Bring Me to Life（Time Walkers 1）
Bring Me to Life
Time Walkers, Book 1
Emma Weylin
Prologue
Death sucked. Sure, the women were hot and the ability to move back and forth through time to fend off the apocalypse was entertaining, but even the afterlife could become monotonous. Fast times and even faster women had become his stint in existence. True, such things as illness and pesky bullets couldn’t kill him any longer, but Wraith was getting bored. At some point in the last two hundred years he decided his fate had been Hell instead of Time Walker limbo; he’d just been too naïve to know it at the time of his death. Actually, it was probably about the time he’d earned his moniker instead of going by his Earthly name.
He ducked down when a vampire swung at him with a two-by-four. He popped up, caught the board on its second swing, cracked it over his knee, and then stabbed the undead with the sharp end. Why should he have to endure Hell by his lonesome? The vampire burst into a smoky cloud of ash which fell to the alley before it was gently blown away.
Wraith looked at his watch.
New York City, 1939. He pulled his crumpled list out of his pocket and checked where he was supposed to go next. New Orleans, 2085. Great. There was nothing worse than having to go to the largest vampire nest in North America, but they were still boring. He perked up a little. Maybe it wasn’t a vampire this time and he’d get another crack at a demon. Those were always so much more interesting to kill when Felix decided to let him, which wasn’t very often.
He checked his list again and watched as all his assignments vanished one by one.
Shit.
What the hell had he done now to get in trouble? He’d been good for the last decade—well, there had been that one night in a Hestia temple with two virgins, but it hadn’t been his fault. They’d asked him to stay. Besides, that was five years ago. Surely he wasn’t getting into trouble for that.
Headquarters appeared on the page in big glowing letters. He walked down the alley and visualized headquarters, and the imagery around him blurred from dank, garbage-ridden streets to bright white halls lined with gold trim.
Yep.
He was in Hell all right.
He walked down the hall with its never-changing view until a large door out of nowhere swung open.
“Get your ass in here!” Felix bellowed.
“I’m here.”
“You’re late,” he snapped.
Wraith arched a brow at him, but didn’t say anything. Felix was like a bazillion years older than he and could send his ass back to the Bronze Age to deal with babes who didn’t know how to bathe or shave. “Yeah, so sue me. What did I do this time?”
“We found out the point in time that causes the apocalypse. It’s your job to go stop it.”
Wraith sighed. Same old, same old. When was he going to get an exciting assignment? He stuck out his hand for the transparent cellophane-like material Felix handed to him and looked down at the forming image. Two hundred years of annoying monotony drained away as raw rage boiled in his system. “No. I’m not doing the job.”
Felix rolled his eyes. “You’re not supposed to kill her, dumbass. You’re supposed to protect her.”
Wraith glared at his asshole superior. “Like hell I am. Find someone else, or I guess it’s The Apocalypse Meets the Twenty-third Century.”
“It’s this or judgment.”
Wraith started to curse. “You’re kidding me? I have to save that bitch or you’re going to throw my ass in Hell?”
“Yeah, ain’t the afterlife a bitch?” Felix said without sympathy. “Get going. I need you there a day before the main attraction.”
Wraith pulled out his assignment sheet and looked at the time. It was the day before what should have been his twenty-eighth birthday. He’d never had an assignment so close to his death date before. That wasn’t affecting him nearly as much as having to save the life of the woman who killed him.
Chapter 1
There was no such thing as a good vampire. Bryna Wildrose rolled her eyes as she stared down at the hardcover edition of the latest and hottest “righteous vampire” series. If only people knew what existed after the sun went down. They’d never believe the true horrors of the night. Undead beings with the ability to suck a person dry did exist. She had the scars and psychiatric ward visit to prove it, or more aptly, to prove she’d been involved with a nefarious group from the ever-growing vampire subculture.
