Free Stuff!

Hello, gentle readers!
Since this coming weekend is, unofficially, a holiday weekend here in the States, I've decided to do a special promotion and offer some of my e-books for free. The promotion starts tomorrow and runs through Monday.  So, for the next three days you can get copies of the following books for free via Amazon Kindle!

John Riddle and the Man Who Murdered Brownies

And...

John Riddle & The Wicked Wizard

Have a safe and happy weekend, everybody!

John Riddle & The Wicked Wizard

Available now from Amazon!

Wizards are the worst.
Everyone knows that.
They're rich, they're arrogant and they can turn you inside out with a snap of their fingers and a few magic words.
Now, John Riddle has to deal with a wizard's ghost.  And if he thought dealing with living wizards was bad, wait until he has to deal with the ghost of a wizard even other wizards don't like!

Coming Soon!

Labor Day Promotion!

Hello, gentle readers!
Since it's Labor Day I've decided to give away free copies of my short story, Hellbound on the Sugar Train!

Available via my Amazon Author Page!
Hope everyone is having a happy holiday!

Even More Noise

Good morning, gentle readers!
I'm pleased to announce that you can now purchase a physical copy of Random Noise, my latest collection of short stories, from Amazon.  The link to my Amazon Author Page is at the top of the blog.
Thank you for all of your support!
Happy reading!

Random Noise

Random Noise is a collection of miscellaneous short stories covering a variety of subjects. Here, you can read about the starship pilot visited by his wife's ghost, the floating cities of a distant future consumed by hate, a woman's realization regarding the difficult choices she made and a variety of other stories. Also included is a sequel to one of the author's previous works, The Marvelous Land of Ap.
Currently available for the Kindle and soon-to-be available in paperback via CreateSpace!

Free! Capetales!

Hello again, gentle readers!
Today, I'm sharing the last of my free giveaways with you!
Capetales, a collection of super-hero short stories is available, free, for the Kindle! You can grab your copy from your local Amazon website!
Enjoy!

Free! Dawnwind: Last Man Standing!

Hello, again, gentle readers!
Today's freebie is Dawnwind: Last Man Standing, available at your local Amazon website!
Dawnwind is also the first book I published via Kindle and, because of that, it has a special place in my heart.  It doesn't hurt that it's gotten some really great reviews either!
So, ladies and gentlemen, pop on over, sample the text and, if you are so inclined, get your free copy and follow the exploits of the Last Human.
Cheers!

Free! The Marvelous Land of Ap!

Hello, gentle readers!
Please forgive the lateness of this post but I've had a bear of a day! 
This post is just a quick reminder that you can get the Kindle version of The Marvelous Land of Ap for free today at your local Amazon!
Also, I'll be giving away copies of two of my other books this week!
Stay tuned for updates and enjoy!

Shameless Self Promotion

Attention, gentle readers!

Next week I will be making the Kindle version of three of my books FREE for one day only.

The Marvelous Land of Ap will be free on Monday, December 16th!

Dawnwind: Last Man Standing will be free on Tuesday, December 17th!

And, last but not least, Capetales will be free on Wednesday, December 18th!

You can find the books on my Amazon Author's Page, just click on the link at the top of the blog.

Enjoy!

Free!

Good evening, gentle readers.
Tomorrow, I am pleased to announce that three of my e-books on Amazon.com will be available, free, for the Kindle and those with the Kindle ap.
The three books I am offering for free are: Capetales, Hellbound on the Sugar Train and Surprise Vignettes.
If you've already downloaded and enjoyed these stories, please spread the word to your friends and acquaintances that they will be available for free.
Thank you and I hope you're having a great weekend!

