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Brothers of Darkness

Joleene Naylor is the author of the glitter-less Amaranthine vampire universe, a world where vampires aren't for children. Comprised of a main series, a standalone prequel, and several short story collections, she has plans to continue expanding with a trilogy and standalone novels. In her spare time, Joleene is a freelance book cover designer and for-fun photographer. She maintains several blogs, full of odd ramblings, and occasionally updates her website at JoleeneNaylor.com. In what little time is left, she watches anime, plays PokemonGo, and works on her crooked Victorian house in Villisca, Iowa. Between her husband, family, and pets, she is never lonely, in fact, quite the opposite. Should she disappear, one might look for her on a beach in Tahiti, sipping a tropical drink and wearing a disguise. The prequel to the Amaranthine series tells the story of Patrick and Michael, how they got tangled into Claudius' web, and their valiant fight to escape. When Patrick's missing brother returns, he brings a world of darkness. Turned into a vampire against his will, Michael is the coven's whipping boy. When Patrick tries to help, he's claimed as a slave who spends his weekends preparing victims, scooping ashes, and falling prey to the vampires' twisted desires. There's only so much hell he can take. When vampires from a warring coven offer sanctuary in exchange for cooperation, Patrick agrees. What he thought would be a few months drags into a long smear of nightmares and, though he fights for hope and freedom, the cost of victory may be more than he bargained for.

Joleene Naylor · Fantasy
Not enough ratings
94 Chs

Chapter 77

At ten o'clock Patrick slipped out the kitchen door for a "smoke", a knife jammed in his pocket. He dutifully lit a cigarette and took a couple of puffs in case anyone followed. When he was sure he was alone, he ground the smoke out under his heel and hurried toward the carriage house.

He retrieved his duffel bag from Elsa's car, then cut through the yard toward the gazebo. He skirted around it and made his way to the back wall. He walked next to it, one hand absently trailing along the stonework, until he found the spot he'd marked, directly behind the autumn gardens. With more effort than he thought it should take, he heaved the bag over the wall and listened as it dropped to the grass on the other side.

He headed back to the house. Less renovated than the east wing, the west side had only two doors on the back side. One was in a niche around a particularly bizarre corner that was left unguarded, and the other was the sunroom. It had a guard.