Bryna made a disgusted sound and started to walk away from the table at Steel Cliff’s Books. The mega book chain always had tables full of the newest releases. Bryna was on a mission. She stopped and stared down at the book again. Did she really want to spend twenty-nine ninety-five plus tax to get the proof she needed that her ex-boyfriend was trying to exploit her trauma? Her hand curled around the book spine, ready to take it to the cashier to make her purchase. A blinding flash of past pain and fear riffled through all her raw nerve endings. Vincent’s face flashed into her mind, and she whimpered at the pain tightening in her chest.
She jumped back from the book table and plowed right into the solid form of a man. She cringed and then slowly turned around. She didn’t know what she was expecting, but six-feet-three of brawny beauty wasn’t it. Not appreciative of her sudden arousal and miffed at herself for letting a memory get the better of her in public, she glared up at him.
“Sorry,” she mumbled. Bryna turned around, snatched up a book, and scurried toward the checkout.
“Excuse me,” an edgy masculine voice murmured behind her.
She was not going to deal with this. “Look, I’m sorry I bumped into you; there is no need to—”
“Bryna?”
Damn! No! She dropped the book on the floor in the checkout line and bolted for the door. She hesitated for a moment before she burst through the door and into the streetlamp-lit parking lot. Nighttime was always the most difficult, but she found if she kept to the very public places, it wasn’t nearly as scary. Vampires didn’t attack where other humans could see them.
“Bryna.” The deep resonating sound filled her ears again.
She pivoted on her heel, arms crossed over her chest, and she took a step back. “How do you know my name?”
A crooked smile moved across his Dionysus face. “It’s on your name tag.”
Her gaze dropped to her chest, and then she let out a slow breath. “I’m so sorry, really. It’s just…” She sighed again. “It’s been one of those days. I’m sorry I bumped into you, really, I just think its best—”
“Coffee?”
His eyes were so light a blue they could have been silver. “Uh, I need to be getting home. Thanks for the offer, but—”
“You want coffee with me.” His tone went lower.
She shook her head. The scars she had from a vampire tingled. “No. I really don’t. I’m sure you’re nice and all, but—”
His eyes went wide and his jaw clenched. “You will come with me for a coffee.”
She snorted. “Dude, no.”
“Come on, lady,” he snapped. He took a sidelong glance down the walk at the corner shrouded in darkness before his shimmery eyes flicked back to her. “I know who you are, and there are those who are pissed off you gave your story to an author. You’re a marked target.”
Her insides froze starting with her toes, and it frosted upward like chilled glass. Her stomach dropped and she pressed a hand to it. The supernatural freaky undead didn’t want living humans to know about how they operated. “No.” It came out in a whisper. She really was going to kill Shawn when she got a hold of him. He had no right. The only person she’d ever trusted to tell the real story of how Vincent died, and he’d betrayed her. Still, she didn’t trust the man looming overhead. She could sense some vampires, but not all of them. “Do—do you have a name?”
“Draven.” He put his hand out. “Come with me if you want to live.”
Did he really think that line was going to make her trust him? Her life had not just turned into a live-action horror flick. A B-rated one at that! She studied that hand and then looked down the sidewalk. Sure the guy always saved the woman and then they rode off into the sunset at the end of the movie, but there was always the genre twisting stories. Hadn’t she already proven that when she killed the hero?
There was movement.
She swallowed hard. It was just her imagination getting away from her. She needed to get home. Her apartment was safe. A vampire couldn’t enter her home—could it? Damn the fictitious vampire lore. She had no idea if any of it was real or not, no matter what Andy said. She made it a point to avoid the nastier things in life no matter how much they kept wanting to find her. She was not a demon hunter. If someone would just tell the demons and vampires, she wouldn’t have to deal with freaky shit.
A dark and ominous figure emerged from the shadows. The savage round puncture scars on her throat tingled. The hand strained open more. Bryna stared down at it. If she took that hand, she had no idea what would happen to her, but if she didn’t—she didn’t know what would happen to her, then, either, but she did know staying in a public, well-lit parking lot was her best bet.
Draven’s stance became nervous. “Please, Bryna, you don’t know what’s after you. He will hunt you down until you are dead.”
