The Immortal Warriors Boxed Set: Books 1-11 Read online

  I didn’t know what to think. Part of me felt like I had just died and gone to hell, but another, more competitive part of me, wondered what kind of badass I could become. And not just in the ring.

  “Hey, is anyone here?” a voice yelled from my bedroom. It was Patrick and he must have wondered where he was and why a werewolf would be hooting and hollering in the living room.

  I went into my bedroom and Patrick had sat up. He was taking several deep breaths and caressing his throat.

  “How does it feel?” I asked, referring to his cracked larynx.

  “It hurts to swallow and inhaling is a bitch. So, about every 2.2 seconds, I’m in excruciating pain.”

  “Look, you attacked me. I was fine to just leave.”

  “I know. It wasn’t my idea, it was Nero’s.” Patrick paused. “You know, the guy you killed.”

  Damn, that didn’t sound right. This wasn’t a video game where I eliminated an opponent in Halo. I fucking killed a man or Mani or whatever the fuck he is... was.

  “I’m still wrapping my head around all of this,” I said.

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to do for a week,” Patrick added.

  “You said you were new to all of this.”

  Patrick leaned back against my bedpost and rested. “Yeah, this was the last thing I wanted.”

  “You and me both.”

  Patrick stared at my face with a puzzled look. “I don’t remember you having a beard before.”

  “I’m having my own issues,” I said.

  Patrick didn’t seem like he was up for an inquiry. He closed his eyes and took a big swallow. I had just noticed Sasha quit barking and snarling. “Hold on,” I said, and I dashed to the living room. Sasha was sound asleep. I sighed. At least she’d be quiet for the time being.

  I went back in the room and it appeared that Patrick had gone to sleep also. It was night! Why weren’t my vampire and werewolf awake?

  I left and went into my kitchen. I sat at my oak table and looked across my living room where I had a werewolf sound asleep. I was exhausted, too. I had barely slept, and I only had one bed. Even though I barely knew Patrick, he was going to have a bunk partner tonight.

  I went into my room. I put a large pillow between us. There would be no vampire spooning in my bed. I lay down and turned my head and faced my cardboard-covered windows. Within seconds, I was out like a light.

  Chapter Ten

  I was awakened a few hours later by my new alarm clock, also known as a pissed-off werewolf: Sasha.

  She was yelping up a storm and I looked over for Patrick. He was no longer next to me in bed. I instinctively felt my neck. I don’t know why I thought he might have sucked my neck while I was asleep, but what the hell did I know? I was sleeping next to a freaking vampire.

  I walked out of my room cautiously and made my way out to the living room. Sasha saw me and began acting like a junkyard dog on crack.

  Right next to the cage was a black raven, just chilling and staring at the crazed, overgrown dog. When did my apartment become an episode of Wild Kingdom?

  “Patrick?” I called out to the bird.

  The bird flew and landed in the hallway where I was standing. Then, as if right out of a Tolkien novel, the black raven transitioned and became Patrick. He collapsed to the floor and I grabbed his arm.

  “I’m still not great with the whole transition thing, Kyro,” he said, as if I could ignore the fact he just went from bird to man. Err, to vampire. Mani. Whatever he called himself.

  I just stared at Patrick and mumbled, “How did I get mixed up in this?” I grabbed Patrick’s arm and we went outside my apartment to the porch. I closed the door behind me. “Maybe a time out will shut her up.”

  Patrick walked over and sat on a bench that is adjacent to my apartment. “You need to start getting used to your world being completely turned upside down. Everything you ever knew is wrong and everything that is actually true, you couldn’t come up with even in the darkest parts of your imagination.”

  I stared blankly at my new friend and walked over to where he was sitting and sat next to him. “Why were you the bird just now?”

  “It seemed to make your female werewolf friend less upset.”

  “How do you know she is female?”

  “I checked.”

  “You weren’t perving in there, were you?” I said, disgusted.

