Chapter 1

There were only two eras I had lived through so far that I truly enjoyed. The first was at the beginning of the new millennia when the Roman Empire was still the ruling government. Not because I had any love for the Romans. No, it was because they knew how to have a good time. My favorite part of the era was the Colosseum. There, I could just be another faceless, nameless fighter. The crowd didn’t give a fuck about me or the destruction I caused. If anything, they craved it.

I hadn’t made many friends over the long years of my existence, but fighting alongside someone for survival and the cheers of drunk, rich assholes, had a way of bringing you close in a type of brotherhood. Of course, many of the fuckers couldn’t be trusted to watch my back in or out of the battleground we called a sand pit. But there had been one who I could trust, and I did so after a ridiculously short amount of time.

My memories of those days were fuzzy at best. Very few of my memories remained clear in my mind. Only the lingering feelings remained, reminding me that I had enjoyed that time of my life. Honestly, I was glad for it. If I had to remember every fucking thing that I had ever seen or done, I’d be a whole lot crazier than I already was. A person wasn’t meant to live forever, and I wished I knew what the fuck I’d done to warrant that type of punishment from the universe.

As I watched the miles pass in a blur, I had the thought that the current era I was living in might be able to top even the feeling of holding a sword in my hand, while my muscles ached from the exertion of fighting for my life. I no longer used a sword to lop off the heads of my enemies, a loss I sometimes regretted since those days were so much easier. But it couldn’t be denied that the invention of the handgun was more convenient than the necessity for close-range combat that the sword required. Though, I had to admit, it wasn”t as sporting or fun.

But this current time period was fucking fantastic. There was only a need to hunt for my food if I chose to. The food available to eat was full of all kinds of shit that was probably killing everyone except me, of course, but most of it tasted incredible. It was nothing like the bland food that had been the most common throughout the ages with the lack of spices available. Clothing that was comfortable and fit my large frame without straining the seams was readily available at any big box store in just about any city without the need to pay someone to make what I needed and have to wait days to receive them. And there was much to be said for the perfect leather jacket. It had taken me years to find one that fit my long arms properly without my wrists hanging out all the time.

Transportation was the best part, though. Since the beginning, as long as my memories allowed, the only option I remembered having was a horse or your own two feet. Along with that came the responsibility of feeding it, grooming it, and generally trying to keep it alive. Those days were long gone. Now, I enjoy riding a beast of a different nature. One that was black and chrome and roared like thunder.

The Harley-Davidson motorcycle rumbled loudly beneath me as I sped down the highway. It had been a long time since I’d last been through this part of the country. Due to my dangerous nature, I didn’t stay in one place for long. I traveled nearly continuously, only stopping for a couple of months out of each year, waiting out the winter weather until I could safely ride the highways again.

I hadn’t planned on heading through this way, at least not for another couple of decades or so. The last time I had been through here, there had been way too much of the type of activity I learned to avoid. But yet, here I was, willingly, albeit reluctantly.

I had heard of the demon king who had taken up residence in the city. Anyone would probably think that I’d want to be a part of that type of community, to join in with the beings who were like me. But they weren’t like me. No one was. In my long existence, I have learned it is best to stay far away from everyone.

The only reason I was driving down this dark highway heading toward what was probably my next regret was because one of the only friends I had in this never-ending cycle of breathing and disaster had called me. When Syn asked me to come, it was on the tip of my tongue to say no. I had no idea what she could possibly want from me now. I hadn’t seen her in probably thirty years, maybe fifty. I knew it was during a time when her last club had a shining mirror ball hanging from the ceiling, and the clothing was so horrendous I had wanted to find a cave somewhere to wait for the inevitable change. It wouldn’t be the first time. Likely, it wouldn’t be the last.

So, I had no idea what caused me to give in and agree to make the trip from the West Coast mountains. But I felt a strong pull, unlike anything I could remember feeling before. It had been impossible to ignore. So I put down the axe that I had been content using to chop wood for my own fireplace and put away my tools for carving shit like bears and deer that I would anonymously drop off at the local tourist shop, just for something to occupy my time.

So much for being a feared and deadly gladiator.

Even though I knew next to nothing about what exactly I was, I guessed Syn was some type of Succubus. Hell, maybe she was a hybrid if that were possible. Since the day back when the West was wild and untamed, and I had heard the screaming coming from a brothel I was passing by, Syn had always been involved in sex work of some kind. It seemed to be a reasonable guess that she was a Succubus. I’d foolishly chosen to stop and help toss out the trash who thought they could abuse women that day, and it seemed that, though the years passed, nothing much had changed when it came to Syn.

I saw the lights of the strip club shining like a beacon for lost souls in the darkness ahead, just the way Syn had told me I would. As I watched the neon sign grow larger, I wanted nothing more than to come to a stop on the deserted highway, turn my motorcycle around, and just drive away. I had no true desire to go back to my cabin in the mountains, but I could go to one of my other homes. I had property all over the place, from the United States to Europe. I could choose any one of them to head to.

But even as I considered it, I shook my head. Something was drawing me in. I had no words for the pull, only that there was something that was important, vital even. It was the feeling that had me agreeing to the trip when I had gotten the call days ago, and it only grew stronger the closer I came to those lights up ahead. I had no explanation for it, but I was starting to get pissed off. If something or someone was fucking with my head, they were going to find out why I spent my life in solitude. Nobody wanted to be around me when I was angry.

Instead of turning my bike around, I hit the accelerator and let the lights of the club pull me in.