I’m with Charles Yallowitz at his blog Legends of Windemere. Come on over there is another new excerpt from Eternal Road – The final stop. Here is the link.
Charles Yallowitz was born and raised on Long Island, NY, but he has spent most of his life wandering his own imagination in a blissful haze. Occasionally, he would return from this world for the necessities such as food, showers, and Saturday morning cartoons. One day he returned from his imagination and decided he would share his stories with the world. After spending many years fiddling with his thoughts and notebooks, he decided that it was time to follow his dream of being a fantasy author. So, locked within the house with only pizza and seltzer to sustain him, Charles brings you tales from the world of Windemere. He looks forward to sharing all of his stories with you and drawing you into a world of magic.
In the shadows of Windemere, fangs are sprouting from the least likely of maws.
News is spreading that wild beasts with vampiric natures have been attacking mortals and carrying off random victims. With the Dawn Fangs still a secret from mortal society, Clyde fears that these strange creatures will reveal his peoples’ existence before they are ready. Old enemies and trusted friends begin to disappear as the investigation goes deeper into a business that has been lurking in the shadows of Windemere for decades. Those who return are beholden to a new master whose cunning is matched only by her primal desires. As his allies disappear, Clyde is left with the one he trusts the most in all of the world to help him solve this mystery. Too bad Mab has her own secret that can cause more damage to Nytefall than any vampiric beast.
Is this how the Dawn Fangs will be revealed to Windemere?
Still need more to wet your appetite? Then enjoy this excerpt:
Titus shrugs the girl off his shoulders and grips his blades, but refuses to draw them to avoid causing a scene. The warriors around him are on edge from overhearing Lost’s words and seeing his reaction, but they follow his example and keep their weapons sheathed. The Vengeance Hounds know that it is only a matter of time before the mortals with weaker wills lose control and drive the others into panic. They can hear the rumors of a deadly beast stalking the hunting party ripple through the crowd, each telling more gruesome and bone-chilling than the previous version. Several warriors ignore the warnings of their companions and draw their weapons, but keep them out of sight. Two of the casters begin to chant, which is revealed by the sparkle of magic on their lips. One by one, the lines of warriors stop walking and assume various defensive formations. Frustrated by the collapse of her army, the priestess turns around and tries to assure everyone that they are safe. Standing in the middle of the blossoming chaos, the Vengeance Hounds can only watch as the woman loses her temper and shouts at the archers who were supposed to maintain control.
The warriors go silent when a booming roar erupts from above and a large shadow passes over the area. With a gurgling scream, the priestess collapses in a heap and stares unblinking at the sky. The archers move away from the drooling woman, whose breathing has stopped as if she has been instantly turned off. Landing in front of the hunting party, a crimson-scaled Verenstone Dragon unfurls its muscular tails with one to each side and the other arching over its reptilian head. The thick ridge of black hair going down its back rustles and shivers in the breeze, which heats up as the monster bellows once more. Curled against its side are wings composed entirely of blue flame that licks at the trampled grass, but they are not hot enough to ignite the emerald blades. Leaning forward, the terrifying predator sniffs at the braindead priestess and chuckles before swallowing the body whole. In the brief moment that its mouth is open wide, the Vengeance Hounds notice that two of its teeth are changing as if they are stretching out of the gums. The plaque-covered ivory is curved in a way that makes it clear that they are fangs and the beast is in desperate need of a fresh meal. Its eyes scan the mortals and stop on the three Dawn Fangs for a moment, but it is enough to tell them that the cunning creature recognizes their true nature.
“A vampiric dragon,” Titus mutters under his breath.
Charles Yallowitz was born and raised on Long Island, NY, but he has spent most of his life wandering his own imagination in a blissful haze. Occasionally, he would return from this world for the necessities such as food, showers, and Saturday morning cartoons. One day he returned from his imagination and decided he would share his stories with the world. After spending many years fiddling with his thoughts and notebooks, he decided that it was time to follow his dream of being a fantasy author. So, locked within the house with only pizza and seltzer to sustain him, Charles brings you tales from the world of Windemere. He looks forward to sharing all of his stories with you and drawing you into a world of magic.
As Dawn Fang vampires are found dead across Windemere, their infamous leader will remember what it is to be afraid.
With the truce between Nyte and Nytefall nearing its end, an old enemy has emerged to rekindle the vampires’ most ancient feud. A Duragian priest is on the move and he is wielding a weapon that can depower and kill Dawn Fangs. This follower of the Sun God has claimed enough victims that Lord Tempest wants the weapon for himself and Clyde is beginning to worry that his fledgling kingdom is in danger of extinction. When it becomes clear that the mysterious relic and Clyde’s transformation into the first Dawn Fang are connected, he will be forced to face a past that he can barely remember.
