Love Bites Then it Sucks by Julie Steimle (best self help books to read .TXT) 📕

Embracing him, Hanz breathed with relief. Then he pulled back, grinning. “What are you doing in New York?”

“Ah, visiting my aunt who is in a play on Broadway—or I’m trying to visit her. I’ve told you about her. She played Cinderella in Into the Woods once,” Art said. “She currently in a reprisal of The Wedding Singer… now at a cast party.” He then shrugged. “I wasn’t invited.”

 “The Wedding Singer? I thought that was a movie,” Hanz murmured. Hanz remembered Art talking about this aunt once. Talented, she was also extremely self-absorbed. His parents had been sending him to visit her to keep the family connection alive. And since Art and she had a few things in common they thought he was the perfect bridge. His aunt actually did not want him visiting at all but was too much of a pushover to say ‘no’ to his mother, her sister. Of course now he was a grown man—yet for some reason he still came to visit her.

“They had made it into a Broadway play,” Art said grinning.  

“That’s not very original,” Hans murmured.

“I know, but that’s the way the world is going these days,” Art said. Then he looked around. “So what brings you to new York? I heard a rumor that you were getting married? Is your bride-to-be here? ‘Cause I wanna meet her. She has to be outstanding if she is marrying you.”

Flattered and once more rattled, Hanz went pale. “Actually, I’m searching for her. Something happened and… I wish I could tell you everything, but—”

“But what?” Art said, meeting his worried gaze. “I can help you.”

A rush of confirmation in warmth washed over Hanz, though he had no clue how Art could possibly help him. He also did not want to drag a decent, normal guy like Art Condie into the supernatural sphere, which by all standards was dangerous.

“Hey…” Art said, putting a hand on Hanz’s back to comfort him. “Hanz, you can confide in me—just like you helped me out back at EFY that summer.”

“This isn’t the same as being homesick, Art,” Hanz said gravely, recalling the summer Especially for Youth camp at BYU where he was a counselor for a season before his church mission. “There’s a lot more—”

“’Scuse me!” Someone bumped into Hanz and Art, rushing between them.

“Sorry! Coming through!” Another someone dashed by, weaving past them on the curb.

“Hey!” Art threw up his hands in exasperation while Hanz pulled them off to the side in case someone else came crashing by. It was two men in suits, both in what looked like a desperate hurry.

“My apologies!” called back one of them—a swift pale man with what looked like orange eyes and platinum blonde hair—someone Hanz recognized instantly.

“Tom!” Hanz shouted out, running after him. “Tom Brown!”

“Hey! Hanz!” Art ran after him. “Where’re you going?”

“Hanz?” The blonde man halted, and for that matter so did the man ahead of him. “Hanz Johaansen?”

Hanz caught up with him, and sure enough it was Tom Brown. There was no way this was a coincidence.

“You’re here for Eve—” Tom said, a grin spreading crookedly across his face.

“Tom! We’re going to be late!” shouted back the other guy who somehow looked familiar to Hanz. Then that man’s eyes widened on Hanz. “Holy crap.”

Art caught up with Hanz, breathless, thumbing towards Tom. “Wha…? Wait? You know this guy?”

The other guy with Tom ran back to them and said to both Tom and Hanz, “Sorry this conversation has to wait. Nice to see you are still breathing Hanz, but our friend is in danger. You need to stay here.”

“Do I know you?” Hanz asked, realizing that this man was definitely familiar.

Exhaling impatiently, the man grabbed his hand, “Matthew Calamori. A friend of Eve’s. We met once—and right now we’ve got to go.”

Matthew tugged on Tom’s arm, and Tom nodded reluctantly. They started off again at a run. But Hanz went after them, making chase—not to catch up but to follow. There was no way this was a coincidence. And from the look in Tom Brown’s eyes, Hanz was sure Tom agreed.

 Art came right on his heels.

They ran into a dirtier neighborhood not far away, a few blocks, a community which felt dangerous. Hanz and Art followed Matthew and Tom toward what looked to him like a derelict overpass. It had plants growing at the top of it. But below in the shadows was a large gathering of people—a good number of men, though also a few women, in what looked like a costume party. They were all dressed sort of… off. Was a music video being made? A D&D club? Someone in partial armor was there with a sword, approaching them like he was about to take the heads off of a few of the partiers. The crowd moved with shouts as the swordsman came at them. But as Matthew and Tom charged in, both of them pulling out guns, Hanz quickly recognized Peter in the crowd with his wooden stakes—then Silvia and that guy Randon who ran over to a fallen guy on the ground who had a blood-spattered shirt front.

Hanz ducked behind a dumpster. That was not a lunatic swordsman attacking partiers. It was Daniel, and those were vampires. He had actually found them.

“What is that?” Art asked, right behind him, peering over the top of the dumpster. “Holy…. Hanz? What is going on?”

Clenching his head, Hanz shook it. Somehow he had ended up where the vampires and their friend were anyway. This was bad. Hanz knew enough from Eve that vampires were awful, bloodthirsty beings. Pawing himself, he panicked. Did he have any protection?

