Hexcommunicated by Rafael Chandler


Hexcommunicated
Rafael Chandler
Genre: Urban Fantasy
Publisher: Neoplastic Press
Date of Publication: July 7, 2012
ISBN: 978-1478196662
ASIN: B008IVFRCE
Number of pages: 302
Word Count: 94,400
Cover Artist: Lou Harper
Cover Model: Rose Ballentine
Tagline: When the sun comes up, the girl of his dreams will murder him.
Book Description:
The name is Tepes. Nicolae Tepes. I’m a federal agent with Hex Division.
When the sun comes up, the girl of my dreams is going to kill me.
My partner’s a werewolf, but we get along okay. We were investigating this murder when we stumbled across a conspiracy unlike anything we’ve ever dealt with before. Ghostmortems, Scarevoyants, all kinds of freaks.
It started bad and got worse quick: a psychic on our team had a vision of the future. At sunrise, I’ll die at the hands of the woman I love, and then a psychotic death cult will deploy a supernatural weapon of mass destruction.
We’ve got eight hours to prevent this prophecy from coming true, but the psychics of Hex Division are never wrong…
Excerpt
One:
          Hands trembling,
the cop chased the tip of his cigarette with a lighter for a couple of seconds.
Then he saw me and stuffed it all back into his pocket.
            I
badged him. “Agent Tepes, Hex Division.”
            The
cop straightened. His hands jerked up, then down. He was trying to figure out
if he should salute me.
            While
waiting for him to make up his mind, I pulled on a flak jacket. Partly, I was
trying to stay warm, but mostly, I wanted to hide the dried blood on my arms
and neck. The wounds had healed up, but I’d need to clean the blood off
eventually.
            “Relax,”
I said. “Where’s Agent Tambora?”
            “Inside.”
He looked me up and down, then swallowed. Guy probably heard all kinds of
rumors about us. The freaks of nature who get deployed into hellholes around
the globe. Force Amplified Entities, the army of cyborg monsters who operate in
shadow. The FAE, constructed in billion-dollar labs, fighting terrorism with
horror.
            His
suspicions were grounded in fact. We were all of the above, and then some. My
team had captured or neutralized dozens of terrorist leaders, drug lords, and
war criminals. Everybody has a job to do; mine just involves fast-roping out of
choppers with my fangs out and my eyes glowing red.
            Mindful
of the yellow crime-scene tape, I headed up the driveway, the cop stumbling
along behind me. The tiny house crouched on the edge of a patchy beige lawn.
Flashlights cut through the dark as cops searched for footprints, bodily
fluids, fibers. Peeping from behind torn and faded curtains, neighbors
rehearsed their statements: they’d always had their doubts about the guy next
door, and this only confirmed what they’d suspected all along: the guy just
wasn’t right. Feeling the unholy vibe this scene was giving off, they hovered
on their porches but got no closer. Crimes like this were rare in the suburbs
of North Raleigh.
            The
cop cleared his throat and tried to man up; he didn’t want to look like a sissy
in front of the feds. I didn’t care how he looked. One of my people was dead.
            “Agent
Tepes, do you think there’s a connection to terrorists? Like Al-Hazred or
something?”
            “Sorry.
Classified.”
            No
one knows what we do at Hermetic Extropy; all they know is, after the slaughter
at Providence, we took the fight to the enemy. Like everyone else, the cop was
hoping to learn a little more about our operation. Too bad.
            The
front door swung open. A face-masked forensic tech in paper shoes and blue
nitrile gloves was explaining something to my teammate, Adam Tambora. The tech
nodded, then shuffled back inside. Adam strode towards me.
            He’d
grown up in the hinterlands, one of those square states that I always pictured
like a Laura Ingalls Wilder novel, but with pickup trucks and high school
football. A muscular blonde guy with a recruitment-poster grin, he always got
treated like the team leader, even though he’s the lowest-ranking member of my
unit. But there’s a trade-off for those all-American good looks. When I deploy
my FAE augmentations, my eyes turn red and my canine teeth extend about a
half-inch. Other than that, I look pretty much the same. Adam, on the other
hand, undergoes some truly grotesque changes when his Frankenstitch enhancements
kick in. I figured the forensic technician wouldn’t be so deferential if he
could only see what Adam looks like in monster mode.
            My
petty train of thought was derailed by Adam’s firm handshake. “Glad you’re
here,” he said, clapping me on the shoulder. Then he looked past me and
frowned.
            A
few police officers were waving at us from the driveway. We dodged scurrying
forensic techs as we crossed the lawn towards them.
            Two
cops, a male officer and a female detective, shivered next to the SUV in the
driveway. I started to address the detective, but Adam cut me off and started
talking to the officer.
            “What
can we do for you, buddy?”
            The
officer took a small step back, with an embarrassed look at the detective. He
felt bad, but it wasn’t his fault; Adam was the one who’d made the assumption.
            The
detective cleared her throat. “We want to jack up this truck,” she
said. Her face reddened with irritation. She probably got that a lot: guys
assuming that she was a subordinate. “We need to see the underside. Looks like
it’s been tampered with, and our techs want to get a better look. That okay
with you?”
            Assuming
that he was in charge, she addressed Adam. I gritted my teeth and let it go.
            “I
can do you one better,” Adam said with a grin. He shooed her back. Confused,
but sharing his infectious smile, she stepped away.
            Adam
squatted down by the truck, clutched the frame, and lifted. Mouths open and
eyes wide, the cops and techs all backed away. The pickup rocked over on its
side, glass shattering as the vehicle’s weight crushed the passenger-side
mirror.
            Stepping
back, he wiped his hands on his pants. His perfectly even teeth gleamed in the
harsh crime-scene floodlights. The audience broke into spontaneous applause.
            “How
did you do that?” the detective asked. A second later, she caught herself
and laughed. “Sorry, I know. Loyalty Act, classified information.”
            “Can’t
tell you anything,” Adam said. “Above your pay grade. And mine.”
They smiled. I managed not to roll my eyes. Adam shook a few hands, then he and
I headed for the backyard.
            “Nick,”
he said. “I know you disapprove, but these officers worship us like rock
stars or athletes. Giving them a little something to talk about is good for
morale.”