Time Walkers, Book 1
Emma Weylin
Prologue
Death sucked. Sure, the women were hot and the ability to move back and forth through time to fend off the apocalypse was entertaining, but even the afterlife could become monotonous. Fast times and even faster women had become his stint in existence. True, such things as illness and pesky bullets couldn’t kill him any longer, but Wraith was getting bored. At some point in the last two hundred years he decided his fate had been Hell instead of Time Walker limbo; he’d just been too naïve to know it at the time of his death. Actually, it was probably about the time he’d earned his moniker instead of going by his Earthly name.
He ducked down when a vampire swung at him with a two-by-four. He popped up, caught the board on its second swing, cracked it over his knee, and then stabbed the undead with the sharp end. Why should he have to endure Hell by his lonesome? The vampire burst into a smoky cloud of ash which fell to the alley before it was gently blown away.
Wraith looked at his watch.
New York City, 1939. He pulled his crumpled list out of his pocket and checked where he was supposed to go next. New Orleans, 2085. Great. There was nothing worse than having to go to the largest vampire nest in North America, but they were still boring. He perked up a little. Maybe it wasn’t a vampire this time and he’d get another crack at a demon. Those were always so much more interesting to kill when Felix decided to let him, which wasn’t very often.
He checked his list again and watched as all his assignments vanished one by one.
Shit.
What the hell had he done now to get in trouble? He’d been good for the last decade—well, there had been that one night in a Hestia temple with two virgins, but it hadn’t been his fault. They’d asked him to stay. Besides, that was five years ago. Surely he wasn’t getting into trouble for that.
Headquarters appeared on the page in big glowing letters. He walked down the alley and visualized headquarters, and the imagery around him blurred from dank, garbage-ridden streets to bright white halls lined with gold trim.
Yep.
He was in Hell all right.
He walked down the hall with its never-changing view until a large door out of nowhere swung open.
“Get your ass in here!” Felix bellowed.
“I’m here.”
“You’re late,” he snapped.
Wraith arched a brow at him, but didn’t say anything. Felix was like a bazillion years older than he and could send his ass back to the Bronze Age to deal with babes who didn’t know how to bathe or shave. “Yeah, so sue me. What did I do this time?”
“We found out the point in time that causes the apocalypse. It’s your job to go stop it.”
Wraith sighed. Same old, same old. When was he going to get an exciting assignment? He stuck out his hand for the transparent cellophane-like material Felix handed to him and looked down at the forming image. Two hundred years of annoying monotony drained away as raw rage boiled in his system. “No. I’m not doing the job.”
Felix rolled his eyes. “You’re not supposed to kill her, dumbass. You’re supposed to protect her.”
Wraith glared at his asshole superior. “Like hell I am. Find someone else, or I guess it’s The Apocalypse Meets the Twenty-third Century.”
“It’s this or judgment.”
Wraith started to curse. “You’re kidding me? I have to save that bitch or you’re going to throw my ass in Hell?”
“Yeah, ain’t the afterlife a bitch?” Felix said without sympathy. “Get going. I need you there a day before the main attraction.”
Wraith pulled out his assignment sheet and looked at the time. It was the day before what should have been his twenty-eighth birthday. He’d never had an assignment so close to his death date before. That wasn’t affecting him nearly as much as having to save the life of the woman who killed him.
Chapter 1
There was no such thing as a good vampire. Bryna Wildrose rolled her eyes as she stared down at the hardcover edition of the latest and hottest “righteous vampire” series. If only people knew what existed after the sun went down. They’d never believe the true horrors of the night. Undead beings with the ability to suck a person dry did exist. She had the scars and psychiatric ward visit to prove it, or more aptly, to prove she’d been involved with a nefarious group from the ever-growing vampire subculture.
