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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
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186 Chs

Chapter 35: Reymen - On Pain of Punishment, Part 2

The guards arrived only moments before Reymen and Jorick were ready to descend to the root cellar. The Executioners waited impatiently as the vampires prepared their horses, then hurried to join them.

"We apologize for the delay," the first said quickly, bowing at the waist.

"Apologize later," Jorick snapped. "Before the sun is upon us."

Reymen showed them below, not that there was much to show. A small room, only big enough to hold the four of them and a bin of moldy potatoes. Reymen settled next to the wall in the damp dirt. His wet clothes stuck to him, and he shifted, closing his eyes and willing away the discomfort. In moments, he was numb, and soon sleep took him. His dreams were dark, as they always were, and he woke the following evening to the song of night crickets.