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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 69: Dismas - Prayers of the Damned, Part 1

This story takes place in 1893, just after Krill's.

***

Dismas crouched in the heavy undergrowth and listened. A mortal would have heard only silence but, for a vampire, there was a symphony of sound. Crickets chirped. Leaves rustled. Things scuttled through the shadows. The world teamed with night life.

Night life like us, he mused, without mirth. It wasn't a joke, but a fact, as true as their impending deaths.

Dismas glanced to his right, where Noris knelt in the foliage, face creased in concentration. Though he couldn't see Asher, he could feel him, kneeling behind them, lost in the ferns, waiting.

Waiting to be ambushed and killed.

A minute passed. Then two. Their horses whinnied, pawed the ground, impatient and confused. Finally, Dismas motioned to the others. They were safe for the moment. There were no pursuers waiting in the shadows to remove their heads.

From them will come songs of thanksgiving and the sound of rejoicing.