Staked

by Lewis, J. F.

• ISBN13: 9781416547808
• ISBN10: 1416547800
• Format: Paperback
• Copyright: 2008-03-11
• Publisher: Gallery Books

Summary

UNREPENTANT. UNIMPRESSED.AND TOTALLY UNDEAD.Eric's got issues. He has short-term and long-term memory problems; he can't remember who he ate for dinner yesterday, much less how he became a vampire in the first place. His best friend, Roger, is souring on the strip club he and Eric own together. And his girlfriend, Tabitha, keeps pressuring him to turn her so she can join him in undeath. It's almost enough to put a Vlad off his appetite. Almost.Eric tries to solve one problem, only to create another: he turns Tabitha into a vampire, but finds that once he does, his desire for her fades -- and her younger sister, Rachel, sure is cute. And when he kills a werewolf in self-defense, things really get out of hand. Now a pack of born-again lycanthropes is out for holy retribution, while Tabitha and Rachel have their own agendas -- which may or may not include helping Eric stay in one piece.All Eric wants to do is run his strip club, drink a little blood, and be left alone. Instead, he must survive car crashes, enchanted bullets, sunlight, sex magic, and werewolves on ice -- not to mention his own nasty temper and forgetfulness.Because being undead isn't easy, but it sure beats the alternative.

Author Biography

J.F. Lewis lives in Birmingham, Alabama. He decided that he wanted to be a writer when a supposed creative writing teacher questioned his sanity and suggested therapy. The author spent eight wonderful years working in a comic and game shop, until financial considerations required him to become a corporate schmoe. He abides with his patient wife, two adorable sons, and an Akita.

Excerpts

1 Eric: The Alley Somewhere in the middle of my rant it occurred to me that I'd killed whoever it was I'd been yelling at, so arguing was no longer important. I looked down at my victim's broken headless body and winced at the unnatural odor of rapidly rotting flesh. It never smells right to me when a vampire dies. I've always chalked it up to bowels. If you don't eat, you don't shit, and death just doesn't smell right without it.Whoever this guy was, he'd obviously been a Master vampire, because Drones and Soldiers don't get the quick rot treatment. They turn to dust and blow away...which smells even less natural. And if he'd been a Vlad like me, he'd still be kicking.I glanced around the dingy back alley where we'd been arguing and couldn't remember exactly where I was, what we'd been fighting about, or what I'd done with the guy's head. From the way the neck muscles had been ripped, I was guessing I'd torn it off. If he'd been human, I would have been soaked in blood, but vampires don't bleed easily; my fingers were barely damp.Out of curiosity, I went looking for What's His Name's head and found it lying next to the Dumpster at the back of the alley. I figured I ought to see if I recognized him. In spite of the unnaturally rapid decay, he looked vaguely familiar, like I might have seen him around town. Other than that his face didn't ring any bells.A homeless man was curled up against the wall of the alley, shaking like a leaf and staring at me. I tucked Dead Guy's head under my arm and slipped the bum a twenty, mostly to screw with his mind, but also because I was sorry he'd seen whatever it was he'd seen. Besides, the homeless guy kind of looked like Alex Trebek andJeopardy!is a damned good show."Do you want me to tell the police somethin' in particular?" asked the bum."Don't talk to me, you dirty little fucker," I snarled. I flashed my fangs at him and let my eyes do the whole glowing red bit. "I'm not paying you to do anything. The body will burn up when the sun hits it. Tell the cops whatever you want. If they believe you at all, they're well paid to do the right thing. This is Void City, sweetheart."Norms don't notice the supernatural here unless they aren't really normal. The spell that hangs over this city doesn't work on crazies, though. In this case I suspected the bum might remember what actually happened rather than thinking he'd seen a mugging or a gang fight or something.I can't see magic, but I know that's how the spell is supposed to work. Your average Joe or Jane will forget the undead, the werewolves, even the demons that roam Void City and call it home...or sometimes they remember it wrong, their memories haphazardly replaced or jumbled by the spell. To see vampires and remember it later, you have to be crazy, be supernatural yourself, or be part of the scene, focused on being "in" with the undead crowd.The cops all work for some high society fang I've never met and have no interest in meeting. I forget his name. If the police in his pocket have to cover up your crimes, you get a bill in the mail or a demand via phone from Captain Stacey with the VCPD. Everybody calls it the fang fee, because vampires get hit with the most of them. It's just one of the extra headaches of being a vampire, right alongside having to drink blood, staying away from holy objects, avoiding sunlight....Sunlight. I looked at my watch and cursed angrily. You'd think a vampire could remember to be in by sunrise, but my time sense has always sucked. Dropping the vamp's head and ignoring the bum, I dashed for my car only to see the driver's side door already glowing cheerily with the first lovely rays of dawn. I stopped for a moment in the shade of the alley to watch the sun's reflection in my Hummer's windshield. I used to love the sun. I still do, but now she doesn't like me so much. Which makes h