The sword’s tip lodged in the ground.

Jack’s legs were like an event horizon, pulling the rest of him down. His vision was fading, black spots covering eerie shadows and old wooden doors, his blade piercing ever deeper as he struggled to stand.

Beneath the dripping red, his knuckles were white. Gripping the sword as though it was his life, he fell to his knees, pitching forward as his body gave up.

He coughed. Blood splattered from his mouth, staining the carpet. His hands fell, and his cheek touched the rough-hewn fabric, his failing gaze landing on the corpse next to him.

But it wasn’t a corpse.

Crispley gurgled, blood trickling down his chin. He was lying on his side, the gaping hole in his chest refusing to heal. He smiled.

Jack’s face screwed up. He was sure he’d pierced the vampire’s heart; there was no way he could regenerate.

“Thank... you,” said Crispley, flipping over to his back. “I can… finally…”

He reached his hand towards the ceiling, holding it for a moment before it flopped down onto his chest.

He was dead. Sighing in relief, Jack groaned as agony pulsated through him.

Everything felt heavy.

There was no light, or heavenly choir - just the rasping of his breath, and a rhythmic, muffled thumping. Footsteps?

One of the remaining New Bloods, probably, here to finish him off. There were bound to be a few left.

Or perhaps it was the Reaper, come to guide him to whatever came next.

If there even was anything.

Whoever it was, they had the kind of superior strut that usually came with a trust fund.

As he lost consciousness, he noted that dying felt a lot like floating, and that his sight was spinning so badly it looked like he was moving.

***

Lydia had taken the head of the group, which left their rear unprotected. Luckily, there had been no more encounters on their way out of the school, and she could allow herself to relax.

The vampires all hid in the doorway. Hannah, however, brushed past them with an odd look, Jess on her shoulder.

She hissed when the sun hit her. Faltering, she eased Jess to the ground, rushing back into the building.

Shaking her head, Lydia looked out at the car park. It was a field of fallen vampires, some dead, some healing, and some unlucky ones baking in the sun. It smelled of blood and charred flesh.

The sounds of battle still raged. The giant turtle, Choo-chooin, had his front legs locked with the arms of a naked man - both pushing hard enough to leave grooves in the tarmac. Choo-chooin roared, snapping at Russ’s head.

The Shifter swayed back. He’d lost an eyebrow, and his face was a mask of crimson. Turning to them, he strained to keep himself from losing more ground.

“Would somebody... turn... this bloody thing off!”

“Oh, yes,” said Lydia, looking up at an overcast sky. It would probably rain soon. “Battle mode.”

Russ’ expression turned thunderous, his teeth bared and eyes wide. “Don’t just say that like it doesn’t concern you! Stop paying attention to the weather and do something!”

She turned back round, her eyes scouting for the seated figure a few feet before the doorway. “You seem like you have it handled, though.”

Growling, Russ said, “there aren’t any handles on this thing, now help me.”

“Minus twenty for wit.” She crouched in front of the bleary-eyed Jess, who looked up at her with a sleepy smile.

“He’s not a thing,” said Hannah, dashing over whilst carrying a pink parasol above her head. “He’s Choo-chooin!”

“Like I care!” screamed Russ. “Just make him stop!”

She skipped onto the disc, rocking and swaying and scrabbling. Contorting to keep the parasol in place, she got a grip, stretching her arm to the keyboard and hitting a button.

Choo-chooin backed off, lowering himself to his belly.

Russ fell onto his back, arms splayed wide. “Thank Christ for that.”

Hannah laughed. “Oh my God, that was terrifying.”

Lydia looked at her with awe. The girl had seemed a lot of things during their short time together, but scared had rarely been one of them. Turning back to Jess, her heart melted.

She had fallen asleep, her breathing soft and face peaceful. Gently, Lydia picked up her head, sitting on her heels. But as she was about to place it on her lap, she stopped. Were they really finished?

While Crispley was still kicking, and Jack putting his life on the line against him, did she have a right to relax?

She looked at Hannah, who was absentmindedly petting the giant turtle.

She looked at Russ, who was sitting and scratching his head.

She looked at Jess, whose eyelids flickered. Her heart cracked.

***

After leaving for a second time, she floated Jack’s limp body back to the disc, having Hannah input the command for the hospital.