Tease

Hello, gentle readers! This morning (it's not noon here yet!) I've decided to be naughty and tease you all with a brief excerpt from my current work-in-progress, Dawnwind: Resurrection.  Enjoy and let the speculation begin! ^_^

* * * * *



"You’ve become something of a celebrity, Seventh," murmured Upio. The corner of his mouth twitched as he tried not to smile.
Hysa snorted. "I don’t know why everyone is reading such significance into it," she complained. "Sweet pantheon! It wasn’t a date, it was just drinks in the crew hall!"
"Drinks with the First," said Upio. "A man who, by all accounts, has never expressed any particular romantic interest in anyone until right now. Until you." He gave up any pretense of disinterest and grinned at her. "That makes it significant."
She scowled. "All we did was talk about work."
"Really?"
Hysa frowned. "Well, mostly."
"What else did you talk about?"
She shrugged. "The usual things. Where we grew up and how we wound up joining the Guard. That sort of stuff."
Upio leaned forward, curious. "He told you about his homeworld?"
"No," admitted Hysa. "Not really. I mean, he talked about things, but only in general and, well, I didn’t want to push, given his history. So. . . ."
Upio sighed and shook his head. "You do realize that you’ve just described a pretty ordinary first date. Don’t you?"
She stared at him as if he had suddenly grown a third eye.
"Isolate me," she muttered. "It was a date, wasn’t it?"
"Yes."
Hysa felt her fingertips throb with blood. She curled them, clutching at the fabric of her shipsuit. "I didn’t really think. . . ."
"Did you have a nice time?" asked Upio, quietly.
"I . . . I suppose I did," said Hysa. "What if he asks me out again?"
"What if he does? Say yes. Say no. It’s up to you."
Hysa lowered her voice, felt her fingers continue to throb. "But...it would be the second date, Upio."
"Ah," said Upio, suddenly grasping her meaning. "Speak first, kiss later. Yes?"
She nodded, clenching her fists.
"Perhaps," suggested Upio, quietly, "you should speak with the First Medic."
"About what?"
"Things."
"Things? What things?" There was a hint of alarm in Hysa’s voice.
"About . . . compatability," said Upio.
Hysa frowned, perplexed for a moment, before realizing what the Third Officer was referring to so obliquely.

The Marvelous Land of Ap Free Promo!

Hello, gentle readers!

Today and tomorrow, my latest book, The Marvelous Land of Ap, will be available as a free download for Kindle.

* * * * *

Charlie has lived in the Marvelous Land of Ap since he was a teenager. He doesn't miss the world at all.
Ella has just arrived in Ap, and can't wait to go home.
Until that happens, Charlie has agreed to look after Ella.
Unfortunately, this arrangement gets complicated when Charlie's duty takes him, a reluctant Ella, and a young boy named Thimble from the safety of Ap, into the uncertain dangers of the Dustlands.

* * * * *

As you can probably guess, gentle readers, the book is a fantasy and it leans more toward The Wizard of Oz than The Lord of the Rings.  It's available at Amazon, around the world, thru Christmas Eve.

Enjoy!

Free!

Good day, gentle readers.
Today, my novel, Dawnwind: Last Man Standing, is available for free via Amazon.
If you have a Kindle or the Kindle ap, you can download the book for free until around midnight.
Why should you bother getting it?
Well, let's take a look at the reviews. Shall we?

"An excellent read that reminds me at once of stories told by A.E. van Vogt and Robert A. Heinlein - it is that good." - T.S. Sofia

"Dawnwind: Last Man Standing is the best science-fiction novel I have read in years!" - E. Meyer

"Good plot, great characters and fantastic story!" - Jim Powers

You can find more reviews on the book's Amazon page, if you'd care to peruse them.

Thank you for your patronage.

Dawnwind: Last Man Standing - Amazon US -  http://www.amazon.com/Dawnwind-Last-Man-Standing-ebook/dp/B00887FGQK/ref=la_B005EZ4W9Q_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1353003969&sr=1-3


Dawnwind: Last Man Standing - Amazon UK - http://www.amazon.co.uk/Dawnwind-Last-Man-Standing-ebook/dp/B00887FGQK

A Glimpse of Things To Come

Hello, gentle readers.  Happy Monday!  Today, I'm going to share with you a brief excerpt from a story I'm writing.
I'm not the type of writer who can stick with just one story. That's probably why I don't produce stories as quickly as some other authors.  Instead, I usually have multiple stories going.
My writing impulse returned last week and, quite by accident, I started writing something different and new. I just picked up the pen and, boom! Suddenly, I had eight pages of story.
Anyway, here's a glimpse at what I've been working on.  Comments and impressions are more than welcome.

