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New #Horror: Gods & Monsters by SH Roddey

Published August 17, 2017 by admin

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What can I say, it’s just a promote-y kind of week. Today I’m not talking about myself, though (for once). When one of my co-conspirators has something awesome out, it makes me want to cheer and smash it in everyone’s face. What can I say. So yeah, S.H. Roddey is writing again, which makes me incredibly happy. And her

new one looks awesome.

 

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Title:         Gods & Monsters
Subtitle:   A Shadow Council Case Files Novella
Author:    S.H. Roddey
Genre:      Dark Fantasy, Historical Horror
Buy Link: https://www.amazon.com/Gods-Monsters-Council-Archives-Novella-ebook/dp/B0745XLWSN

Series Info

They have worked behind the scenes of society for centuries, protecting humans from threats beyond their understanding. They are The Shadow Council, and these Archives are the stories of their members and adventures throughout recorded history. From folk heroes to monsters out of darkest nightmare, the Shadow Council Archives explore the world beyond mundane understanding.

He is the original horror novel. He is the first science fiction hero. He is Adam, creation of Victor Frankenstein, and he is more than dead, but less than alive. And he is being hunted.

From the pages of the Quincy Harker novellas comes this original tale of Adam, Frankenstein’s monster, in his earliest days. Wandering Europe shortly after the death of his “father,” Victor, Adam encounters a secret society determined to unlock the mysteries of life and death. He’s seen this obsession before. It never ends well.

Blood, lust, life, death, and friendship are all explored in this incredible look into the mind of the original monster.

This Shadow Council urban fantasy novella comes from the world of Quincy Harker, Demon Hunter. Similar in length to Bookshots, these novellas provide a glimpse behind the curtain at an urban fantasy world where demons walk the earth, and the monster may well be the hero.

Cover Blurb

“My scars, my disfigurement…those were things I could not change. But who I was? That was entirely up to me. I, Adam, Son of Frankenstein, could, at long last, be a man.

Decades after the death of Victor Frankenstein, Adam returns to Ingolstadt in search of answers and acceptance.  What he finds is not what he expects: a beautiful woman spiraling into insanity, a murderous cult determined to harness the power of creation, and his worst fears coming to fruition. An offer of assistance from a mysterious stranger turns his world on end and sets him on a path toward both salvation and destruction.

 

First Chapter

 

Victor Frankenstein is dead.

This startling revelation settled in my mind on a clear day in February as I sat atop a snow-capped mountain and watched the lights of Selfoss wink on in the evening gloom below. Iceland as a whole slept under cover of darkness, soft and secure in the thoughts that monsters did not exist. If only they knew… Though to me it seemed the true monster was gone at last. It had been some time since I looked over my shoulder in search of his maddened visage, and longer still since word of his pursuit reached my ears.

With the revelation came a near-crippling release of emotion. Relief flooded my senses, and had my tear ducts been operational, I might have shed tears of joy. My long-suffering countenance could finally clear, and I might, for the first time in my miserable existence, have the opportunity to experience life without the specter of my past. Time was no longer my enemy. My father could no longer hurt me. I could accept my beginnings and move on from them. In that instant, I made a series of choices.

I chose, to the best of my ability, to integrate myself more with the creatures from whose stock I was built. I chose morality. I chose humanity. I chose to let my demons lie and embrace the things I could be. My scars, my disfigurement…those were things I could not change. But who I was…that was entirely up to me.

I, Adam, Son of Frankenstein, could at long last be a man.

I stood and crept down the mountain. The tiny hamlet contained roughly a dozen buildings, all in varying stages of disrepair. Many had roofs made of straw and thatch; others bore wood plank walls with large pockmarks packed hard with ice. In very few windows did lanterns burn. The only building that could, in fact, be considered habitable by European society’s standards was the inn. A puff of white smoke billowed from the chimney, and inside sat the majority of Selfoss’ inhabitants.

I’d watched them for weeks now from a cave above them. They were an industrious people who rarely saw outsiders. These men and women were isolated from the world by the ice, the mountains, and the waterfalls. It seemed as good a place as any to begin my attempt at humanity.

I took a deep breath and entered the inn. My hood was pulled tight around my face to hide from the occupants. As I crossed the room, I pulled a purse from the pocket of my coat. The innkeeper smiled as I approached, but when I stepped up to the counter, I pulled back my hood. All movement in the building halted as three dozen pairs of eyes turned curiously toward me. A woman’s frightened gasp filled the air as she leaned into her husband’s side.

“A room for a weary traveler, please,” I said in their brusque language. Eyebrows rose in surprise.

