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    Quentin Heart, Vampire Bounty Hunter
    Quentin Heart, Vampire Bounty Hunter
    Quentin Heart, Vampire Bounty Hunter
    Ebook182 pages2 hours

    Quentin Heart, Vampire Bounty Hunter

    By Amber Kell

    4.5/5

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    About this ebook

    Quentin Heart is a magical genius with more troubles than three people his age. His mother is dying of cancer, a vampire master wants to own him and he has bone wolves deciding to be his new puppy protection detail.

    When his friend, Glenn, is murdered Quentin Heart has to discover who attacked him and what happened to his body. Unfortunately Jakinson, the new vampire master, has decided to protect Quentin from himself.

    Annoyed with everyone trying to kill or control him, Quentin has to push back against vampires, psychotic fae and more magic than he’s ever had to handle before. It will take more than magic to get him out of this one. It might even take love.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAmber Kell
    Release dateJan 30, 2016
    ISBN9781311091048
    Quentin Heart, Vampire Bounty Hunter
    Author

    Amber Kell

    Amber Kell is a dreamer who has been writing stories in her head for as long as she could remember.She lives in Seattle with her husband, two sons, three cats and one very stupid dog. To learn more about her current books or works in progress, check out her blog at http://amberkell.wordpress.com.Her fans can also reach her at amberkellwrites@gmail.com.

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    Reviews for Quentin Heart, Vampire Bounty Hunter

    4.5/5

    26 ratings1 review

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    • 5/5
      I very much enjoyed this! Although some of the usual para-romance tropes were used I thought they were done well.

    Book preview

    Quentin Heart, Vampire Bounty Hunter - Amber Kell

    Chapter 1

    With a sinking feeling , Quentin Heart sat at his dining room table and regarded the tall stack of medical bills.

    Sneaking into Trina Heart’s house to steal them had been depressingly easy since his mother had been admitted into the hospital that morning. The cancer had returned, and Quentin could only stand by and watch his once-vibrant mother fade away. She’d been getting better after the last round of chemo eradicated a lump under her arm, but the most recent test results revealed an aggressive return.

    He brushed away the tears sliding down his face. There wasn’t time to feel sorry for himself. He had to be strong for her. After several sniffs and a few more eye rubs, Quentin’s vision cleared well enough to focus on the painfully high numbers printed on the invoices before him. When he reached the end of the pile, he almost lost control. Even if he sold her house and every other asset they owned, it still would barely make a dent in the staggering figure.

    Although the company his mother worked for had extended her medical insurance, it didn’t cover some of the new experimental spell drugs the doctors were using in the hopes they could stop the spread of the virulent disease.

    Fuck. Quentin slashed out his arm. The bills flew off the table and scattered, almost covering the entire tiled kitchen floor.

    For months, he’d tried to keep it together for his mother’s sake. He stood by her while doctor after doctor told her further bad news, and he held her when she cried over her lost hair and fading energy.

    Fuck this. He needed a distraction. He would go to his lab and do some work for a while. He still had a doctoral thesis to finish, and his mother would never forgive herself if her illness interfered with Quentin’s future. Right then he didn’t give a damn about college, but he couldn’t handle disappointing her, and she didn’t need the added stress of worrying over him.

    Maybe concentrating on easy things like theoretical spell creation would be better than pointlessly wishing he’d gone into healer magic. Although his power had exceeded most everyone’s expectations, Quentin didn’t have healing-compatible magic. His energy crackled instead of soothed. It made for good light shows but not internal healing.

    From previous comments, Quentin suspected the older professors couldn’t wait to tear him down for the slightest mistake in his spell casting. He had many academic enemies—one of the downsides to being the youngest student ever to master potions and spells at the doctoral level.

    Quentin stood and yanked his coat off the back of the kitchen chair. He pulled it on, then grabbed his keys and phone off the table and made a point of stomping across the fallen invoices on his way out the door. They would be there when he returned, and crumpled or not, they would still show the same soul-draining amount. The pencil pushers wouldn’t care if the print of Quentin’s sole marred the surface of their paper as long as a big fat check accompanied it.

