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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 · ホラー
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186 Chs

Chapter 140: Bren - In the Dark, Part 3

Suddenly the phone's signal bars jumped and the phone pinged to life. Dings, chings, and twangs signaled notifications that had piled up. He clicked one randomly, a text from someone named Bree.

Bree: Where the duck are you? Answer your damn phone!

Duck?

Another text came in:

Bree: Fine. Just be a botch. I'm sick of this shot. If you ever get back from your crazy weekend maybe you can call me back.

Then came another:

Bree: Bitch* I hate this ducking autocorrect

Ah. Ducking. Fucking. Of course.

The driver cleared his throat, eyes darting to Bren and the phone in his hand. "Were you able to contact The Guild?"

Bren suppressed an eye roll and tossed Trista's phone aside for his own. He snapped the text out in a moment. "Mission complete. Two casualties."