“One, Two..” He screamed the last number, “three!” Yanking open the door, the Author ran like a man chased by a baby with a dirty diaper to the back fence.
It was, he counted, at least thirty-two steps of torturous danger. Coming up on the fence at full speed he put on the brakes, eyeing the top of the fence as he reached into his back pocket.
SHIT! He turned to look at the back door in dismay, he had left the snippet on the countertop!
Dammit. He started chugging his middle-aged body back towards the back door, looking out for any nefarious insects that could be trying to ambush him.
Making it to the back porch he went inside. Breathing hard, he grabbed the first shot glass and tossed it back, the carbonation burning the back of his throat.
He set the glass aside and grabbed the snippet this time, sticking it in his pocket. He looked over his shoulder and the fence easily moved back another thirty steps.
He set his shoulders and turned back. Grabbing the second Coke, he drank it quickly and then pushed off the counter top, racing back across the back yard, dodging the zombie disease carrying mosquitos when he arrived at the fence. Reaching into his pocket, his hands clasped on the snippet.
Throwing the snippet over the fence, it rebounded off the fence a foot from his face and came back to hit him in his left eye, “Diddly Sock Puppet!” he screamed, grabbing his eye with his left hand. Looking around, one eye down, he finally discovered the snippet and hastily tried to grab it. Three times was the charm and he flung it back over the fence.
It disappeared into the clouds.
Running back to the house, he tried to look for any traps along the way, the sweat was real this time.
Tripping on the step up onto the back porch, our intrepid Author made it to the back door and stepped inside, slamming the door behind him. Leaning back against the door, his chest heaving due to exertion,
The Author smiled and put up his hand in VICTORY!
“Woohoo!” he shouted for today he had beaten the evil hell’s half acre and come back alive. Perhaps wounded (he wondered if he should get a medal for his valorous efforts) he took the three steps and dropped into his chair.
In a stupor, smile on his face and one eye still closed our beloved author reached out and grabbed the second Coke and downed it.
Fifteen minutes later, the sons of the author came in through the garage door from school. Calling out, they didn’t hear dad reply.
They found him on the kitchen floor, Pepsi dribbling down his shirt.
“That…” he whispered to the first son to ask him what happened, “wasn’t…Coke…”
So, ended Don’t Cross This Line’s pre-snippet, snippets.
The following are the confirmed Authors who are writing in The Kurtherian Gambit Universe with me. Our first collaboration books are releasing either in December or January 2017
Check them out ;-)
CRAIG MARTELLE - Terry Henry “TH” Walton Chronicles
Craig is the Author of the best selling End Times Alaska Series, The Free Trader Series and the new Cygnus Rising series.
He is a retired Marine, lawyer (not holding that against him) and consultant. He is taking over the science fiction and military fiction genres.
Craig is letting loose in The Kurtherian Universe with language not used in his writing since…Well, he heard it in the Marines.
Here is the first blurb about Terry Henry.
The Terry Henry “TH” Walton Chronicles starts with Nomad Found (January 2017)
After the fall, strength was power, then electrical power became a force unto itself. The strong built their empires, only because of people like Terry Henry Walton. He showed a small town boss there are no limits if you planned well and built slowly.
You just have to stay smart to be one step ahead of the next strongman.
In a world where mechanics and engineers are the most valuable people, Terry committed to protect them with his life. Little did he know he lived because others allowed it. Little did they know, he doesn’t give a fuck what they allow.
Because Robert told him the future was bleak, and he has an ace-in-the-hole.
VISIT CRAIG ON HIS AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE:
https://www.amazon.com/Craig-Martelle/e/B01AQVF3ZY/
TS (Scott) Paul - Etheric Empire Academy Series
Scott is the author of the bestselling science fiction YA Athena Lee Chronicles and his new best selling Urban Fantasy Federal Witch series.
Scott is well known to my fans as he is the #1 Also-bought almost every day I look (meaning he is the most purchased author of the top 16 authors my fans read).
When I was searching for a collaborator to do a YA series, I figured I’d ask Scott because it was a logical choice, but with his success and busy writing schedule, I hadn’t really expected him to say ‘yes’.
I’m super happy that he signed up!
The Etheric Empire Academy series (first book release Dec 2016) will follow those youth we know from the stories (Cheryl Lynn’s daughter and son and others) as a uniquely Bethany Anne academy is created to help them learn not only Reading, Writing and Arithmetic… But Etheric Anti-Gravity engineering, small squad tactics and alien relations 101.
Unfortunately, just like their parents are single minded and willing to break a few rules, the children don’t fall far from that tree.
VISIT SCOTT ON HIS AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE:
https://www.amazon.com/T-S-Paul/e/B01C7IPHYQ
JUSTIN SLOAN - Reclaiming Honor Series
Justin is the author behind such titles as Falls of Redemption Trilogy, Modern Necromancy Series (with Michael La Ron), Bringer of Light Trilogy (Allie Strom) and additional work on the Game of Thrones game as well as tv and movie scripts (his latest work with Sean Platt and others was picked up recently to be made into a movie.)