What can Clyde do to defend his people, his life, and the child he does not know is on the way from the terrifying Fist of Durag?
Excerpt: Stirring
The thick darkness that greets Clyde’s eyes is suffocating and disturbingly familiar. A disconcerting numbness flows along his skin and plunges all of his senses into a mental fog. He groans as he sits up and touches the warm ground beneath him, his fingers finding it rough and jagged. The memory of being in Gregorio’s lair strikes his mind like a perfectly aimed arrow and he tries to stand up. A dull ache courses through his legs and forces him to remain on the floor, which trembles for a brief moment. Picking up a stone, he can feel the faint carving of half a sun with a grinning face. With a yawn, the vampire throws the rock away and waits for it to land, but the sound of it bouncing takes several minutes to reach his ears. Clyde scowls when the noise ends with a strange thud that reminds him of a fist punching flesh. The distant gurgling of a stream draws his attention to the right and he squints at a strange form that is gradually taking shape in the gloom. Finding the energy to rise, he gets to his feet and wipes the dirt from his body, which he learns is unclothed. The Dawn Fang’s senses steadily return to their full strength and he realizes that his vision has been blocked by his own hair. Luscious and tangled tresses cascade from his head to cover everything from his scalp to his elbows. Wrapping all of the strands around his left hand, he uses his right to slice them off and is about to use his fingers like scissors when his body locks.
The ruins of the Duragian temple are laid out before Clyde, their details making it clear that they are the genuine articles. Bodies of civilians and priests are strewn about the area, all of them having been drained of blood. A white-bricked wall has been marked with scratches that the vampire knows are a foolish attempt to keep track of time, which he abandoned after he had run out of prey. Far in the distance, he can see the tower where he was once held prisoner, its top seven floors having snapped off as it sunk. Light pulses from the enormous structure to drive the cavern’s darkness into the corners. Smaller shrines help to illuminate the streets, which are littered with debris. The smell of rotting meat is thick in the air, the stench emanating from the abandoned food and corpses. Not far away, the vampire sees a cleared area with a burn mark in its center. It takes him a moment to recognize the battered ruins of the execution square, its right side having slumped into a sinkhole.
A pang of doubt and anxiety races through Clyde’s mind as he recalls getting struck by the fake Fists of Durag. He begins to walk through the ruins in search of signs that he is being tricked, but it becomes clear that he is not trapped within an illusion. All attempts to see through the spell are met with failure, which feeds a primal rage in the pit of his soul. Coming to a broken fountain, he kneels and scoops up a handful of stagnant water to drink. The foul liquid makes his tongue burn and his stomach twists to the point where he has to vomit in order to avoid passing out. Focused on his own body, Clyde releases his severed hair when he realizes that his heart is no longer beating. Jamming a finger between his ribs, he touches the organ to find it wrinkled and still. With a growl, he swings his fist at the nearest building only to find that he cannot knock the whole structure over. The vampire stares at the hole in the wall and flexes his fingers, which make the gestures for a claw-growing spell. He curses loudly when he feels his nails lengthen and harden into natural blades.
“What in all of Windemere is going on?” Clyde asks.
Charles Yallowitz was born and raised on Long Island, NY, but he has spent most of his life wandering his own imagination in a blissful haze. Occasionally, he would return from this world for the necessities such as food, showers, and Saturday morning cartoons. One day he returned from his imagination and decided he would share his stories with the world. After spending many years fiddling with his thoughts and notebooks, he decided that it was time to follow his dream of being a fantasy author. So, locked within the house with only pizza and seltzer to sustain him, Charles brings you tales from the world of Windemere. He looks forward to sharing all of his stories with you and drawing you into a world of magic.
“It is a photo showing all of Charles Yallowitz’s War of Nytefall Series which are on sale for $0.99 each for the month of October.”
“Oh thank goodness. Here I thought it was a bag of some kind of new dog food.”
“Me too, Lucy. Not sure I could handle that.”
“These are Fantasy and Vampire stories, right Twiggy?”
“Not sure Lucy. I think so but I have a hard time holding books.”
“If I didn’t know better I would say you just told a joke.”
“Yeah, I think I did. Where can people who can hold a reader get War of Nytefall?”
“You just gave the link in your question.”
“I did? What’s a link?”
“Please excuse Twiggy folks. She doesn’t get out much.”
“Yeah. I wish Mom would let me out right now.”
“I would rush to get these books at $.99. They are also available for 99 Pence in the UK and discounts at other sites as well. As for me I’ve worked hard enough as a spokesperson. Nap time.
