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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 175: Senya Reasons, Part 2

Senya glanced to Boris, wearing his familiar friendly expression. It was that same kindness that had soothed her when her brother was killed so long ago, then when their master made them into what they were, when he started to demand that they follow his orders, complete his assignments

"You are lost in thought, hmm? Memories, perhaps?"

Senya looked away. "You're not a mind reader, don't pretend to be."

"No, no, but I recognize the look on your face. It is the same I wore when I last saw Basille. Was itforty years ago, perhaps? Maybe more."

Basille. Their master, the vampire who had given his blood to make them, and the others, what they were. His own private army. And yet, with his diminutive figure, and cheerful expression, he didn't seem the type to need such a force.

How wrong that assessment was.

"Where did you see him?" Senya asked.