DEATH AND DOMINATION EPISODE THREE

 

At first I wasn't sure doling out the chapters a few at a time was a good idea. However, I'm getting a perverse pleasure in prolonging the agony. That's sick I know but it reminds me so much of those wonderful nights at Blood Moon so long ago. The begging the pleading the tortured moans, oh how I miss turning the screws. Being a good story teller at Blood Moon meant incurring the wrath of the players. Perhaps I enjoyed it too much? Here are two more chapters I dedicate them to those of you that hated me the most.

BLOOD MOON SOCIAL CLUB

DEATH AND DOMINATION EPISODE THREE

By Karl Clay Vetter & C. Vetter

This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the authors’ imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
This story was inspired by the fictional events and characters created at the Blood Moon Social Club's interactive theater. Produced and directed by Karl Clay Vetter, C. Vetter and Patrick Foster.
The authors wish to thank all the Blood Moon Social Club members for their outstanding performances and support. The fictional characters in this story pay homage to you each and every one. Proceeds from this book go toward keeping the Blood Moon Social Club alive.

Copyright protected © 2015 by Karl Clay Vetter and C. Vetter.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the creators, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. Unauthorized digital sharing is a punishable offense.

Technical support Patrick Foster.

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OTHER BOOKS BY KARL CLAY VETTER & C. VETTER

BATTLE BUTTE: CROSSBREEDS 1
THEY WERE BORN HUMAN THEY BECAME SOMETHING ELSE

TANGLEWOOD TERORISTS: CROSSBREEDS 2

HUMAN SOULS TRAPED IN ANIMAL SKINS

DARK LEGENDS: CROSSBREEDS 3

NO HEROES ONLY DARK LEGENDS

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DEATH AND DOMINATION CHAPTER 5 THE WITCH

Laughter broke like shattering glass from the courtyard. A small group of onlookers were watching a private game between a large brute of a man and a striking blonde woman. Both looked to be in their thirty’s but in this crowd looks are never an indicator of reality.

