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  Copyright © M.M. Crumley 2022

  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, OBLIVION

  ISBN: 9798361204502

  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: INSTINCT (Book 4)

  THE IMMORTAL DOC HOLLIDAY: ROGUES (Book 5)

  THE IMMORTAL DOC HOLLIDAY: EMPIRE (Book 6)

  THE IMMORTAL DOC HOLLIDAY: OMENS (Book 7)

  THE IMMORTAL DOC HOLLIDAY: CHASM (Book 8)

  THE IMMORTAL DOC HOLLIDAY: FERAL (Book 9)

  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

  BOOK 7: OMENS

  BOOK 8: CHASM

  BOOK 9: FERAL

  BOOK 10: OBLIVION

  BOOK 11: RELENTLESS

  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

  Dark Comedies

  THE LAST DOOR

  MY BETTER HALF

  THE HOUSE THAT JACK BUILT

  MY ONE AND ONLY

  WE ALL FALL DOWN

  Facebook

  https://www.loneghostpublishing.com/

  Book 10:

  OBLIVION

  M.M. Crumley

  For the warriors, the world changers,

  the Docs and Andrews out there.

  Also for Michael...

  The best narrator an author could ask for...

  Harbinger of Doom

  Just kidding, but I bet I got your attention, huh?

  I just wanted to say that if you have not already read The Legend of Andrew Rufus series (all seven amazing books), you will find that there are a few spoilers contained within Doc Book 10. (Not that you can't read Doc Book 10 and then the Andrew series; I'm just giving you a heads up.)

  I get messages from die-hard Docaholic fans all the time telling me how incredible the Andrew Rufus series is. And it is amazing... Mostly because I wrote it. That's me being humble; impressive, isn't it?

  So please give it a try. You will not be disappointed. Andrew is a BADASS... Or will soon be a badass; give him a book or two to mature into it.

  Thank you guys for being the best fans EVER!!! And I do mean EVER!!!

  Regards, respects, and all that jazz,

  M.M. Crumley

  Read Andrew today at AMAZON.COM

  using one of the following links:

  For US: Click Here

  For UK: Click Here

  Character List

  Doc Holliday: our intrepid hero

  Thomas Jury (witch): Doc's friend

  Jervis (vampire): Doc's friend & Dulcis's manager

  Nevin Tucker (ghost): Ghost Guy

  Señora Teodora / Tozi: the shaman who "turned" Doc

  Thaddeus or Thaddy Whythe: Doc's talking plant

  Simon Redgrove (Takaheni): Hidden businessman & the new tetrarch

  Adrian Gionta (witch): painter who traps real people inside paintings

  Bree (banshee): Doc's adopted daughter

  Aine (banshee): Bree's daughter & owner of the House of Banshee

  Frankie (norm) Baker children's babysitter

  Baker Children—Johnny, Jules, Addison (witches)

  Boudica (witch hound)

  Babs Baker (witch): the Baker children's aunt, used to be the Jury family housekeeper

  Dublin O'Connell (wolf shifter): Doc's friend, manager of Baker estate

  Julia O'Connell (norm): Dublin's wife

  Ana & Ina Zaitsev (vampires): sisters from Russia

  Sami Caruso (norm): Jury's manager & Jervis's squeeze

  Phillip and Abigail Jury (witches): Jury's parents (Phillip died in book 8)

  Margaret Jury (witch): Jury's sister head of the Jury family, American branch

  Edward Jury (witch): Jury's eldest brother, Doc killed in book 8

  Cynric Jury (witch): One of the original Jury 5, died in book 3

  Edgar Achaean (norm): tried to raise Cynric Jury from the dead, died in book 3

  Emily (Myhanava): works for Dulcis

  James (vampire): works for Dulcis

  Pierre (norm): chef at Dulcis

  Yiska (Akashii): Doc's guide to all things mystical

  The Memory: the mother's memory

  Enoshi (shadow phantom): leader of Doc's extraction team

  Alex Baudelaire (witch): Phillip Jury's son

  Lena Danser (norm): Doc's lady love who killed herself

  Francisco (norm): Doc's real-life adopted brother

  Kate: Doc's real life main squeeze

  Wyatt Earp: Doc's real life friend

  Andrew Rufus (norm): Doc's friend from the past

  Janey Falke (norm): Doc's friend from the past, also Andrew's wife

  Charlie (norm): Andrew's friend

  Doyle (norm): Andrew's friend

  Joe (norm): Andrew's friend

  Carmina (norm): Andrew's friend

  Callisto (imp): helped Doc in the past

  Bobby Carter (shade): shoeshine boy Phillip Jury locked in Blackwater

  Meli/Black Shaman (shaman): Doc brought her back to life in book 6, Andrew's nemesis

