CONTENTS
Dedication
Legal
Series List
Social Links
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
12.25.2016
Author Notes - Justin Sloan
Author Notes - Michael Anderle
Hounds Of God - Sample
The Queen Bitch Is Back
DEDICATION
From Justin
To Ugulay, Verona and Brendan Sloan
From Michael
To Family, Friends and
Those Who Love
To Read.
May We All Enjoy Grace
To Live The Life We Are
Called.
Justice Is Calling
Reclaiming Honor Team
Beta Editor / Readers
Dorene Johnson (US Navy (Ret) & DD)
Diane Velasquez (Chinchilla lady & DD)
JIT Beta Readers
Brent Bakken
Mickey Cocker
Heath Felps
Andrew Haynes
Jaded Kitty Kimik
Thomas Ogden
Kelli Orr
Gage Ostrander
Björn Schmidt
Tor L Sekse
Nancy West
If I missed anyone, please let me know!
Editors
Stephen Russell
Thank you to the following Special Consultants
for JUSTICE IS CALLING
Jeff Morris - US Army - Asst Professor Cyber-Warfare, Nuclear Munitions (Active)
W.W.D.E
Justice Is Calling (this book) is a work of fiction.
All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.
The Kurtherian Gambit (and what happens within / characters / situations / worlds)
are Copyright (c) 2016 by Michael T. Anderle
Complete Book is Copyright (c) 2016 by Michael T. Anderle
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 Michael T. Anderle.
Version 1.0
Kurtherian Gambit Series Titles Include:
First Arc
Death Becomes Her (01) - Queen Bitch (02) - Love Lost (03) - Bite This (04)
Never Forsaken (05) - Under My Heel (06) Kneel Or Die (07)
Second Arc
We Will Build (08) - It’s Hell To Choose (09) - Release The Dogs of War (10)
Sued For Peace (11) - We Have Contact (12) - My Ride is a Bitch (13)
Don’t Cross This Line (14)
Third Arc (Due 2017)
Never Submit (15) - Never Surrender (16) - Forever Defend (17)
Might Makes Right (18) - Ahead Full (19) - Capture Death (20)
Life Goes On (21)
**New Series**
The Second Dark Ages
The Dark Messiah (01)
(Michael’s Return)
12.25.2016
The Boris Chronicles
* With Paul C. Middleton *
Evacuation
Retaliation
Revelation Dec 2016
Restitution 2017
Reclaiming Honor
* With JUSTIN SLOAN *
Justice Is Calling (01)
Claimed By Honor (02)
Jan 2017
The Etheric Academy
* With TS PAUL *
ALPHA CLASS (01) Dec 2016/Jan 2017
ALPHA CLASS (02) Feb/Mar 2017
ALPHA CLASS (03) May/June 2017
Terry Henry “TH” Walton Chronicles
* With CRAIG MARTELLE *
Nomad Found (01) Jan 2017
SHORT STORIES
Frank Kurns Stories of the Unknownworld 01 (7.5)
You Don’t Mess with John’s Cousin
Frank Kurns Stories of the Unknownworld 02 (9.5)
Bitch’s Night Out
Anthologies
Glimpse
Honor in Death
(Michael’s First Few Days)
Beyond the Stars: At Galaxy's Edge
Tabitha’s Vacation
Justin Sloan Social
For a chance to see ALL of Justin’s different Book Series
Check out his website below!
Website: http://JustinSloanAuthor.com
Email List: http://JustinSloanAuthor.com/Newsletter
Facebook Here: https://www.facebook.com/JustinSloanAuthor
Michael Anderle Social
Website: http://kurtherianbooks.com/
Email List: http://kurtherianbooks.com/email-list/
Facebook Here: https://www.facebook.com/TheKurtherianGambitBooks/
PROLOGUE
Memo found in Enforcer HQ
What little I could piece together points to a company or a group of individuals that went by the term TQB. I have yet to uncover what the acronym means. Further, they left earth for reasons that still remain unclear, or unbelievable, to me.