  “Sick. No! She has four legs. I wouldn’t hit that,” Patrick assured me. “If she is hot in her Carni human form, well, then I might make an exception.”

  “You’re funny,” I said.

  “Who knew?” he laughed, and then coughed like a fifty-year smoker.

  “You all right?”

  “Yeah, I’m okay. It’s hard to be funny while fighting for your life. Also, it’s easier to breathe when I’m the raven.”

  “You’re seriously going to milk this breathing thing, aren’t you?”

  “I’m sorry, you did crush my windpipe. A little. And you smashed my face.”

  He was right. I not only choked him out but used his body as a weapon to knock out his friend. “So. What’s the deal? Where do you live?”

  Patrick was quiet. Uh-uh, I had to kick a homeless vampire’s ass.

  “You don’t have a place to stay?” I asked.

  “My parents kicked me out a month ago.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Twenty.”

  “Well, that’s about the time parents start kicking out their kids.” I looked at Patrick. My instincts were that I liked him. He seemed genuine. He appeared to be a legitimate guy like myself who was dealt a crappy hand as of late. “You work?”

  “I can make money.”

  “Can you make money legally?” I asked, direct.

  “Yeah, I have a storage unit filled with sports memorabilia. When I’m strapped for cash, I sell stuff on eBay.”

  “Cool,” I said. I was a huge fan of the Raiders and Lakers, so this guy was right up my alley. “Look, you can stay here in the meantime; just pull in enough money to get your own food.”

  “I really don’t eat. My stomach is pretty unpredictable.”

  I looked Patrick in the eyes. “You don’t kill people, do you?”

  “Of course not.”

  “How do you feed your... you know... desire?”

  “I haven’t been a vampire for very long, but my sister works at a hospital.”

  “And she gave you blood?”

  “Why wouldn’t she?”

  “Cause it’s fucking weird, that’s why,” I laughed. “She didn’t ask what it was for?”

  “I told her.”

  “You told her?” I asked, shocked.

  “I had to.”

  “And she believed you?”

  “The whole turning-into-a-raven thing pretty much seals the deal in the belief department.”

  “Yeah, that pretty much convinced me,” I stated.

  “There you go, Kyro, there you go.”

  The sun began peeking out of the sky.

  “I think your friend probably turned back,” Patrick said, making a motion to the inside of the apartment with his head.

  “It happens that fast?” I asked

  “Put it this way, Tommy. Your beard is gone. And my skin is burning.” I felt my face and sure enough, I was clean shaven. “So, what’s the deal with that? Are you some partial werewolf?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine, Patrick.” I stood up and opened the front door to my apartment. Sasha was in a fetal position in the middle of the cage, soaking wet.

  “Why is she soaked?”

  “It’s what happens to werewolves. It’s like sweat or a secretion.”

  “That’s disgusting. The word secretion makes me shudder.”

  “I actually think it’s kind of hot.” He laughed.

  “It’s not funny,” I said. “I might be halfway there.” I turned and faced Sasha. “Sasha,” I called into the cage. She opened her eyes. She seemed disoriented.

&nbs
p; “Tommy?” she asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Let me out. I need to pee.”

  I took the key out of my pocket and unlocked the cage. Sasha rushed past me and made her way to the bathroom. I looked into the cage and the carpet the cage was sitting on was scratched up and mangled. Oh well, I thought. There definitely goes my deposit now.

  “She’s pretty hot,” Patrick said.

  “Oh, she’s a hot mess of trouble.”

  “Female werewolves usually are. They are a rare breed.”

  “Why is that?” I asked.

  “Because if a woman gets bitten by a werewolf, she usually dies. Only incredibly strong and tough women survive. You have to survive the bite to become one.”

  “Doesn’t say much for the women’s movement,” I said. “My experience is that women can take a lot more pain than men.”

  “We are wimps, aren’t we?” Patrick grinned, then coughed. We could now hear that Sasha had started a shower and Patrick rolled his eyes at me.

  “Throat any better?”

  “A little.”

