The Vloodmir Vampires

AVAILABLE FOR KINDLE PURCHASE ON AMAZON // When a lust for equality and desire to break free from a tight autocratic structure forces itself into the hearts of the fed-up, hero's will rise. But when one large plan is altered by those on the side lines, who will fall and who will take the power from the Vloodmirs? But most of all, who will survive and who will die? Will secrets be leaked and will lovers become haters of one another?
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30. Chapter Twenty Seven





The next morning, Evelyn was ready. The rest of the divisions were standing before her. She was going to take charge and take control. She faced the leaders of each division, arms folded, her leather jacket tight and hugging her body.

“Today’s aim, everyone. Search the area, secure down safe zones for those not involved – or tell them to stay inside. And locate Snow, his henchmen and Genevieve Parker. They are the only people you maim. You do not kill them. That will be something everyone shall do. Everyone shall be able to make them die.”

There would some twisted, sick grins at that and all divisions nodded, leaving the tent in an orderly fashion.

“Del, you go with them.” Evelyn commanded. “You’ve been in here for all of it so far. Go outside, go have some fun and go get some exercise. You need it.”

“Are you saying I’m fat an out of shape?” Delano inquired, raising an eyebrow in shock. There was an expression of horror, fatigue and irritation plastered on her face. Evelyn had screwed up.

“Please. Just . . . go.” Evelyn sighed, pushing her hair back and trying to relax herself, only ending up shaking.


Delano made her way through the towns. Since she had been the last to leave, those who had left before had told all residents to remain within their homes. It was somewhat worked, as the streets Delano prowled were quiet, empty and eerie.


Every so often, a lone car would roll past, but that was almost it. It was at this time Delano realised how big Vloodmir really was. Narrow alleyways that twisted and turned off. Big main roads where cars would go past. It was made her think; Delano needed a car. Evelyn had been given a car as a present. Delano had researched what type of car she had been given yesterday during her ‘break’. It was bmw e46 m3. An understatement to say that she was jealous. Delano had had a car back when she lived in Nix – a different place, far away from Vloodmir. But when she moved, she had to restart. Change her name, change her looks – and leave any trace of her past life behind her.


An abandoned building lay down a slender alleyway. Brothel workers under the influence of Samuel. Delano remembered reading the notes Elliot had made about him. Some of the mind readers had been told to build a bigger, more comprehensive file about each of Snow’s henchmen. But they weren’t important. They’ve have to be taken down later.


Kicking the door down, Delano’s weapon was in hand. Her short sword. She felt bad that she hadn’t gone to the saleswoman to help her train. But Quinn, Quincy and Evelyn had helped her become better. Her arms were toned and muscled, able to hold the weapons easily and without shaking under the weight. A flock of crows flew out, but Delano cut them down quickly. Ten dead crows lay on the concrete. They weren’t going to be bothering her again any time soon.


Going into a low crouch, Delano made her way through the building. She drew a knife, gripping one in each hand. Fighting with two weapons was an art which was deemed hard to do and very challenging. But Delano hadn’t given up. It wasn’t in her nature to give up. But she’d had to give up alcohol to become a better person for Evelyn, for Elliot, for the twins, and for Jymes – if he ever bothered to show up for anything. He was too busy being a fuckboy and wanting to fuck guys – or girls, depending on his mood. But he was gay, so girls were out of the question.


The building was dirty and covered in grime. Delano’s first thoughts were that it had been a brothel, but there was no evidence to back up her thought. Approaching the spiral staircase, she moved forward with caution, calming her breathing. Her grip on her short swords was still tight, she didn’t sweat – no Vampires produced sweat – and putting on foot in front of the other, Delano ascended the stairs. Of course, it would’ve made more sense to scout out the ground floor, but Delano wasn’t acting with thought – or, at least, logical thought. If she killed all on the top floor, then when she came down to leave, there was no chance of being ambushed from above.


The second floor was the same as the first, dirty, quiet and dead birds littered all over the place. Delano was tempted to drink the creatures and drain them of their blood, but that would entail a risk. Delano didn’t know how long they had been there and they could carry diseases. Vampires could heal physical wounds on the outside, but viruses and diseases were internal – and they couldn’t be healed as easily.

Looking around, Delano approached, her boots hitting the concrete – the sound echoing around.


There was a man huddled in a corner, knees up to his chest. He was rocking, shaking, trembling. The poor man was petrified. Delano still held her swords in a tight grip, but slowly lowered them slightly. “Who are you . . .” It was a foolish question, Delano had an idea of who he was. A lone man, gone into hiding. “Carlos.” The man replied.

“Carlos VanHitchmont.” He replied, lifting his gaze to meet Delano’s. At the sound of the name, Delano took a step back, one of Snow’s henchmen. He sent all those who had wronged Snow into jail. And with Carlos now having seen Delano – she was a target. But if she played along and acted like someone else . . . then she could possibly get away Scott – Free. She was half Vloodmir, she was fine.

“Who are you?” Carlos asked. His eyes were bright; he had gone through so much – he had received so much hate. But he had one last trick up his sleeve. If he got a bit of her DNA, then he could have it tested for treason. Treason was a sin, a massive sin. And if he got someone from the Takeover condemned, then it would send out a message. This? Meeting Delano was pure luck. Everything was perfect. Everything was going according to an impromptu plan.


“You’re part of the Takeover aren’t you?” Carlos asked. He was asking questions – which was good. But he was too direct, and he got to the point too quickly. But still, Delano had to play along.

“You could say that, yes. We’re hoping for it to be over by the end of the week. Once we find our targets and who we’re looking for – then this will all be over and the Trusonis will have their freedom.”

“Easier said than done . . .” Carlos commented. “For all you know he could’ve fled Vloodmir, he could’ve left it all behind. HE could’ve escaped with his lover.”

“Lover?” Delano asked. She hadn’t meant to change the subject of the conversation – it had just happened. And she took it gratefully.

“Genevieve Parker. They’re rather close, did you know that?” Carlos asked, a sly smile on his face. He looked psychotically insane. But Delano guessed that anyone in this building would’ve gone insane by now.


“Do you know where Snow is? Or where he could’ve gone?” Delano asked, head tilted. Her weapons were sheathed now and she was standing to her full height. She was imposing, and with her deep red hair and her intense gaze, it was evident that she was powerful and in control of the situation.

Carlos paused, as if he was unsure on how to answer the question. Being a man who worked for the law, he should’ve kept his cool and he should’ve tried to stay calm – but that hadn’t worked at all. He was nervous; swallowing, tense muscles, eyes darting around the room looking for escape.

“I’m not going to ask again, Carlos. You tell me where he is and I won’t stab you – probably.” It sounded real, although deep down, Delano wasn’t a killer. She wasn’t going to kill Carlos. He was an asset which could be used in the future! No one kills a possible asset until they become a threat.

“The Arena!” Carlos whimpered, finally giving into the fear. He had been strong for too long and now he was beginning to crumble and fail under the pressure.


He had gone insane.


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