Dirty Beast (Preview Found On Webnovel and MegaNovel)

Chapter 36: Interview With A Blood Sucker

Chapter 36: Interview With A Blood Sucker

The Berkley Warehouse, Berkley and Flint Street, Southport, New Jersey.....

         Midnight brought with it, its usual set of surprises as Ron Hemming ventured along with his very observant father Marcellus, and his obnoxious younger brother Marius Altomare toward the massive warehouse in the center of the block, where steel kitchenware parts were the major exports. The trail they found of the most powerful of the invading Vampirians had brought them to this place from the docks prompting Marcellus to give this aspect of their investigation his full attention. Even Marius had been on full alert when faced with the knowledge of what the impending battle would bring. The there werewolves were immortal, but the damage would still hurt the same should the Vampirian get the upper hand in battle. Unlike most nights when Ron had battled the thin bloodsuckers, he wasn't too sure when the sun would arise nor how powerful this new threat had been, or if there were more lying in wait for the perfect moment to strike.

Marcellus was as poised as ever taking the lead as he motioned for his boys to venture to opposite sides of the warehouse as they had the shipping vessel in the hopes of avoiding a possible ambush altogether. marius had been on his best behavior, for whatever that was worth at the moment and Ron was quite keen with his vast array of abilities when it came to hunting down bloodsuckers.

The moment they all split up, things went south as whoever owned the warehouse had informed someone of the presence of the werewolves and called in some muscle for the occasion. Despite his strength, Ron was under strict orders from his father to not only not draw attention to the fact that he'd been a were, but he wasn't allowed to intentionally hurt mortals unless the situation was dire and called for it. There was no sign of Marcellus Altomare as he was well advanced in his skills of subterfuge and escapism. His position as Night Watchman outright demanded his skills be at a higher grade than his inexperienced young sons.

Marius had been the fool that set the alarm off and it notified those keeping watch of the intrusion and he was the first they grabbed also having to adhere to his father's direct orders. The group of mortals, each holding guns loaded with silver bullets escorted the captured Ron and Marius as they each entered the massive warehouse only to find that it had been converted into a massive after-hours stop called Club Red.

Ron didn't know what to believe when he and his obnoxious younger brother were further accosted by the mortal bodyguards and led down the winding basement steps of the place to the heart of the nightclub where they had the displeasure or perhaps an uncomfortable opportunity to make the acquaintance of what appeared to be a powerful bloodsucker by the name of Athan Bartholomew Graves.

Athan was infamous in his heyday for terrorizing the south coast of Spain, The West end of Greece, and The Northern part of Italy at a time when Vampririans walked the earth despite dodging the power of the sun. He was quite a handsome vampire in his own right with long black locks that draped over his pale shoulders vibrant yellow eyes and a pleasant smile as he sat at the center of a card table petting a black cat and sipping a glass of what Ron knew all too well not to have been red wine.

Athan seemed impressed with the sight of them as his smirk was quite charming.

"Two werewolves in my midst what an honor." said the charming vampirian as he looked over his new guests. "Does my sense of smell deceive me or are you both not the offspring of The Infamous Night Watcher...Marcellus was it...Marcellus Altomare?"

The Vampirian's eyes began to glow as he opened his mouth and took in the scent of their blood from where he sat amid two women pale in color and gothic in manner dressed in black lace bodices from a bygone era much like their master who had the ensemble of an elite aristocrat from the seventeenth century. His waistcoat was red, his favorite color for obvious reasons and he wore white leggings with shiny black silver-buckled loafers and yellow golden trousers.