The Immortal Doc Holliday: Instinct: (The Immortal Doc Holliday Series Book 4) Read online

  Copyright © M.M. Crumley 2021

  Excerpt from THE HOUSE THAT JACK BUILT Copyright © M.M. Boulder 2020

  Excerpt from FUNERAL MARCH Copyright © M.M. Crumley 2019

  All rights reserved. Published by Lone Ghost Publishing LLC,

  associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of

  Lone Ghost Publishing LLC.

  The moral right of the author has been asserted (vigorously).

  No part or parts of this publication may be reproduced in whole or in part, stored in a retrieval systems, or transmitted in any form or by means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise (including via carrier pigeon),

  without written permission of the author and publisher.

  Author: Crumley, M.M.

  Title: THE IMMORTAL DOC HOLLIDAY, INSTINCT

  ISBN: 9798467351216

  Target Audience: Adult

  Also available in this series

  THE IMMORTAL DOC HOLLIDAY: HIDDEN (Book 1)

  THE IMMORTAL DOC HOLLIDAY: COUP D'ÉTAT (Book 2)

  THE IMMORTAL DOC HOLLIDAY: RUTHLESS (Book 3)

  THE IMMORTAL DOC HOLLIDAY: ROUGES (Book 5)

  Subjects:

  Urban Fantasy/ Horror Comedy

  This is a work of fiction, which means it’s made up. Names, characters, peoples, locales, and incidents (stuff that happens in the story) are either gifts of the ether, products of the author’s resplendent imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead or dying, businesses or companies in operation or defunct, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Also by M.M. Crumley

  Urban Fantasy

  THE IMMORTAL DOC HOLLIDAY SERIES

  BOOK 1: HIDDEN

  BOOK 2: COUP D'ÉTAT

  BOOK 3: RUTHLESS

  BOOK 4: INSTINCT

  BOOK 5: ROGUES

  BOOK 6: EMPIRE

  THE LEGEND OF ANDREW RUFUS SERIES

  BOOK 1: DARK AWAKENING

  BOOK 2: BONE DEEP

  BOOK 3: BLOOD STAINED

  BOOK 4: BURIAL GROUND

  BOOK 5: DEATH SONG

  BOOK 6: FUNERAL MARCH

  BOOK 7: WARPATH

  Writing as M.M. Boulder

  Psychological Thrillers

  THE LAST DOOR

  MY BETTER HALF

  THE HOUSE THAT JACK BUILT

  MY ONE AND ONLY

  WE ALL FALL DOWN

  FB

  https://www.loneghostpublishing.com/

  Book 4:

  INSTINCT

  M.M. Crumley

  For really good friends.

  The ones you'd do anything for

  Chapter 1

  Doc Holliday seethed with fury as he studied his wrecked suite. Half the entrance wall was missing, all the furniture except one couch was tossed against the wall beside him, and there was a dog-shaped hole in his bedroom wall. Even the chandelier, which he'd gone through the trouble of smuggling home from Russia, had been broken and was shattered all over the sitting room floor.

  He forced his hands to unclench, but they tightened right back up. In spite of all their interactions over the last hundred years, the Jury family still didn't know him. An oversight they would soon come to regret.

  Beyond the broken door and debris, the elevator door slid open, and Jervis stepped out, stance lithe and cautious, but he relaxed as soon as he saw Doc.

  "The cameras went out all over the building," Jervis said as he navigated through the broken doorframe. "What happened?"

  "The Jurys," Doc replied flatly.

  Jervis cocked a single eyebrow. "But you didn't touch Mrs. Jury."

  "No. I did not."

  "So why...?"

  "I don't know." Rage cascaded through Doc, and he struggled to control it. He could be mad. And he was mad. He was very, very, very mad. But it needed to be contained. Perfectly contained and sharpened to a needle point.

  Jury's witch hound butted against Doc's leg, and Doc absently ran his hand over Brute's silky head. "It's alright, boy," he said. "We'll find him."

  Jervis looked between Doc and Brute for a moment, then said softly, "Where is Mr. Jury?"

  "The Jurys took him."

  "I see. What can I do, sir?"

