Damek's Redemption

Prologue

Luther Kostas rested his elbows on the worn arms of his leather chair and steepled his fingers together as he contemplated his next move. His dark brown eyes roamed over the vast array of artifacts mounted on the wall. Crossbows, ancient swords and extremely sharp daggers all used for one purpose—to slay vampires. Wooden stakes, some darkened from years of handling, others stained with the blood. All lethal. All deadly.

His family had been ridding the world of the vile creatures since medieval times, and Luther took the responsibility very seriously. The vampire was a dangerous creature, mindless in its pursuit for blood. It killed indiscriminately, living only to hunt and claim the victim’s blood. Most vampires he’d come across were little more than animals and, like any wild beast, they needed to be put down before they hurt anyone.

He closed his eyes and pictured his last kill. He’d found the creature just as dawn was breaking over the horizon and, like all of his kind, the vampire had succumbed to the power of the sun and fallen into a stupor. It was then Luther had drawn his sword and beheaded the vampire. Then he’d dragged the head and body into the sun and burned it. There was no coming back this time.

Luther relished the hunt, but lately there was something missing. Vampires were few and far between, and those he’d killed the past few years had been weak, barely a few years old. He’d searched for their sire, but all indications were that the three-hundred-year-old vampire had fled back to Europe. Good riddance to him. But still. Luther sighed and tapped his fingers together. Think of the challenge it would be to hunt one of the old ones, a vampire who could think and reason. His blood hummed at the mere thought.

Then there were those vampire wannabes, the kind who sharpened their teeth, wore leather and makeup and hung out at Goth clubs. He’d slain one or two of them by mistake but, really, it was their own fault for idolizing such vile creatures to begin with. He didn’t lose any sleep over them.

The phone rang and he answered it on the first ring. He made it a policy always to be available to his men. They were a small group, but a dedicated one.

“Kostas.”

“Hey, Luther. It’s John. I’m in Chicago like you asked. Can you tell me why I’m tailing some university professor?”

John Barnes was one of his best. The man was strong, both physically and mentally, and relished the hunt just as much as Luther did. “Because she writes about myth and legend, including werewolves and vampires, and she’s traveled all across Europe in her research. She teaches in New York and has no family in Chicago. She’s not attending a conference or giving a lecture there. I want to know what’s so important that she’s headed for the city at this time for no apparent reason.”

He had a computer program that kept track of various academics and writers around the world, those that delved into the paranormal and bizarre. The program flagged them when something unusual popped up. This trip was certainly out of the norm.

“Her name is Sonia Agostino, and I want to know every move she makes. It’s probably nothing, but it doesn’t hurt to watch her. Just in case she stumbles on to something interesting.”

“I hear you. It’s been quiet lately.”

Luther knew John was getting as impatient as himself, waiting to find the next vampire. Slaying was in their blood. It was who they were.

“Stay sharp,” Luther warned. It was easy to get complacent during the downtimes. “In the meantime, I’ll keep scanning the papers and Internet for articles on any strange deaths or ritual killings.” That was the way the media and police almost always portrayed a vampire’s kills. No one believed such creatures existed and they always put the blame elsewhere. But Luther knew better.

“I’ll be in touch,” John promised and then hung up.

Luther tossed his phone onto the desk and swiveled his chair around to face his computer. It was time to get to work. There were vampires out there in need of killing.