The Reclaiming Honor (Justice is Calling out 12.15.2016) series paints the picture of the world Michael returns to one hundred and fifty years after Bethany Anne and the Etheric Empire have left to fight the Kurtherians.
Valerie, a vampire changed by one of David’s children who was released from his cement prison by grave robbers, can’t follow her father anymore.
She must follow the call in her heart and seeks the land of America to prepare to protect it from the effort to spread her father’s dominion.
All while trying to figure out why some people are starting to trade in blackmarket Vampire blood in this new city-state.
VISIT JUSTIN ON HIS AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE:
https://www.amazon.com/Justin-Sloan/e/B00OJPAM0K
Justice Is Calling - A New Kurtherian Gambit Series
Coming
December 2016
CHAPTER 1
Old Angers, France (West of Paris)
Valerie turned her head just enough to stop the rancid, oil-slicked water from flowing into her mouth. The street was filthy, even ignoring the blood and guts--not that those would disgust her. Well, not the blood anyway, her being a vampire and all.
Something had tasted nasty in that water. Nasty enough for her to care to move her head, in spite of the piercing pain that doing so sent through her body. That's what happens when your brother breaks practically every bone in your body and leaves you on the rain-drenched street.
Utter and unbelievable pain.
In fact, she was ready for the sun to come up. Hoping it would hurry and get on with it, how much worse than what she was already feeling could the sun be? Death had never scared her. But pain? Even though she had always healed from it, she hated pain.
And with this much pain, she was ready to die. All thanks to her brother, Donovan.
She’d hoped he was gone, done with her, but she felt him next to her. She could smell his scent, even through the blood that had come streaming out of her broken nose.
Donovan, that ass, kneeled down and moved her hair so that it wasn’t blocking her view of him.
“See, Valerie, I can be nice when I want to.” He chuckled and cast a glan
ce over his shoulder, where she imagined one of his goons stood but couldn’t see from this angle. Probably Jean-Pierre, his right-hand man, and the one that had delivered the sucker punch that set her up for her brother’s beat-down.
He turned back to her, “I just never care to be nice,” he continued. He leaned a little closer, enough she could smell his breath, “That’s the difference between you and me."
Those goons laughed, and she imagined ripping their pitiful, small brained heads from their gorilla-like bodies. They’d ambushed her as she walked down the raining street. Lost in her thoughts, she would’ve been able to take them any other time, but today something had changed. She lost focus... and direction.
She’d seen the chaos, the death, the truth. Like a veil covering her eyes, the lies had been lifted. Now the reality of her situation didn't sit right with her. Especially not when she’d turned to see one of these goons taking the life of a child. A defenseless child, dead, for no reason. And now… she couldn’t do anything to stop them from continuing to be ruthless fucking pricks. It sucked.
“You. Are. A. Dick,” she managed between pained breaths and choking on the sewer runoff that flowed into her mouth.
She coughed up and half-vomited, pleased to see the scrunched up expression on Donovan’s face when some of that sewage-spit-meets-vomit hit his shoes.
“Yes,” he said, casually standing up and then wiping his shoe off on her pants. “But this dick isn’t the one dying in the deserted street, waiting for the clouds to break apart and have the unholy sun come down and kill her, is he?” He sneered, then laughed when she tried to talk again and failed.
She looked to the dark blue at the edge of the black sky, a hint of pink working its way up along with the rising son, and struggled to say, “Dad…”
He barked a laugh and said, “Dad? Dad is going to appreciate the truth, if I ever get around to telling him. Why he dotes on your worthless, spineless ass, I don’t know. Now, he will be sad for maybe a day or two and then he can continue the effort to plan the eventual takeover of the New York City State by yours truly.” Donovan glared down at her, disdain heavy in his voice as he said, “Not by a little whore who disgraces all vampires with her inability to act.”
He watched her for a minute, lying there, broken and bleeding then he smiled. “Darling sister, you look sick.” With a laugh, he kicked sewage water in her face, “You must stay hydrated.”
Behind closed eyelids, the embers of her anger started to burn slowly; the sewage runoff like gas for the burning hatred in her gut.
Now? Now dying wasn’t an option. His ass was hers if it was the last thing she managed in this life.
Donovan and his goons walked off, laughing as she worked to figure out how she could beat the sun from stopping her in her vengeance…No, not vengeance.
Justice.
She tried to move her hand, but all she could manage was whimpering in pain. A tear, laced with blood, joined the water beneath her face.
***
Sandra ran through the corpses of the slaughtered, her heart hardened to yet another conquered village. She had thought she'd enjoy witnessing one more conquest in the Blessed's gradual move to the coast. During training, she had listened with fascination of the stories, always amazed by their courage. They had come this far from Old Paris and had managed to take down or absorb into the Duke’s kingdom every group they found in the barren and forsaken lands.