The innkeeper—though disturbed by my excessive height, the sharp angle of my jaw, and the angry scars bisecting my face—nodded, accepted my money as if I were an average man, and handed me a key.

“Upstairs,” he replied, then hesitated. He glanced around at his patrons, then back up at me. “There’s stew in the kettle if you’re hungry.” He pointed to the heavy cauldron hanging in the fireplace.

“Thank you,” I said with a nod. “Perhaps soon. I am still frozen from my travels.”

He nodded and gave me a tentative smile. “Of course. Enjoy your stay.”

The ice in my chest thawed a bit at this man’s show of kindness. I would not tell him I did not require sustenance, but to know that it was possible to be treated as any of his other guests was enough. And because of his unexpected kindness, I allowed myself to feel at ease. And because of my ease in this place, I slept. For the first time in my miserable existence, I found myself able to slip into unconsciousness with absolutely no fear of attack.

I should have expected the worst.

 

*****

 

I woke with a start well after midnight to a series of bindings crossing my body. Cold hands scrabbled at my wrists and ankles, tying ropes and anchoring chains. Hushed voices whispered around me, frantic, frightened, and deadly. Undoubtedly, I’d slept harder than I thought, as I found myself completely immobilized.

My back hit the floor, knocking the wind from my lungs, and I was dragged from the room. They pulled me down the stairs, my head banging against each step as I coughed and gasped, no doubt carving out divots with the impact. Tables and chairs flew aside, bouncing against my legs and arms as my captors struggled to move me through the deserted tavern by the ropes around my ankles. I didn’t fight. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t hurt anyone else unnecessarily. I wanted to know their plans before I retaliated.

So, I allowed these terrified men to drag me into the cold, through the uneven and sleeping streets to the edge of town where a copse of snow-capped trees stood. The crunch of dirt and gravel muted as they pulled me off the path, their boots sinking deep into the drifts of snow collected at their feet. Even from this distance, I could hear the water rushing over the falls. The air around us was calm and quiet, devoid of any sound except that of the water and their labored breaths. I did not struggle as they dropped me into the muddy snow and kicked at me—I would not risk breaking my promise to myself and injuring another man. I accepted that they were frightened of me, of my face and my size, of the scars and waxiness of my skin. A booted foot crashed down on my nose, breaking the cartilage and sending warm, thick streams of blood across my face. My sinus cavity filled with blood, and I coughed it away involuntarily, holding in a cry of pain as another landed a blow in the soft meat between my ribs and my hip. Perhaps they meant only to drive me from their sleepy, little hamlet. I was an interloper, a thing to be feared. I would allow them to run me away.

Then the rope came around my neck. Boots continued to connect with my chest and ribs. Blood poured from my ruined nose. My bones ached. My skin burned. Then they pulled—six men it took to drag me from the ground—and I realized their true intent: they wanted to kill me. They feared me so greatly that they could not suffer me to exist a moment longer.

My airway constricted under the pull of the rope as my feet left the ground, inch by torturous inch. It was not the first time I’d been hanged, and though I knew it would not kill me, it hurt nonetheless. I had done nothing to these people!

My anger boiled. I wanted to destroy them all, yet I remained motionless and allowed the noose to tighten. I would hold onto my convictions, anger be damned. I would not become the monster they saw.

“Why won’t it die?” one of my attackers asked.

“Because it’s a demon,” another said.

“It’s not a demon,” the first replied.

“It is! Why else won’t its neck break?”

“How do we kill it?” another asked, this voice young—no more than a teenager by my estimation.

“Do we burn it?”

“Stab it!”

“Cut its head off!” came another voice, and the cries of assent rallied around this call to action.

Then the branch snapped, and I collapsed to the ground. Pain flared through my feet and ankles from the impact, and all six men fell backward with a series shouts and grunts. The others moved backward as a single unit, afraid of being within my reach…as they should. The noose loosened, and I flexed my arms, breaking the bindings around them. Even the chains they’d used to drag me fell away. I jerked my legs free and planted my bare feet on the snowy ground. Metal and rope pooled at my feet as I stood, towering over the cowering, crying men. They backed up farther, those with torches holding them toward me as if to ward off an attack. I laughed.

“Shoot it, Agnar!” one screamed, and I heard the cock of a revolver’s hammer.

“Yes,” I replied in their own language, turning toward the gunman. Those who had not been present for my arrival gasped in surprise. I imagined they did not think me capable of intelligent speech. I took the barrel of the gun in my hand and stepped forward, pressing it into my chest to mark my heart. Should it work, I would be out of this eternal misery…and if not, I would continue as I always had: alone.