Bryna made a disgusted sound and started to walk away from the table at Steel Cliff’s Books. The mega book chain always had tables full of the newest releases. Bryna was on a mission. She stopped and stared down at the book again. Did she really want to spend twenty-nine ninety-five plus tax to get the proof she needed that her ex-boyfriend was trying to exploit her trauma? Her hand curled around the book spine, ready to take it to the cashier to make her purchase. A blinding flash of past pain and fear riffled through all her raw nerve endings. Vincent’s face flashed into her mind, and she whimpered at the pain tightening in her chest.
She jumped back from the book table and plowed right into the solid form of a man. She cringed and then slowly turned around. She didn’t know what she was expecting, but six-feet-three of brawny beauty wasn’t it. Not appreciative of her sudden arousal and miffed at herself for letting a memory get the better of her in public, she glared up at him.
“Sorry,” she mumbled. Bryna turned around, snatched up a book, and scurried toward the checkout.
“Excuse me,” an edgy masculine voice murmured behind her.
She was not going to deal with this. “Look, I’m sorry I bumped into you; there is no need to—”
“Bryna?”
Damn! No! She dropped the book on the floor in the checkout line and bolted for the door. She hesitated for a moment before she burst through the door and into the streetlamp-lit parking lot. Nighttime was always the most difficult, but she found if she kept to the very public places, it wasn’t nearly as scary. Vampires didn’t attack where other humans could see them.
“Bryna.” The deep resonating sound filled her ears again.
She pivoted on her heel, arms crossed over her chest, and she took a step back. “How do you know my name?”
A crooked smile moved across his Dionysus face. “It’s on your name tag.”
Her gaze dropped to her chest, and then she let out a slow breath. “I’m so sorry, really. It’s just…” She sighed again. “It’s been one of those days. I’m sorry I bumped into you, really, I just think its best—”
“Coffee?”
His eyes were so light a blue they could have been silver. “Uh, I need to be getting home. Thanks for the offer, but—”
“You want coffee with me.” His tone went lower.
She shook her head. The scars she had from a vampire tingled. “No. I really don’t. I’m sure you’re nice and all, but—”
His eyes went wide and his jaw clenched. “You will come with me for a coffee.”
She snorted. “Dude, no.”
“Come on, lady,” he snapped. He took a sidelong glance down the walk at the corner shrouded in darkness before his shimmery eyes flicked back to her. “I know who you are, and there are those who are pissed off you gave your story to an author. You’re a marked target.”
Her insides froze starting with her toes, and it frosted upward like chilled glass. Her stomach dropped and she pressed a hand to it. The supernatural freaky undead didn’t want living humans to know about how they operated. “No.” It came out in a whisper. She really was going to kill Shawn when she got a hold of him. He had no right. The only person she’d ever trusted to tell the real story of how Vincent died, and he’d betrayed her. Still, she didn’t trust the man looming overhead. She could sense some vampires, but not all of them. “Do—do you have a name?”
“Draven.” He put his hand out. “Come with me if you want to live.”
Did he really think that line was going to make her trust him? Her life had not just turned into a live-action horror flick. A B-rated one at that! She studied that hand and then looked down the sidewalk. Sure the guy always saved the woman and then they rode off into the sunset at the end of the movie, but there was always the genre twisting stories. Hadn’t she already proven that when she killed the hero?
There was movement.
She swallowed hard. It was just her imagination getting away from her. She needed to get home. Her apartment was safe. A vampire couldn’t enter her home—could it? Damn the fictitious vampire lore. She had no idea if any of it was real or not, no matter what Andy said. She made it a point to avoid the nastier things in life no matter how much they kept wanting to find her. She was not a demon hunter. If someone would just tell the demons and vampires, she wouldn’t have to deal with freaky shit.
A dark and ominous figure emerged from the shadows. The savage round puncture scars on her throat tingled. The hand strained open more. Bryna stared down at it. If she took that hand, she had no idea what would happen to her, but if she didn’t—she didn’t know what would happen to her, then, either, but she did know staying in a public, well-lit parking lot was her best bet.
Draven’s stance became nervous. “Please, Bryna, you don’t know what’s after you. He will hunt you down until you are dead.”