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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 44: Reymen - On Pain of Punishment, Part 11

Reymen woke to the patter of rain. His clothing was damp, but he fared better than one of the guards, who was soaked thanks to a steady leak in the partial roof.

Jorick crouched in the corner, waiting. Reymen was surprised to see him without his book, then decided it must be the damp weather that stopped him. Were the pages to get wet, they'd be ruined. Surely Jorick wouldn't stand for such a thing if he could help it.

Jorick nodded a greeting, his face an unreadable mask. "When the others wake, we will depart, feed in the forest, then begin the hunt."

"We're nearly to The Guild's den," Reymen pointed out.

"I don't take your meaning."

Reymen tried to think innocent thoughts. "Would it not be belter to return to Malick, and say that we have failed, than to hunt in this miserable weather? The rogues know our scent now, so will find it easier to elude us. Assuming they were able to take shelter and did not die with the sun."