    The cool winter-afternoon air slashed at his face with its icy breath, but Quentin didn’t care. He enjoyed the frigid breeze. Anticipation lightened his steps. Maybe this time he would come up with the perfect potion to cure his mother. The previous three hundred attempts had failed, but maybe today would be his winning try.

    Magical healers and scientific doctors had told Quentin he couldn’t stop his mother’s disease with magic, but he refused to listen. Amazing things could be done with the right combination of chemicals and magical energy, so why not a cure?

    Luckily, his mother’s house stood close enough for him to walk to campus. With anger roiling through him, using magic to transport himself might have unfortunate side effects.

    Quentin didn’t bother trying to save up to buy a car for when he was too tired to use magic. He didn’t need an accounting degree to know he lacked the money. His funding grant covered food, housing, and books, but little else. He had considered getting a job, but it would cut into his studies. Besides, even if he accepted one of the offers thrown at him by the leading spell creation companies, it wouldn’t be enough to dig his mother out of debt.

    Maybe I should ask for a signing bonus. Quentin laughed as he imagined the recruiter’s face if he suggested such a thing.

    A flyer stapled to a telephone pole caught his gaze; the picture looked like something out of a child’s nightmare. The words below the image tore his attention away from the frightening visual.

    Need Cash? We Need People. Catch the Bad Guys and Get Paid.

    A phone number was displayed beneath the headline.

    Catch the bad guys?

    Quentin had heard of paranormal bounty hunters. They hunted down the worst of the worst and returned them to jail or wherever they were detained. Usually creatures like vampires, trolls, or giants were the type to escape. The regular police didn’t have the manpower to recapture them, so they hired out.

    I wonder how much they pay? Quentin glanced around, but no one stood beside him on the street corner or even close by. With a decisive yank, he pulled the ad off its perch. I might not be supernaturally strong, but I’m not a wimp either.

    Quentin could always use magic to supplement his lack of muscle. As his mother always said, he wouldn’t know until he tried. He folded the flyer, then tucked it into his jacket pocket. He would look into this bounty hunter business later, after he finished his work at the lab. As he walked, images of confronting frightening creatures flashed through his head. He shook them off. First, he’d see how much they were offering before he considered dipping a toe into the bounty hunter pool.

    Mom would kill me.

    Trina might be sickly and throwing up every day, but she had a core of strength a master sorcerer would envy. She’d raised Quentin all alone after the guy who got her pregnant dumped her for a family-approved mate. Quentin never got to know his father because the man hadn’t been interested. Quentin’s mother had received child support until he turned eighteen, and then even that had stopped without so much as a letter to Quentin. He’d long gotten used to the idea his father didn’t care, but that didn’t make the situation less painful.

    The sight of the lab building soothed his ruffled emotions. At least here he could hide from the outside world. All his troubles vanished once he buried himself in his spells and potions. He could get lost in his own head for hours until someone reminded him eating wasn’t optional if he wanted to stay alive.

    His phone rang. He scrambled for his pocket while his heart beat extra fast. Ever since his mother had gone to the hospital, he couldn’t stand phone calls, dreading it being the doctor telling him she’d passed on.

    When Quentin had refused to leave her bedside, his mother had the hospital throw him out. He had strict orders not to return for at least two days. She claimed it wasn’t healthy for him to spend all day obsessing over her. He thought it was because she didn’t want him to see her wasting away. She took his sorrow over her illness harder than dealing with the cancer.

    He really had the best mother in the magical world.

    After a quick glance at the display, Quentin relaxed. Hey, Glenn.

    Hey, Q-Boy, want to go out tonight?

    Glenn Rhodes’s cheerful voice made Quentin smile.

    I’m just about to head to my lab.

    Oh no, man. You can’t bury yourself. Once you go in there, you’ll never come out.

    It’s not a black hole, Quentin protested.

    You’ve got until ten, and then I’ll meet you at the lab. Glenn’s firm tone indicated he wouldn’t be put off.

    Quentin glanced at his watch. He still had five hours. Deal. Call me when you get here, and I’ll meet you outside. No one without clearance was allowed inside.

    Glenn sighed. You’d better. I don’t want to be waiting for you to remember the proper formula for lightning or something.