The man was loosing heavy to the woman and slammed another wad of cash on the table. “Again,” he demanded.
“Why don't you try your hand at poker, this just isn't your game?” She knew of course that he couldn't quit. Knowing how to manipulate people especially men was her greatest talent. At times she found that supernatural men were even easier to control than mortals having super egos. “Very well if you insist.” Resting on the table was a sharp double edged stiletto. She held her hands over it and soon it levitated off the table and hovered between her fingers. The tip pointing strait at his heart. He held his hands a few inches apart, the idea was to snatch the blade as it flew across the table.
“Are you ready?”
“I'm ready Kalina.”
She snapped her fingers and the blade shot forth and stuck deep in his chest a millisecond before he slapped his big hands together. A quarter inch deeper and it would have pierced his heart. The gathered spectators hooted with glee adding to his embarrassment. Kalina took her winnings and pulled the blade free. “I think we've had enough fun with vampire mumbly peg for one night don't you Darius?”
Darius had been a professional wrestler before being turned and his ego was as big as his mighty shoulders. “No damn your cursed soul. Again witch, or I'll wring your pretty neck.” The table cracked where he struck it with his giant fist.
***
Barron's telepathic powers were highly developed. Legendary among vampires, none could keep a secret from him for long and many had tried. Rapture was a rare exception. Every attempt to read his thoughts had failed and this gave him pause. Another irritating fact was Rapture didn't lie to him he simply withheld key details or cleverly avoided answering questions. Lies were easy to detect word play on the other hand was more difficult to decipher and Rapture was a master at twisting words.
“What do you know about the Scepter of Babylon?”
“I can tell you that the scepter was created in a time when the dark forces held great power over the mortal world. Some claim it was too powerful and it ultimately destroyed all those that attempted to wield it. This of course is what all legends warn.”
Barron agreed. “I've never heard of an artifact of great power that wasn't dangerous. Wielding it or not however, is a rather pointless debate. I can't even understand this scroll and I'm sure the secret of it's location is in here.”
Rapture clasped his fingers together. “As I said I'm here to assist you. All you need do is ask.”
Barron knew this was a trap. If he asked for help it was akin to opening the storm cellar door during a tornado. Once opened the twister was in. In spite of the risk his obsession with the artifact was overriding his good sense. “Are you telling me you can read this?” The moment he spoke he saw an icy glint in Raptures eyes and the trap was sprung.
“No of course not you are the master historian here. I never had much of a knack for ancient languages. But the lighting in here is all wrong. Turn off the electrics and light this candle.” He produced a hand dipped beeswax candle from his coat pocket. The wick sparked and a small flame appeared.
Barron dripped hot wax on to the desk then stuck the candle to it. “Okay, what now?”
Rapture adjusted the scroll so as to catch the flickering illumination in a way that caused shadows to dance across the pages. He then waved his hand in front of the flame and in hushed tones recited perfectly a spell in Latin. A moment later the shadows formed new words that Barron could easily read.
“That's a very clever spell and you just happen to know it would work here?” He could not conceal the sarcasm.
Rapture shrugged “One of many little tricks I've picked up along the way.”
Barron's attention was drawn back to the words and their hidden meaning. He devoured them as a famished man loose in a Vegas buffet. Abruptly, he was stopped when the intercom crackled and the pit boss alerted him to trouble in the courtyard.
“Hey Boss, you better look at number six.”
Barron turned a monitor on and saw a crowd gawking at a huge angry man squaring off with a blonde woman.
Suddenly, Rapture removed his hand and the shadow glyphs vanished. He seemed fascinated with the scene.
Barron was visibly frustrated at the interruption. “Aaron, deal with that now!”
He turned back to Rapture only to find the chair vacant. A second later Rapture appeared in the courtyard emerging from a darkened corner. Barron was now fully engaged in the situation unfolding on the screen.
***
No one noticed the stranger approaching the confrontation. All eyes were transfixed on the dagger floating in front of the woman and the behemoth glowering at her.
“I don't like threats Darius. This time I won't pull back on the blade and it will slice through that lump of shit you call a heart.”
“You were cheating me you cauldron stirring witch I was too close, with twenty feet between us I can't miss.”
Kalina narrowed her eyes and focused her mind on the blade. She raised her hands and made a sudden gesture. The blade flew to its target at speed faster than human eyes could follow. The blade passed his mitts as they slammed together. The tip pierced his flesh and stopped. From out of his bloody shirt a black tentacle had lassoed the blade preventing it from punching through the man's heart. A second tentacle wrapped a shadowy noose around his thick neck and squeezed with the strength of a python.
Rapture stood next to him as the shadow snake lifted the giant off the ground. “Need I remind everyone of the rules about violence on club grounds? Fun time is over, I suggest you all go back to the tables.” The spectators slid off in different directions. He let the man drop and strolled to stand in front of the woman. Her dagger dangling from a wisp of a shadow.
Her lip curled slightly. “Thank you for saving me, I really don't know what I would have done had you not come when you did,” Kalina's natural voice was deep and sultry but she pitched it now to sound sweet and girlish.
“I was rescuing that foolish bull from being slaughtered.”

Her normal tone returned. “I'll thank you to give me my knife now.” She reached for it but the shadow jerked it away.

Rapture smiled and glanced back at the bull staggering away; rubbing his bruised ego. “I wonder how that buffoon would react if he knew your blade was hollow and every prick of your little thorn drained blood into the hilt's blood chamber?”

She willed her blade to return forcing the shadow to tighten its grip. “Give it to me before you make me angry.”
“Or you'll do what? Curse me to an eternity of living in darkness.”
“I already did that and you've been a thorn in my eye ever since.”
The shadow dissolved and her blade snapped back flying past her lovely throat and striking a stone wall. The force shattered the hilt spilling the precious vampire blood. “Oh dear, how clumsy of me. I hope you didn't have a customer for that?”
“I did you bastard and now he'll want his money back.”
Rapture stepped in close lowering his voice. “You could be the wealthiest woman in the world with your powers and yet you persist in these petty scams. I don't believe you care about anything but inflicting torment.”
She took a step closer, her voice like a leopard’s purr. “I do enjoy torturing fools but in seven hundred years I've had no greater pleasure than watching you squirm.”

DEATH AND DOMINATION CHAPTER 6 THE ZOMBIE

Woody Brown had it all, a beautiful wife, great house, two cars and a fantastic job. He worked at Caesar's Palace and was a rising star climbing the corporate ladder. The name Woody came from his father's favorite football player turned actor, Woody Strode. The resemblance to the tall striking Strode was not entirely coincidental. The actor was known for his incredible physique like a Grecian statue carved from black granite, and his smooth glistening scalp. Young Woody raised on his name sakes films and wanting to please his dad worked out religiously growing tall and muscular like the original. He too was a sports fan and played high school and collage football.