Quickly, Hanz dug into the dumpster for something made out of wood. Unfortunately, most of the contents were things like dirty diapers, plastic containers, and take out boxes. But then he found some cast off chopsticks. Sticky and stained with soy sauce, he reluctantly grabbed them, cringing. Would that even be enough against a horde of vampires? The last time he had seen a demon (aside from Eve) was ages ago. (He didn’t count Tom or Roddy as both were half-human.) And that one he had seen had murdered a woman in an open park and had attacked Eve. If Eve had not ripped its heart out to stop it, it would have killed Mathew. Hanz had no desire to see anything like that again.

“Hanz?” Art’s voice sounded small. Art got closer to him. “How do you know that guy, Tom?”

Remembering his innocent friend was there, Hanz looked to Art. He thought a moment, realizing somehow Art knew Tom also. “How do you know him?”

Art grunted in irritation. “I asked first.”

Sighing, Hanz said, “I know him through Eve, my fiancée. He is a friend of her friend, Rick Deacon. He introduced us.”

“Your fiancée is a friend of H. Richard Deacon the Third?” Art sounded not just exasperated, but amazed. “Are you kidding me?”

Hanz nodded. “Yeah. She met him while camping one summer years ago. I think the guy even has a crush on her.”

Art looked likely to laugh, but covered his mouth, wisely thinking the better of it. He hissed low, “Hanz! Are you kidding me? Who is this fiancée of yours? That Deacon guy is like…. Man! The last time I saw him was in Germany—you know before that whole wolf attack. And I mean, right before. Me and my friends were backpacking along the river and met him in Cochem.”

Paling, Hanz stared at Art. He had heard the story of the wolf attack the same time Eve had. She had been completely upset that Rick had not called her, and even more upset that he had been badly injured. “No kidding?”

With a deep nod, Art said, “Yeah. And I saw that really white guy Tom there when they were carrying Deacon out.”

“Small world,” Hanz murmured, feeling dazed. He wondered how much Art really witnessed.

But Art shook his head. “More than that, Hanz. Come on. What aren’t you telling me?”

Hanz looked to him then closed his eyes, shaking his head. He whispered, “I don’t want you to get tangled in this, Art.”

Art coughed a laugh, disbelief in his voice. “What did you get sucked into?”

Shaking his head, Hanz heaved a breath. He peeked back at the battle, which had now gained two more people. A tall redheaded man and a New York cop with dark hair. The redhead looked familiar.

“I know him….” Art said, staring over the same dumpster at the same people.

“You do?” Hanz stared at him again with surprise.

Art nodded, pointing. “That’s Andy Cartwright. I met him at basketball camp in Massachusetts. He claimed to be the best friend of H. Richard Deacon the Third….”

Hanz raised his eyebrows. Watching the group, he realized how he knew the man. He had never met Andrew Cartwright in real life—only over video call with Eve and her sister Dawn. It had been just after Andrew Cartwright’s wife Jessica gave birth to a baby girl.

“He’s a pretty cool guy—except for the fact that not even a week into camp the FBI came for him and he stole their car,” Art murmured.

“What?” Hanz’s eyes widened on him.

Nodding, still watching the battle—most of the vampires scattering—Art said, “Yeah, and the weird rumor about the camp was that he had been rescued from a cult. The thing is, his body is covered in all these war wounds. I mean seriously scarred. Something is weird about that entire group of people.” Art then grabbed Hanz’s shoulder. “We should get out of here. You can crash at the hostel I am staying at.”

While wondering why Art’s aunt was making her nephew stay at a youth hostel, Hanz shook his head, rising. “No. I’m… I’m a doctor. I need to help.”

He then hurried out from behind the dumpster, rushing up to the group as they now stood around the wounded man on the ground now, most of the vampires escaping. Hanz skirted around the dead ones. Several in the group turned when they heard his footfalls. Daniel whipped out his sword.

“Hanz?” Daniel stared goggle-eyed. “How’d you get here?”

“Train.” Hanz walked through them and crouched next to the blood-stained man. The man on the ground was panting, red-eyed, and suffering. Hanz could see his teeth elongating while he examined the man’s no longer bleeding neck wound. Somehow, this man had been forced to become a vampire. According to Eve, that should not have been possible.

Andy pulled him back. “You can’t help him, Doctor. He’ll just hurt you.”

They exchanged looks, yet Hanz shook his head. “I’m not afraid. There has to be something we can do.”

“I told you, Red,” Daniel cut in. “We don’t know enough about vampirism to assume he is going to have a blood lust.”

“I can smell all your blood,” the wounded man wheezed out, his throat rasping.

Hanz felt the man’s throat again. Then he dug into his pocket for a small flashlight. He had one on his keychain. A former scout was always prepared. “Open your mouth. Say ‘ah’ and let me look at it.”

The man obeyed, but not before saying, “I can hear your hearts as well.”

Those around him exchanged looks.

“Yeah?” Hanz said, examining the scorched appearance of the man’s throat and mouth. Whatever they made him drink, it acted like acid. “Well, so can my fiancée, and she learned to control it. So can you.”

The guy stared at him, his eyes wide. “Is your fiancée a winged vampire?”

Hanz paled, almost dropping his penlight. “Yes. Have you seen her? Her name is Eve!”

“I don’t know her name,” the guy said, almost snarling. “But she was here just a second ago.”

“What?” Hanz immediately looked to Tom who averted his gaze at first, but then shrugged.

“Yeah, she’s here in New York City,” Tom said.

Hanz popped to her feet. “She’s here in New York?”

Tom nodded, but Matthew slapped the back of Tom’s head. Turning around, Tom snapped, “What? You want me to lie to