The dying lands.
None of that mattered right now, because if Sandra didn’t find her Valerie, her Mistress, it would be her head.
No, that wasn’t what Valerie had said…It would be her heart. On a platter, served cold for Valerie’s other servants to consume while she watched.
Part of that threat terrified Sandra, but part of it made her laugh. Sure, she’d seen the darker side of her Mistress. But they’d also spent evenings together staring out over the wasteland that had once been known as Paris... the toppled Eiffel Tower and lines of abandoned cars, all the while wondering what the days had been like before the collapse of civilization.
They’d talked, they’d laughed, and they’d touched. Her Mistress’s hand had found hers, and then her lips, gentle, yet firm. A kiss, given in friendship and maybe something more?
It had never happened again, and Sandra had been sworn to secrecy. But…it was enough to make her doubt Valerie would ever cause her any real harm.
So yes, fear drove her in this search, but more than that. It was loyalty, and the deepest love for a friend one could have, when said friend was a vampire princess and one’s supposedly ruthless Mistress.
The feeding contributed to the loyalty, she couldn’t ignore that, of course. The taste of Valerie’s blood when she offered it wasn’t what Sandra would call sweet, but it flowed through her, making her feel younger, healthier, and in complete bliss.
The only problem was that it was addictive as hell.
She reached the top of the pile of rubble and, in the distance, saw the rays of sun peeking out over the trees. The other Blessed, as the father of them all titled his Clan, were pulling back to the cover of darkness. The father, Le Duc Eckhart was simply referred to as the Duke, his French title from the old days.
That had been before he’d gone into sleep mode and slept right through the end of days, or the “Second Falling of Rome,” as he called it. Now, he orchestrated these attacks and insisted on war camps set up at a retreat point, guarded by loyal Weres during the day. A raid would occur, then Eckhart’s children and their children would retreat during the light of day while his other troops cleaned up and established another outpost in his name.
Even the Duke couldn’t survive in sunlight, which meant Valerie definitely could not. Being a non-modified human meant Sandra could, but it didn’t matter. She’d either die here searching for her Mistress, or be torn to pieces when she returned without her.
“Valerie,” she called out in a hoarse whisper, her voice overused from calling out for her master. One minute Valerie had been at the front lines, charging in to attack with Donovan, and the next she'd wandered off, aimlessly.
Shadows were beginning to creep along the roads, and one moved. At first, Sandra refused to get her hopes up, figuring it was simply a forgotten victim, but then she saw the eyes—red, glimmering, searching.
In the flash that it took her legs to carry her to her Mistress, Sandra was kneeling beside Valerie. She gasped in shock at the sight of her master. In the past, Valerie had returned home with gunshots, Werewolf bites, and worse…but nothing like this. The beating she must have taken to be in this state was unheard of.
Then it hit her. No human could have done this to her Mistress.
“Who betrayed you?” Sandra asked, hands shaking in anger. “I’m sorry I couldn’t find you earlier, I searched, but…where’d you go?”
Valerie almost smiled, but the tears of blood running down her cheeks gave her away. Her mouth opened, but no words came out.
“We have to get you out of the sun,” Sandra said, and then bent down to help her up.
But the motion sent a spasm through Valerie and she screamed in pain.
Again Sandra glanced at the horizon. The thick, billowing clouds were orange now with highlights of purple, and the tip of the sun was barely visible.
“Drink, Mistress,” she said, holding out her wrist for Valerie. “It’s the only way.”
***
Valerie stared up at this lowly human. Her servant, yet so much more. There was no way around it, if she hoped to survive long enough to escape the sunlight and one day truly bring justice about, this was the way.
Every bone in her body snapped and cracked as she tried to move for the bite, but the pain caused her to collapse in agony.
“Please,” she whispered, the words barely escaping her mouth. This was humiliation galore. Valerie the vampire princess stooping to such lows.
But to not do so meant Donovan won, and that she could not allow.
“Please,”
she said again, and this time Sandra heard, judging by the look of shock in her eyes.
Without hesitation, Sandra pressed her wrist to Valerie’s mouth, flinching only slightly when the fangs pierced her skin.
Warm blood flowed forth and it tasted of life—sweet, aromatic, and soothing. At first, Valerie felt she would close her eyes and just sleep forever, but then a surge of energy and power came over her. She knew that nothing could ever stand in her way.
Skin pulled itself back together and she felt her bones mending themselves. She licked her lips and drank more, closing her eyes in ecstasy and then focusing on the warmth of the blood as it filled her and nursed her back to life.
A soft moan. She looked up to see how pale Sandra had become in a matter of seconds, and what she hadn’t seen at first hit her—sunlight forming a halo around her servant’s head. The sunrise had found them.
The Kurtherian Gambit Omnibus 05 - The Fans Version: My Ride is a Bitch - Don't Cross This Line - Never Submit Page 57