Thursday, November 12, 2015


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

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.
* * *
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:


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