Bring Me to Life

Time Walkers, Book 1

Emma Weylin

Published 2014

ISBN: 978-1-62210-153-5

Published by Liquid Silver Books, imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 10509 Sedgegrass Dr, Indianapolis, Indiana 46235. Copyright © Published 2014, Emma Weylin. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

Manufactured in the United States of America

Liquid Silver Books

http://LSbooks.com

This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

Being dead sucks, or so Vincent Asher believes. He’s spent the last two hundred years of his death battling vampires because his boss won’t let him kill demons. Known as a force called the Wraith, Vincent has become bored with preventing the apocalypse. When he hopes his boss will give him a more exciting assignment, he gets the shock of his afterlife. He must protect the woman who killed him.

Bryna Wildrose accidently killed the only man she ever loved. In a self-imposed death sentence, she’s spent the last ten years of her life trying to get herself killed. She never meant to kill Vincent, and the guilt is eating her alive. A vampire gives her a dire warning. The Wraith is coming for her. She can run, or she can let death take her.

Given no choice, Vincent goes back in time to find the one woman he loved more than life itself, but when he expected to torment her for causing his death, he learns nothing is what he believed it to be. Real love never dies, but Vincent’s power might not be enough to keep Bryna alive.

Dedication

To my brother for encouraging better habits. Thanks, Todd. Love you!

Acknowledgments

A great big thank-you to my family and friends for all their wonderful love and support while I spent time in other worlds.

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.

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.”

“But that makes no sense,” she whispered. “I didn’t write the book. It’s out in public now. There isn’t a way I can take it back. How are people going to know—”

He reached out and clamped a powerful hand around her wrist. “We have to go now!”

Wrong!

Whoever this man was, he felt all wrong. She knew way too much about this world to let some stranger carry her off into the night. She jerked back. “Let me go.”

“He’ll kill you.”

“Who?” she demanded as she still jerked to get her arm back.

“The Wraith.”

The Wraith? Oh shit.
He was a nightmare, but more than that, he was the ultimate killer. Demons, vampires, ghosts, ghouls, hellhounds, you name the creature, and the Wraith was supposed to be able to kill it no matter how large the horde. According to Andy, there was no way to survive him once his sights were set. The Wraith wasn’t supposed to go after humans, but she supposed there was a first time for everything.

She stopped struggling and looked to where the dark figure in a black trench coat and hood strolled out of the darkness. He pulled his hood back to reveal black-rimmed glasses held together in the middle by tape and a face full of youthful pimples. His eyes were huge as he stared at Bryna and Draven. “Ma’am, do you need help? I…um…I-I can call the police.”

Bryna lowered her head and bit down hard on Draven’s hand. He yowled and snatched his arm back.

She gave the gothic geek a tight smile, somewhat relieved the Wraith hadn’t stepped out of the shadows to kill her. “That won’t be necessary. He was just leaving.”

A hint of elongated canine teeth showed in Draven’s mouth, and he hissed quietly at the teen. His silver glare turned on Bryna. “The Wraith is coming for you. No one can survive him.” Then Draven backed into the darkness and was gone.

This was just great. She directed the boy into the safety of the building, and then clutched her purse tight to her chest as she ran for her car. She got into her car where it was parked directly under the lamplight and locked the door. She crumpled against the steering wheel and willed herself not to cry. It had only been a matter of time before Vincent’s death would catch up to her. She supposed it was fate and justice. He was dead while she lived. That night wasn’t fuzzy any longer. His blood was on her hands and no matter how hard she washed, it was never going to come off. And now, she didn’t know how she’d ever be able to atone for it, or if she ever could.