She had confirmed Crispley’s death. That had been the only reason for her return, and she had merely picked Jack up the way one picks up a wrapper they dropped, to place into a bin later - or perhaps add to a collection, if you’re of that persuasion.

Regardless, there had certainly been no gnawing feeling in her chest upon seeing his motionless body.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

As Choo-chooin thundered towards the dilapidated fence, a purple shimmer broke through the air before him. He leaped, and a woman around Lydia’s size emerged from the Gate, taking a rear leg to the face.

She stumbled. Spluttering, Faye Blackwell strode over to her daughter. She waved a hand over her cheek, blood disappearing and shattered bones returning to their original position.

Both her face and her finery, enough to put a royal family to shame, seemed unperturbed by the time she reached Lydia.

A pair of burly men wearing fine suits had stepped out behind her, and stood at her shoulders.

Faye cast her gaze a few feet away, where an unconscious Jess was being watched by a naked, panting Russ, who was in turn being watched by the hawk-like eyes of the vampires they’d saved.

They were protective of their saviour, it seemed.

Her mother gestured to one of the men, tall with dark hair and a disjointed nose. Wandering over, he produced a spray-can from within his jacket.

Noting his arrival, Russ sighed. “Can I go home now?”

The man raised the can, spraying into Russ’ eyes.

“Augh!” Russ swatted at his eyes, recoiling with a grimace. “What the bloody hell are you doing, you maniac?”

“Hmph,” said the man, lifting Jess like a princess and carrying her back to the Gate. The other guard followed after him.

Turning to Lydia, Faye said, “quite the company you seem to have found yourself in.”

She smirked, her insides twisting. “No thanks to you.”

Faye chuckled, her heavy earrings bouncing with the movement. “A question, my dear: had I not banished you, would you have even thought to come here?”

Suddenly, everything tasted sour. It made sense; she wouldn’t put it past her to have been watching the entire time. “In other words, you were, as usual, manipulating me.”

With a wry smile, she said, “can you blame me, child? It’s not like you ever listen to a word I say.”

“Mostly because you’re not very interesting.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I have done nothing but teach you the things you will need to be a proper leader, a role you are currently in no way fit for-”

“You’re right.” The words were like a mouthful of vinegar.

Faye did a double-take, her legs faltering. “Excuse me? I do believe I’ve too much wax in my ears.”

“I said that you’re right.”

Her mother’s smugness was smothering. “Well, isn’t this a welcome surprise; twenty-four years and she finally sees sense! We shall return to the manor, and-”

“No.”

“I definitely have an ear wax problem, because I’m rather sure I just heard you say no.”

“You heard right.” She had to fight the trembling. If her mother saw her fear, she would pounce on it.

Placing her hands on her hips, Faye narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

It was a good question.

She had believed something, simply because she had been taught to. Thinking for herself had always been a point of pride, but there were so many things she hadn’t thought about.

A mere chance encounter had shattered her beliefs.

“All of those things I’m missing, and the knowledge I lack: I’m sure I’ll find it here.”

Faye considered this for a moment, before smiling with a shake of the head. “Very well. I do suppose it’s about time we got a grip on this lawless cesspit, anyway.” Sighing, she turned back towards the shimmer in the air. “I will send some of your cousins.”

She frowned. “How kind of you, mother.”

Halting, Faye inclined her head to give Lydia a venomous stare. “What do we say when we are grateful, child?”

Exhaling through her nose, she flexed her fists as a growl rose in her throat. She suppressed it. “Thank you, mother.”

Harrumphing, she turned and strutted away through the Gate.

Lydia let out the breath she’d been holding. That could have gone a lot worse; she could have been restrained and dragged home, like the time she’d gone to Norway to fight a frost giant. In her defence, it had called her a 'thot' on the internet.

She would miss Jess, but she needed to focus on herself. Her mother was a tyrant, but she wouldn’t harm her own daughter.

She needed to consider her next moves.

But first, she had a score to settle.

***

His eyes fluttered open. Everything was hazy, and he felt numb. There was something vaguely soft underneath him, and some kind of fabric on top of him. A rhythmic beeping pushed through the air. It smelled of ammonia, and everything was white.

His vision cleared, and he noticed that he was in a hospital room. It was small, with the head of his cot against one wall, orange light filtering through the window to his right.

At the foot of the cot was a pair of chairs, one of which was occupied by a tiny woman in a leather jacket and jeans.

