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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 55: Jorick - The Price of Freedom, Part 1

This story overlaps with the second half of Kateesha's and takes place in 1868.

***

Jorick pulled his horse to a stop and surveyed the small farm house. Though he wasn't a tracker, he'd hunted enough of his fellow vampires to parody the skill, especially where Kateesha was concerned. How many years had he known her? He didn't want to figure it up, but instinctively knew it was more than two hundred. In that time, he'd grown to understand how she worked, even if, for some inexplicable reason, he couldn't read her mind.

Nor Malick's. Not that I'd want to.

He swung to the ground and paused to straighten his coat, his shirt, the silver medallion that hung around his neck. The mark of the Executioner, this would be the last time he had to wear it, the last time he had to follow Malick's orders. His master had sworn on his own blood that if this task was completed, just as he was ordered, then Jorick could finally be free.

Free.