Woody Brown's funeral was both a beautiful and tragic affair. His entire family mourned in the pews. His mahogany casket was closed and draped in a mound of flowers. The procession moved slowly through Vegas to the cemetery where his empty coffin was laid to rest. Officially ruled an accident his body was never found. The corporate jet exploded over mountains near Vegas and was lost. Afterward the grief stricken mourners were forced to move on with their lives without the young man they all loved. A few miles away in a small very old grave yard illuminated by a full moon Woody Brown arose from the dead and walked into the Blood Moon Social Club.
Aaron Luger stood near the entrance of the casino chatting with a newly turned vampire. Tina had only been un-dead a few weeks. Before that she'd been a blood donor to her creator. She was not completely clueless of the supernatural world but was still full of questions.
“So how does a vampire casino operate in Nevada in complete secrecy? You've got the gaming authority, liquor licenses, background checks, FBI, news paper and TV reporters, How?”
Aaron shrugged. “Look, all the licenses are handled by attorneys, agents and proxies, the press are easy to misdirect, politicians are greedy corrupt scum that love under the table payoffs. And there's a dirty little secret about all the Vegas swingers clubs. Everyone knows about the privet sex clubs but no one investigates them because the investigators are just as sick as the freaks that hang out in the clubs. When all else fails we resort to good old fashion hypnosis and mind control. Get it now?”
“Oh Okay.” She wander off to be with her Lord.
Aaron was a gate keeper of sorts it was his job to make sure none of those pesky mortals he'd been discussing with Tina actually got in without being escorted. Humans were a needed resource for food as well as camouflage. Some like Tina were groomed for years before turning. Others were simply bribed but kept in the dark. What walked in the door was human or at least it appeared to have been once. Aaron reached out with his senses and heard no heart beat and smelled the taint of death but what ever it was, it defiantly was not a vampire nor a were-changer.
“Excuse me sir this is a private club do you have a membership?” The question was rhetorical Aaron knew every approved guest on sight. The thing lumbered past him without acknowledgment. “Hey I asked you a question. Who are you?” Still no response. Aaron went into action. This was where his skills as a gate keeper shined. When dealing with humans one had to be careful and control one's vampire speed and strength. No claws or fangs either, but still handle the intruder efficiently. This tactic would prove to be flawed. Aaron grabbed the man and gave him a firm jerk. Which resulted in Aaron landing on his head thirty feet away smashing into a black jack dealer.
The night before Rapture had interceded in a ruckus involving an acquaintance from his past. Since then he had been assisting in the translation of Barron's scroll using his unique candle. He'd left Barron for a few minutes to stroll through the casino. He did not need blood as the vampires did on occasion he would swallow it as a pretense to being one of the nocturnal blood drinkers. Rather delve into his true nature it served him well to simply blend in. In his human form however he often sipped strong spirits. Such was the case now. The burn of 151 rum was tantalizing, then he saw Kalina and the taste turned as to water. A moment later he saw Aaron fly through the air.
The tosser lumbered along and came to a stop near Kalina. She was not the only woman in sight nor was she elegantly dressed as were some of the other females. Clad in a black skin tight body suit with high heel black leather boots but she was the only one not a vampire. Not a mortal either but that would be difficult for most to determine. The only other factor that may have attracted the stranger to her was her beauty.
Even Rapture who despised her and knew first hand of her evil temper. Had to admit to himself that she was the most extraordinary women he'd ever met. This ate at him for it was the reason why he was cursed to dwell alone among the shadows. At least vampires had others of their kind, such company as that was. Aaron was pissed and about to unleash hell on the intruder. Rapture cautioned him with a raised hand. “Let me talk to him.”
Aaron was now angry at Rapture for interfering with his job. “Beat it, I don't need you.”
Rapture ignored him and approached the stranger. “My apologies for the doorman's rudeness my friend, allow me to offer you a drink.” No response but he did seem interested in Kalina's array of jewelry decorating her womanly pride. “Well he may be a dead man but he certainly acts like a regular guy. You want to introduce your admirer?”
Emerald sparks flashed from her glare.“I never saw this creep before... get it away from me.”
Barron and five tough security types arrived and secured the scene. “What's going on?”
Rapture took the stage before anyone could answer. “ Our guest didn't take to being man handle by the doorman. I suggest we go into a conference room and deal with this privately but I don't recommend anyone try and force our guest in there,” glancing at Aaron.
Barron cocked his head “Well what do you propose?”
Rapture looked at Kalina. “You go first and keep him in sight.”
“Why me?” her rage boiling.
“You're the only witch around here and he seems to like you.”
She backed into the room slowly and the stranger followed. “I'm going to get you for this. Oh how I'm going to make you suffer.”
Aaron sidled up to Rapture and grumbled. “I'm no fucking doorman...”
Rapture cut him off “Don't act like one.”
Aaron was really steamed. “Just remember, you've got no friends around here dick weed.”
“I've got no friend's anywhere. Now be a good fellow, and get on that door. Do try not to break the furniture next time you get tossed around.”
Barron turned to his men. “I think we can handle this go look around, check everything. I don't like uninvited … what ever he is.” They left and he closed the door.