What is clear is that the great fall occurred three years after they left. This was the trigger for it all -- basically, they left, and the world imploded.
That was one hundred and fifty years ago.
I will not rest until we have the answers we seek.
Forever vigilant.
Commander Strake
CHAPTER ONE
Old Angers, France (west of Paris)
Valerie turned her head just enough to stop the rancid, oil-slicked water from flowing into her mouth. The street was filthy, even ignoring the blood and guts—not that those would disgust her. Well, not the blood anyway, her being a vampire and all.
Something had tasted nasty in that water. Nasty enough for her to care to move her head, in spite of the piercing pain that doing so sent through her body. That’s what happens when your brother breaks practically every bone in your body and leaves you on the rain-drenched street.
Utter and unbelievable pain.
In fact, she was ready for the sun to come up. Hoping it would hurry and get on with it. How much worse than what she was already feeling could the sun be? Death had never scared her. But pain? Even though she had always healed from it, she hated pain.
And with this much pain, she was ready to die. All thanks to her brother, Donovan.
She’d hoped he was gone, done with her, but she felt him next to her. She could smell his scent, even through the blood that had come streaming out of her broken nose.
Donovan, that ass, kneeled down and moved her blood-clotted hair so that it wasn’t blocking her view of him.
“See, Valerie, I can be nice when I want to.” He chuckled and cast a glance over his shoulder, where, she imagined, one of h
is goons stood. She couldn’t see from this angle. Probably Jean-Pierre, his right-hand vampire and the one that had delivered the sucker punch that set her up for her brother’s beat-down.
He turned back to her. “I just never care to be nice,” he continued. He leaned a little closer, enough so that she could smell his breath and whispered loudly. “That’s the difference between you and me.”
The soldiers laughed, and she imagined ripping their pitiful, small-brained heads from their bodies. They’d ambushed her as she walked down the rainy street, lost in her thoughts. She would’ve been able to take them any other time, but today something had changed.
A loss of focus... and direction.
Through the fog of war, she’d seen the chaos, the death, the truth. If the lies had been a veil covering her eyes, today had ripped it from her face and exposed the ugliness that was the outside world. Now, the reality of her situation didn’t sit right with her. Especially not when she’d turned to see one of her brother’s men taking the life of a child. A defenseless child, dead, for no reason. And now… she couldn’t do anything to stop the ruthless pricks.
It sucked.
“You. Are. A. Dick,” she managed between pained breaths and choking on the sewer runoff that found its way into her mouth again.
She coughed up and half-vomited, pleased to see the scrunched up expression on Donovan’s face when some of the sewage-spit-meets-vomit hit his shoes.
“Yes,” he said, casually standing up and then wiping his shoe off on her pants. “But this dick isn’t the one dying in a deserted street, waiting for the clouds to break apart and have the unholy sun come down and kill her, is he?” He sneered, then laughed when she tried to talk again and failed.
She looked to the dark blue at the edge of the black sky, a hint of pink working its way up along with the rising sun, and struggled to say, “Dad…”
He barked a laugh. “Dad? Dad is going to appreciate the truth, if I ever get around to telling him. Why he dotes on your worthless, spineless ass, I don’t know. Sure, he will be sad for maybe a day or two, but then he’ll get over it and can continue to plan the eventual takeover of the New York City State by yours truly.” Donovan glared down at her, disdain heavy in his voice as he said, “Not by a little whore who disgraces all vampires with her inability to take action.”
He watched her for a minute, lying there, broken and bleeding. Then he smiled. “Darling sister, you look sick.” With a laugh, he kicked sewage water in her face and faked a caring voice, his eyes opening wide. “You should stay hydrated.”
Behind closed eyelids, the embers of her anger started to simmer, the sewage runoff like gas for the burning hatred in her gut.
