Slayer's Moon (A Sable Hart Vampire Slayer Novel Book 4)

  Table of Contents

  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

  List of other available titles

  SLAYER'S MOON

  A Sable Hart Rogue Vampire Novel

  By

  Megan Hawke

  PUBLISHED BY:

  Hawke Publishing

  Copyright 2014/2017 by Megan Hawke

  Cover by Najla Qamber Designs

  This novel was previously published as "Wild On"

  This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, and locations within are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS:

  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

  List of other available titles

  About the author

  Slayer's Moon

  A Sable Hart Vampire Slayer Novel

  I stopped the car half a block down the street, right in front of the Kigor house. Gnawing on my lip, I looked the unfamiliar cars over. A blue Dodge Neon and a brown Ford 500 were parked on the street in front of my parents' house. I didn't recognize either car.

  "What is going on here?" I muttered.

  I ran the tip of my tongue over my sharp fangs, kinda to remind myself that I had little to fear. Yeah, right. Whoever wrote all those vampire legends never met my mother.

  Momma's phone call was as urgent as it was brief. "Come to the house, Sable. Now. We have a problem."

  Did they plan to stake me in some religious inspired bid to "save my soul?" When your father was a pastor and your mother was from a family of pastors, you had to think twice about that. They didn't appreciate it when their children went all undead on them. But just three days earlier I was at their house, on Christmas Day, by their invitation and all seemed like old times. Even my sister Yvette refrained from mentioning my recent demise, and current unholy state.

  So it couldn't be a staking. I hoped.

  Casting out my vampiric powers, I could feel the people inside that three bedroom, two bath, two car garage, red brick tract house. I sensed three men, three women, and a baby. A baby? Was Yvette there with her little baby boy? I didn't see her Lexus or her husband's Mercedes Benz.

  Everyone was extremely tense. Fear was another emotion at a high level in there. Fear of what? Or who? Me? Maybe.

  "Wait, let me see," I said. "Yep, I have a backbone. Guess I'll just go in and ask what it is all about. Probably faster than trying to divine it out here."

  I was a vampire, not a witch.

  My hesitation was not unfounded. Even though I was more than capable of defending myself against six adults, I could only sense living beings. If there were any unfriendly vampires inside I wouldn't know until I entered, and then it would be too late.

  Yeah, most vampires didn't like me any more than most mortals. I was Black Heart, the vampires' very own boogieman. I hunted rogue vampires, and finished killing them. My solution to killer vampires was quick, violent, and very, very final. So there were more than a few vamps with major attitudes toward me.

  I turned off the engine, pulled the matte black Glock 31 from my purse, and charged it. All the bullets in the magazine were silver, and blessed by a man of God. I bought them, so didn't know if he was a priest, minister, rabbi, Imam, or shaman. I didn't care, as long as they worked.

  The street was mostly dark. It was 10:22 on a Thursday night. The good people of the suburbs had to go to work bright and early the next morning. Only three houses had front porch lights lit, including my parents' house. My stiletto heels clacked and clattered when I got out and hurried to the trunk of my brand spanking new Ford Mustang. My clicker popped the trunk and I deposited my purse. I didn't think I'd need it.

  With Glock 31 in hand, I silently slipped into the night shadows as I checked out all the surrounding houses. I probably looked like a wraith cutting through the neighbors' front yards, decked out in all black leather and latex, with waist length black hair and milky white skin. I wore latex low-riders, stuffed into thigh boots, with a skimpy black halter top. That top left my back between my shoulder blades bare, which was important. I get a lot of "man, you really look like a vampire chick" comments.

  I started to sniff around as I quickly closed on the house. I cannot sense a vampire, but I can certainly smell them. Many reeked of blood. Especially the rogue killers. But there was no stench of death about the house or neighborhood.

  Vampires see as well on the darkest night as a normal mortal sees on a dark, rainy day. But the sky was clear, with a nearly full moon shining above. It was like high noon for me.

  The back yard was enclosed in a privacy fence, which I hopped over effortlessly. The yard had no trees, so no dead leaves to rustle and crunch underfoot. Silent as a mouse I went, and looked in all windows as I made my way around the house.

  I quickly determined no bad guys were in the house. I knew everyone there. The visitors were members of another Methodist pastor's family. The Saxon's were my family's closest friends.

  So I knocked on the door. My father opened it in seconds flat.

  "Sable! Thank God you're here," Daddy said.

  My father was an impressive sight, standing six four with a medium build and jet black hair. He was clean shaven and had a kind, handsome face. Like always, he wore dark slacks and a button down shirt. Even with the urgency he felt, he still had a quick smile for his daughter.

  "Hello, Daddy," I said, setting the pistol and clicker on the entry table, I then gave him a hug. One does not hug one’s father holding a pistol. "Sorry about the gun, but Momma made it sound serious."

  "It is," he said. "But not that immediate."

  "Sable, in here," Momma called, waving me into the living room. Then she got a good look at me, all vamped up in latex and leather. Not the kind of clothes I normally wore to visit my parents. "Oh."