Kalina had stopped in the middle of the room and so did her follower. He seemed in a trance wavering as he gazed upon magnificent chest. “This is getting gross make him stop.”
Barron studied the man for a moment them spoke. Well his mind has been wiped clean of thoughts or memories. All save one, a woman, very beautiful. Uh, but not you Kalina she's not even similar to you. I couldn't get a name but her image is deeply embedded in his subconscious. He must have had great emotional feelings for her.”
Rapture waved a hand in front of his face. “I gather he's not a vampire.”
“No he's a mortal man recently deceased, then somehow resurrected. I believe the colloquialism would be, he's a zombie.”
A snarl of a grin crept across Rapture's face. “Well that explains a lot why don't you fill in the rest, Kalina dearest?”
Kalina pushed out her chest of charms and amulets. “Wipe that smug leer off your face. I don't know anything about this.” Her sudden movement caused a reaction, the zombie's eyes following her.
“This is the kind of Voo Doo you do so well.”
“I don't do necromancy.”
Barron hushed them. “You two can continue this love affair another time I have no patients for it. This creature is drawn to you and I think I know why. Those charms you're wearing are enchanted are they not?”
Kalina paused reluctant to give away trade secrets.
“Yes they are, “ Rapture said. “She's geared up with amulets all over her body.”
“I thought as much. Now take them off one at a time and lay them on that table. Let's see what he does.”
Fuming she did as instructed. One by one she removed Chinese charms, Celtic amulets, spirit talismans, not until she pulled from her cleavage a strangely carved bone on a leather thong did he react.
Barron stopped her “That's it. Give it to me.” Taking it the zombie immediately lost interest in her and followed Barron.
Rapture smirked. “Men can be so fickle.”
Barron pushed him aside. “What is this?”
She shrugged. “I don't know, I picked it up at a swap meet.”
A snort of derision from Rapture. “Trust me she doesn't carry anything without knowing the story behind it.”
“Fine it's a relic... A knuckle bone from a Voo Doo priestess, it's carved with an incantation to the dead.”
“And you said you don't do necromancy.”
Barron held it up and let it sway back and forth. He gazed deep into the zombies blank eyes and concentrated all his mental skills on the creature's subconscious mind. “Listen to me, hear my voice. I summon you from the abyss. Come to me, hear my voice. Follow the image of the woman look upon her. Follow her to me, follow the sound of my voice...” Abruptly Barron staggered back and fell into a chair exhausted and dazed.
The zombie blinked several times. “Regina... Regina... where's my wife.” Not seeing her he became agitated “Regina!”
Barron still held the relic. The zombie lunged at him.
The lights in the room cast long shadows from the table legs. They whipped around his ankles anchoring his feet to the ground.
Barron gave the relic to Kalina. “Here talk to him.”
“Oh, now you're not so hot for my toys.” She held it up and muttered an incantation. “Look upon me. I am not Regina she is not here. Who are you? Tell me your name.”
“Regina...”
“Try to remember your name... Tell me your name.”
“Woo...Wood...Woody.”
“Woody. That's a good name, I'm Kalina this is Barron... him you don't need to worry about. Do you know what happened to you?”
He stared at her confused at first. “Regina?” He looked around the room and for the first time he seemed to be aware of his surroundings. “I don't remember.”
She smiled. “He's coming out of it. Listen to me Woody. Where did you come from?”
He struggled with memory. “A grave yard... old grave yard.”
Rapture looked a Barron who was getting his strength back. “If he walked here that would be the the old abandoned cemetery near the wolf camp.”
“Yes I agree his shoes are expensive but worn and dusty.”
Kalina probed further. “Woody, think hard now, what happened to you? How did you get like this?”
He seemed to be really trying hard. “I don't know...I can't remember.”
Barron studied his face. “Someone went to a lot of trouble to do this. I'll have Aaron do a missing person search we'll find out who he is. Figuring out who did this may take a little longer.
Kalina put the relic around her neck and retrieved the rest of her arsenal. “Well I've done all I can, glad I could be of help. I'll send you my bill. Mind you my zombie control service doesn't come cheap.” She started for the door but a black tentacle snagged her narrow waist. She whirled on Rapture ”You get your dirty snakes off me or I'll set your eyes on fire.”
“You're not going anywhere. You think we're stupid. You show up here at this time with a VooDoo charm and a zombie follows you right through the front door. That's no coincidence.”
Barron stood up I'm inclined to side with him on this at least until we discover otherwise. Necromancy is a vile practice even for our kind.” Then he looked at Rapture. “No offense but I gather you two are old friends or something and you Sir are no vampire. I don't know exactly what you are but if she created you then this would be an easy task. “ Pointing at Woody. “Both of you are suspect and I intend to find out what's going on. You can both stay here--- not that I can hold you I'm sure you could simply disappear. But I'm asking you to stay and let me figure this out.” The request was half hearted, leaving the impression that if they did run away no one would care.
Rapture spoke first. “I told you why I was here and I will not leave until my debt is paid in full. I also offer my services in uncovering the truth about poor Woody at no charge.”
“Aren't you the gallant hero. Well I have no intention of leaving either. But you're still getting a bill I'm a working girl.” She snatched up a talisman and poked it in Rapture's face. “Now get ready for agony like no other.”
“Relax.” The shadow rope slipped away. “You've gotten awfully Ill-tempered in your declining years.”
She waved a hand summoning a gale force wind and the doors blew open. You haven’t seen Ill-tempered yet. But you will.”