  For a moment, Doc considered hunting them down right that second, dragging them to the ground, and beating them each to death with their own limbs. But that wouldn't do, and he knew it. That was definitely the anger talking.

  He could suddenly see himself facing his father over a marble chessboard. "Strategy, my boy," his father said cheerfully. "That is how you win at chess."

  "Strategy," Doc growled. "Strategy."

  "Sir?" Jervis questioned.

  "I'm going to talk to a Jury expert," Doc said. "When I get back I want Sidney and Julian LaRoche, Bennie, Simon, and Fernsby here, and if they don't want to come, convince them to."

  Jervis's lips turned upward in a very cold, sharp smile. "Certainly, sir."

  Doc glanced at the couch where Jury had been sitting. It was the only piece of furniture that hadn't been overturned or broken. He could still see Jury standing and following them meekly out the door, and he wondered briefly if he'd been compelled to go. But even if Jury had gone willingly, he hadn't wanted to go, otherwise the entire Jury family wouldn't have shown up to escort him home.

  It was starting to make sense now. Jury's short temper as of late. His offhanded comments about his family and having nothing to lose. He'd known they were coming for him. He'd known, and he'd said nothing. Normally, Doc would have been seriously annoyed at Jury, but he didn't have room to be mad at anyone else.

  "It's nothing personal, John," Abigail had said right before she'd knocked him out with a gigantic magic fist.

  She was wrong. It was very personal indeed.

  It was only when Doc reached the elevator that he realized Brute was right behind him.

  "Stay," Doc commanded, pointing towards his suite. Brute glared at him and stepped forward when the elevator opened. "I said 'stay'!" Doc snapped.

  Brute shrugged and walked into the elevator.

  "No!" Doc exclaimed. He did not need a witch hound dogging his steps. There was nothing Brute could do to help, and besides that, he would probably drool all over Doc's upholstery.

  Brute tilted his head as if to say, "Are you coming?"

  Doc sighed. It was clear he wasn't going to win this fight. "Fine," he muttered. "But I'm in charge." He swore Brute smiled.

  Within the hour, Doc was banging on the Baker family's front door. For a moment no one answered, but finally Doc saw the peephole darken, and then Frankie cracked the door.

  "Doc?" she said worriedly. "Is something wrong?"

  "Why're you here?" he asked. "Where're Mr. and Mrs. Baker?"

  Frankie shrugged. "They aren't here very often."

  "But Johnny and Jules were kidnapped!" he exclaimed. "Surely... They should be here."

  She shrugged, and the anger rolled through him once more. This time at himself. By the time he'd finished killing the last of the Acolytes, the children had already been ushered home, and he'd just assumed Johnny and Jules were with their parents. He'd assumed wrong.

  "So you live here with them?" he asked, for the first time wondering how old she was. Perhaps she was a witch nanny instead of a witch babysitter.

  "Most of the time."

  He supposed that explained why they kept showing up at his door at all hours of the day.

  "Are they doing alright?" he asked.


  Jury's kidnapping had practically wiped Edgar from Doc's mind, but the children were probably still reeling from their experience. After all, Doc wasn't the only one who had suffered a loss today. Out of the forty-two children Edgar had stolen from the witch academy, sixteen had been murdered before Doc and Jury had showed up.

  "They've been better," Frankie said with a shrug.

  "I'm sorry. I should've come by sooner. I didn't realize..." He trailed off. They weren't his responsibility, and he resented that he already felt like they were.

  "Anyway," he said. "I need to see Jules. It's important."

  "Okay." Frankie's eyes suddenly looked past Doc, and her mouth dropped open. "Is that..." she stuttered. "I mean... It's... Um..."

  "It's a witch hound," Doc said dismissively. "Johnny's idea, if you will recall."

  "What... What is it?" she whispered, stepping backward.

  "Technically, magic and a whole helluva lot of evil vampire blood."

  Frankie's faced turned white.

  "But," Doc hastened to add, "he seems really nice." It sounded sketchy, even to him. To be honest, he hadn't yet formed an opinion about Brute besides that he was stubborn and didn't like following orders.

  "He?" Frankie asked.

  "I guess," Doc shrugged. "His name's Brute."

  "Brute?"

  "Yes."

