Keepers of the Dead for Christmas

cm2kotd02Just in time for your Yuletide celebrations, a print edition of Keepers of the Dead, follow-up novel to Shadows Over Somerset, is available for your reading pleasure.

This is the perfect time to settle in somewhere warm and comfortable, a tall Scotch at the ready, and loose yourself in a tale of werewolves, vampires, zombies, witches, and more…

Don’t believe me? Here’s a sneak peek of what’s waiting inside:

.:.

Chapter One

“One strong wolf cannot defeat a pack of dogs,
nor can one strong arm defeat many fists.”
Chinese Proverb

A dark wolf, large and powerful, raced through the thick blanket of December snow that covered the grounds surrounding Cairnwood Manor. In and out, over and around the old and leaning tombstones the wolf danced, taking long strides as it pursued its smaller prey. The dark wolf was on the verge of complete and utter rage as the white-coated wolf managed to stay ahead of the frothing beast.

The white wolf leapt two stones in quick succession and then bounded over an above ground vault. The dark wolf faltered in its pursuit, failing to make the leap over the larger structure. It hit the ground and rolled up, sprinting around the concrete obstacle. The white wolf had stretched its lead by some thirty feet as it leapt over a rectangular monument that stood four feet in height and was nearly that wide. The dark wolf could sense that it was gaining and flung itself headlong into the chase.

As the mottled beast became a blur of browns and blacks, it failed to see its white prey slide to a stop and turn to face it. Suddenly from behind the wide monument rose the figure of a man. Clad in fringed buckskin, the man, a Native American by birth, raised his rifle to his shoulder and took careful aim. A thunderous roar rang out as the rifle released three silver slugs in quick synchronicity. The dark wolf crumbled to the ground and slid headlong into the monument with a bone-crunching thud.

The Indian hopped the stone and removed a ceremonial knife from the sheath at his waist and slit the animal’s throat. He held the beast tightly by the scruff of its neck until the creature’s life force left it. In his grasp, what had once been a great and feral beast began to convulse and contort until what lay before him was a naked man, white, but dark skinned from years spent beneath an unrelenting sun. The crooked smile of his slit throat gleamed crimson against the stark white of the deep snow.

Did that leave you hungry for more? Head on over to amazon and order yourself a copy today.

 

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