The Wicked Beasts That Roam

Chapter 1

The Wicked Beasts That Roam

Chapter 1

"He who makes a beast of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man."―Samuel Johnson

Every fight with a vampire ended like this, on the back street of some loner city with a bludgeoned body to burn on the asphalt. Forest green eyes scaled the area, alert and on the lookout for any car coming down the never-ending street. A blanket of dark ashen clouds rolled in from the west, and the roar of the wind deafened Zeke's ears. He shifted on the black hood of the car, paranoia picking at his brain with a fork. Someone could catch them beating that poor jackass out in the open.

This was becoming too much for him to handle. He was a laid back guy. He wasn't into this fighting shit—hell he wasn't even into wrestling. He'd rather drink a beer and watch a movie. But his older brother . . . he was different.

He looked over at his younger brother who stood in the grass with the passenger door wide-open as he fumbled with his phone. Aidyn raised it to the sky, struggling to get a signal as the wind around them grew stronger. He sighed, shoving it in his pocket. A rough gust blew back his thick raven hair and his turquoise gaze flickered to the funnel cloud dipping out of the rippled clouds above, heading for the wheaten Kansas plains.

Their brother always changed the weather, ruining it with all the power he held. One sudden shift in their brother's mood meant a sudden shift in climate, and Jesus, that happened too often. Get him annoyed—count on hail and a few light showers. Get him pissed—it'd probably be best to run for cover. He thought maybe Damian would learn to control that, or at least try to, but he came to realize that Damian didn't care.

"You know what? It's our house. We shouldn't have to call him and tell him we're coming home." Aidyn scrubbed his face, his bloodshot eyes drooping with tiredness.

Zeke nodded at his words and glanced over at his older brother whose huge fists continued to bash in a blond body builder's face. He had him pinned to the blacktop of the deserted back-road as he struck him again and again with no break.

The vampire was dead.

Zeke was sure of it. If he wasn't, then he wouldn't live much longer with his brains smeared across the pavement.

Always with the blood, the guts, the flesh, the gore. Sure, his brother needed some of that to stay fit and healthy, but did he really need the rest? His brother lived day to day digging his fingers into another's skin and bones. Sometimes the humans that crossed him weren't too fortunate either.

Blood soaked Damian's hands as he stood from his victim, his tall height deeming him a dark and brooding giant. He smirked at the dead vamp, savoring the high he got off it. Killing nameless vampires one by one was his drug—his hobby.

He could definitely try and find a better one, Zeke thought as he stared at the swollen face of the vamp.

Back at the bar, the dead idiot had started trouble with Damian in the parking lot. He thought himself a bad-ass who could take on a way bigger man than him, but little did he know who he was fucking with.

Drops of blood stained Damian's carved face as he walked back to the car with a devilish grin still intact. His smile faded as his eyes connected with Zeke's.

"The fuck you starin' at?" His ebony eyes glowed with hell-fire, daring Zeke to cough up a complaint.

Zeke shook his head. "Nothin'."

Damian pulled off his black shirt, wiping his face and hands with it as he leaned back against the door.

"My phone's not working out here in bum-fuck nowhere. He's just gonna have to be left surprised." Aidyn stretched before diving in the front seat of the '70 Dodge Challenger.