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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 59: Jorick - The Price of Freedom, Part 5

"How?"

He roared the word and spun on Nan. He grabbed the front of her dress and shouted into her face. "How?"

"Men," she murmured. "Came. Dragged us out."

Her eyes closed. Her head lulled. He roared and shook her again. "Who? Who?"

"Ben. McGinty. And the Millers. Others." She broke off, fading again. With a snarl he grabbed her head and dove into her mind, fighting through gray phantoms, to the flash of her most recent memories. He saw seven men, mostly their neighbors, farmers. He saw them pushing through the house, saw the destruction of the parlor as Nan fought them, throwing one into the bookcase and knocking another into the stand. Saw as she shot Ben McGinty in the stomach. Watched him crumple to the floor. Watched as they knocked Nan to the rug a final time, gutting her with a knife, then stormed down the hallway-

The memories stuttered to a stop. There was only blackness. Jorick pulled away. Nan was dead, and her mind, and thoughts, were lost to him.

Lost forever.