Coming soon chapters seven The Cadre and eight The Stalker. Forbidden romance leads to innocent blood being spilled at the front doors of the Blood Moon Social Club.

Thank you for reading.

Your humble purveyor Karl Clay Vetter.

THE INTOXICATON OF INSPIRATION

To place a word in front of another or for that matter to place it behind the other. Or more importantly to place a word that conveys the same exact thought but sounds completely different. Or should I have replaced “importantly” with “significant”. To the average person what difference does it make? A question. To the average person it makes no difference. A statement.

To the writer words are as paint is to an artist. With but a simple switch of a few letters you can change everything the story is about. With a subtle change in the shade of blue the artist can alter the mood.
Then comes the thoughts conveyed by the words and with thoughts there have been inspirations. The conception of a story is where it all begins. Inspiration is the warm sensual embrace. The writer impregnates his seed and hopefully a story grows and develops. Okay that was entirely sexist I'm sure my many female writer friends will take umbrage with that totally male perspective. However, it does illustrate how a writer's mind can wander. So lets get back on track. Inspiration. Yes, where does it come from? Well that is a long list but usually it comes from other writers. You see we are also readers. When I put together a science fiction story I like to read articles by writers who report on breaking news in the world of genetics, gene splicing, cloning. The melding of human and animal DNA is the focal point of my crossbreed series. While my stories are fiction I like the reader to feel that it's not only possible but not that far off.

The simple fact is we humans alter the DNA of animals every day, you do it, I've done it. You don't have to be a mad scientist to do it. Anyone that has bred a dog or live stock or hybrid tropical fish has done it. All those animals are genetically altered hybrids. In labs around the world we are splicing human, plant and animal genes to study disease and new drugs. We already have the wealthy buying human eggs from super models to create designer babies. It's only a matter of time before you get super babies enhance with animal DNA. Talk about inspiration, what could possibly go wrong?

Writers and artists mutually inspire each other. Illustrator Julie Edwards creates images inspired by my words and once I've seen my characters visualized I'm re-inspired now that I can look them in the eyes.

I read an article in Smithsonian that said a scientist was working on a way to transplant a human brain into a donor body. Now in the annals of science fiction that is a very old gag. Anyone remember the brain transfer bit in Abbott and Costello meet  Frankenstein? In 1948 that was a farfetched comedy, yet seventy years later it could actually happen. That current story gave me some interesting ideas but I'll let them simmer for a while.

I'm working on a vampire novel right now inspired by stories gleaned from the Blood Moon Social Club, an interactive theater group. We roll played out improve scenes featuring creatures of the night. First I get the inspiration, then the story peculates in my head for awhile, then it just pours out onto my keyboard.

My friend Susanne Leist author of the Dead Game is a rabid reader of murder mysteries and loves paranormal TV shows. More and more she wanted a blend of the two. Like most of us we have at least one author that touched us in profound way. With me it was Robert E. Howard with Susanne it was Brad Meltzer author of Book of Lies and Book of Fates. Comic fans will no doubt recognize his name from Identity Crisis, Green Arrow and many other DC titles.