  "Sorry, Momma, but you didn't give me time to change," I said. "I was over in Deep Ellum."

  They all got "ah" looks. Deep Ellum was a club district, infamous for being the place to go and hook up with a vampire. It was the prime party district for thralls, Goths, and kinksters of all stripes. There were clubs in Deep Ellum that openly catered to vampires, and yet everyone seemed to pretend it didn't happen. Vampires were known to have a penchant for leather and latex.

  The Reverend Saxon and his wife were sitting anxiously on the couch. It was obvious Elaine Saxon and my mother shopped together, because they dressed exactly alike. Was there a minister's wife boutique somewhere? My mother had short, dark brown hair, while Mrs. Saxon was bleached blonde, but both were about the same heigh
t and plump.

  Next to them on the couch was a pretty young woman, cooing lovingly at her child. Charlotte Saxon was still a little heavy from her recent pregnancy, but was an attractive young woman with shoulder length light brown hair and the friendliest brown eyes you ever saw.

  "Good evening, Reverend Saxon, Mrs. Saxon," I said as courteously as possible. My Momma raised me right. "Oh my God, is that little Timmy the Third? He's gorgeous!"

  "Thank you," Charlotte said, a flash of maternal love and pride briefly taking over her fear filled face. And that made me look around.

  "Where's Timmy?"

  "That's why you were called," Momma said, leveling determined olive green eyes on me. "You're Black Heart. We have vampire problems."

  My jaw dropped and gooseflesh crept up my spine. I had grown up with Timmy. I had known him most of my life. He was like a brother to me. Our birthdays were only one week apart, and we were the same age.

  "What about Timmy?" I said.

  It was one of those I don't want to know, but I have to know moments. Everyone became grim, while tears began flowing down Charlotte's face.

  "They took him," Reverend Saxon finally choked out. Timmy was their only child. They were always a very loving family. "Vampires took my boy."

  "When? Where?" I said, my blood surging. I felt like a wound up spring, ready to release incredible violence on the soulless bastard that hurt my friend. "Tell me everything."

  "T-They took him earlier this evening, about three hours ago," Charlotte said. "They ran us off the road not long after sundown and made Timmy go with them."

  "Vampires took him?" I said. That seemed kinda odd. Why would they take him? "How? What did they do to him? What did they do to you?"

  "They. . . what?" Charlotte said, now confused by my rapid fire questions. I needed information fast.

  "I'm sorry," I said, taking a deep breath. "Just tell me what happened. They ran you off the road, then what happened?"

  "The blonde vampire girl ripped his door off the car," Charlotte said, and shuddered. "Just pulled it off like it was nothing! Then the other vampire girl pulled Timmy out of the car."

  "Vampire girls?" I said

  "Yeah, a blonde and brunette. Young and pretty looking, dressed all. . . um, shiny like you," Charlotte said. "And they both had the same tramp stamp, a black crescent moon surrounded by thorny roses."

  "Are you sure they were vampires?" I said.

  Truth was vampires weren't the only creatures that could pull a door off a car. I knew werewolves could, and I wasn't sure about zombies.

  "They were the same three that had bitten him three times before," Charlotte said. "He told me. I saw their fangs! They were huge."

  "They bit him before?"

  "Three times," Reverend Saxon said. He looked grim. "I think they were trying to make him into a vampire. They were recruiting him heavily."

  Now my head was spinning. Recruit? Vampires didn't recruit people. Not to be vampires, at least. Vampires need mortal thralls and minions, not more vampires. This was just bizarre.

  "Then what happened?" I asked.

  "They said something about Trey and I looking really tasty, then told him we were not safe around him," Charlotte said. "Timmy would never hurt us."

  "They bit him three times?" I asked, still not able to wrap my mind around what had happened leading up to the kidnapping. "When?"

  "Once before Thanksgiving. I think the Monday before Thanksgiving," Charlotte said. She shuddered. "The bite was horrible, vicious, and bloody. Then he was jumped and bitten again the week after Thanksgiving, and finally again on the Saturday before Christmas."

  That was odd. Vampires immediately healed any bite wound. We didn’t leave open wounds like that, unless we wanted to punish or kill them.

  "Did he get violently sick after being bitten?" I said.

  "No."

  "He could still go out in the sun?"

  "Yes. He never missed a day of work," Charlotte said. "He's not a vampire. Yet. You have to get him back before they Change him."

  I didn't think they wanted to Change Timmy. The vampires wanted something else from Timmy. Timmy was just a CPA in a private accounting firm and a family man. A cog in the machine. What could he offer a family of vampires?

  It was possible some vampire was infatuated with Timmy and wanted him for his or her lover. Crazier things happen. Not all vampires were entirely sane. And vampiric powers permitted us to force compliance with our wishes rather easily.

  "Did Timmy ever say anything about why the vampires wanted to recruit him?" I said. "Did they indicate they wanted him to do anything for them?"

  "No."

  "Did he change his behavior, his routine or anything?"

  "Well. . . no," Charlotte said.

