Bespelled: Tales of a Vampire Hunter #3

The thrilling conclusion to the bestselling "Tales of a Vampire Hunter" series.

Oliver Ripley is older, wiser, and harder . . . a vampire hunter mutant drowning in pain and excess and guilt, hell-bent on punishing himself and taking down as many vampires as possible in the process. Once more, his enemies draw close, setting an irresistible trap. But, Oliver no longer wants to run. A different man now, immoral and depraved, he's become the very thing he swore he would never be. Fearing nothing, with nothing to lose, he seeks only revenge, and leaves only death in his wake. But when everything changes, can he find the human soul within himself in order to save our world and protect the innocent victims of a demonic plot as ancient as the universe itself?

***Sneak Preview***

He didn’t see them coming, had no warning, and felt nothing, for the ones who finally caught them were not vampires or slayers. They were human.

The grandmotherly woman in an old-fashioned, flowered dress stood beside him as if she too waited for someone to emerge from the ladies room. “We won’t hurt her if you come along quietly,” she said, her grey eyes twinkling as if she’d just offered him a cup of tea. She rummaged in her large, blue vinyl purse, and showed him the small pistol she pointed at him through the cheap bag.

Rosie emerged from the restroom. Her eyes were wide. She held the hand of a young, dark-haired woman. “Daddy! I got stunged by a bee, and she gave me a Band-Aid!” Rosie rubbed the back of her arm and showed him the pink, sparkle Barbie Band-Aid.

“Tell her to be cool, or I swear to god I’ll shoot her right here,” the steely-eyed woman next to Oliver said, softly, so only Oliver heard her.

“It’s okay, Rosie.” Oliver’s head pounded.

They walked together, back the way he’d come earlier, toward the street. Darkness crept around the edges of his vision, blurring the fast-food signs and faces. Clutching Rosie’s hand, with everything he had in him, he tried to push the woman into pointing the gun away from his child, but she kept it trained on Rosie for the entire agonizing walk back through the terminal. Rosie was too tired to try, and he had not learned how to control the will of humans with his own.

Outside, a black, stretch SUV Limo waited at the curb. A vampire driver dressed in a navy-blue suit held the door open for them.

Humans and vampires working together. What the fuck? Who are these people? Thoughts jumbled in his head.

“Get in.” The old woman nudged him with her purse.

He watched helplessly as they pushed Rosie into the vehicle. Climbing in next to her, he leaned over and said, “Baby, Daddy wants you to do the bad thing. Remember how I taught you, about right and wrong? Well, this is one of those special times.”

“Do they want to hurt us like mommy?” Her voice was tiny, quivering with fear.

It broke his heart. But they had no choice now. “Yes, Baby. So it’s okay.”

“I’m sleepy, Daddy,” she said, curling up and nestling her head into his lap, eyelashes sweeping down as her eyes closed.

“Too late, Mr. Ripley. My friend gave her a shot in the restroom. Rosie won’t be doing much of anything for the next few hours. Plenty of time to get where we’re going.” The matronly woman smiled as if they were setting off on a grand adventure.

The vampire chauffeur’s arm shot over the seat, wrapping around Oliver’s face. A thick cloud of medicinal sharpness stung his nostrils. Pillows of cloth blocked his nose and mouth before he could react. What the fuck? Thousands of stars exploded behind Oliver’s eyes, and that was the end of that.