* * * * *



The girl, Scarlet, didn't wake up until that afternoon. Charlie checked on her once or twice then left her alone.

He was sitting on his plush couch, reading a dog-eared copy of Aesop's Tales, when the girl woke. First, Charlie heard the bed creek as its occupant shifted position. A moment later, he heard the soft sound of stockinged feet slapping the floor. Then, as he watched, the girl pushed through the beaded curtain separating the bedroom from the common room. She carried her shoes in one hand. Charlie thought she looked ghastly.

Laying down his book, Charlie said, "Hello."

The girl turned to stare at him. She had dark green eyes. They narrowed in suspicion.

"Who are you?"

"Charlie. How do you feel?"

"Awful," said the girl. She leaned against the wall and looked around the room. "Where am I?"

"That's going to take some explaining," said Charlie. "Would you like some tea?"

"No. I'd like to know where the fuckaaagghh!"

Charlie watched, impassively, as a large gray worm crawled out of the girl's mouth. Retching, she batted the thing away, an expression of deep disgust on her face.

Charlie stood, walked over to where the worm had fallen and scooped it up. He crossed to the small tin stove, opened it and tossed the slimy thing into the fire.

"The first rule you need to learn," said Charlie, turning back to the girl, "is no swearing."

"What was that?" demanded the girl. She was still wiping her mouth. "How'd it get in my fuckackackack!"

She bent over, eyes almost crossing, as another worm emerged from between her lips. With a sigh, Charlie walked over and plucked it off the shuddering girl's face. He held it up before her green eyes.

"What did I just say? Don't swear unless you like coughing up swear worms."

* * * * *

I still haven't decided on a name for this story yet, which is a bit odd for me, but I have a couple of likely prospects.

Something to look forward to.

Gentle readers, today I began the long climb back toward the sun. If you follow my Twitter (@grshirer), you’ll know that I’ve been moaning all week about an inability to write. I hit the nadir in my creative cycle and spent the last few days sort of wallowing. 
During this time, I did write but it was a laborious process. I wasn’t enjoying myself and I certainly didn’t enjoy anything that I had written. For a little while, I switched gears, pulling out old stories that I’d set aside. I had hoped that a fresh direction would trip the cycle, push me past the black wallows and energize me again. That didn’t happen.
Nothing was working.
Nothing.
So, I put the writing aside and did some other things. I went to the South Carolina State Museum and saw the Titanic Artefacts Exhibition. While I was there, I toured the connected art gallery, where they were showing a collection of abstract art by local artists. I cleaned out the room, taking a bagful of books to a used bookstore for credit. Ironically, as soon as I’d done that I went back to the bookstore to prowl the aisles, looking for something to read.
I’ve been reading a mystery, Death by Darjeeling, by Laura Childs. I’m reading it in slow bites, as the prose is lush and deliciously descriptive.
This past weekend I took a road trip, driving to the Harrah’s casino in Cherokee, NC. There, I lost entirely too much money, considered staying overnight, then nixed that idea and returned home.
As I was heading home, southbound on Interstate 26, in the middle of the night, I could see a storm trying to pull itself together ahead of me. Clouds flared pink and amber as lightening leapt inside them. The storm kept pace with me as I drove home, and if it never happened, watching the lightening illuminate the clouds was entertaining.
I felt like that storm. Fragmented, unable to get its act together, but still full of energy. My skull was buzzing. Thoughts were starting to spark.
The writers block that had plagued me began to erode.
Today, I sat and reread the last page or so of my sequel to Dawnwind: Last Man Standing. Something about it had been bothering me, something I couldn’t really identify. This morning, the cause of my irritation suddenly leapt out at me.
I made a change and it was suddenly there. Not just the impulse to write but the desire. My fingers twitched and I suddenly knew which way the story was going to move.
So, making a mental note regarding that direction, I closed that file and opened this one. Why aren’t I working on the sequel? Haven’t I pissed and moaned about it enough this week? I should be bent over the keyboard, pounding away at it like a madman. Shouldn’t I?
No.
Not yet.
The impulse is there. I’ve started the climb up the mountain. But, right now, my resources feel a bit thin.
No, now I’ll force myself to be still. To wait. To let that tension grow until it is unbearable. Then, and only then, will I release it.
When I do release it, the sensation will be better than eating chocolate or having sex. It will be more satisfying than racing down a deserted highway in the Southwest at a hundred miles an hour or telling someone you despise that you wouldn’t piss down their throat if their heart was on fire.
It is something to look forward to.