“Shoot me. End my existence. Prove me human, Agnar.”

The man’s hand shook so violently he could not keep the weapon trained on me. I stared down at him, still as stone as tears poured down his face. His lip trembled. Mucus ran from his nose in slimy strings, and saliva dripped from his bottom lip. He wiped a gloved hand across his face, smearing the mess to his cheek. He blinked away tears, and the trembling intensified. Finally, unable to hold my gaze, the terrified man threw down the gun and turned to run.

I caught him mid-stride, my hand closing around his throat. His windpipe collapsed as I squeezed. His eyes bulged, and when I released him, he fell to the icy ground, dead. Sightless eyes stared up at the canopy of trees. Blood leaked into the soft white snow from his nose and the corner of his open mouth. The rest of the mob remained motionless, stunned into silence as they stared at their dead comrade. The gun lay between them and me, and had any of them thought to grab it, the battle may have ended differently.

Then again, perhaps not.

A new combatant appeared from the mass of trembling men, brandishing a knife. A second followed him. One after another they attacked, driven out of fear—knives and guns, sticks and rocks. Each man charged, fueled entirely by the instinct to destroy, and each died with a look of shock upon his face. I crushed one man’s skull in my hand, broke another’s neck. A third I slammed face first into the very tree from which they’d attempted to hang me. One fired a round at me and missed, hitting his comrade in the chest and knocking him backward into a snow drift. I tore those men apart, leaving their bloody carcasses scattered beneath the trees. Still, the rush of water over the falls in the distance sang out, uncaring of the carnage.

At last I stood in the grove, the powdery, white ground stained muddy red beneath my feet. Blood soaked into my clothing. I needed to return to the inn and retrieve my boots and coat. I needed to leave this place before I was found.

It wasn’t until I started to walk away that I recognized the face of the innkeeper among the dead.

Author Bio

South Carolina native S.H. Roddey has been writing for fun since she was a child and still enjoys building worlds across the speculative fiction spectrum filled with mystery and intrigue.  She brings to the literary world a unique blend of humor, emotion, and wild ideas filled with dark themes and strong characters. In her spare time, she offers professional book formatting services and writes romance as her imaginary friend, Siobhan Kinkade.

In addition to writing she is also a voracious reader, wannabe chef, and video game addict with two full-time jobs: administrative social media professional, and mom to a cat, a young twenty-something, and a pair of precocious youngsters with an affinity for computer keyboards. She also works as the formatter and cover artist for www.ClickingKeys.com and enjoys the perks of being married to her best friend and full-time muse.

Author Contact Info

Website: http://www.shroddey.com
Blog: http://creepyauthorgirl.wordpress.com
Facebook Author Page: http://www.facebook.com/AuthorSHRoddey
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/draickinphoenix
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/draickinphoenix
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/author/shroddey
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/draickinphoenix
Spotify: http://open.spotify.com/user/1235345680

As Siobhan Kinkade:
Blog: http://siobhankinkade.wordpress.com
Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorSiobhanKinkade
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/siobhankinkade
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/author/siobhankinkade

 

 

 

 

 

 

Calling readers and reviewers!

Published October 5, 2016 by admin

 

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Hey, remember that awesome book I wrote, Olde School? It’s currently up for grabs on the Juniper Grove Book Solutions Review Library, so if you request it you can read it for free in exchange for an honest review (Don’t let Clyde influence you. Please feel free to be honest).

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Maybe not this honest

I’m still plotting out what comes next, but I’m extremely proud of that title and would love the word of mouth to keep going! So if you’re a book blogger, reviewer, or a reader who’s into quirky fantasy with a touch of horror, check it out!

All the info on how to request the title can be found here!

 

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More reviews makes my characters stop shilling for me, I swear

 

Fall into Horror!

Published September 23, 2015 by admin

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It’s that beautiful, beautiful time of year – well, almost, anyway. At any rate, the folks and authors at Mocha Memoirs Press are ready to celebrate Halloween! Sept 25-Oct 2, join us as we hop from blog to blog, showcasing different titles and and guest posts from authors.

Plus, Sept 25 join us for a live Facebook Party to kick things off in a creeptastic way!

News, Contests, and Opportunities!

Published August 24, 2015 by admin

I want to catch everyone up on some things going on, and Monday seems to be a good time to do it!

Interested in marketing your book?

