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Tales of the Executioners

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. Twenty-nine short stories of love, death, heartbreak, and blood. Meet the Executioners, elite enforcers of the vampires’ laws. Walk with them through origin stories, follow them across the sea to the colonies, and run with them through the wilds, as they try to bring civilization to a land ruled by “day sleeper” clans. Fifteen interwoven stories tell the beginning of The Guild, set under the watchful - and sometimes malevolent - gaze of the ancient Malick, whose heavy shadow stretches even across the sea. Meet his favorite son, his willful daughter, his child-like pet, and many more whose jealousies, hatreds, and loves twist together to create consequences they can’t foresee.

Joleene Naylor · Horror
Not enough ratings
186 Chs

Chapter 132: Cyprus - Future's Promise, Part 10

Cyprus had underestimated the power of a bribe. Just as one had gotten him sent on this mission, so a large one levied at the inn keeper had gotten them a no questions asked room. Around the corner, they'd taken turns with what was probably a housekeeper. Her blood was hot, delicious, and healing. When Sadihra discarded her unconscious body, he could already feel his wounds knitting together, his swollen knee going down.

When they were sated, he surveyed the tangle of luggage in the back of the van, uncertain if his bag was even there.

Sadihra moved to help him, but he motioned her to the building. "Go inside and get a shower. I'll bring our bags in when I find them."

She looked ready to argue, but relented with a nod.

He watched her go, fallen hair bouncing on her tense shoulders. She stopped suddenly and looked back. He expected a cutting remark, a reprimand for following her with his eyes. Instead she said softly, "Don't take too long."