Giving it away for free

Hello, gentle readers!
I almost forgot to inform everyone that this weekend, July 7th - 8th, my book, Dawnwind: Last Man Standing will be avaialble for free via Amazon. 
With 4.7 stars at Amazon, one reviewer described it "as if E.E. "Doc" Smith wrote Stranger in a Strange Land." Another compared it to the works of A.E. van Vogt and Robert Heinlein.
But don't take my word for it.  I am, quite naturally, biased.
Just click on the book link to read the reviews in full, to preview the story or download it for free to your Kindle.
Thank you in advance and I hope you all have a wonderful weekend!

http://www.amazon.com/Dawnwind-Last-Man-Standing-ebook/dp/B00887FGQK/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1338647512&sr=8-1

Dawnwind: Last Man Standing

Gentle readers, my first full-length novel, Dawnwind: Last Man Standing, is now available for purchase exclusively through Amazon.com.

When the benevolent Junians came to Earth, they were shocked to discover humanity decimated by a worldwide pandemic.  They found only one survivor, a man named John Epcott. The Last Human.
When the Junians left Earth, John Epcott went with them.
This is his story.

Surprise Vignettes

Good evening, gentle readers.  Are you ready for a Surprise?  I certainly hope so.

My newest collection of short stories, Surprise Vignettes, is available at Smashwords.com and will be free for a limited time.
Come and meet Professor Surprise, a woman with a zest for life, a talent for violence and an interesting wardrobe.  Peek into her world, meet her 'lovely assistants,' and don't forget her words of wisdom: "Nothing good ever comes from space."
Except Tang.
Just follow the link at the top of the page to my Smashwords Author Page to download Surprise Vignettes for free.  And if you read it and feel inclined to leave a review or a comment, please do so.

Monsters: A Capetales Preview

Good morning, gentle readers.
Today, instead of rambling on about writing, I'm going to share one of the stories from my collection of super-heroic fiction, Capetales. 
Capetales is available for FREE at www.smashwords.com .  Simply follow the link at the top of the page to my Smashwords Author Page if you'd like to download the entire collection.
Enjoy!

* * * * *

            The body on the slab was headless, the flesh gray beneath the harsh lights of the examination room.  Jack Lotus stood with his back against the wall, watching the specialist from the Lodge bend over the body.  Germain St. Greer was drop-dead gorgeous, with an amazing ass.  Lotus was pretty sure he could stand there and watch it all day.  Sadly, that wasn’t going to happen.

St. Greer straightened and turned.  She had the most devastating green eyes that Jack had ever seen.  “How many others have there been?”

She wasn’t talking to him, but to the other man in the room.  The guy’s face looked like someone had used a cheese grater on it.  The left side was a mess of puckered, white scar tissue.  The right side of his mouth twitched.

“Three,” said Sheriff Kevorkian.

The Lodge woman turned her attention to Lotus and there was nothing warm in her gaze. “And you jerkoffs are just calling us in now?”

Despite himself, Lotus flinched.  “We thought they were just regular murders.”

