Chance in Hell
Chance is a Texan vampire hunter until a botched raid kills his team and sends him running for his life. Looking for a place to lie low, Chance takes what looks like an easy job in California. Dispose of a mysterious object. No vampires involved. But Chance's life is never that simple.

Within hours of reaching the West coast, his contact is murdered and Chance is left holding the key to a demonic weapon of mass destruction. To make matters worse, the weapon was stolen from the ruthless head of a multi-national corporation who will do anything to get it back.

With supernatural hit men on his heels, Chance has no choice but to turn to the creatures he once hunted. Soon he's neck deep in otherworldly seductresses, rival werewolf gangs, ravenous witches, and dysfunctional vampires. His only hope is to gain their trust, and their help, before all Hell breaks loose.

A Sample from Chapter 1...

“This the corpse?” came a thick Boston accent and a tap against my side. A shoe? I was down and someone was kicking me. It was one of those days.

“Nah, he’s still alive. The stiff’s over there in the blue truck,” came another voice. “Well, most of him is, anyway. Don’t worry; you can’t miss him.”

The voices echoed through my aching head as I heard footsteps moving away from me. There were more voices off in the distance and I struggled through the pain to figure out what was going on. Slowly I won the battle, finally opening one of my eyes partway for a split second.

“Hey, Cassara, he’s coming to!” came a new voice, female, this time from immediately above me. I managed to open both my eyes and was greeted by the blurry form of a short woman with close-cropped spiky hair. She was dressed like a paramedic.

The retreating footsteps stopped, then got louder, until a few moments later another form joined the first. They both swam in and out of focus above me. The new one was wearing a cheap blue sports coat over a white button-up that, even with blurred vision, I could tell was heavily stained around the collar. He had short dark hair combed back with some greasy-looking product and wore mirror shades a couple of decades out of fashion.

“You okay, buddy?” asked the paramedic.

“What’s your name?” It was the standing guy. He had the thick Boston accent I had first heard, which was strange considering I was pretty sure I went unconscious in California.

“Uhhhh…” It took a second. “Chance?”

“Chance,” the man in the blue blazer repeated back to me. “Okay, Chance. So, what happened?”

I tried to think of a good lie, but my mind wasn’t cooperating, so I chose to just omit a few facts. “Dunno. I was standing here when a guy ran by me. As I watched him go, something slammed into my back and I was out.”

The man grunted and asked the paramedic to get him if I remembered anything useful. “Sure thing, Detective.”

The detective walked off to what I presumed was the body they had talked about earlier. The paramedic asked me a few more questions, then told me an ambulance was on its way. I unsuccessfully tried to convince them that I was fine. It looked like I was getting an ambulance ride whether I liked it or not. At least I had student insurance, crappy though it was. I hoped it would work here – I was a long way from Austin, Texas.

The last thing I actually remembered was standing in a California parking lot waiting to meet my contact. He was supposed to hand off a package that I was being paid to destroy. Unfortunately he seemed to be running for his life when I met him. He came around the minivan I was standing behind, grabbed me, gave me a terror-filled look and then he was off. It wasn’t quite the meeting I had expected. I didn’t even have the chance to ask him anything.

Confused, I had watched him flee, not realizing there was someone right behind him until I kind of felt something. It was like the pressure you feel when you’re deep underwater, a weight surrounding and pressing in on all sides. Now, I knew what vampires felt like, at least to me: cold, like the dead things they are. This was definitely something different. I had just started to turn when he rounded the van. He was either going too fast to stop or just didn’t care, because he slammed into me, knocking me out cold with the impact. In retrospect, that was probably a good thing, because then I fell face first into the pitted blacktop, which would have really hurt had I been conscious.