Read Online Dave Carver (Book 1): Thicker Than Blood by Andrew Dudek - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Andrew Dudek
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“Boss,” the kid called, “that guy’s here.” He made an after you gesture. When Rob and I were inside the building, he closed the door behind us, leaving us alone in the dark.
For a moment, everything was silent. Somewhere in the warehouse, an old faucet dripped. I could smell mold and old motor oil, garbage and rotting meat. Permeating it all was the unmistakeable, metallic tang of blood. Definitely the right place then.
Slowly, like an approaching cloud of cicadas, things began to hiss. It started quietly, before growing to a thunderous, eerily angry noise. Each individual voice was low in volume, but there were clearly a lot of them, and they were coming from all around us. I took an involuntary step backwards. My ass bumped into the metal door.
I swallowed hard, tried not to think about how much this reminded me of the facility in Guyana, and said, “My name is Captain Dave Carver of the Knights of the Round Table. I’m here to speak with the ambassador.”
I’ve spent a lot of time in places like the vampire nest, and while I wouldn’t say I’m not afraid of them anymore, I have gotten used to them. My eyes adjusted to the darkness quickly, and I could make out a half dozen vampires standing or crouching in a circle around Rob and me. Five or six more hung back, like wild dogs at the periphery of the pack, not yet ready to join the spook show.
Rob’s hand went to the hilt of his sword. I shook my head.
“Not yet,” I whispered.
At that, the lights went on. The floor of the warehouse was completely open—no boxes or storage shelves of any kind. A dozen-plus vampires glared at me, most not bothering with human disguises. Venom dripped from a dozen open, sharp-toothed mouths. Black eyes stared with disgust.
My hand ached for my sword. I was scared, not afraid to admit it. More than that, I was angry. I wanted to draw some vampire blood, to replace the blood I’d lost in Guyana. Any threatening action here—even just brushing the hilt of my sword—could be disastrous. There were a lot of them and it would take some time to get the line of retreat open. If it came to a fight, Rob and I would be killed.
“A wise decision, Captain Carver,” a voice called from the back of the warehouse. “No one here intends you any harm.”
I swallowed and said, “You sure about that? ‘Cause I’m looking at some pretty harmful-intending faces.”
The voice chuckled, a strangely warm sound. “Friends, the good knights are our guests. They shall not be harmed.”
All at once the vampires stood down. The tension evaporated and the fanged faces sauntered off to rest on pillows or sleeping bags, watching with interest.
At the back of the warehouse, a squeaky door opened, and a man emerged from the foreman’s office. He strode across the floor, greeting a few of the vampires as he passed. When he got to the front of the floor, he bowed deeply and respectfully to me.
“Captain, I am Flavian. It’s an honor to meet you.”
The vampire ambassador was not what I expected. He was tall, pale, and handsome, as vampires typically are, at least when disguised. His face was narrow and his cheekbones were like glaciers. His slivery hair, which was combed straight back from his face, seemed to shine in the electric lights. Dark eyes were set deep in the center of his face. He reminded me of a college professor. But what was really strange was the way Flavian carried himself. Vampires don’t stride across a floor—they stalk into a room like a panther. Flavian didn’t seem particularly inclined to rip out my throat. He seemed genuinely respectful. Weird.
There weren’t a lot of things that could scare me just by walking into a room, but Ambassador Flavian was apparently one of them.
“I was sorry to hear of the death of your predecessor,” he said.
I nodded. “Likewise.” Somewhere in the back, a vampire hissed softly. “Which actually brings us to why we’re here. You wouldn’t know anything about the
For a moment, everything was silent. Somewhere in the warehouse, an old faucet dripped. I could smell mold and old motor oil, garbage and rotting meat. Permeating it all was the unmistakeable, metallic tang of blood. Definitely the right place then.
Slowly, like an approaching cloud of cicadas, things began to hiss. It started quietly, before growing to a thunderous, eerily angry noise. Each individual voice was low in volume, but there were clearly a lot of them, and they were coming from all around us. I took an involuntary step backwards. My ass bumped into the metal door.
I swallowed hard, tried not to think about how much this reminded me of the facility in Guyana, and said, “My name is Captain Dave Carver of the Knights of the Round Table. I’m here to speak with the ambassador.”
I’ve spent a lot of time in places like the vampire nest, and while I wouldn’t say I’m not afraid of them anymore, I have gotten used to them. My eyes adjusted to the darkness quickly, and I could make out a half dozen vampires standing or crouching in a circle around Rob and me. Five or six more hung back, like wild dogs at the periphery of the pack, not yet ready to join the spook show.
Rob’s hand went to the hilt of his sword. I shook my head.
“Not yet,” I whispered.
At that, the lights went on. The floor of the warehouse was completely open—no boxes or storage shelves of any kind. A dozen-plus vampires glared at me, most not bothering with human disguises. Venom dripped from a dozen open, sharp-toothed mouths. Black eyes stared with disgust.
My hand ached for my sword. I was scared, not afraid to admit it. More than that, I was angry. I wanted to draw some vampire blood, to replace the blood I’d lost in Guyana. Any threatening action here—even just brushing the hilt of my sword—could be disastrous. There were a lot of them and it would take some time to get the line of retreat open. If it came to a fight, Rob and I would be killed.
“A wise decision, Captain Carver,” a voice called from the back of the warehouse. “No one here intends you any harm.”
I swallowed and said, “You sure about that? ‘Cause I’m looking at some pretty harmful-intending faces.”
The voice chuckled, a strangely warm sound. “Friends, the good knights are our guests. They shall not be harmed.”
All at once the vampires stood down. The tension evaporated and the fanged faces sauntered off to rest on pillows or sleeping bags, watching with interest.
At the back of the warehouse, a squeaky door opened, and a man emerged from the foreman’s office. He strode across the floor, greeting a few of the vampires as he passed. When he got to the front of the floor, he bowed deeply and respectfully to me.
“Captain, I am Flavian. It’s an honor to meet you.”
The vampire ambassador was not what I expected. He was tall, pale, and handsome, as vampires typically are, at least when disguised. His face was narrow and his cheekbones were like glaciers. His slivery hair, which was combed straight back from his face, seemed to shine in the electric lights. Dark eyes were set deep in the center of his face. He reminded me of a college professor. But what was really strange was the way Flavian carried himself. Vampires don’t stride across a floor—they stalk into a room like a panther. Flavian didn’t seem particularly inclined to rip out my throat. He seemed genuinely respectful. Weird.
There weren’t a lot of things that could scare me just by walking into a room, but Ambassador Flavian was apparently one of them.
“I was sorry to hear of the death of your predecessor,” he said.
I nodded. “Likewise.” Somewhere in the back, a vampire hissed softly. “Which actually brings us to why we’re here. You wouldn’t know anything about the
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