  Brute had sat on the floor beside Doc and was studying Frankie with that gimlet eye Doc was coming to recognize.

  "It's a she," Frankie said.

  "What? Who?"

  "Brute. Is a girl." Frankie wasn't pale anymore; in fact, she was edging towards Brute in a cautious manner.

  "Jury called it a he. It's a he," Doc argued.

  "No," Frankie insisted. "It's a she."

  "How can you tell?"

  "How can you not tell?"

  "Goddamn it!" Doc growled. "I don't have time for this! What does it matter if it's a she or a he?!"

  "I just think she might appreciate being called a she," Frankie said woundedly.

  "It's a dog made of blood," Doc ground out. "I highly doubt that it cares."

  Brute gave him a hard stare and licked Frankie's hand. "I think she does," Frankie insisted. She was scratching under the hound's chin now, a happy smile plastered on her face.

  "Strategy," Doc whispered. He wasn't in a hurry. He didn't need to be in a hurry. He needed to take his time and arrange his pieces the way he wanted them, so that when it was time, he could move in swiftly for the kill.

  "Alright. She's a she," he agreed. "Can I talk to Jules now?"

  "She doesn't like her name."

  Doc swallowed an exclamation of disgust and said, "How do you know?"

  "I don't know," she said. "I just know."

  Doc's lip twitched. He couldn't count the number of times he'd had to wait for Andrew to finish having an argument or discussion or something or other with his cantankerous horse. Maybe Frankie really did know.

  "So what should we call her?" he asked.

  "Boudica," she replied without hesitation.

  "The warrior queen?"

  "I don't know," Frankie said. "That's just what she wants to be called." She seemed a little surprised at herself, and Doc grinned. Perhaps Frankie belonged in the Hidden more than she thought she did.

  "Boudica it is," he said, studying Brute, or Boudica, with a slight sense of unease. How much of her was Jury and how much of her was Elizabeth Haddock?

  Boudica grinned at him, and his eyes narrowed. "I'm watching you," he warned.

  "Me?" Frankie asked.

  "No... Never mind. May I speak with Jules now?"

  "Yes, sorry," Frankie blushed. "They're in the kitchen."

  He followed her down a short hallway into a bright kitchen. Johnny, Jules, and Addison were sitting around the kitchen island, sipping hot cocoa.

  Jules' and Johnny's eyes were both rimmed with red. Seeing their tear-stained faces and sad eyes made the rage claw its way forward again. He pushed it back firmly.

  "Doc's here," Frankie said.

  "Doc!" Johnny exclaimed, jumping down from his stool and taking a step towards Doc before halting and stuttering, "You're... you're okay?"

  "Yes," Doc grinned. "It's kind of my thing."

  "But you were... burned and..." Jules stammered, eyes wide with disbelief.

  "I thought you knew," Doc said. "Didn't Dr. Feyrer cover it in her book?"

  They both shook their heads.

  "I'm immortal," he said.

  "Yes, but..." Jules trailed off.

  They were all four staring at him, and he sighed. He hated explaining it. When he put it into words it sounded so... villainous.

  "When I kill someone," he said slowly, "I absorb their energy, and if I'm burned or cut or something, the energy heals me."

  "Oh," Johnny breathed, eyes widening. "You're like an energy vampire."

  "I suppose," Doc acknowledged. It was better than most of the things he'd been called.

  "So you can't die?" Jules asked.

  "I'm sure I could," he shrugged. "I just haven't yet."

  "Wait," Frankie said. "You eat people?"

  Doc grinned at her. "Yes."

  She paled. "Johnny said vampires aren't allowed to kill people anymore."

  "They aren't, but I'm not a vampire. To live, I kill. If it helps, I only kill bad people."

  Frankie frowned. "Who decides if they're bad?"

  "Me."

  "Define bad," she demanded.

  She would not like his definition of bad. Not one little bit. He'd once killed a man for being profusely vulgar in front of a group of small children.

  "Enough about me," Doc said cheerfully. "How are you two doing?"

  "We're fine," Johnny said, ducking his head.

  Doc recognized that look. It was the look of someone who felt like they should have done something to stop bad things from happening. It was a look of shame.