“They’re not,” snapped St. Greer.  She glanced at the corpse.  “Congratulations, gentlemen. You’ve got a vampire problem.”

* * * * *

Terrorville wasn’t an easy town to find, tucked away in the back of beyond, and the residents preferred it that way.  Jack Lotus couldn’t blame them.

Driving down Main Street, the town looked like a slice of early 20th Century Americana. The kind of place that Norman Rockwell might have immortalized.  The town park had a bandstand that was still used.

Yeah, thought Jack.  Rockwell would have loved this place, as long as he never met the locals.  Jack, himself, was grateful for his car’s tinted windows. He’d seen a lot of weird shit in his life, but nothing could really prepare you for Terrorville.

It was midday now, and the town was quiet.  A lot of the stores along Main Street were closed.  They wouldn’t open until after sundown.  Terrorville and its residents were largely nocturnal.

Still, as Jack cruised past, the door to a bank opened and one of the townsfolk stepped into the sunlight.  The woman was fat and pale, with skin like white cheese.  Wisps of gray hair clung to her skull.  She turned, to glance at the car, and Jack saw the gray tumors, erupting from the flesh of her face and neck.  Her eyes were white as chalk.

“Fuck,” murmured Jack.

The Lodge woman glanced at him.  “You okay?”

“Doesn’t this place get to you?”

“No.”

“Never?”

She looked at him, and said, flatly, “I’ve been to worse.”

“I don’t think I want to know,” said Jack.

“Then you’re smarter than you look,” said St. Greer.  “You can drop me off at the hotel, then get out of town.”

Jack frowned.  “I was told . . . ”

“I don’t care what you were told,” said St. Greer.  “This is a Lodge operation now, Agent Lotus.”  Her voice was cold, crisp.  “Go back to Virginia and tell your director to get ready for a ream job, because you people really dropped the ball on this one.”

“Christ, lady!” snapped Jack.  “You want to ease off on the attitude?”

“No,” said St. Greer.  “Have you ever faced a vampire, Agent Lotus?”

“No, but. . . .”

“They’re evil in a way you can’t possibly conceive,” said the Lodge woman.  “Forget everything you think you know about them.  They aren’t effete, they aren’t romantic, and they don’t sparkle.  They’re the most dangerous things in the world.  Omega-level predators.  Can you understand that?”

Jack snorted.  “They don’t sound any different from some of the supervillains I’ve met.”

“They are.  Killjoy may be a psychopathic murderer, but he’s still human.  Adrian Lute may want to take over the world, but he doesn’t plan on killing everyone.”

“And vampires do?”

“Every vampire in the world, Agent Lotus, is an extinction-level event just waiting to happen.”

“If that was the case, lady, wouldn’t we all be dead by now?” asked Jack.

“We’ve been lucky,” said St. Greer. 

They had reached the hotel, a Gothic bed & breakfast a few blocks over from Main Street.  Jack parked the car and turned to St. Greer. 

“So, if these things are as bad as you say, what’s the worst case scenario for this mission?”

“I fail and Terrorville gets cauterized.”

“Cauterized?”

She looked into his eyes and said, “The Lodge comes in and burns the place and everyone in it down to ashes.”

Jack blinked.  St. Greer opened her door and slid out of the car. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

She looked at him with something like pity.  “No.  Get out of town, Agent Lotus.”

With that, she shut the door, turned and vanished inside the hostel.

* * * * *

Sunset arrived and Terrorville came to life.  Germain St. Greer stood at her window and watched childlike things burst out of the house across the street.  They were pale and twisted, with bristly orange hair and hooting voices.  The children rampaged joyously across the front lawn, joined by others from the surrounding houses.  Germain turned away from the window, to her case. 

It was time to get to work.

* * * * *

Sheriff Kevorkian was waiting for her in the foyer.  He had spent the time, chatting amiably with the bed and breakfast’s owner, a woman who would have been pretty if not for the second mouth, fanged and gaping, in her throat. 

