Horror / Vampire
Date Published:
November 8, 2015
Publisher: Pas de Chat
Sweeping.
Powerful. Unforgettable. Award-winning novelist W. Potocki takes you on a
harrowing adventure. This Gothic journey into the dark world of vampires will
leave you breathless.
Still shaken from
the untimely death of her father, Miranda is forced to assume control of his
business empire. She begins the arduous task of overhauling Perry Antiques, but
soon discovers a priceless treasure that her father hid from the world. In
attempting to ascertain its authenticity, she is placed in the crosshairs of a
cunning vampire named Adduné. He is consumed with exacting vengeance for an
unpardonable transgression--an offense that demands the ultimate punishment.
There are "many twists and turns" throughout the story, and there
"is no way anyone could have seen that ending!! Great read!" --
Brandi Pearson.
The Adduné Vampire
Trilogy Box Set is the complete series and contains:
Part I. The
Vampires Game
Part II. The House
of Cards
Part III. The
Reckoning
EXCERPT
She looked up at the transom and saw a sliver of the
moon. It was dark now, the moon risen high up in the sky. She usually liked to
watch the moon, but not tonight. It was unsettling her so she kept her eyes
trained down upon the floor as she stealthily approached the old crate. It
seemed a bit slanted and off kilter from where she remembered it positioned.
And she could have sworn it was facing the other way. She must be mistaken
because old shipping boxes didn’t move on their own accord.
Unless the person walking around moved it.
She bit down gently on her lip. There was no person
walking around. She was alone—alone with a big dumb crate that needed opening.
Worrying about an intruder was ridiculous, as was thinking it was an employee.
When an employee entered or left the museum, they swiped a cardkey. While it
was an accurate way of keeping a record of their hours, it was also a reliable
way to keep track of who was in the building. In between entries, Rachel had
used her computer to check the employee log and saw no one had entered. No one
was there, except for her. Since her name was correctly recorded, she could
only conclude that all systems were go and that the elaborate security system
was functioning.
In terms of someone sneaking in, that also was
impossible. The system was automatically activated as soon as the workday
ended. That meant no one got in or out without their card. If anyone tried to
enter without one, they’d set off the mega alarm. Since a SWAT team hadn’t
arrived, no one had snuck in through a broken window, or a crack in the door.
She needed to face the fact that she was alone.
She knelt down,
jamming the crowbar in the seam holding the lid to the base. Hitting the end of
the crowbar a few times with the bell face of her claw hammer, she placed her
foot on the handle of the metal jimmy. She used her full weight to press down,
hearing a soft tearing sound. She pulled the jimmy out applying the same
pressure a few inches away. She continued until the lid was loosened. Lifting
it, she was hit in the face by a cold of glacial proportions.
It had been the damned crate causing the chill. With the
removal of the lid, the air was now so abnormally cold that it hurt to breathe.
Tossing the lid to the side, she wiped the tears forming in her eyes. Caused by
the violence of the frigid air, they were not only annoying, but obscuring her
vision.
Gripping at her shawl, she could see her own breath. She
ran to check the temperature gauge located in the exhibitor’s room. It
registered a mild 68 degrees. The disparity was staggering. Returning to the
partially opened casing, she didn’t savor about being caught in its icy grip.
Covering her jaw, she swathed her lower face with her
shawl. It was a trick she’d learned growing up in Minnesota. With her mouth
covered, she only breathed in warm air. It always diminished the effects of the
harsh winters, but tonight it didn’t help. Her teeth started to chatter,
anyway.
Lifting off the quilted material used as filler, she
sharply inhaled. Discovering what object had been packed, her intuition had
been right. It was a coffin—an old pine one.
She innately drew back from the pine box. She didn’t want
to be anywhere near it, and yet, she’d have to look inside. What other way did
she have to determine what was in it? Jake would be all over her if she didn’t
straighten this out—tonight. Retrieving the hammer and crowbar from where she’d
dropped them, she found it was harder to move and to think. Attempting to
motivate herself, she unconvincingly told herself that the work would help
fight off the paralysis caused by the temperature.
Since the accursed box was inside the outer crate, it
would make the logistics of prying it open difficult. The narrowness of the
walls wouldn’t let her get a proper angle on prying it open. Why the hell did
it have to be nailed shut? The outer crate had been sealed, hadn’t it? Why the
extra precaution?
She stopped the mental gymnastics. There was no way of
knowing why anything was done, nor did it make a difference. She’d have to
remove the damned nails, one by one. She climbed up, balancing her feet on the
packing crate. Tugging her skirt up, she placed a foot down on either side
until straddling the pine box. She didn’t like the feel of it between her legs.
Her feet wedged in place, there was no room to move. A frigid breeze rose up
her skirt, burning her bare thighs. Switching tools, she started to work.
* * *
AUTHOR
BIO
W. Potocki lives and writes in NYC. If that isn't scary
enough, she write in the genre of horror. She feels creating good horror is an
art form and religiously pursues it over hill and dale--and in the crevices of her
keyboard.
She’s published eight works thus far, all ready for
consumption. She was named one of the Top Ten "New" Horror Authors by
Horror Novel Reviews, and this year was a Round Winner in the Male Vs. Female
Horror Writing Competition hosted by J. Ellington Ashton Press. Her award-winning
story will be featured in an anthology produced by the event called DEADLIEST
OF THE SPECIES. As to what got her started writing sick and twisted tales, she
was and is a huge Stephen King fan. She has been ever since reading SALEM'S
LOT. That classic was a major inspiration for her to wreak my own kind of havoc
and take a whack at spinning dark tales. In terms of style, She prefers writing
psychological horror or what is referred to as "quiet horror". It's
the kind of story that preys on a reader's mind long after they finish turning
pages.
Every year, she hosts HALLOWEENPALOOZA: The 31 Days of
Halloween. This year's theme will be monsters. There are some great original
horror shorts on the blog. The stories are a fantastic way to sample some very
talented scaremeisters.
If you'd like to keep in touch W. Potocki, she’s splattered
all over the web at the following places:
PURCHASE LINKS:
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