  “I want you to know I’ve been bitten twice in the last few nights and you don’t hear me complaining.”

  “You like pain?” Patrick asked.

  “I was a street fighter growing up. Now I’m a professional one, so pain doesn’t play a big part in my life, except that I can use it as an edge in a fight.”

  Patrick cracked a smile and said, “Says the guy with a bandage covering his entire shoulder.”

  “Again,” I said. “You’re funny.”

  “So, did you hit that?” Patrick looked toward the bathroom and was referring to Sasha.

  “For real, dude?” I asked.

  “I would. She’s hot.”

  I don’t kiss and tell, and I wasn’t going to start now. “She’s a lovely young lady, Patrick. You need to learn to respect women.”

  “Oh, I respect them, Kyro. Especially when they are down on all fours.”

  I shot him another look.

  “I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” he laughed.

  “I think I liked you better when you couldn’t talk.” I motioned again to the bathroom at Sasha. “I’m telling you, she’s trouble.”

  “Trouble, or not. Damn, she can drip sweat on me anytime.”

  “Enough, dude!”

  Sasha eventually got out of the shower and I gave her some workout shorts that were kind of small on me, but looked like a trash bag on her. I actually had a woman’s pink Raider jersey I had received as a gag gift from a friend of mine for being a Raider fan. So, I let her wear it.

  Patrick went back to my room and lay down. He had barely introduced himself to Sasha. He apparently was all talk; he was incredibly shy around Sasha. It was almost humorous. Sasha didn’t seem too interested in my pale vampire friend.

  It was weird; I had been alone for such a long time. The life of a fighter is a lonely one. It was nice having people around. Be how it may, they weren’t exactly people, but it was nice having friends. Damn, I was pathetic.

  Chapter Eleven

  The following night was more of the same with Sasha.

  We had to blast the radio and act like we were having a party a couple of times when Sasha decided to lose her mind and make enough racket to wake the whole block. But, we did get through the night without any problems, and in the morning, Sasha seemed very grateful that Patrick and I were there for her.

  For the next two weeks, the three of us became inseparable. It was odd to have close friends again. I hadn’t realized how much I missed joking around and being stupid with people. Patrick continued to get better and my injuries were healing pretty quickly. I told Patrick my real name was Tommy, but he said he liked calling me Kyro better. I told him I’d make an exception for him and let him call me that.

  Sasha and I continued having some sexual tension. We would kiss here and there, but I would never take it to the next level. I truly was having too much fun and didn’t want to blow it by turning us into ‘friends with benefits.’ I knew I didn’t have a desire to be her boyfriend, but I did want to be her friend. I went out and bought a queen-size bed at a yard sale. I stuck it in the spare bedroom, so Sasha had a place to sleep. Patrick always slept in my bed because of the whole sunlight thing—being that my room was the safest place in the house. I, however, would sleep anywhere in the house. Sometimes, next to Patrick, sometimes with Sasha, but mainly I would sleep on my couch. It was damn comfortable and in the end, that’s all that matters when it comes to a good night’s rest.

  I also had my windshield fixed at a local shop and the damn thing cost me $400. I let Sasha know she would pay for it by doing the dishes and keeping the apartment clean. She looked relieved at my offer. With that being out of the way between us, for the first time in my life, I had real friends and I was having the time of my life. The three of us seemed to be as close as three oddballs could get.

  I woke up late on a Saturday afternoon, as that seemed to be the norm these days, considering I was keeping Patrick’s vampire hours. I was having the sleep pattern of a vampire and that wasn’t the healthiest way to live my life. I know the value of a good night’s sleep, as I am a fighter, but I was having too much fun to worry about that right now.

  I had fallen asleep on the couch, watching some morning show. I had to look through the bars of the cage to watch TV, but if I tilted my head just right, I could see the television without seeing any bars. Oh, the little things.

