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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 · Terror
Classificações insuficientes
186 Chs

Chapter 164: Zuri Trapped, Part 1

This story takes place in January at The Guild's citadel, during the novel Heart of the Raven [in the Amaranthine Saga]. It begins the day after Tellith's story ends.

***

"-Stay tuned for more-"

The TV died with a click, and Zuri dropped the remote control to the stand. He was tired of the endless prattle, tired of everything.

He shifted in the overstuffed chair and looked from one wall to another. A poster, a framed photo, a painting, the dusty TV, the doorway to his bedroom. He had the panorama memorized, down to each speck of dust.

Just like he'd memorized what led him to this captivity.

He sat in the front of a sleek black sports car, while Senya steered down the rural highway. Behind him, Dismas was crammed in the backseat, his fingers tapping impatiently on his knee.

"Tell me again why we don't have any guards with us?" Dismas asked.

Senya rolled her eyes and snapped back the same thing she'd said twice before, "Malick felt they were unnecessary."