    I’ll have to go home and change before we go out. It might be better to meet me at my apartment.

    No. By then you’ll come up with some excuse of why you can’t go out. This way, I can help you pick something to wear.

    Quentin decided not to argue. Glenn never approved of Quentin’s clothes choices. Better to let Glenn pick, and avoid an argument later.

    See you then. Quentin didn’t really look forward to a night of loud music and questionable dancing, but maybe hanging with friends would take a bit of stress away. Lab then dancing could be the perfect combination. He couldn’t go back to the hospital until tomorrow anyway. His mother had informed the nurse that Quentin wasn’t to be allowed in until nine tomorrow morning. Even on her deathbed, she mothered him.

    Quentin disconnected the call and shoved the phone back into his pocket. The huge warning signs outside the lab building always made him smile. If anyone was unaware this was a spell lab, the huge words warning people to wear eye protection, spell-blocking bracelets, and proper potion-proof work boots would have tipped them off.

    Quentin pressed his hand against the access panel. A sizzle of electricity traced his palm before the red light turned to green. He grabbed the door handle, then pulled it open. He had to hurry. There were only five seconds after unlocking and opening before the door relocked automatically.

    A waft of rotten eggs greeted him. Quentin choked on the smell. Someone’s formula had failed spectacularly.

    Damn it, Daisy, are you trying to kill us! Professor Rendall’s voice reached Quentin through the layers of protective glass.

    Quentin didn’t look. Being caught staring would draw Rendall’s attention to him, and Quentin made a healthy scholastic career out of avoiding the professor, whose strident personality had stripped more than one academic of their pride and sent them fleeing from the school.

    Quentin couldn’t hear Daisy’s reply. It was probably only a matter of days before she dropped out. She’d confided to Quentin last week that she didn’t think she was meant for academia. Looking at her grades, Quentin had to agree. Daisy was a bright girl, but she didn’t have a natural aptitude for spellmaking to go along with her book smarts, and her magic was decidedly underpowered.

    Quentin headed for the wall of lockers, then stopped in front of the one with his name on it. He traced a design on the locker door with his finger while whispering an incantation. The soft ringing of a bell confirmed he’d spoken the right spell. Opening the door revealed a pair of work boots and hand covers. Quentin bought the more expensive brand of finger protection because the spell sank into his skin so well that he didn’t feel like he was wearing gloves.

    A few minutes later, Quentin was suited up. He didn’t bother with goggles because when he’d gotten his master’s degree, his mother had splurged on a pair of spell-blocking glasses for him. With spell stamps on the frames, Quentin could wear them for the rest of his life, only replacing the lenses when he needed. He doubted he would ever be able to afford another pair. The occasional night out was as splurgy as he got, and then only if they were having happy hour.

    Quentin shoved his worries out of his mind with determined focus. A wandering brain could cause major trouble while creating new spells, and he refused to screw things up because of his distraction.

    He shut his locker, then headed to the second security door. This one took a retina eye scan and a small spell. Without magic, no one could get to this point in the building.

    A soft beep indicated Quentin’s clearance had been approved, and then the door slid open. He went through and tried not to gag on the stench.

    That idiot Daisy ruined another potion, Rendall growled.

    Quentin nodded but didn’t comment. He refused to pour more fuel on Rendall’s self-righteous fire.

    What, nothing to say? I thought you, of all people, would have something to say about your colleague’s incompetence.

    Why me? Quentin didn’t approve of negativity. He had no wish to come down hard on the girl. Anything he said wouldn’t be as bad as whatever she thought of herself or as harsh as Rendall’s comments.

    Rendall scowled. If it wasn’t for his unpleasant expressions, the professor might be considered attractive. He grumbled at Quentin, Because you’re the best potion master here besides me. We shouldn’t have to put up with fools.

    Well, I’m sorry if I’m not perfect! Daisy screamed. Tears ran down her cheeks. I quit! She cast Rendall a watery glare before stomping past.

    It wasn’t until she’d gone through the security door that Rendall spoke again. Well, that flunks out another one. He rubbed his hands together with glee.

    Yep, Rendall was a complete bastard.

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