Writing Book 3
At long last. Enjoying the start of my summer although my last day of classes is Monday. Book 3 is going well after the vast...mind fuck? that took place after The Immortal's Guide. I can't wait for you guys to read it.
In other news, I'm heading to Eternal Con: Long Island's #1 Comic Con this summer. Just as a guest. If you're stopping by, you are free to stop me and say hey. I'm always up for saying hi to fans of my blog/writing. :) Thinking about making some new business cards for the event and in general just to have around.
Also, I'm active on Twitter, so don't be scared to follow me there. @SheronParris
Forgive me for the weird disjointed post, I'm dealing with a particularly nasty bout of anxiety, and I have to get ready for work soon.
In the mean time, I'll leave you all with an excerpt to Book 1, if you haven't read it already:
The First Death
The full moon shone in a bright circle of silver spreading a dim light throughout the night. On the ground below, hushed footsteps hurried along the forest ground, crushing dried leaves and twigs beneath their weight. Both men, draped in dark cloaks, walked along without speaking a word, only the sound of broken twigs destroying the steady silence that passed between them when the taller man spotted it first: Wispy, gray smoke drifted lazily into the dark air from a stone chimney attached to a rather shabby cabin.
The slightly shorter man removed his hood upon seeing the cabin revealing a most anxious expression as his silken, jet-black hair reached his back and lay unbound against his cloak. “This is it?” he asked the older man whose hood still rested upon his head; a shadow of black hid his face from view.
This man stood silently, not moving an inch, and the other knew instantly that he must have been lost in deep thought. Not wanting to disturb him but growing all the more impatient as black clouds passed in the violet night sky, he shifted his footing and stared eagerly toward the tattered door for several minutes before he got the nerve to speak.
“Are we going to speak to her or not, brother? I don’t see the reason of coming all this way just to stare at a deceased cabin!”
He withdrew at once, thinking he had crossed the proverbial line drawn for all Vampires: One never spoke to Xavier Delacroix in such a manner; he quite expected a full retort, finished with a long speech about protecting the humans: It was a Vampire’s duty to do so what with the other Dark Creatures roaming about that did not spare a nice feeling for the human race. But instead the continued silence that now pierced his sharp ears was all that was heard.
And at last the cloaked figure stirred: a snarl escaped into the night air like a sharp breeze, blowing leaves and twigs up from the ground in an unseen gust of wind. “Christian,” he said smoothly, a hand rising to his hood to remove it from its place atop his head all in the same graceful step. The long black hair trailed behind his head, much longer than his brother’s, and as he stared upon him, his green eyes flashed with the beauty of pronounced death, and he placed a firm, cold hand on the younger man’s face. “There are matters…that must be taken into account before one can go barging into a rundown cabin.”
Christian raised an eyebrow. “Like what?” he said dryly. “Checking the wind for specks of Lycan stench?”
He removed his hand at once, surprise filling his eyes, for did the Vampire smell the scent of Lycan just as he did? “Something of the sort…” he said quietly, “listen, have you fed for the night, brother?”
His black eyes appeared to shine with sudden intrigue. “I haven’t,” he admitted, staring upon him suspiciously then, “why do you ask?”
The thick scent of Lycan, indeed, filled his nostrils as he stared at his brother through the gloom, and he wondered how on Earth the Vampire could not smell it. “No matter,” he said quickly, “I just think it foolish for you to venture here when you have not fed. It would be most…bothersome for you, I imagine, if you…ran into…misfortune or some other matter and you were most…ill-equipped to deal with it….”
“Xavier,” he said sternly now, and the stare was full of incredulity, “if you think me to wander off for my fix of blood and miss whatever Dracula has sent us here for—”
“I shall inform you of whatever you believe you may have missed,” he said quickly, seriously, as the Vampire surveyed him steadily. “It is my duty.”
His black eyes seemed to lessen in their shine although they remained quite hidden from light here, shrouded in the dark protection of trees whose trunks twisted darkly and whose branches hung low, brandishing black leaves. And Xavier hoped the Vampire would take the hint and leave, for something was very strange here and he would not see his only brother harmed because of it….
If that sparks your fancy, you can pick it up somewhere around January, courtesy of my publisher, Permuted Press.
Keep your bite,