“Currency exchange makes my head hurt, Lucy. Heres the US link again.”
As the Vampire Civil War of Windemere rages on in the shadows, a mysterious girl appears to deliver mayhem to both sides.
Rumors of old-world vampires disappearing and mortals being attacked by an army of humanoid monsters have reached Clyde’s ears. Still learning how to rule the city of Nytefall as a strong, but fair leader instead of a vicious warlord, the former thief assumes he has rogue agents on his hands. Instead, his people stumble upon Lost, a teenage Dawn Fang looking for her father and aided by a decrepit bunny that might be an animated corpse. Bounding from one side of the Vampire Civil War to another, this carefree girl will turn out to be more trouble than she looks as all of the demons of her past emerge to get what they have been promised. Yet, her chaotic actions are nothing compared to the secret of her creation, which will change the very fabric of the Dawn Fangs’ world.
It is time for the womb-born to be revealed.
Book Excerpt: Lair of the Thief
The four-story building looks no different than those around it, except for the window shutters being on the inside. A winged hound statue sits on the flat roof and leans over the eave, its eyes locked with a matching piece across the street. Clyde stares up at the red-eyed decoration while blindly waving to those who excitedly greet him. Licking his lips, he kneels in front of the door and picks the lock in a few seconds. He still pushes it open as carefully as possible in case there is a chain, which he snaps with a simple flick of his finger. The vampire slips inside and nearly bumps into a pile of bags that are leaking silver coins. Closing the door behind him, Clyde is amazed at all of the treasure that is left in the hallway and rooms. A bedroom to his right is filled with jeweled armor that nobody would wear for battle, the metal visibly fatigued from having so many gems fused to its surface. Moving without a sound, he takes in the sight of jewelry hanging from hooks and goblets meticulously stacked to the ceiling. He stops at the entrance to what used to be a bathroom and has now been turned into a storage place for a ten-foot tall fountain that once stood in a Gaian courtyard. Heading for the second floor, Clyde can see that the nearby kitchen has been left untouched by the widespread hording as well as uncleaned. A sniff of the air tells him that the mess is recent and is a combination of chocolate and hot sauce. Unnerved by the unfamiliar pairing, he moves with more caution and keeps his right fist ready to strike.
Reaching the third floor, Clyde hears the tinkling of coins falling and makes his way to the end of the hallway. He is about to enter the room when it finally dawns on him that he probably should have knocked before entering the house. The former thief scratches his head and turns towards the stairs only to look back at the door. With a shrug, Clyde creates an illusion of a loud bang at the front door and leans against the wall. It is only when he glances at the floor that he spots discarded clothes on the rug, including a hydra-skin jacket. Before he can hide or move for the stairs, the door opens and Mab walks out. Muttering curses, the brown-haired Dawn Fang is completely naked and fails to notice her old partner until she is halfway through with putting on her underwear. Neither of the vampires are sure of how much time has passed as they stare at each other in horror and discomfort. Clyde regains his senses and opens his mouth to talk, but he is immediately blinded by a clawed swipe to the face. He slumps to the floor as the burglar gathers her clothes and rushes back into the room, the door slamming hard enough to knock over several teetering piles of treasure throughout the house.
“What the hell, Mab!?”
“Don’t barge into my house!”
“First of all, I broke in. Second of all, are you bathing in coins?”
Charles Yallowitz was born and raised on Long Island, NY, but he has spent most of his life wandering his own imagination in a blissful haze. Occasionally, he would return from this world for the necessities such as food, showers, and Saturday morning cartoons. One day he returned from his imagination and decided he would share his stories with the world. After his wife decided that she was tired of hearing the same stories repeatedly, she convinced him that it would make more sense to follow his dream of being a fantasy author. So, locked within the house under orders to shut up and get to work, Charles brings you Legends of Windemere. He looks forward to sharing all of his stories with you, and his wife is happy he finally has someone else to play with.
In celebration of the launch of War of Nytefall, I invited Charles to take over the Top Ten duties for today. Also, it is Charles’ birthday so today is very special. Without delay, I give you Charles E. Yallowitz.
A big thanks to John, especially for letting me do one of his famous ‘Top 10’ lists in order to promote my new book. Since my latest fantasy adventure series, War of Nytefall: Loyalty, revolves around vampires, we’re going to go over some warnings to keep in mind. (For fun, check out the opposing list on My Train of Thoughts On . . .)
If you are hanging out with a vampire, do not try to invite them to brunch. If you do, at best they’ll be a Dawn Fang and say they aren’t hungry. At worst, you will end up eating across from a pile of ashes and be asked to leave since it’s a non-smoking establishment. (You didn’t even get your third mimosa!)
