Artemis the Chosen by M. Jade Glock (top 10 inspirational books TXT) 📖

Artemis reached for both of the two glock 19's resting in the holsters that were strapped on the outside of his thighs. Both weapons were chained from the handle of the gun to a metal ring on the front of his belt. He faced the wretched creature in front of him. If he was any normal human being his skin would have crawled at the sight of the grotesque monster before him. Its eyes were fully red, no one could distinguish between an iris, or a pupil. Its skin was pale beyond any healthy human palor and their canine teeth were pointed in quite an unusual way. There was no mistaking it, the thing before Artemis was none other than a vampyre.

“What do you think you're doing?” It hissed at him, threatened by the movement of Artemis drawing his weapons. Logically, it was a stupid question. Why else would anyone point a gun at another if their intent wasn't to kill?

"What an idiotic question," Artemis began to patronize him. He let a half smirk spread across a part of his face, revealing his pointy canines, verifying his identity.

"How dare you turn on your own kind!" It exclaimed, the hiss in its voice acting as an accent or involuntary speech impedement.

Artemis didn't even bother replying to the vampyre. Holding each weapon in his hand, he fired two bullets into the creature's chest. It exploded through its heart, desecrating it into a million fragments.

“I am Artemis, the vampyre slayer.” Smoke emanated from the fired weapon. Artemis held the handle just a bit tighter in his gloved hand. He should have been happy that another vampyre was dead and gone, but the eerie realization that he himself was a vampyre only increased his anxiety. He was an abomination, a monster, just like them. No matter how much he wanted to fight it, he knew he was no better than all of the rest of his kind. Quickly, Artemis made himself scarce. He made it to his hideout in practically no time at all. He sat at his desk that was located in the corner of the room. He then brought out an old looking journal; scrawled the following message onto the first few pages that he had skipped in first writing the book:

The fact that you're reading my memoirs tells me that I've finally finished my quest. What you will find in these pages is the history of my life, when I “changed” up until the completion of my mission. I will promise no happy ending, in fact, I won't promise any happiness at all. Continue to read through these pages if you dare. There will be no hard feelings if I'm placed back on the shelf, where you found me. Another will come, one who is the Chosen and bears the mark of Artemis who will be protector of this earth after I am gone.

You're still here? Good, there is hope for your planet yet. Hurry, within these pages are all that you need to know and master your art as a vampyre slayer. It is your job to keep the darkness at bay. I don't care what anyone else has told you, vampyres are the monsters of this realm and each new one must be eliminated at all costs. Kill all who have been imprinted with the seal. This marking is supernatural and is one of the only ways you will know of their origin...

Erica awoke that evening, of her own accord. Twenty three and on her own she did not have to worry about a mother or father coming in and waking her up at six in the morning. As a vampyre, she was expected to make it on her own at a somewhat young age. Living by herself since she was nineteen she had grown used to the solitude that her studio apartment granted her. Though, more often than not, she had dreamed of having a pet. She occasionally longed for something that would greet her when she got home but, the more that she thought about it, the more she thought it was a bad idea.

She sat up in bed, stretching her slender arms over her head, pulling off the covers, revealing her wine colored silk shirt that hung loosely about her curvy frame. She grabbed her soft bathrobe that rested on a coat rack, which Erica conveniently placed close to her bed. It was freezing and she was reluctant to leave the warm refuge of her bed covers. The robe provided a secondary warmth that Erica could not complain about. Once secure and snug within the folds of the soft material, she walked across the room to her coffee maker, going through the motions of making a fresh cup of joe.

As the bitter drink brewed, Erica walked to the huge window at the side of her apartment. She didn't know how else it would be called other than a window, but the glass wall was massive. It gave her a spectacular view, but her sensitivity to sunlight made it extremely difficult to deal with. She had to get her curtains custom made for her wall of glass, to which she would close in the daytime and keep open all night. She folded her arms across her chest, watching as the flurry of snow dotted the dark blue sky above her and seemed to sprinkle on top of all of the city lights. New York was an absolutely wonderful city at night.