  Ahanu/Grey Shaman (shaman): Meli's brother, Doc owed him a favor

  Rot mites (insect): creatures that feed off of witches' power

  Winslow (norm): Jervis's assistant

  Julian LaRoche (Romani): Doc's go-to guy

  Rosa (?): Doc's maid, waters Thaddeus

  Bluegrass Goodhunt (shaman): Doc's friend, died in book 6

  Apollo: Bluegrass's sentient house, now Tucker's house

  Rachelle Nesbit (fairy): works with August Naese

  Fernsby (witch): hypnotist

  Mitcham (Zeniu): was the tetrarch, Doc killed in book 5

  Dr. Feyrer (?): wrote a book about Doc

  Bennie (Worm): Doc's previous go-to guy, the witches killed in book 8

  Amy (norm): Jury sleeps with repeatedly, often with different faces

  Preston Harrow (witch): one of Phillip Jury's lackeys, got sassy with Doc in book 9

  Thulan (witch): ancient witch Mitcham had locked away

  Mr. Underwood (witch): head of the Underwood f
amily

  Curtis (troll): Blackwater prisoner, worked with Doc in book 8

  Marvin (troll): Blackwater prisoner, worked with Doc in book 8

  Chapter 1

  Doc Holliday rode from town with a heavy sigh. He really preferred stages. Or trains. But his tolerance of people had lessened, especially when he was confined to a small space with them.

  He'd learned a lot about the new him in the couple of months it had been since Señora Teodora had saved him. His tolerance for whiskey had easily tripled, and his ability to please a woman had increased tenfold. He also didn't suffer fools well, and he had a slight tendency to kill people for somewhat minor offenses.

  But he couldn't say he was in any particular hurry to change anything about himself. After all, fools were foolish, and minor offenses were still offenses. And there were absolutely no drawbacks to a higher whiskey tolerance and more pleased bed partners.

  He just wished he could suffer fools long enough to get from one town to another. Travel by horseback was fine, but only if he got where he was going in a decent time. He had never been the type to enjoy sleeping on the cold hard ground. Not when there was a possibility of a soft mattress and a willing woman.

  He felt a brief moment of guilt as the memory of Kate weeping at his bedside overtook him, but he and Kate hadn't been lovers for a long time now. She didn't need him and didn't need to know that he was alive. In fact, she was better off not knowing. Everyone was better off not knowing. He couldn't begin to imagine what would happen if people found out.

  He stared out at the forest, thinking. Even he didn't really believe it. If he didn't have daily evidence every time he took a breath and made love, he'd be inclined to think he'd dreamed Señora Teodora's dramatic entrance at his deathbed.

  He'd even wondered briefly if he'd actually died and this was... Well, he didn't particularly believe in any sort of heaven or hell; and even if he did, this didn't feel like either. So he was inclined to think he was actually alive. He was inclined to think he was actually immortal. Just like Señora Teodora had promised.

  A thrill ran down his spine as he thought of all the poker games he could play and all the women he could go to bed with. But then he frowned. A couple hundred years of poker and women sounded fun, but was that really all he was? Poker, whiskey, and women?

  He'd spent so many years getting ready to die that he wasn't entirely sure what to do with himself now that he had all the time in the world. Maybe he would visit all those strange and exotic locales he'd once read about, collect artifacts, and meet new and fascinating people. Or maybe he would buy a riverboat and resurrect the riverboat gambling craze.

  A small voice in the back of his head suggested that a more reasonable option would be to take up dentistry again, but he cringed at the mere thought. He wasn't sure he could ever go back to that kind of life. Schedules and bills and set ideas. He was a wild card now, and once you were a wild card, you couldn't just decide to settle down and be a three or a ten.

  He whistled cheerfully as he rode nonchalantly towards the south. Now that he wasn't seeking death, he was learning when to move on. He was learning just how far he could push people before they started whispering behind his back about lynching him.

  He was tolerated for a while, but a lucky handsome gambler with a tendency to kill people was not welcome for long.

  "Time to ride on," he sung softly. "More dollars to win at another table."

  He laughed at himself because he wasn't really a singer, but he also wasn't used to being alone. He was usually surrounded by friends and people pretending to be his friends. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been alone. But everyone he'd known as a mortal thought he was dead; and in spite of the fact that Señora Teodora hadn't given him any rules or warnings, he was certain it needed to stay that way.