Dying? Now dying wasn’t an option. His ass would be hers if it was the last thing she managed in this life.
Donovan and his followers walked off, laughing, as she tried to figure out how she could prevent the sun from killing her. From keeping her from her vengeance.
No, not vengeance.
Justice.
She tried to move her hand, but all she could manage was a whimper of pain. A tear, laced with blood, joined the water beneath her face.
***
Sandra ran through the corpses of the slaughtered, her heart hardened to yet another conquered village. She had thought she’d enjoy witnessing one more conquest in the Blessed’s gradual move to the coast. During training, she had listened with fascination to the stories, always amazed by their courage. They had come this far from Old Paris, and had managed to take down or absorb into the Duke’s kingdom every group they found in the barren and fallen lands.
The dying lands.
None of that mattered right now, because if Sandra didn’t find her Mistress—her Valerie—it would be her head.
No, that wasn’t what Valerie had said. It would be her heart. On a platter, served cold for Valerie’s other servants to consume while she watched.
Part of that threat terrified Sandra, but part of it made her laugh. Sure, she’d seen the darker side of her Mistress. But they’d also spent evenings together staring out over the wasteland that had once been known as Paris... the toppled Eiffel Tower and lines of abandoned cars, all the while wondering what the days had been like before the collapse of civilization.
They’d talked, they’d laughed, and they’d touched. Her Mistress’s hand had found hers, and then her lips, gentle, yet firm. A kiss, given in friendship, and maybe something more?
It had never happened again, and Sandra had been sworn to secrecy. But… it was enough to make her doubt Valerie would ever cause her any real harm.
So yes, fear drove her in this search. But more than that, it was loyalty. The deepest love for a friend one could have, especially when said friend was a vampire princess and supposedly a ruthless Mistress.
The feeding contributed to the loyalty, she couldn’t ignore that, of course. The taste of Valerie’s blood when she offered it wasn’t what Sandra would call sweet, but it flowed through her, making her feel younger, healthier, and in complete bliss.
The only problem was that vampire blood was addictive as hell.
She reached the top of the pile of rubble and, in the distance, saw the rays of sun peeking out over the trees. The other Blessed, as the father of them all had titled his Clan, were pulling back to the cover of darkness. The father, Le Duc Eckhart, was simply referred to as the Duke, his French title from the old days.
That had been before he’d gone into hibernation and slept right through the end of days, or the “Second Falling of Rome,” as he called it. Now, he orchestrated the attacks and insisted on war camps set up at a retreat point, guarded by loyal Weres during the day.
A raid would occur, then the Duke’s children and their children would retreat during the light of day while his other troops cleaned up and established another outpost in his name.
Even the Duke couldn’t survive in sunlight, which meant Valerie definitely could not. Being a simple human meant Sandra would be unharmed, but it didn’t matter. She’d either die here searching for her Mistress, or be torn to pieces by the Duke’s men when she returned without her.
“Valerie,” she called out in a hoarse whisper, her voice overused from calling out her name. One minute Valerie had been at the front lines, charging in to attack with Donovan, and the next she’d wandered off.
As the sky brightened, shadows crept along the road. One of them moved.
Sandra refused to get her hopes up, figuring it was simply a forgotten victim, but then she saw the eyes—red, glimmering, searching.
In the flash that it took her legs to carry her to her Mistress, Sandra was kneeling beside Valerie. She gasped in shock at the sight of her Mistress. In the past, Valerie had returned home with gunshots, Werewolf bites, and worse… but nothing like this. The beating she must have taken to be in this state was nothing Sandra could imagine.
Then it hit her. No human could have done this to her Mistress.
“Who betrayed you?” Sandra asked, hands shaking in anger. “I’m sorry I couldn’t find you earlier, I searched, but…where’d you go?”
Valerie almost smiled, but the tears of blood running down her cheeks gave her away. Her mouth opened, but no words came out.
“We have to get you out of the sun,” Sandra said, and then bent down to help her up.