Time had passed as she was dazzled by the beauty of her view, she almost did not hear the timer go off on her coffee machine. Promptly brought out of her trance, she went and poured herself a cup of coffee, letting her fingers linger around the mug as they were warmed by the heat that emanated off of it. She breathed in the steam, sighing deeply as she relished in the comfortable atmosphere that all of this brought on. She blew on the surface, trying to cool down the piping hot liquid. Once she felt it was safe enough, she took a cautionary sip. She was satisfied and, by luck, did not burn her lips this time.

Though her silent evening was not meant to be. It was not long before her cell phone began the tune of Adam Lambert's 'If I Had You', a song that she fell in love with the first time she heard it. Tonight it did not bring much pleasure as she looked at the caller ID. As she answered it she was anything but polite.

“What do you want?” Her tone was practically exasperated.

“Hey, hey. Is that any way to talk to your employer?” A male with a New York accent answered her back.

“Just cut to the chase, Dan,” Erica answered, clearly not in the mood for any nonsense.

“All right, all right. That's what I like about you, straightforward and to the point; no funny business.”

She rolled her eyes and waited for him to continue.

“Anyway, I know that I said tonight was your night off but I'm havin' a rough time, I need you to come down and cover for Angela.”

“Come on Dan, I haven't had a night off in a while, what's wrong with Angela?”

“Apparently she's come down with a cold, considering it's the middle of December that doesn't surprise me. I run a clean establishment and can't have her coughing and sniffing around the customers, I'll lose my clientele.”

Erica was not buying the cold story. Angela had a reputation for lying to get leave of her station, but since Dan seemed to have a little 'thing' for her, he was not suspicious of her constant absence at all.

“Fine, I'll come in, but I need an hour.”

“Good girl! I knew I could count on you, see you in an hour.”

Erica hung up and threw her phone on the bed. She gazed out at her view from her apartment once more, drinking some more of her coffee. She then began to get ready for work.

She worked as a bar maid at some ritzy club. Nothing extreme with techno music and flashing lights, but something classy, where people stopped by to chat over a martini or scotch on the rocks. Erica was grateful for such a job, at least with this kind of atmosphere she would not have to worry about wearing some over revealing sleezy outfit that just asked for the hungry eyes of perverts.

She put on her white button down blouse and fastened her black tie under the collar. She pulled on her black slacks and tied her short black apron around her waist. Erica went to the bathroom, padding around in her socks, to do her makeup. Though she preferred the natural look when it came to cosmetics, Dan insisted that she “glitz” herself up. So she applied dark eyeliner, mascara, and smokey eyeshadow, she finished the look with a shiny lip gloss. On her way out the door she pulled on her tennis shoes, grabbed her coat, and took her keys.
It only took a few minutes to get to the bar.

Erica parked in front of the brick building of the bar that her employer, Dan, managed and owned. Erica lingered in her car, looking through her windshield at the building. From the outside there was no way that anyone could have expected it to be associated with such a descriptor as classy. The neon sign, that Dan insisted on being blood shot red, flashed Self Indulgence across the face of the building. Erica involuntarily rolled her eyes. The name of the bar itself would make anyone think of a run down hole in the wall that only offered cheap beer and easy ladies. Erica didn't even notice that her hands were still gripping the steering wheel.

"I really don't want to go to work." She whispered to herself.

Erica filled her cheeks with air and released the newly made carbon dioxide through her lips. She reluctently exited her vehicle, locked her car, and entered the building through the back way that lead to the storage room. 

“Erica!” A heavily New York accented voice called to her.

“Yes, Dan?” Erica said, trying to veil the annoyance in her voice. It failed.

“What took you so long to get here?” Dan was obviously not happy and Erica's attitude wasn't helping matters.

“You gave me an hour, is it really my fault that I decided to use every minute of it?” She never liked Dan, to Erica he always seemed squirrely. Always quick to make a buck and was very stingy when it came to financial affairs. She made sure to stay away from him, and tried her best never to be alone with him.

“Don't get smart with me.” Dan warned.