Germain had decided not to take the subtle approach with this mission.  When she walked into the foyer, she was wearing a matt black skinsuit that was almost indecently tight. Over this, she wore a black jacket with several pockets.  A gunbelt hung on her narrow waist.

Kevorkian took a breath and noted a curious scent coming from the government woman.  A sort of musky odor that made all the fine hairs on his neck stand on end.

“Miss St. Greer?”

“We should go,” she said.  “Moonlight’s burning.”

Kevorkian said his goodbyes to Miss Calhoun, and hurried after her.  The mouth in Miss Calhoun’s throat growled its disapproval.

* * * * *

St. Greer was seated in his squad car when Kevorkian got there.  The government woman had a PVA in one gloved hand.  Kevorkian slid behind the wheel.

“Where to?”

He tried to ignore the perfume she was wearing, but in the confines of the car it was difficult.

“Before we go anywhere, sheriff, I should tell you something.”

“Yes?”

“Terrorville has been sealed,” said St. Greer.

Kevorkian frowned.  “What do you mean, sealed?”

“I mean that nothing is getting in or out of this town until my investigation is complete.”

“How are you . . .  ?”

“That doesn’t matter,” said St. Greer.  “All that matters is finding the vampire and destroying it. Do you understand?”

“I guess, but. . . .”

“No,” she interrupted him.  “This is a yes or no proposition, sheriff.  When we find this thing, we aren’t going to arrest it or reason with it.  I’m going to kill it.  Do you understand?”

“Yes, but. . . .”

“And,” continued St. Greer, “I will kill anyone who gets in the way.”

Kevorkian swallowed.  “I understand.”

“Good,” said St. Greer.  “Let’s go.”

“Where?”

* * * * *

Even a place like Terrorville had its bad parts, areas where respectable residents wouldn’t go willingly.  The Hester Sumner Community Housing Projects was the bad part of Terrorville.  It was government subsidized housing, a series of low-cost apartments built near the fetid waters of Lake Dante.  The Projects were home to the lowest of the low, junkies and criminals, chronic alcoholics and the unemployable. 

“Parasites,” growled Sheriff Kevorkian, as he guided his cruiser down Laurel Avenue.  There were no street lights here, the only illumination provided by moonlight and what light escaped from the dark confines of the Projects.  Most of that was the flickering light of television screens.

At the corner, stood a trio of youths wearing identical red hoodies.  They gave the police car baleful stares as it slid past.  One of the teenagers pulled out a cell phone and started dialing.

“Stop the car,” said St. Greer.

No sooner had Kevorkian touched the brakes, than St. Greer had her door open and was out of the vehicle.  She crossed the distance between the car and the three teenagers at a flat run.  Her appearance seemed to render the teenager speechless with shock.  She slapped the cell phone out of the one kid’s hand and wrapped her hand around his throat.

Up close, the kid had a face like a  Dali painting.  The features weren’t in their normal places and the bones under the parchment-like skin seemed half melted. 

One of the other kids, tall and gangly, too sharp bones breaking through his skin here and there, threw himself at St. Greer.  She kicked him in the balls. Hard.  The kid folded up, clutching his privates.

The third kid turned and ran.

“Shoot him,” St. Greer told Kevorkian.

“Are you nuts?” said the sheriff.

Scowling, St. Greer pulled her gun free of its holster.  Still gripping the one kid by the throat, she turned, aimed, fired at the one fleeing.  The gun made no noise, but the runner squealed like a stuck pig and hit the ground, twitching.

“Jesus H. Christ!” Kevorkian had his gun out now, staring at St. Greer.  “Are you crazy, lady? You can’t go around shooting people!”

“I can and I will,” said St. Greer.  She glanced at Kevorkian and sighed, hefted her gun.  “Stun rounds.”

The sheriff swore and hurried over to the gunshot kid.  St. Greer turned back to the one she was holding.  Lifting her gun, she pressed it against his temple.

“Who were you warning?”

