C.O.T.V.H. (Book 3): Extermination Read Online Free PDF

weighed in at two hundred fifteen pounds.  He had short dark brown hair and his mother’s green eyes.  His frame was large, but with more lean muscle than most varsity football players.
    He had often dreamed of playing football.  There had just never been time for it.  Public education and all of the amazing things that went along with it, things that every kid took for granted, hadn’t even been an option for Jake.  He’d received an excellent education from Mr. Orwell, but it wasn’t the same experience as attending public school.
    There were lots of things he had never gotten to enjoy.  He never hit a home run, never went to prom.  I wonder what Amber would look like in a prom dress?
    Sometimes Jake longed for the life he'd known as a small child, the freedom of never having to know that vampires existed.  He wanted to drive fast cars or score the winning touchdown in the big championship game. It was a nice thought to have, but some dreams just weren’t meant to be.
    He didn't hold it against his dad and grandpa.  He knew they were only trying to prepare him for a very hard life.  A life he had chosen.  After all, the real world wasn't all unicorns and glitter.  It was full of real life monsters.  Monster like my so called grandfather Richard Riker . . . and the ‘monster’ locked away in his basement.  Tiberius . . .
    He couldn’t help but wonder what had become of the ancient Maker.  Were there many other vampires like Tiberius?   Cursed individuals that couldn't help but follow their nature?  Like his mysterious savior, Michael, the vampire that had stopped Livilla from killing both he and Diana, that had kept his presence secret from Macro and his cronies when they’d stormed the Riker compound.
    As he spit into the sink Jake's mind went from Tiberius to the Watchers, or as others called them, Bigfoot.  What had become of Chef?  Or Mr. Orwell and his family?  Or for that matter Nathan Bishop, the kind, yet mysterious man that strangely held the same last name as Jake?
    Jake rinsed his mouth and spat in the sink then rinsed his toothbrush before returning it to its place.  Taking one more look at his face in the mirror, he turned off the light and stepped back into the hall.  Walking by his room he grabbed a faded black t-shirt off the desk and a black, sweat stained Harley Davidson cap off his dresser.  He slipped the shirt over his head and put the cap on over his messy hair then snatched up his axe and leaned it over his shoulder.
    John and Cort were already sitting across from each other at the breakfast table, talking in hushed tones and sipping from their steaming coffee mugs.  On the floor next to the table was a large rectangular box messily wrapped in old Christmas paper with a big red bow.  Their conversation stopped as he walked in.
    "There's the man of the hour," John said with a large grin. "Good morning, Jake."
    "Morning Jake," Cort said, taking another sip of his scalding hot coffee.
    "Morning Dad, morning Grandpa," Jake said.  He leaned his axe against the cabinet and poured himself his own steaming cup of coffee.
    "Ready for your big day?" Cort asked.
    "I guess so," Jake replied stifling a yawn.
    "Did you get any sleep last night?" John asked.
    "Yeah I got a couple of hours in," he lied.
    "I remember the night before my first hunt," Cort said starting into one of his stories. "It was the middle of winter and there was at least a foot of snow on the ground.  I sat up shaking most of the night.  Never been so cold in my whole life!  I swear when Dad got me out of bed that next morning I was damn near frozen to my mattress." 
    Jake nodded as he blew on his coffee then took a sip.
    "Want some breakfast?" John asked, pushing a greasy paper plate of bacon sandwiches across the table.
    "No thanks.  I'm not hungry," Jake said, taking another sip.  His nervous stomach was running circles around his ankles.  The last thing he wanted was one of his grandpa's greasy bacon