Authors: J. P. Bowie
A Total-E-Bound Publication
ISBN # 978-1-78184-172-3
©Copyright J.P. Bowie 2012
Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright November 2012
Edited by Sue Meadows
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound
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The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2012 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, United Kingdom.
This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a
This story contains 88 pages, additionally there is also a
at the end of the book containing 9 pages.
My Vampire and I
An artefact thousands of years old is said to possess the power to reverse time and immortality—but is
the price of that power too high to pay?
Several months after Dakar’s demon army was defeated and Dakar killed in the conflict, Andrew Berés is still haunted by the memory of Dakar telling him there is a talisman that would reverse his immortality and allow him to live a normal life with his lover, firefighter Tommy Cordain. Despite Master Vampire Marcus Verano’s doubt that the Talisman of Ardocan actually exists, Andrew is determined to find the truth of it once and for all.
His obsession leads him, Tommy, and their vampire friends on a journey to the ancient ruins of Babylon and to the remains of an underground city—the City of Ardocan—where legend has it the Talisman is buried, its secrets hidden from eyes and minds for thousands of years.
But danger from enemies and traitors, both human and demonic, is never far away in the
war-ravaged country of Iraq, and Andrew may find out that the price he has to pay in order to obtain the Talisman is greater than he had ever dreamed.
My thanks to Sue Meadows, my editor, for her help in completing this story.
For Phil, always
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following
wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Hummer: General Motors Corporation
Hilton: Hilton Worldwide
Bluetooth: Bluetooth SIG
Bud Lite: Anheuser Busch Brewing Group
Viagra: Pfizer, Inc.
The Picture of Dorian Gray
: Oscar Wilde
BLOOD TALISMAN J.P. Bowie 6
The tall, dark-haired man stood outside the Los Angeles Central Library gazing up for a
moment at the imposing Egyptian-themed edifice. Artfully illuminated at night time, each carefully carved symbol of the ancient world stood out in stark relief against the white-stone walls.
A wry smile touched his handsome, finely featured face as he contemplated the fact that
the setting at least was appropriate for what he sought. The world of antiquity might just hold the key to unlocking the mystery he was determined to solve. Much of what he wanted for his lover and himself, might rely on the answers, positive or negative, he was convinced he would find within a certain tome housed somewhere in the archives of this building.
In just a few minutes the library would close for the night. He wasted no time, quickly
passing through the main doors into the cavernous marble-lined entry hall. He smiled at the security guard, knowing that he was about to tell him, ‘Sorry, we’re closing’. Instead, the guard returned his smile—the power behind those ice-blue eyes immediately making the guard forget that the tall man dressed in a full-length black leather coat who now strode past him with purpose towards the door that plainly read ‘No Admittance’ had actually pushed it open and had disappeared.
The guard stood to one side as the library’s employees and a few stragglers exited, then he locked the doors and walked over to the security desk. Apart from the routine checks he would make periodically he would stay at his post until he was relieved at midnight by the graveyard shift.
Andrew Berés descended the flight of stairs leading to the underground archives. It was
dark, the power having been turned off in any unnecessary areas of the library. Not that it deterred Andrew. He could see in the dark better than any cat, or bat, for that matter. His vampire vision could pick out anything within the murky recesses of the basement.
If I were the Talisman of Ardocan—where would I hide?
If not the Talisman itself—and it did seem unlikely that it would actually be among the
artefacts and documents piled high before him—at least some mention of it, be it myth or
BLOOD TALISMAN J.P. Bowie 7
reality. Somewhere here, there must be some clue, a cross reference perhaps pertaining to its existence, or non.
Andrew’s laser-sharp vision seared through the closed document boxes and crates,
negating some as useless, pausing over others that looked as though they might be
interesting, before dismissing them and moving on to the next box.
Marcus Verano, the most powerful of all vampires, had told Andrew he feared the
Talisman did not exist, and at the time Andrew had been prepared to accept Marcus’
scepticism, yet the demon Dakar had insisted that it was indeed real. If Andrew were to
doubt either man’s word, it would certainly be that of Dakar—a devious and treacherous
demon, now dead. Dakar had inhabited Andrew’s lover’s body then had tried to seduce
Andrew himself, all the while betraying his king by gathering a rebel force to usurp Kardis and take control of the Underworld region Kardis governed.
Yet hope, mingled with some doubt, remained in Andrew’s heart.
His lover, Tommy, was a brave and beautiful man with whom Andrew wished to
spend the rest of his existence. But Tommy was mortal and worried that as he grew older
Andrew would leave him for someone younger. Despite Andrew’s protestations to the
contrary, he knew that in Tommy’s darker moments that fear still existed, and with it a wish that Andrew, too, was mortal, and that they would grow old together. Something that, as the months had passed, and their love had become stronger, deeper, Andrew had longed for with all his heart.
Tommy had offered to give him his lifeblood, had pledged to accept the ‘change’
despite the fact he would be distanced from his family and friends, something Andrew knew tore at Tommy’s heart and conscience. Because of his lover’s willingness to sacrifice his closeness with those he held dear, Andrew was determined to at least try to find an alternative.
He had not mentioned his quest to anyone, not even to Tommy. Why build up hopes
within him if the search should prove fruitless after all? Nor had he told his best friend Jared Lantos, although he knew Jared would not judge his actions. Jared also had a mortal lover.
Although frowned on by certain segments of vampire society, it was not all that unusual for vampires’ companions to be human. A regular infusion of vampire blood kept a mortal’s youthful appearance, delaying the aging process and giving him or her many more years of life. But they were not immortal, and eventually a decision would have to be made…
BLOOD TALISMAN J.P. Bowie 8
Andrew paused in his search and a shudder ran through his body. The thought of
losing Tommy was not something he could accept, nor the desolation he knew he would feel as keenly as a wooden, silver-tipped stake to his heart.
There must be an answer! Somewhere in all of this there must be a clue, however small,
however remotely connected to the Talisman itself. Something to give hope…
Despair filled him as he neared the final row of boxes. Perhaps Marcus was right after
all, and Dakar would be proven a liar, perpetuating the demon reputation for evading the truth at all costs. Or perhaps, his search—though fruitless here as it had been in New York and Washington D.C.—should continue in some other archive—in Paris or Athens or—He paused again, a flicker of recognition dancing before his eyes.
The word, Ardocan.
He strode towards a wooden box, securely bound with metal straps. A flick of his hand
and the straps fell away. Quickly he delved inside and pulled out a file, tattered and
yellowed with age. His fingers skimmed over the worn pages, his eyes scanning each one
with supernatural speed.
There it was… ‘
The Myth of Ardocan. Findings of Arnold Metcalfe, July 1874’.
Myth. Andrew’s brow furrowed with a frown of disappointment. It was after all, only a
“Lost in the mists of time, the existence of the legendary City of Ardocan has proven to be
beyond discovery of even the most ardent explorers.
A city—not just a talisman.
The city was first mentioned in the Scrolls of Ashelak, one of the many Hittite princes raised to
deity status, and it has long been sought without success, most of the research having been lost or
Andrew’s shallow breath caught in his chest, excitement flooding his powerful blood.
The fact that men knew enough about it to actually search for it must mean that there were other writings, other theories, other possibilities. A smile touched his lips. That which had seemed out of his reach, a myth, now perhaps could become more of a reality. Yes, what he was reading described Ardocan as no more than a legend, but many legends were rooted in fact. Fact that could become less believable with time, for sure. The fabric of reality