The Dali-faced kid went pale.  The air suddenly smelt strongly of urine.

“I won’t ask again,” said St. Greer.

“If I tell you, he’ll kill me,” said the kid.

“If you don’t, I’ll kill you,” said St. Greer.

The kid’s eyes widened and slid from side to side, desperately looking for a way out.  His gaze fell on the sheriff who had returned.

“Sheriff! You gotta do something! This lady’s crazy!”

“Tell her what she wants to know, Adrian,” said Kevorkian. 

“But . . . ”

St. Greer lifted him off the ground, one-handed.  The kid flailed his arms and legs.  He gasped for air around the woman’s fingers.

“Talk,” said St. Greer, dumping the kid back on the ground.

He looked up, tears and snot running down his face.  He was flushed, his throat bruised. Frightened eyes appealed to Kevorkian, but the sheriff just shook his head.   Adrian hung his head.

“Satchmo.”

“Satchmo?” said St. Greer.

The kid nodded.

“Where can I find him?”

“The big house on Harbert,” said the kid.

“Thank you,” said St. Greer, then lifted her gun and shot the kid in the chest.

Kevorkian stared.

“It’s for his own good,” said St. Greer.  “And ours.  This way, he won’t be able to warn Satchmo that we’re coming.”

“Did it occur to you that Satchmo could just be a dealer?”

“No,” said St. Greer.  She fired a round into the third kid, the who was still clutching his nuts.  “Let’s go.”

* * * * *

Kevorkian parked the squad car a block from their destination.  He scratched the scarred half of his face.  In the passenger seat, St. Greer had her PVA open. Her face was green in the glow from the handheld’s screen.

“Interesting.”

“What?” asked Kevorkian.

“The property is owned by a man named Abraham Milan.”

“So?”

“Milan’s records stop five years ago.”

“He’s a fake?” asked the sheriff.

“It looks that way,” said St. Greer.  “You should stay here.”

“Why?”

“If Satchmo or Milan or whoever is the vampire, I won’t need the distraction.”

She climbed out of the car.  Kevorkian followed her.

“I could help,” he said.

St. Greer had pulled out a small, black aerosol can from her jacket.  She popped the top and began to spray her body.  Kevorkian inhaled a scent like musk and rotten flowers.  He reared back, gagging.

“What the hell is that?”

“Concentrated sex pheremones,” said St. Greer.  “Extracted from a female vampire.”

“And you’re covering yourself with it because?”

“I’m making myself irresistible,” said St. Greer.  She tossed the empty can aside.  “Wait for me here.  Hopefully this won’t take long.”

* * * * *

Harber Avenue was dark and quiet.  St. Greer noted the lack of street lights.  She turned and saw the center of Terrorville, glowing by gaslight.  The streets immediately around the downtown area were also illuminated, but the farther one got from the center of Terrorville, the darker the streets became.

The house she was approaching was the largest on the street.  It was a monstrous Queen Ann with a wraparound porch.  The front lawn was immaculate and populated with statues of merry lawn gnomes.  St. Greer walked up the steps to the front door and knocked.  No one answered.  After a few moments, she tried the knob.  The door swung open on noiseless hinges.  Inside, the house seemed darker than the street.

Curtains over the windows, assumed St. Greer. 

She drew her gun and stepped inside. 

There was no furniture in the living room.  The space was open, unadorned, cavernous.  Heavy drapes covered the windows.  St. Greer tore them down.  Moonlight washed across faux wood paneling.

“Well, who might you be?”

St. Greer turned, leveled her gun and fired.  She had a vague impression of movement, then laughter.

“Hmm.  Shoot first and ask questions later.  You’re Lodge, aren’t you?”

Turning, St. Greer saw the speaker, standing against the far wall.  The man was smallish, dark complected, with neat black hair.  He wore a black track suit with red piping.  His sneakers were old and worn.

“Satchmo, I presume,” said St. Greer.

“And you must be the infamous Germain St. Greer.  I was wondering if we would ever meet.”