He tried to rub his face, before remembering that he couldn’t feel his arms. If he was dreaming, then he had no choice. He screwed his eyes shut. “Gotta wake up for real this time…”

His lids burst agape, and she was still there, hands in her lap and expression increasingly strained.

He looked around himself; there had to be a call button somewhere. Finding it next to his right hand, he mashed it like a frantic gamer.

Silence.

After a while, a nurse came in, a ginger man in green with soft eyes and a haggard demeanor. “Yes?”

“I think you’ve given me too many drugs,” said Jack. “I’m seeing things.”

The nurse furrowed his brow. “Like what?”

He pointed shakily at Lydia. “The devil’s sitting right over there.”

Shooting to her feet, she sneered. “Have you no gratitude for the one who pulled you out of that dump?”

“Nope,” said the nurse, “that’s the real devil, right there.”

Her eye twitched. “How would you like to end up in the bed next to him?”

He stepped back, eyes wide. “But it’s a single room…”

Throwing her arms up, she made for the door to Jack’s left. “Fine! I can tell where I’m not wanted.”

“Lydia,” he said, smirking. “Thank you.”

She brushed her hair back. “Yes, well. I had to pay you back for your help, didn’t I?”

“You know, if we’re talking about paying-”

She marched over, producing a piece of crumpled paper from her jacket and shoving it in his face.

He chuckled nervously, the words dying in his mouth. “I guess we can waive the fee this time.”

“Hmph,” she said, turning on her heel. “As long as you understand.”

She left, followed by the nurse, and he found the morphine button a little too late. At least the dreariness wouldn’t bore him.

The next visit, an indeterminate amount of time later, came from Silas, who spent an age asking Jack what the hell he’d been thinking—he was only supposed to find Crispley, etcetera.

When Jack made the argument that Crispley had found him, he had quickly shut up.

He left with a promise of money in Jack’s account, and an assurance that all the converted New Bloods were being supported.

So, he could sleep easy, knowing that he’d secured that month’s rent..

Sleeping was all he could do.

What he judged to be a day later, though it could have been an hour - he’d dozed off - Hannah wandered in with her expression quivering.

“Hey, kid,” he said, his throat parched. “How’s vampirism?”

She scowled. “I’m still not used to it, but I’m starting to get better. More importantly, how dare you worry me like that!”

His face dropped. “Uh, are you supposed to be my mum, or something?”

“Or something! Why go off sounding so cool if you’re just gonna end up like this?!”

He made a serious face. “A protagonist carries on, despite the setbacks.”

“Like hell! There’s a difference between a setback and a broken back!”

He chuckled. “Actually, it’s mostly ribs. Anyway, all the danger’s gone now; why not go spend time with your mum?”

Pouting, Hannah crossed her arms. “She’s too busy arguing with the doctor about how my blandness didn’t stop me from getting bitten.”

“I see.” Andrea was a fruit loop, but at least she loved her child.

“Let me work for you.”

He pressed the morphine button. “Not a chance in hell.”

She fluttered her eyelashes. “Please?”

“Why?”

“I want to help people, like you do.” She scratched her temple. “Plus, she won’t say it, but mum’s definitely afraid I’m gonna bite her.”

He sighed in defeat. An assistant would make his life a lot smoother, as well as a lot less lonely.

Shame he couldn’t afford one.

“Fine,” he said. “But for now, you’re just gonna have to go home.” He yawned. “I need to rest.”

Beaming, she sprung up. “Of course! I hope you get better soon.” With a wave, she left, and he promptly returned to his dream of reincarnating in another world as a slime.

***

Leaving the hospital was a momentous occasion. He could breathe in the fresh sea air without hammers attacking his chest. He could walk around. Eat real food.

Unfortunately, he had a pressing issue: Silas’ payment would cover the last month, but he had nothing towards next month’s, or the arrears he’d built up.

Plus, he had to pay an assistant’s wages.

He had no choice but to visit the palace of dreams.

It was dark when he left the palace, a ritzy building next to the Pleasure Beach. Arms huddled around himself, he shivered, casting his mind to a missed chance.

If only he’d hit, instead of sticking with a woeful sixteen. If only he’d walked away when he had the chance.

His nipples were erect, the cold reaching to his bones as he looked out at the wooden pier and the bustling promenade.

He looked down at himself.

He was wearing nothing but his underpants.

Volume 1

End