.  The alarm beeped for a full minute before he finally reached over and turned it off.  

It had been the same for weeks now.  Every time he closed his eyes the image of Donnie’s broken, distorted body would find him and deliver his dying words over and over.  
Take care of who?  Of what? 
Jake thought angrily.  
Dammit Donnie!  Finish the sentence or leave me the hell alone!  You're not real!  You're not! You're dead!  I watched you die!  I watched the life drain out of your eyes!  I watched Billy cradle your body in his arms . . . we cremated you!  
Jake wiped the tears from his eyes then sat up on the side of the bed with his head in his hands.  "You’re dead!" he said quietly.

Donnie had been the best of their class, the strongest, the fastest, the most gifted in every single area, from armed combat to house breaching.  He was their leader, the one destined to take them into battle, yet he had died choking on his own blood, his ribs and organs crushed by a single Maker’s powerful hands.  

Livilla . . .
Jake had never seen anything so strong, so terrifyingly evil. 
The gleam in her eyes as she choked Diana . . . she was enjoying it.

The team had hit her with everything they had.  Buckshot, crossbow bolts, razor sharp broad head tipped arrows, Chris’s .300 Winchester Magnum rounds.  Even with the sun trickling through the clouds, crisping her pale white skin, none of it had so much as slowed her down.

The image of Billy cradling his grandson’s lifeless body would haunt Jake for the rest of his life.  The pain in Amber’s eyes, the arrows sticking out of Whisper’s chest. 
It was a miracle she survived, 
Jake thought,
 doctors said another three inches and it would have nicked an artery and she would be just as dead as Donnie.  Let’s be honest . . . it was a miracle any of us survived.

They had all known the risks, had even come close to death before, but until that moment the thought of one of them actually dying hadn’t seemed possible.  They were too good, too well prepared. 
Yeah,
Jake thought, 
we were prepared all right.  Our first hunt and half the team gets taken out of action by one goddamn Maker.  We got cocky and we paid for our arrogance in blood.  Donnie's blood. And now it's my turn to pay the piper.  Only this time there's no team watching my back.  I'm alone.

For years they had looked forward to a day like today.  To proving they had what it took to join the cause, that their families and trainers faith in them had not been misplaced.  Jake, Donnie, Buck and to a lesser extent Chris, had laughed and often bragged about how well they’d do, how proud their families would be when they strolled into a building completely alone and come out with a pair of fangs in their hand.

Donnie would have been the first.  When he died he was just weeks away from his first solo hunt.  Buck was next, but now he, like his father, was an outcast doing who knows what to earn a living.  No Coalition member would ever do business with either of them again.  Not after Bloody Wes Turner had abandoned a rookie team to go earn a few extra bucks.  Not to mention the sabotage of Jake’s guns.  It wasn't clear which of the Turners had sabotaged Jake's guns, but there was no doubt that it had to have been one of the two.  They were the only other people besides Jake and his dad with access to their room. 
He's lucky Dad didn't kill him or Grandpa for that matter.  He deserves to die for what happened to Donnie.

Everything changed after Donnie's death.  Billy had been completely gungho about his grandchildren following in his footsteps, but after Donnie he'd lost his nerve. Amber had been forbidden to ever pick up a weapon again.  She’d been whisked away to Hometown, where they could live under the protection of the mysterious Watchers.

Talon had taken Diana and Whisper back to their home in Oklahoma where they could be protected while their wounds healed.  While Diana's injuries had been far less life threatening than her sister’s, emotionally she had become a complete wreck.  Jake had spoken to her a half dozen times on the phone since Livilla had nearly killed her. Each time she’d broken down crying.

Chris was with his father Ben, who had taken over as leader of the Coalition after Billy’s retirement.  His first hunt wasn’t set to happen until sometime in November.

John had been offered Billy’s job first, but he’d turned it down, wanting to focus all of his attention on finishing Jake’s training.  He’d left his son alone once when he needed him, he wasn’t about to do it a second time. 

After what was now referred to as,
The Great Hunt
, the Coalition had exploded with membership.  What was left of Mike Holloway’s group had quickly joined, followed by dozens of other smaller groups.  It had grown into a multi-state militia made up of over four hundred hunters.

Ben Morris used his affinity for organization and technology, along with his contacts and access to law enforcement databases, to wage a now very one-sided war.  In just two months time, one hundred and seventy-seven grunts and twenty-two Makers, had been killed; the most in recorded history in such a short span of time.  From all appearances the vampire leadership was in complete shambles. 

With his head leaning on the handle of his axe, Jake picked up the group picture taken on their night out to see
Star Wars Episode I.  
These people were more than just his friends, they were his family, and he'd let one of them die. 
Dammit why didn’t I check those goddamn guns?!

Doubts once again began running rampant through his brain.  He had little confidence he'd ever be the hunter his dad and grandpa were, that he would ever live up to their expectations.  His absolute greatest fear was letting them down and getting himself, or even worse, one of them killed. 
Like I did with Donnie.