She aimed and fired, but Satchmo vanished in a blur.  Powerful hands gripped her upper arms and heaved her across the room.  St. Greer slammed, face first, into the faux wood paneling.

“I thought you’d be taller,” said Satchmo.

St. Greer climbed to her feet and turned to face the vampire. “Sorry to disappoint.  Why Satchmo?”

“I used to be a jazz musician.”

Amateur, thought St. Greer.  She slapped a concealed patch on the wrist of her skinsuit.  The fabric flared, star bright, temporarily turning the interior of the Queen Ann as bright as noon.  Satchmo howled and covered his eyes.  St. Greer tackled him.

Vampire and vampire hunter went down in a tangle of limbs.  Satchmo quickly climbed on top and slammed St. Greer’s head against the faux wood flooring.  His eyes were red and bleeding.

“Tricky bitch!”  He opened his mouth, extending the fangs concealed behind his primary teeth. “I’m going to rip you open and fuck your heart!”

I guess the sex pheremones are working, thought St. Greer.  She reached up, grabbed the vampire’s head with both hands, and twisted.  Satchmo jerked as she broke his neck, flecks of caustic saliva hitting her face.  She ignored the sizzle of her flesh, and rolled, pinning the vampire to the floor.

His eyes were rolling, his jaw clicking as he tried, vainly, to bite her.  She drew back her arm and punched her fist through his skull.  Instantly, the vampire grew still.  St. Greer removed her fist from his brain and wiped her hand on the vampire’s track suit.

“Fuck.”

Turning, St. Greer saw Sheriff Kevorkian standing in the doorway.  He had his weapon drawn and looked as if he were going to be sick.

“I told you to wait outside, sheriff.”

“I didn’t hear anything for a while, so thought. . . .”

St. Greer nodded and stood.  “It’s all right.  It’s done.”

He hesitated.  “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

* * * * *

“How can you be sure?” asked Jack Lotus.

He’d picked St. Greer up at the bed and breakfast that morning and was driving her back to Virginia.

“Vampires work alone,” said St. Greer.  “That’s one of the few advantages we have over them. They’re extremely territorial and extremely competitive.  The only time you’ll get two vampires in the same room is if they’re mating.”

“Mating? I thought they were undead.”

“Remember what I said?  Forget everything you think you know about them. Most of it is myth or misinformation deliberately spread by the vampires themselves.  Besides, where do you think child vampires come from?”

Lotus let that one slide.  He glanced in the rearview mirror.  “Well, at least Terrorville is behind us.”  He shook his head.  “That place is just . . . wrong.”

“Why?”

“Why? Don’t you have eyes?  All those freaks.  They just give me the willies.”

“I think I understand, now, why Satchmo chose to set up his nest there.”

“Oh?”

“Most people wouldn’t care what happened to the residents of Terrorville.  After all, they’re all viewed as monsters and freaks anyway.  Correct?  They were the perfect victims.  No wonder your colleagues hesitated to pass on Sheriff Kevorkian’s reports on the deaths.  They just didn’t care what happened to the people there.”

Jack frowned.  “It was a simple administrative error.”

“I find that hard to believe,” said St. Greer.  “Sanction has a 94 percent success rate, identifying and taking steps to neutralize supercriminal activity, and they have almost exclusive federal jurisdiction in Terrorville.  Your agency should have been all over this from the very first murder, Agent Lotus.”

“That’s. . . .”

“Did you know that before the recent deaths there hadn’t been a homicide in Terrorville in almost ten years?”

He frowned and gripped the steering wheel. “No, I didn’t.”

“Something to think about.”

“Can we change the subject? Please?”

“Of course,” said St. Greer.  “What would you like to talk about?”

Jack glanced at her, out of the corner of his eye.  “Tell me about you, Agent St. Greer.  What’s your story?”

She glanced at him.  “I could tell you, Agent Lotus, but then I’d have to kill you.”

He chuckled until he saw her expression.

They drove the rest of the way in silence.