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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 162: : Tellith - Fire of Imagination, Part 4

Despite Tellith's fears, he was undisturbed, and woke the next evening thinking of Gladys' stupid rhyme. If she was here, I'd strangle her. Not that he really would. He'd had the chance while he was at Bray's for a week, and hadn't done it. Even when she sang The Worm Song, as he called it for lack of a title, while dusting the parlor.

I don't have time to worry about Gladys. Or Bray. I need to get back.

And bury the bodies.

He returned the key to the lobby, stopping long enough to check the map pinned to the wall. If there was no construction or detours, he should get to the citadel by two in the morning.

Maybe I should buy a shovel first?

But he didn't. He just fed on the owner's dog, leaving the canine alive but groggy, then headed out. He stopped again along the side of the road for more wildlife, but didn't linger. The sooner he got there, the better.

Right.