If you are hanging out with a vampire, do not show off your crucifix collection. If you do, at best they’ll run away, and the friendship is over. At worst, they’ll take offense at the pushing of a stereotype and break the cross handed down through the generations over your head. (The time he invited you to a Passover Seder might have been a clue that this wouldn’t work.)
If you are hanging out with a vampire, do not repeatedly ask them if they hang out at high schools. If you do, at best you’ll end up sitting through a long rant about how Joss Whedon and Stephanie Meyers should be sued for defamation of character. At worst, you’ll be stripped naked and put in the nearest school gym locker to see how you like being called a pervert. (What is it with humans and having vampires go after jailbait?)
If you are hanging out with a vampire, do not challenge them to a boxing match. If you do, at best you will be knocked out with one punch and wake up in the hospital. At worst, your head will sail through the window, across the street, and land in the punch bowl of the latest meeting of the ‘Sufferers of Decapitation Nightmares’. (Tiny the WWF Champ never could hold back.)
If you are hanging out with a vampire, do not eat food with tons of garlic. If you do, at best your friend will be a Dawn Fang and politely flick a mint into your mouth. At worst, the vampire goes into anaphylactic shock and ends up in the hospital. (No, doctor, I’m sure this person has a pulse, and it’s the machine that’s wrong.)
If you are hanging out with a vampire, do not take them to the House of Mirrors. If you do, at best they’ll not see their reflection and play pranks on the other people. At worst, they will see their reflection and be violently embarrassed by a large scrap of jogger stuck in their fangs. (It’s hard enough to floss without sword-like teeth stabbing you in the hand.)
If you are hanging out with a vampire, do not talk to them with a corny Dracula accent. If you do, at best they’ll tell you to stop being an idiot. At worst, you’ll learn that Dracula was their uncle and you really shouldn’t make fun of his speech impediment. (Not his fault his fangs were four times larger than that of your average vampire. In fact, most women would say . . . Okay, moving on.)
If you are hanging out with a vampire, do not ask to try what they’re drinking. If you do, at best you’ll get sick and learn your lesson. At worst, you’ll find that you enjoy the taste and go on a feeding frenzy as the ghoulish servant of your new master. (That’s for eating all that garlic. Even a human would have found that stench nauseating.)
If you are hanging out with a vampire, do not tell everyone around that your friend is a blood-drinking creature. If you do, at best people won’t believe you and call the men in white suits. At worst, you’ll find out how many vampire hunters are in the area and be the only one left to explain all the bodies to the cops. (There’s a reason we don’t announce ourselves, Billy!)
If you are hanging out with a vampire, do not insist on watching ‘Blade’ every time you hang out. If you do, at best they’ll say yes. At worst . . . You know what? That’s going to be fine. Even vampires will admit to loving that movie. Just tone down the garlic popcorn this time. (Seriously, do you eat that much to counter a chronic health condition?)
Book Blurb
In the wake of the Great Cataclysm, a new predator will emerge within Windemere’s shadow.
For fifty years, Clyde has remained buried while the rest of the vampires have been battling against their enemies. Only Mab believes that her former partner survived his execution and is determined to bring him back to the city of Nyte. Retrieving the vampiric thief is only the beginning as he comes out of the ground stronger, faster, and demonstrating powers that their kind have never witnessed throughout their ancient history. Thrown into the war, Clyde must be careful to hide his true nature while fighting alongside his old friends. Too bad he is having so much fun that keeping his secret might be furthest from his mind.
Will anyone be ready for the rise of the Dawn Fangs?
Charles Yallowitz was born and raised on Long Island, NY, but he has spent most of his life wandering his own imagination in a blissful haze. Occasionally, he would return from this world for the necessities such as food, showers, and Saturday morning cartoons. One day he returned from his imagination and decided he would share his stories with the world. After his wife decided that she was tired of hearing the same stories repeatedly, she convinced him that it would make more sense to follow his dream of being a fantasy author. So, locked within the house under orders to shut up and get to work, Charles brings you Legends of Windemere. He looks forward to sharing all of his stories with you, and his wife is happy he finally has someone else to play with.
Charles Yallowitz was born and raised on Long Island, NY, but he has spent most of his life wandering his own imagination in a blissful haze. Occasionally, he would return from this world for the necessities such as food, showers, and Saturday morning cartoons. One day he returned from his imagination and decided he would share his stories with the world. After his wife decided that she was tired of hearing the same stories repeatedly, she convinced him that it would make more sense to follow his dream of being a fantasy author. So, locked within the house under orders to shut up and get to work, Charles brings you Legends of Windemere. He looks forward to sharing all of his stories with you, and his wife is happy he finally has someone else to play with.