Bill The Vampire (The Tome of Bill series)
Bill The Vampire:
Bill Ryder was a dateless dweeb…then he died. Unfortunately for him that was just the beginning of his troubles. He awoke to find himself a vampire, one of the legendary predators of the night. Unfortunately for him, he was still at the bottom of the food chain.
Now he finds himself surrounded by creatures stronger, deadlier and a whole lot cooler than he is. Worst yet, they all want him dead…permanently this time.
Bill isn't exactly average, though. A vampire like him hasn't been seen in centuries. He's got a few tricks up his sleeve, unlikely allies, and an attitude problem that makes him too damn obnoxious to quit.
Join him in this hilarious tale of monsters, mayhem, and the unlikely hero who's not afraid to tell them all off…even if it gets his teeth kicked in.
Bill the Vampire (the Tome of Bill, part 1) is 80k words of foul-mouthed horror comedy
Enter the giveaway with a chance to win a copy of Bill The Vampire, click here >>
To human eyes, the place might have looked dark and foreboding, but to my vampire-powered vision, it looked pretty damn dull. Think of your basic vanilla office with its sea of cubicles surrounded by a few middle management offices. Well, throw in some shitty lighting, and you'd have this place. Here I was hoping for a dark cavern lit by torches and perhaps lined with skulls…maybe culminating in a chamber filled with ominous, robed figures. Instead, I got an office park underneath a car wash. It looked like the greatest danger this place had to offer was the possibility of hanging oneself with bureaucratic red tape. A trip to the DMV was immeasurably scarier.
On initial glance, the only thing that seemed odd were the inhabitants of the various desks. Typing away within the cubes, looking even more lifeless than the denizens of a typical corporate office, were persons in various stages of decay. Holy shit, zombies! Okay, so they were performing clerical duties as opposed to trying to eat our brains, but zombies nevertheless. Cool.
I couldn't help myself. I put my hands together in the shape of a pistol. Walking past the various cubicles, I started pointing my “gun” at the inhabitants and whispering, “Pew! Headshot! Pew! Pew! Die, zombie bastards!”
Yeah, subtle I am not.
After a second or two, Sally stopped short. She turned toward me and growled, “What exactly is fucking wrong with you?”
“Were you dropped on your head repeatedly as a child?”
“Maybe fell into the pool and were underwater a little too long?”
“I don't think so…”
“Then why, pray tell,” she hissed, “are you insistent on embarrassing the ever-living shit out of me?”
“But they're zombies,” I sheepishly offered.
“Yes,” she continued her tirade. “They are disgusting, putrefying corpses. But you know what? They are keeping their fucking mouths shut and not walking around looking like a goddamned retard, unlike you.”
“Can I help you?” a voice from behind her asked. Startled, Sally whirled around to face the newcomer. Standing there was a tall, thin woman wearing a business suit, her hair done up in a tight bun. She was good looking (of course! I was beginning to think I was the sole vampire on the planet who couldn’t pass as a swimsuit model), but had a severe, no-nonsense attitude about her. Whoever she was, she was good. Neither of us had sensed her approaching.
“Let me repeat myself,” she said when we didn’t answer. “Can I help you, or would you prefer to continue disrupting our workplace?”
Before Sally could say a word, I jumped in with my most sincere voice. “We're sorry. No offense was intended. My friend here has a terrible case of Tourette's, and thus can't help the potty mouth.”
Sally glared daggers at me in response. I had little doubt she was contemplating exactly how far up my ass she could stuff my head once she had ripped it off. After a second or two of mentally killing and dismembering me, she turned to the newcomer and said, “We're from Village Coven in New York. We need to see James.”
“I don't think James is in. Did you call ahead for an appointment?”
Sally seemed to pause at this question. “No,” she finally answered.
“So, you came all the way up from New York, but you didn't think to take two minutes to call first to see if he was around?” asked the woman, raising one eyebrow. Sally actually blushed at this, which one would think was fairly difficult for a dead person to do. I didn’t know who this woman was, but if she could verbally slap Sally down so easily, then I liked her style.