  I stood up and grabbed some orange juice from the fridge and took out some eggs and made myself an omelet. I wasn’t the greatest cook, but I knew how to make eggs. It was two in the afternoon and both Patrick and Sasha were still asleep. I didn’t want to wake either of them and I was enjoying my omelet a little too much to share it.

  I went into my room and changed and decided to go for a ride and pick some things up at the farmer’s market. There was a giant one that I especially liked in San Bernardino. I needed to start eating healthy again because I was healing up. My shoulder was still jacked up and my arm still looked like a dog had gotten to it. It would be a few months before I could train the way I was accustomed to. So, for now, I was going to have to let my undefeated record stay idle for a few more months.

  I had checked in with the Commission last week to let them know how I was doing. We were aiming for me to fight again in six months. That should be plenty of time for me to get right again.

  I went out to my car and could hear every siren, call door, and car alarm in a three-mile radius. I was learning to ignore it, but I couldn’t believe I was actually sympathizing with canines. I drove up the 91 freeway toward San Bernardino. I hadn’t paid much attention to the gas gauge as I pulled off the freeway onto D Street. I looked down and I noticed it was on empty. I needed to find a gas station fast. I looked around and there wasn’t one to be found in any direction. So, I kept driving, hoping to run into something, but it was too late. My car did that regurgitate noise that cars do right before they run out of gas. You know, that dry heave that comes out of your engine.

  I knew my car was done and it desperately needed some gas. I coasted to the right and parked on the street. I had no idea where the next gas station was and, unfortunately, I forgot my cell phone in my apartment. I knew I had to get out and walk but, luckily, I had a gas container in my trunk. I grabbed it and started hiking up the street.

  After walking about three miles, I finally saw a gas station on the left. I decided to take a shortcut by cutting through a back alley.

  I walked around a corner building and heard some commotion. I ducked behind a dumpster and looked out to what appeared to be some type of altercation. There were a group of high school kids in a circle, all confronting a tall, gangly kid wearing a black hood. I could tell he was young by the way he talked. He appeared to have been at the wrong place at the wrong time. I could relate to that.

  The kid in the black hood was outnumbered four to one. “You seriously should just let me go,” the young man
said. “I honestly don’t want any trouble.” Unfortunately, by the look of these guys, they were all about trouble. I watched on and then heard something that shocked the hell out of me. The boy in the black hood made a specific demand to the group of thugs that had surrounded him. He said, “You have ten seconds to let me go through or I’m going to kick everyone one of your asses and not feel bad about it.”

  Holy crap! Are you kidding me? The balls on this kid!

  The group of thugs looked at each other and just busted up laughing. Every single of the other guys were taller and wider than the young man. But that didn’t stop the kid from doing a countdown. “Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four… oh fuck it,” the black-hooded kid said, “Now, I will kick your asses!”

  Are you kidding me?

  I was about to jump out and make sure it was a fair fight, but this kid didn’t need my help. He attacked them all like a superhero defending his city from super villains. I felt like I was watching an action movie where you root for the underdog; this young man quickly proved that he was no underdog! He beat them up individually, in pairs, and at one point, the kid had one in a headlock while high-kicking another, and with his free hand, he right crossed another guy, knocking him to the pavement. He wiped the floor with these guys in a matter of seconds. I wanted to walk out and give him a standing ovation; it was by far the coolest thing I had ever seen on the street. This kid either knocked them out or they ran off in fear of another beating.

  He finished off the last guy and wiped his hands. He looked at his masterpiece: three guys lying on the ground and a fourth one a mile down the street. He smiled as if he had just finished planting a garden. He sighed and turned toward where I was standing behind the dumpster. He smiled at me and nodded his head in triumph.

  “Hey,” I yelled to him, “what are you? Some kind of black-headed superhero?”

  “Who’s asking?”

  “I am, you little shit,” I said.

  “You have a name?” he asked.

  “Yeah, sure do. My name is Tommy.” I looked at this kid and he hadn’t even broken a sweat. “You’re about the baddest motherfucker I have ever seen fight. What’s your name?”