  "No! What were you going to say?" I demanded.

  "It's nothing important," she said.

  "Let me decide that," I said. "Tell me everything."

  "Well, since Christmas he had become increasingly agitated. Short tempered," she said, suddenly unable to look at her in-laws. "His temper came in flashes, but he calmed down real fast. He didn't hit me or anything like that."

  "His temper got progressively worse?"

  "Yes."

  Interesting fact, but meant nothing to me. He was probably reacting to the stress. I became incredibly agitated as I Changed, but I was also violently ill. Charlotte said Timmy was not sick. He was not Changing into a vampire. Yet.

  "So he just went with them? Or did they drag him away kicking and screaming," I asked. "Did they mesmerize him?"

  "Mesmerize? Oh, no. After they threatened me and the baby, Timmy agreed to go with them if they promised not to hurt his family," she said, and started crying.

  "He sacrificed himself for his wife and child," Reverend Saxon said.

  There wasn't a dry eye in the house. Not even mine, and it takes a lot to bring tears to the eyes of a vampire.

  I cleared my throat, blinked a few times, and turned back to Charlotte. Something had to be done, and fast. Unfortunately, I was at a loss.

  "Anything else? Did you hear a name mentioned?" I said. "What did they look like? Did you get a license plate number?"

  "Oh, the boss vampire was tall and distinguished looking, with silver temples," Charlotte said. "He rode in a limo and wore a tuxedo."

  I gawked at her. "A vampire? In a tux?" But it made me think. Which vamps in Dallas could afford, and actually did ride in, limos? Not many. I knew of at least one vampire council member who did, but he didn't have graying temples. "If I showed you some pictures, do you think you could identify the vampires involved?"

  "Yes!"

  I hurried back to my Mustang. I returned the pistol to my purse. I had a briefcase in the trunk with everything I had on the vampire council. I took it back to the house and started showing Charlotte pictures. We spent half an hour going through photos, and didn't find a single one that was of the vampires that took Timmy.

  "What are you going to do?" Momma asked.

  "I'm going to find Timmy and bring him back," I said, sapphire eyes narrowing. The Saxon's eyes all went wide as they stared at me in fear. I realized too late I was baring my fangs and projecting anger. "And I'm going to make someone very sorry they ever messed with one of my friends."

  Chapter 2

  By 11:30 PM I was back on the road. I still had eight hours of dark to play with. It wasn't even midday for vampires. Though, I was getting a little hungry.

  Maybe Boney would let me bite him.

  Signing into my smartphone as I accelerated up the on-ramp onto Central Expressway, heading south, I punched in the number to my favorite informant. He was an undead pimp working the Harry Hines red light district. His girls were all thralls and serviced some of the movers and shakers in the vamp community. Bone Daddy knew lots of interesting things.

  "Boney," I said. "Good evening."

  "Sable!" he said. I smiled to hear the honest joy in his voice. "Long time no see, babe."

&
nbsp; "I saw you two nights ago," I said, shaking my head with a big smile. "We did very naughty things to each other for several hours. Am I that forgettable?"

  "There’s nothing about you forgettable," Boney said. "But two nights is a long time to go without a big healthy dose of Sable."

  I rolled my eyes. "Pouring it on pretty thick there, don’t you think?"

  "I know. Is it working?"

  "Yeah," I said, and laughed. "Where are you at?"

  "You’re coming to see me?"

  "I’m doing 85 on Central as we speak," I said. "Where else would I go at this unholy hour, except to see a vampire?"

  "Coolness," he said. "I’m in the Crazy Girls parking lot on Harry Hines."

  "I’ll be there in less that fifteen."

  "Is this visit a kiss or a bite?"

  "A big bite of business."

  "No chance for a kiss?"

  "Maybe that too, if I like what you tell me," I said, grinning. "See you in a bit, bye."

  Kisses and bites were common vamp slang. Oddly enough, a "bite" was bad, while a "kiss" was good. Or in this context, business rather than pleasure. But with vampires pleasure was around every corner. Vamps, one and all, were poster children for hedonism.

  Once I was the epitome of the nice girl and perfect daughter. Yep, wild wicked me was a sweet as can be university student and Sunday School teacher, wearing long skirts and sensible shoes. I made the mistake of going to Deep Ellum, and was almost killed by a hungry vampire. A stranger, Dane Douglass, who just happened to stake vampires for a living, saved me. Soon I was his apprentice, his girlfriend, and less than two years later I have fangs. Enough said.

  Dallas was a big city, but things kinda shut down by midnight unless you knew where to look. I knew where to look, but the highways and byways thinned out sweetly late at night and let me open up my Mustang. I charged out of Plano and into Richardson at over 100 MPH. I had to brake hard to make the turn onto Loop 635, called LBJ. Heading west, I made for Harry Hines at a 115 MPH.

  I had a really good radar detector.

  At 55 to 65 MPH, LBJ was a sweetly rolling drive across the northern edge of Dallas proper. At 115 MPH, it was roller coast wild. Seatbelts required to stay in the seat. Momma like. A lot.