  He couldn't say he disliked being alone; he just wasn't used to it yet. He also wasn't used to the sensation of life flowing into his chest when he killed someone. It had been a little shocking the first time he'd done it, and he'd immediately regretted the fact that he was in a crowded saloon. Fortunately, he was a damn good poker player; he didn't have tells. But regardless of whether or not people could tell if he was absorbing someone's life force, they were going to eventually take notice if he killed a man in every town he went to. Even out here, news traveled fast.

  He wondered how long he could go without killing someone. And he wondered, with just a twinge of dread, if his cough would return if he waited too long. Señora Teodora hadn't exactly been all too clear. He should have spent less time making love to her and more time asking questions.

  Nah, he thought, grinning lazily. He wouldn't change a thing. He'd figure it out; he always did.

  He'd already killed three men since Señora Teodora had changed him, and he wasn't sure he'd needed to kill them at all. The first man had called him a son of a whore. He didn't mind the insult to himself; it was the insult to his mother that he took offense to. Minor though it was, it was still an offense.

  The second man had been drunkenly trying to saddle his horse. Which normally Doc would have ignored, but every time the saddle fell off, the man beat on the horse; and Doc had swiftly decided that the world would be better off without such a cruel fool.

  The third man had been cheating at poker, which Doc could naturally forgive. Cheating at poker was second nature to a poker player. The problem was that Doc had cheated better, and when he'd won the game, the man had called him a liar and a cheat. Which was unforgivable.

  Maybe he hadn't needed to kill them to keep breathing normally, but he certainly didn't regret killing them.

  He breathed deeply, because he could, and belted off a line about women and whiskey at the top of his lungs. Also because he could. He wanted to do all the things he'd never done; he just wasn't sure what those things were yet.

  He knew he could make his way in the world by gambling. He had the luck and the knack for it. Which was good because he was certain he didn't have the knack for anything else. Or the patience. Or the tolerance.

  Which brought him all the way back to the beginning. He was a gambler. A lucky gambler. And he was immortal; a concept he was still struggling with; but not in a bad way. And he had a hundred years or so before he had anything particular he had to do.

  "Mexico," he muttered softly. "And maybe from there I'll sail away to... anywhere. Because I'm not going to die," he added, trying to remind himself. "And I've got to fill my time with... something."

  He'd never been at loose ends before. He'd gone to school and university; he'd been a dental surgeon, and he'd been a gambler. But all the while he'd known he didn't have to do any of those things for very long. Death had always loomed over him, reminding him that he may as well drink and cause trouble because he didn't have long to live anyway. And since he didn't have long to live, what was the point of living all straight and laced-up?

  So he hadn't. He liked that about himself, but surely there was more to life than that now. There had to be. He wasn't trying to die anymore. Which meant that he had to learn how to live.

  "This is harder than I thought it would be," he muttered irritably.

  He shrugged and pushed the thought away. It wasn't as if he had to have everything figured out in a few months. Maybe not even a few years. He was enjoying himself, and that was enough for him.

  Loud laughter suddenly boomed through the woods, and Doc tilted his head slightly, listening to it.

  "Oh, come on, Doyle," a voice chuckled. "That was hilarious!"

  Doc nudged his horse forward and looked down the slope. The sun was just touching the tops of the trees, and he watched curiously as four men rode into a small clearing, several spare horses behind them.

  "I ain't gonna tell you again," one of the men snapped.

  Laughter filled the air once more, and Doc grinned. A man who could laugh like that was a man he wanted to meet.

  "Want I should shoot 'im?" the grumpy man asked, suddenly swiveling in Doc's direc
tion.

  "I'd rather you didn't," Doc said, holding out his hands. "I'm just riding, not looking for trouble."

  "That's what all trouble makers say," the man grumbled.

  Doc swallowed a laugh and said, "I'm not looking for trouble with you."

  He rode slowly down the slope, counting more on luck than his charm.

  The grumpy man looked him over and said, "I vote we shoot 'im."

  The man with the loud laugh sighed and said, "We don't just shoot people, Doyle."

  Doc watched the speaker curiously. He didn't usually get a sense of power from people, but this man... This man was different. Doc could almost feel the waves of power gently pulsating from him, and it made him wonder what it would be like to eat him, not that he was going to try. He had a feeling his luck would mean nothing in the face of such raw power, and he wasn't that hungry anyway.

  "I don't like 'im," the older man growled.

  "You don't like anyone," the younger man replied with a snort. "Is there any particular reason this time?"

  "No."

  "Well, that's the same thing you said about Janey, and look how that turned out."