 

            “We’re
supposed to stay in the shadows.” I tried to keep the irritation out of my
voice. Sure, I fell off a castle and landed on an SUV in front of a bunch of
slack-jawed civilians, and then I stabbed a monster in the neck. But that was
all in the line of duty, not showboating.
 
About the Author:
Rafael Chandler writes novels (Mask Beneath Her Face, The Astounding Antagonists), video games (SOCOM 4, Rainbow Six: Lockdown), and tabletop role-playing games (Teratic Tome, Lusus Naturae). He’s a metalhead, kaijuphile, and gorehound.

 

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Into Nostra by Brantwijn Serrah

Into Nostra
The Pact
Book 2
Brantwijn Serrah
Genre: Supernatural Adventure
Publisher: Champagne Books
Date of Publication: January 8th, 2018
ISBN: 978-1-947128-24-8
ASIN: B078W2QLKY
Number of pages: 225
Word Count: 84,000
Cover Artist: Brantwijn Serrah
Tagline: They have opened the door to the apex predator, and now it is hunting them down.
Book Description:
Deals with the devil always have their price. Problem is, the devil collects with interest.
Serenity Walker thought she had the upper hand when it came to her partnership with a demon. D’aej is dangerous, but he was always on her side. Then an old friend lifts the scales from her eyes, and Serenity sees her contract for what it truly is: imprisonment, bloodshed, evil. All done by her own hands.
Now Serenity must pay for her ignorance and work harder than ever to fight a demon who can use her body, fool her senses, even twist every thought in her head. Only one sorceress has the power to teach Serenity what she really needs to know…a sorceress possessed by a fiend even bigger and badder than any Serenity has seen before.
Champagne Books     Amazon               Kobo     
Excerpt:
A woman
flickered into existence. As if stepping out of some eternal veil, she appeared
without warning and made straight for Serenity in quick, purposeful strides.
The wide, swooping brim of a black cowboy hat hid her eyes; long silver hair
streamed out behind her like a pale, gossamer banner. The lithe curves of a
predator couldn’t be hidden underneath her black corset and boiled leather
leggings—sleek animal fur lined the tops of her boots, tribal moccasins dyed
with deep ink and painted with runic markings along the seams.
Serenity managed
to identify the symbols as the marks of a killer, but she had no time to move.
All along this fighter’s arms danced a swirling dark energy, a kind of magic
Serenity had never seen before: the shadowy swarm of a hundred darkling faces,
crackling and howling like flames. Her mind flashed in panic back to the fehu
tapestry in Eclipse, guarding the weaver’s blackest arts, and just as the woman
raised both fists over her head to bring them crashing down on Serenity, D’aej
seized control and ducked the body out of the way.