Inspired by this prolific writer of dark twisted mysteries she eventually took a very bold step. Susanne put her own concepts of mystery and paranormal horror to work and blended up a scary mix of vampires and a haunted house, in the Dead Game. She's hooked now she has acted on her inspiration, the next step is another book. Once bitten the infection rarely goes away.

Inspiration can come from many realms. My pal Edward Rex Riepe author of the extremely popular apocalyptic Fema Camp series, works well into the night sipping whiskey and listening to Pink Floyd. He falls asleep and enters a dream world constructed by God. He awakens inspired to pound out another five thousand words based on those dreams. I tend to work best early in the morning sipping hot tea and honey with the sun rising over Mystic Canyon. In a way that's a spiritual inspiration for me.

Legend has it that in the 1930s Robert E. Howard would beat out his savage tales of Conan the Barbarian and Solomon Kane on his old fashioned typewriter, while he shouted the words allowed. The story further claims the spirit of the mighty Conan stood looking over his biographer's shoulder and whispered in his ear accounts of evil sorcerers and bloody battles.

I'm not much of a shouter but before I finish editing I like to read the story aloud to my wife. Hearing the spoken words is quite different than how they sound in my head.

In the Victorian era Edgar Allan Poe led a dark life as twisted with drugs, sex, and madness as anything he wrote about. His inner demons swirled around him like a miasmas fog. I must confess at one time my own mind was clouded by intoxication induced hallucinations. I'm fairly certain the voices I heard were not coming from angels nor God but may have been a darker entity. These days I'm into more healthy pursuits, having looked into the deep dark well of lost souls I pulled back just in time.

Many writers take it right up to the edge of the abyss searching for inspiration or maybe looking to see the face of evil. You can't really scare anyone unless you know what true horror looks like. Some like Howard and Poe looked too long and never returned. The search for inspiration can be a dangerous thing for some writers, depending on where it's coming from. Writers walk a thin line between reality and fantasy. Many have lost their balance and the world has lost another poet far too soon.

Hemingway wrote about real people with real issues but terrifying nonetheless. He lived the life of his protagonists. Hard living: big game hunting in Africa, sport fishing in Key West. If there was danger he was there, if there was a war zone he covered it. And yes if there was alcohol he drank it, and if there was a woman he was inspired. To read his books is to know his life and in the end like Howard and so many others he ended his own story himself.

Personally, I'm a survivor that has looked into the blank soulless eyes of death many times. I've come very close to knowing what lays beyond and I've seen enough to know how to write it without jumping off the edge. That is the real trick now isn't it? We keep rolling the dice all the while knowing snake-eyes are coming.

DEATH AND DOMINATION EPISODE TWO

Greetings, as promised another two chapters. If you're new to my experiment and have not read the first two just scroll down to episode 1. I say experiment for I usually spend a year or two writing a book then publish. This will be the first time I'm writing in installments. You my friends will come along with me a chapter at a time. So just like you I have no idea how it will end. Enjoy.

BLOOD MOON SOCIAL CLUB

DEATH AND DOMINATION EPISODE TWO

By Karl Clay Vetter & C. Vetter

This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the authors’ imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
This story was inspired by the fictional events and characters created at the Blood Moon Social Club's interactive theater. Produced and directed by Karl Clay Vetter, C. Vetter and Patrick Foster.
The authors wish to thank all the Blood Moon Social Club members for their outstanding performances and support. The fictional characters in this story pay homage to you each and every one. Proceeds from this book go toward keeping the Blood Moon Social Club alive.
Copyright protected © 2015 by Karl Clay Vetter and C. Vetter.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the creators, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. Unauthorized digital sharing is a punishable offense.

Technical support Patrick Foster.

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'LIKE' THE FACE BOOK PAGE CROSSBREEDS BY KCV

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OTHER BOOKS BY KARL CLAY VETTER & C. VETTER

BATTLE BUTTE: CROSSBREEDS 1
THEY WERE BORN HUMAN THEY BECAME SOMETHING ELSE

TANGLEWOOD TERORISTS: CROSSBREEDS 2

HUMAN SOULS TRAPED IN ANIMAL SKINS

DARK LEGENDS: CROSSBREEDS 3

NO HEROES ONLY DARK LEGENDS

LINK FROM WWW.KOOLKOLLECTABLES.COM TO AMAZON.

