To Kiss a Killer

To Kiss a KillerThe Tale of Two KillersAsiah A. Bosier Copyright © 2023 Asiah A. BosierAll rights reservedThe characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.Cover art by: notcypher Contents Title PageCopyrightDedicationChapter IChapter II Chapter IIIChapter IVChapter VChapter VIChapter VIIChapter VIIIChapter IXChapter XChapter XIChapter XIIChapter XIIIChapter XIVChapter XVChapter XVIChapter XVIIChapter XVIIIChapter XIXChapter XXChapter XXIChapter XXIIChapter XXIIIChapter XXIVChapter XXVChapter XXVIChapter XXVIIChapter XXVIIIChapter XXIXChapter XXXEpilogueBook Three PreviewThe Tale of Two Killers “The tale can’t be told without one link being connected to the other and we poor orphans of ticking time know no other means of measure than those of sequence.”— The Vampire Armand (The Vampire Chronicles) Chapter IDarknessYear — 2007The two boys were petrified as they were dragged down the long, lonesome corridor, each of them held harshly by two individuals on either side of them. Their own towering grandfather walked with a bold stride as they were led to what was promised to be their end, a boundless cold in the older man’s eye that never spoke of affection — seemingly not even for his own family and loved ones. The youngest boy sobbed relentlessly, trying as he might to push with his feet to free himself. Just sixteen, he’d never been so terrified in his life, so hopeless as he only wished to take his twin brother’s hand and run — run to the ends of the Earth where this heartless man could never find them. “I warned you,” their grandfather spoke, his English accent gruff over the sound of footsteps echoing all around. “This is what happens to traitors, this is what happens to those who disobey and turn their backs on the Public.” As the youngest continued to struggle, blinded by his own tears, his brother attempted to wrench himself free as well, the effort proving useless no matter if he did manage to slip from the man’s hands holding strongly onto him. Even if he freed himself, he wouldn’t leave without his brother, wouldn’t leave his brother to suffer the fate of what came to all who disobeyed down in this dark, dank hidden part of the underground world. “Grandfather, please,” the oldest begged, most of his fears meant solely for his brother. “Please, stop this. I beg you, please!” A light chuckle was heard. “You beg now that your fears are coming true, yet you refused to listen to my demands in the beginning.” “We’re sorry,” the oldest besought, “We’ll do anything, I swear!” The older man stopped, causing his followers to halt as well, and their grip on his grandchildren didn’t lighten up for a second. With an ever-present arrogance that’d clung to his heart for decades, the man glared down at the two sixteen-year-olds. They shared little to no likeness to him whatsoever, yet they were still his grandchildren. The connection he had with them was almost non-existent, save for the request he’d thought to make of them when they were older, but after overhearing, witnessing their disloyalty to the Slayer Public, he thought to teach them a much-needed lesson. If they died in the process — so be it — if they lived, perhaps their loyalty would be restored. Either way, these boys were going to learn something; whether that be what the touch of death felt like, or the importance of obedience. It didn’t matter anymore. Glaring down at the two boys, the older man smirked cruelly and balled his fist. As his brother looked on in terror, he slammed his powerful fist across the younger boy’s face. “Stop!” his brother screamed, witnessing the sharp line of blood burst from a gash that tore just below the other boy’s eye. The older man then grabbed at the oldest brother’s neck; his hand fixed firmly to nearly stop his air passage. “You’ll do anything, yeah? Then impress me, grandson. Impress me and I’ll give you and your pathetic excuse of a brother a ticket out of here. Can you do that for your beloved grandfather?” The smirk upon his face vanished the moment a blotch of spit landed on his cheek. He shoved the boy back then, wiping the sleeve of his shirt down his face to get rid of the saliva. Nodding further down the hall then, the two boys were dragged a bit further toward the heavy metal door at the end of the corridor. Continuing to sob as he tried to control his breathing, the youngest looked to his brother when the door was opened. There was nothing but a wall of darkness looking back at them, a pitch blackness that looked like it would swallow their very existence whole. Shoved then, the two boys fell to the hard stone floor, and the door was slammed behind them. Unable to see given the wash of darkness surrounding them, the frightened boys felt around until their hands came together. “It’s alright,” the oldest wanted to promise, to calm his trembling brother. He didn’t believe his own words, but it was all he could say to calm himself as well. “He’ll come back for us. He can’t leave us here forever.” “I’m scared,” the youngest sniveled, every breath he took struggling to fill his lungs. Before the oldest could think to speak of any more comfort, he and his brother’s hearts skipped a beat upon hearing a terrifying sound. It was a guttural rumble, an animalistic snarl that sounded like they were locked in the same room as a hungry tiger. There was