Luke Irontree & the Last Vampire War (Books 1-3), page 1
LUKE IRONTREE & THE LAST VAMPIRE WAR
Book 0 - The Centurion Immortal
Book 1 - Dark Fangs Rising - March 22, 2022
Book 2 - Dark Fangs Raging - April 19, 2022
Book 3 - Dark Fangs Descending - May 17, 2022
Book 4 - Blood Empire Reborn - August 23, 2022
Book 5 - Blood Empire Avenged - September 20, 2022
Book 6 - Blood Empire Infiltrated - October 18, 2022
Book 7 - Blood Empire Burning - November 15, 2022
Book 8 - Ancient Sword Falling - March 21, 2023
Book 9 - Ancient Sword Unyielding - August 22, 2023
Book 10 - Ancient Sword Shattering - January 4, 2024
The Luke Irontree Historical Adventures
Rise of the Centurio Immortalis - April 5, 2022
Fall of the Centurio Immortalis - May 31, 2022
The Moonlight Centurion*
The Highway Centurion*
The Luke Irontree Collections
Luke Irontree & The Last Vampire War (Books 1-3)
Luke Irontree & The Last Vampire War (Book 4-7)
*Forthcoming
Titles and release dates may be subject to change.
LUKE IRONTREE & THE LAST VAMPIRE WAR (BOOKS 1-3)
A LUKE IRONTREE URBAN FANTASY BOX SET WITH BONUS MATERIAL
C. THOMAS LAFOLLETTE
EDITED BY
SUZANNE LAHNA
LUKE IRONTREE & THE LAST VAMPIRE WAR
(BOOKS 1-3)
C. Thomas Lafollette
A Broken World Publication
13820 NE Airport Way
Suite #K395495
Portland, OR 97251-1158
Luke Irontree & The Last Vampire War
Books 1-3
Copyright © 2022 by C. Thomas Lafollette
ISBN 978-1-949410-74-7 (ebook)
Cover Design: Ravven
Developmental Editing by: Suzanne Lahna
Copy/Line Editing: C.D. Tavenor
Proofreading: Amy Cissell
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the author at editors@brokenworldpublishing.com.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
CONTENTS
The Centurion Immortal
Author’s Note
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Epilogue
Dark Fangs Rising
Pronunciation Guide & Author’s Notes
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Lucius I
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Lucius II
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Lucius III
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Lucius IIII
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Lucius V
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Dark Fangs Raging
Pronunciation Guide & Author’s Notes
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
The Wood-Fanged Demon
Author’s Note
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Epilogue
Dark Fangs Descending
Pronunciation Guide & Author’s Notes
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Luke Irontree Will Return In
Luke Irontree Will Return In
Dispatches from C. Thomas Lafollette
Rise of the Centurio Immortalis
Fall of the Centurio Immortalis
Glossary
About the Author
Also by C. Thomas Lafollette
THE CENTURION IMMORTAL
LUKE IRONTREE & THE LAST VAMPIRE WAR
THE CENTURION IMMORTAL
C. Thomas Lafollette
A Broken World Publication
PO Box 11643
Portland, OR 97211
The Centurion Immortal
Copyright © 2021 by C. Thomas Lafollette
ISBN: 978-949410-49-5 (ebook)
Cover Design: Ravven
Edited by: Suzanne Lahna
Copy Editing & Proofreading: Amy Cissell
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the author at editors@brokenworldpublishing.com.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Contents:
This book contains some gore and body horror.
CONTENTS
Author’s Note
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Epilogue
To my future readers
Thank you for joining me on this adventure
AUTHOR’S NOTE
The Centurion Immortal is a prequel novella and takes place a few months before the events of Dark Fangs Rising, book one of the series.
CHAPTER
ONE
A cool breeze blew in off the Scheldt River as Luke picked an empty sidewalk table at Cafe Batavier. He stripped off the light-weight jacket and settled it over the back of his chair. Facing the MAS Museum, he watched the wind ripple the surface of the square inlet pond surrounding the complex.
A black-clad server approached him, greeting him in crisp, neutral Dutch. “Hello, sir. Would you like something to drink?”
“I’ll take the Boon Mariage Parfait Geuze, please,” Luke replied.
“Very good.” The server hustled back to the bar to get Luke’s drink.
It had been a long time since he’d conversed in Flemish Dutch, and centuries since he’d been forced to learn the language as it supplanted the Gallic Celtic language he’d grown up with. He’d had to relearn the local language several times over the centuries, first the Germanic Frankish language, then the earlier version of French and Dutch as the languages evolved. Instead of adapting with the locals, his long absences from the land of his birth, necessitated by his vocation, meant he had to pick up the newest versions whenever he spent extended time in the lowlands.
These days, he
After the server returned, he unwound the cage and popped the cork, then filled the glass with a lightly hazy golden beer that capped off with a thick beige head.
“Please enjoy,” the server said.
“Thank you.” Luke relaxed into his chair, took a sip of the funky, tart beer, and sighed in satisfaction. He zoned out, watching the people enjoy a sunny but cool late spring afternoon. It felt good to appreciate the mundane tableau of drinking a beer at a café and watching the world go by—no urgency or life or death decisions, just being.
After a while, a well-dressed white man with a slightly tanned complexion sat down at the table next to his.