 

Don’t stare at
her like a cow on the train tracks, he shouted across their bond, his anger
echoing off the walls of her skull. Get moving!
 
About the Author:
When she isn’t visiting the worlds of immortals, demons, dragons and goblins, Brantwijn fills her time with artistic endeavors: sketching, painting, customizing My Little Ponies and playing with graphic design. She can’t handle coffee unless there’s enough cream and sugar to make it a milkshake, but try and sweeten her tea and she will never forgive you. She moonlights as a futon for four lazy cats, loves tabletop role-play games, and can spend hours on end sketching characters and scenes in her secret notebooks.
 
Amazon       relinks.me/BrantwijnSerrah  
 
Google+      http://tinyurl.com/oqt2r7r  
 
YouTube Channel http://tinyurl.com/pn9y992  
 
Author Webpage   www.brantwijn.com  
 
Twitter @Brantwijn
Subscriber Newsletter  http://tinyurl.com/pz8drut    

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Freaky Franky by William Blackwell

 

Freaky Franky
William Blackwell
Genre: Horror
Publisher: Telemachus Press
Date of Publication: December 3, 2017
ISBN: ISBN-10: 1945330945
ISBN-13: 978-1945330940
ASIN: B077X41V9J
Number of pages: 326
Word Count: 66323
Cover Artist: Johnny Breeze
Tagline: Santa Muerte followers discover the horrifying consequences of worshipping with evil intentions.
Book Description:
When an enigmatic town doctor saves the life of Anisa Worthington’s dying son, she abandons Christianity in favor of devotion to the cult of Santa Muerte or Saint Death. Some believe the mysterious skeleton saint will protect your loved ones; help in matters of the heart; provide abundant happiness, health, wealth and justice. But others, including the Catholic Church, call it blasphemous, evil and satanic.
Anisa introduces Saint Death to troubled Catholic friend Helen Randon and strange things begin happening. One of Helen’s enemies is brutally murdered and residents of Montague, a peaceful little town in Prince Edward Island, begin plotting to rid the Bible belt of apostates.
Anisa suspects Helen is perverting the good tenets of Santa Muerte but, before she can act, a terrible nightmare propels her to the Dominican Republic in search of Freaky Franky, her long-lost and unstable brother, who mysteriously disappeared without a trace twenty years ago.
To her horror, Anisa learns Freaky Franky is also worshiping Santa Muerte with evil intentions. As a fanatical and hell-bent lynch mob tightens the noose, mysterious murders begin occurring all around Anisa. Unsure about who’s an enemy and who’s an ally, she’s thrust into a violent battle to save her life as well as the lives of her unpredictable friends and brother.
Amazon     Amazon.ca     BN      Author Website
About the Author:
William Blackwell studied journalism at Calgary’s Mount Royal University and English literature at Vancouver’s University of British Columbia. He worked as a print journalist for many years before becoming an author. He has written over seventeen novels, mainly in the horror genre. Currently living on an acreage in Prince Edward Island, Blackwell loves to travel and write dark fiction.
Twitter: @wblackwell333

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