Follow Karl Clay Vetter on Twitter and Face Book

DEATH AND DOMINATION CHAPTER 3 THE MUMMY

The ancient oil lamp's flame cast a flickering light against hieroglyphs painted on the tomb-like walls. The sparsely furnished chamber was occupied by a creature that only resembled a man in his features. A simple spell could change that human visage to appear as a falcon or a cheetah for the thing that sat gazing into the flame was neither human nor animal. It was the the spirit of a powerful Egyptian sorcerer returning from the realm of the dead over and over for five thousand years.

Sitting on a floor mat cross legged, his hollow sunken eyes pierced the flame and saw beyond the now and gleaned answers to questions of the future. A more difficult spell but a useful one. As his mind probed the fog of events yet to come a dense shadow appeared and refused to yield to his gaze. After several tense minutes he gasped and let go the vision. A searing pain sliced into his brain, a familiar burning like a hot blade from a sword-smith’s forge.
“Rapture,” the name filled his mouth with the taste of putrefaction. He reached over to pick up a small brass bell and shook it. The chimes summoned a man of diminutive size clad in a dark suit. “Raad, I have an errand for you.”
“I am ready to serve Master.”
“Take some currency and hire an informant. A good one, well versed in the ways of the dark world. Send him to the Blood Moon Casino with money to gamble with. He's to report anything unusual. I mean stranger than the usual nefarious activities. I expect rumblings of discontent very soon.”
The little man grimaced and spoke in a strained voice. “He's returned, Master?”
“I'm certain of it. See to it the spy can pay for information too. Leave no stone unturned. My nemesis has many enemies who would owe me dearly if I could provide them with his location.”
Raad left. The sorcerer stood and exited the chamber and found himself wondering on an aimless path throughout the beautifully furnished home. Raad, he was confident would know exactly what to do having many connections with supernatural agents of destruction. If one needed a vampire or werewolf assassin he could ferret out just the fiend for the job. Much to his chagrin Rapture proved to be neither and conventional methods of wooden stakes and silver bullets failed to destroy the shadow walking devil.
He entered a lavish dinning room where a bottle of Pinot Noir beckoned. Sitting alone at the opulent table was a stunning woman of classic beauty. Her wine glass untouched a silver fish fork in her delicate hand. She poked the grilled sea bass as if she were tormenting it.
“I waited for you darling but hunger overtook me,” her petulant tone awoke him from his nightmarish day dreaming.
“Layla my pet, please enjoy. I'm just not in the mood.”
She put the fork down and studied his face; the dark furrowed brow, the sharp angular lines, the deep penetrating eyes. What was not evident in his countenance was an aura of darkness surrounding him. Cold icy waves emanated from the darkness, she'd only seen it once before. This was visible to eyes no mortal woman possessed. “You're troubled. Should I go and leave you to your thoughts?”
He looked up at her. “Perhaps you would like to take a trip? Some place exotic. I'm going to be involved in some tedious work for a while.”
“She stood sharply. “Akar, you know I detest it when you dismiss me like a common concubine. It's him isn’t it, he's back?”
His smile was desert dry. “Your perceptions are so keen. Yes I think he's returned.”
“You remember the last time how it affected your mind? Let me lure him into a trap and cast him into oblivion?”
His smile vanished. “Never! Nothing in this world or any other will prevent me from having my revenge. Either you go away until it's finished, or you remain and tolerate my attention on what must be done. There will be very little of my time for you.”
She sat back down and began to nibble on the dead fish. “I'll wait my love and when you're in desperate need of my abilities I'll be here.” She watched as he accepted her resolve and sank back into his concentration. Her thoughts too were roiling with visions of torture for her lover was not the only one with grand schemes of vengeance.

DEATH AND DOMINATION CHAPTER 4 THE WOLF

The far away lights of Las Vegas sparkled across the dry landscape. A full moon hung low in the sky. At certain times of the year this phenomenon caused the moon to appear larger and the light passing through the horizon gave it a deep reddish huge. Adrianna sniffed the brightly lit ground detecting numerous scents. Her long ears captured distant voices. Then a cacophony of howls. The noise frightened a wild mustang and her colt, they bolted into the night. Running silent on four feet she covered the distance in minutes. Then slowed and crept up to a wall of natural red stone for which Red Rock Canyon got its name.