“Enjoying your stay in Antwerp?” the gentleman asked in Flemish-accented English.
“Hmmm, excuse me?” Luke replied in English. “Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”
The man wore a crisp white and red graph check button-down shirt tucked into bright blue pants. He looked a little older than Luke, who appeared to be in his late thirties or early forties. When the server returned, the man ordered an Orval while Luke asked for another bottle of the Boon.
The man leaned a little closer, a pleasant smile on his face. “Enjoying your stay in Antwerp?”
Luke nodded, feigning a polite smile. “Yes. It’s been a while since my last visit, but it’s a lovely city. I was just people watching and enjoying the view.”
“How about the beer?” the man asked.
“It’s one of my favorites.” Luke was getting annoyed by the interruption.
“I can’t get used to the sours. Not my glass of beer, I guess.” He shook his head as if he were sad about not liking the particular style of beer. “Ah, excellent!”
The server placed an Orval in front of the man and poured Luke’s Boon. The stranger sipped his beer and joined Luke in people watching; the square was getting a fair bit of foot traffic on the pleasant day. Luke hoped he’d finished talking. He wasn’t typically antisocial, but he was in the mood for solitude. Then again… He absentmindedly took a drink of his beer while mused over the last few years and decades. Solitude seemed to be his constant for over a century now.
“Are you here on business or holiday?” the man asked.
“I’m just enjoying a beer on vacation,” Luke replied, lifting his glass to demonstrate. Apparently, the stranger wasn’t done chatting. Luke tried to stave off an eye roll or any other outward signs of annoyance.
“Mind if I join you?” The man smiled and gestured toward an empty seat at Luke’s table.
Luke thought about the question for a moment. Maybe doing something to break out of his rut wouldn’t be a bad thing. Maybe a few minutes of idle conversation would do him a bit of good. He pushed the seat out with his foot. It’d been a long time since he’d had a simple conversation, and the man didn’t seem interested in minding his own business. The stranger stood up and took the seat.
“American?” The man grabbed a coaster for his Orval.
“Currently. Originally, I was born not far from Brussels.”
The man’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Ah, Belgian? Your American accent is very clean. How long has it been since you left Belgium?”
“It’s been a while.” “A while” was a wild understatement. He’d first left Belgium when he was eighteen, some nineteen hundred years ago—a young man marching to his first campaign as a Roman legionnaire. “I return periodically to attend to some of my interests. How about you? From Antwerp?”
“Originally, Brussels, but we moved to Antwerpen when I was a teen. Antwerpen is home, though.” He extended a hand to Luke. “Jan.”
Luke shook his hand. “Luke.” He was warming to Jan’s open manner and calm demeanor. Though, he couldn’t entirely dismiss his usual suspicious nature and trust the man entirely, but the conversation would end, and he’d never see the man again. And if he did see him again, he’d cross that bridge when it happened.
“May I buy you another round?” Jan held up his nearly empty glass and gave it a little shake to emphasize his point.
Luke shrugged and smiled. “Sure, why not? I’m not driving anywhere.”
Jan waved the server over and ordered. After they chatted companionably for a while, nearly finishing their beers, Jan looked at his watch and raised his hand to signal for the check. “It is time I depart. Thank you for the conversation.”
The server returned with the check, and Jan paid him before Luke could grab his wallet.
“As thanks for letting me join you.” Jan passed the check back to the server, knocking his cell phone to the ground. “Ah, looks like I got lucky. Not a scratch.” He stood and offered his hand again. “Luke, it was a pleasure. Welcome home to Belgium.”
Jan turned and walked toward the center of town.
Once again by himself, Luke sighed and returned to his drink, loneliness filling the space vacated by the brief conversation. But when the late afternoon sun no longer warmed him and the breeze turned too chilly for his taste, he grabbed his jacket and slipped it on.
Something heavy in his pocket pulled his attention. He hadn’t put anything in the jacket’s pockets. Reaching in, he pulled out a cell phone he’d never seen before. Text messages flashed on the screen,
Greetings, Mr. Irontree. I apologize for the subterfuge at the café.
He hadn’t told Jan his last name. His anxiety spiked, paranoia stepping to the fore as he looked around the hall to make sure he was indeed alone.
We have an important job for someone of your unique skill set and talents. Normally, we wouldn’t involve a stranger, but this matter is of some delicacy. Tomorrow, St Pauluskerk, noon.
Thank you-J
CHAPTER
TWO
They had him at a disadvantage, knowing more about him than he knew of them. He didn’t like not knowing who he was dealing with, especially if they seemed to have more information about him than he wanted them to. While he could walk away, leaving a potential enemy behind who knew who he was and how to track him down would be foolhardy at best. If it turned out they weren’t enemies, it was better to be cautious and alive than trusting and dead.
A couple of blocks away from St Pauluskerk, Luke stopped to check if he was being followed. His cautious nature often tipped him over the line into hypervigilance. Fortunately, the day was cool, so he didn’t look out-of-place wearing his black hoodie with the hood bunched up around his neck to hide the pommel of his sword. He resisted the urge to wrap his fingers around the bone handle of the gladius to feel its comforting presence in his hand. He’d strapped the sword to his back for an over the right shoulder draw. Although a hoodie was standard wear for people of all ages in Portland, it marked him as a tourist in Belgium. He didn’t care if he blended in today.