  He took a deep mental breath, kicking himself as he did. He should have talked to them sooner instead of assuming they understood what had happened and were handling it well.

  "You do realize that you were abducted by Cynric Jury?" he asked, sitting across from them.

  A startled laugh jumped from Jules. "That's ridiculous!" she exclaimed.

  "He was the head," Doc said.

  Jules' face turned chalk white. "No," she breathed. "It can't... He couldn't... Oh my god! Seriously?"

  "Seriously. There was nothing either of you could have done to prevent him from kidnapping you and the others, and certainly nothing you could have done to save their lives."

  "But—" Johnny started to say.

  "No," Doc said firmly. "Nothing. It was sheer luck that I managed to kill him. If it hadn't been for the Stone of Alarius, we'd probably all be dead right now."

  "But—" Jules began.

  "No," Doc interrupted again. "Nothing you could have done. Be happy you're alive. This is one day you might not have had otherwise. Savor it, enjoy it, let the wonder soak into your skin."

  "But—" Johnny said.

  "But nothing!" Doc exclaimed. "I have it on good authority that Cynric Jury is, or was, the most powerful witch in the world. What could you possibly have done?"

  "Nothing," Jules said softly.

  "Exactly." He studied them and added, "You have to let it go. Promise me you'll let it go?"

  Jules and Johnny glanced at each before meeting his eyes again and saying in unison, "We promise."

  "Good. Remember that promise every time the guilt tries to get you." He stopped himself from saying that he knew all about guilt. That was beside the point.

  "I also need you to promise me you won't tell anyone what I just told you," he added. "Besides Jury and I, no one knows about Cynric. We pinned the whole thing on Edgar, and I'd rather people didn't know about the world's most evil and powerful witch rising from the dead; it could cause a whole rash of problems."

  Doc didn't want anyone to know that the undead artifact actually worked. The horrors
it could unleash... He shuddered at the thought. He'd put it in the safe with the fetishes, and it would stay there until Jury had the time to unmake it.

  "How can you be positive it was him?" Jules demanded, eyes narrow.

  Doc shrugged. "Edgar said it was, and I don't think anyone else would have been able to do all the glamours and the teleportation and all that. I've been told a hundred times now that there's not a single modern witch strong enough to pull it off."

  "You have a point," she said. "I really wish we knew for sure though."

  "You and me both," Doc muttered. "Promise me you won't tell anyone."

  "We won't," they said together.

  "Frankie?" Doc questioned.

  "Who would I even tell?" Frankie snorted. "I'm not even sure I know what you're talking about."

  "I'm sure Jules will explain it to you," Doc drawled.

  Frankie laughed, then caught his eyes and said, "I promise."

  "Addison?"

  Addison narrowed her eyes. "What do I get?" she asked.

  Doc growled softly. "What do you want?"

  "I want to know the name of the unicorn you kissed."

  Doc pretended to ponder her request. "I don't know," he said gravely. "That's an awfully high price."

  "Then I'm telling Mom."

  "Addison!" Jules gasped. "You can't! Doc asked us not to."

  "I want a unicorn name," she said petulantly. Her bottom lip popped out, and her little fists clenched, and Doc knew she was on the verge of screaming.

  "You win," he sighed. "Her name is Liadawn."

  "Liadawn," Addison breathed. "Liadawn."

  "Now do you promise?"

  "Yes. I'll never tell. I promise. Liadawn." She smiled at Doc happily, then suddenly said, "Cocoa? Frankie put three scoops of unicorn breath in it. Maybe it's Liadawn's breath."

  "That sounds delightful," Doc said.

  While Johnny and Jules whispered inside their magic bubble, Frankie poured Doc a cup of cocoa, and Addison gave him a plate full of lumpy chocolate chip cookies.

  "Frankie and I made them," Addison said proudly.

  "I'm sure they're delicious," Doc lied before eating one with a grin.

  Johnny and Jules cringed, and the cookies on their plates suddenly disappeared.

  Doc dropped one of the cookies into his cocoa and watched it sink to the bottom. "I'm afraid you owe Dr. Feyrer an apology, Jules," he said absently, trying to judge whether or not he could fit the rest of the cookies inside the cup as well.