The voices were clear and she could determine that a heated debate was in progress.
A gruff male voice. “No damn it I say he fights Ungar and only then can he advance.”
A strong female. “Yes Rusty I know you would love to see your only rival torn to shreds but I forbid it.”
A young male. “I'll fight Ungar I'm not afraid.”
The female. “Of course you would and no one believes you to be a coward. But the signs say your destiny is to fulfill a great endeavor and that will be difficult if you loose an arm.”
Another voice cautioned for quiet, “Silence, someone approaches the entrance.”
Adrianna boldly entered the camp, parked against the red walls were motorcycles, pickup trucks and RVs. Gathered around a bond fire a dozen men and women. She sniffed the air and gave a low howl.
A teenage member of the group broke the silence. “A wolf.”
His father buffed him gruffly on the shoulder. “Quiet Tommy. Not a real wolf, don't be fooled boy. The father lowered his hand to a .45 dangling from his belt.
The wolf carried a white feather in her teeth and laid it on the ground before them.
A woman of masculine stature with long red hair stepped to the front of the gathering. “Who are you? Come on drop that poor intimation and show yourself.”
Adrianna began to change, her gray pelt fell away and dissolved revealing a young beautiful girl wearing rough jeans and a beaded vest over a white shirt. Her long dark hair was braided with colorful bead work. “I come bearing a message from Barron.”
The words had not fully left her mouth when several men began to shape shift into moon mad howling beasts. She stood her ground and rolled her head back exposing her throat to the werewolves.
The red headed woman stepped in between the messenger and the attackers. “Halt! I want to speak with her.” Her command was obeyed. The men dropped their were forms and returned to the fire.
“You took a bold risk coming in here, what is your name?”
“Adrianna, and I was certain that Riona the Red would not break a truce that has held for all these years.”
The tall woman smiled. “So you've heard of me?”
“Of course, you're a legend known far and wide. I shouldn't tell you this but your name strikes fear among my kind.”
The red head laughed and turned to face the group. “You hear that you gypsy dogs the blood drinkers fear the sound of my name, as should any who tries to challenge my leadership.” She whirled back to face the vampire. “What is your message?”
“Barron says welcome and he is well aware of your sacred rituals and respects your right to camp here. He also says your folk are welcome to enter the sanctuary of the Blood Moon Social Club in human form as long as you engage in no violence on club grounds.”
One of the males growled, “What's to stop us from burning that the nest of bloodsuckers to the ground.”
Adreanna flashed a set of pearly white teeth flanked by sharp fangs. “Oh you might cause a bit of trouble but then ten thousand silver bullets would snuff that quick enough.”
Riona laughed again. “Good enough, now we know where we stand and the truce will hold. But I'm as cautious as I'm ferocious.” She called another woman up. “Cast the runes.”
The woman threw a hand full of rune stones on the ground. Riona studied them then spoke. “I'll send a scout to test your offer of peace. Take our young soldier there and if he comes back with all his blood we will try our luck at your tables.” She pointed at a young man wearing desert cammo fatigues. He sported a close cut brush of hair indicating he might have recently been in the military.
As he left with his escort the man that wanted him to fight gave a parting shot. “Don't worry friend when they drain you dry we will avenge you.”
The soldier shot back sarcastically. “Thanks Rusty I always knew you had my back.” This got a great laugh from the crowd.
Once they had cleared the camp Adrianna spoke. “What's your name?”
“Burk... Steve Burk.”
“What no pack name?” she lowered her voice to make it sound deep and ominous. “He Who Slays Without Fear of Death.”
He hung his head and ran his fingernails across his scalp. “Yeah right that's me. He Who Summons Thunder With Iron Claws. No, I don't have a pack name just plan old Steve or Burk my army buddies called me Burk.
“Riona said you were a soldier.”
“Right I was Army Rangers, got out a year ago. I tried getting back into civilian life but every thing I did just went to shit. My aunt lured me to this pack gathering. I guess for someone like me it's as good as it gets.”
“Your aunt? Let me guess, Riona?”
“That obvious?”
“Well yes and I read stones too and they said nothing about sending in a scout. But then I guess it's all up to interpretation.”
He looked at her a long pause then cracked a big smile. “Yeah she has this nutty notion that I'm going to do great things, but I think it's just her family pride.”
“Well Steven, you don't mind if I call you Steven do you?”
He smiled at her. “No, I like the way you say it.”
“Well Steven, I think your aunt believes in you. I could tell by her voice when she spoke of your courage.”
“You heard that from outside the camp?”
She cupped her ears with her hands. “She Who Walks as a Wolf Has Big Ears.”
He laughed at her joke. “You know I've been told my whole life how bad vampires are. You're the first one I've met but you don't seem that terrible.”
“I'm not but don't let that sway you. Some of us are real ass-holes.”

Coming soon chapters five The Witch and six The Zombie. A hellish curse is revealed and the walking dead shamble through the Blood Moon Social Club.

Thank you for reading.

Your humble purveyor Karl Clay Vetter.