  • The Author’s Guide to Marketing With Teeth is now available for Pre-Order! Stoker Award Winning author Michael Knost has put together an amazing book of essays by various successful authors, including Charlaine Harris and Kevin J. Anderson. Plus, if you pre-order, you can take part in an online workshop Michael has going on in October.
  • If you’re looking for more immediate marketing help, be sure to check out Bitten by Books I’ve worked with Rachel for a while and have nothing but praise for her site and services. Be sure to sign up for her newsletter to get monthly info on sales and free promo ops!
  • Somewhere on my blog here is a graphic with a certain word…if you find that word and fill in a form at Night Owl Reviews, you could win some awesome prizes. A lot of authors are taking part in this and it goes until Sept 17, so there’s a bunch of chances to enter! Be sure to check out the info at the link! And pssst…you may want to check out my page links at the top of my home page…
  • I recently did another blog post for Mocha Memoirs Press,this time about writing characters I’m not overly fond of. Some good stuff, if I do say so myself, so check it out!
  • And as I’ve already said once today, if you’re into writing or want to discover some new-to-you authors, be sure to check out the Imaginarium Convention Sept 11-13

SSP Presents: The Black Bible of Juarez (Low-Down, Desperate, & Damned)

Published December 10, 2014 by admin

This week features two new releases from Seventh Star Press in two very different genres, just in time for the holidays! Up first, a gem of a title for those interested in weird westerns:

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Kindle    Nook     Kobo    iBooks

Aging Confederate war veteran Joel Stuart has faced many adversaries across the long years. His loyalty to a man who he rode with on guerilla raids during the war lead him to assist a young man rescue the girl he loves from the hands of religious fanatics.

This journey will bring him to cross paths with a book known as the Black Bible of Juarez. Those who possess the ancient text are said to be able to wield dark powers, ones that open gateways and upend the rules of life and death itself.

Captured and awaiting execution, Joel is soon to discover the nature of the cult whose hands he has fallen into and the grave danger of the Black Bible of Juarez.

The Black Bible of Juarez is the first tale in a new weird western collection from the Outlaws of Fiction, Low-down, Desperate and Damned.

 

Winter of Zombie Blog Tour 2014: Shawn Cesser

Published November 3, 2014 by admin

 

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So I missed a Halloween post, but that doesn’t mean that winter isn’t a fun time for horror – especially zombies. I’m really exited to be part of the Winter of Zombie blog tour, and even more excited to hear all about Shawn Cesser’s latest title. This is definitely one I’ll be checking out, and you should too! Let’s get to it and talk to Shawn about zombies and Warpath!

 

***

Why zombies?

SC: When I turned twelve my mom allowed me to rent George Romero’s Night of the Living Dead and the original Dawn of the Dead on Beta or VHS … I can’t remember which. While eating Doritos and downing Cokes I watched them back-to-back, with a couple of buddies, and have been a fan of the genre ever since.

 

What is your latest zombie release?

SC: ‘Warpath: Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse’ was published on 6/28/2014. 

 

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Quick description of it.

SC: Warpath is a 130,000 word post-apocalyptic thriller set in a thoroughly devastated United States. The fast paced romp through the western states features not only hard-charging soldiers in camouflage and body armor taking the fight to their living and undead enemies, but also regular citizens doing their best to survive the zombie apocalypse.Thrown into the mix are strong female characters, a group of younger survivors, and a host of human baddies my readers love to hate.

 

Something unique about it. 

SC: Warpath, and my STZA series in general, appeals to readers of all stripes because it combines a military themed post apocalyptic romp across America featuring stealth helicopters and exotic weaponry with an intertwined and ongoing story arc about a group of civilian preppers who are also struggling to survive the zombie apocalypse. My characters come from all walks of life and I’ve noticed that many of my readers seem to have their own favorites who they identify with. But sadly not everyone survives my zombie apocalypse—a reality that has earned me an earful from some of those same readers. 

Links for people to buy it: 

 

 Warpath: Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse Amazon link

 Warpath Apple iBooks link

 Warpath Barnes and Noble Nook link

 Warpath Smashwords link

 Your promo links.

  FB Author Page

 FB Page

 Amazon Author Page

 ShawnChesser.com

Twitter handle: @sdchess

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Shawn Chesser, a practicing father, has been a zombie fanatic for decades. He likes his creatures shambling, trudging and moaning. As for fast, agile, screaming specimens… not so much. He lives in Portland, Oregon, with his wife, two kids and three fish.

 

 

 Info for Winter of Zombie Blog Tour:

The stench of frozen rotted meat is in the air! Welcome to the Winter of Zombie Blog Tour 2014, with 10 of the best zombie authors spreading the disease in the month of November.

Stop by the event page on Facebook so you don’t miss an interview, guest post or teaser… and pick up some great swag as well! Giveaways galore from most of the authors as well as interaction with them! #WinterZombie2014

https://www.facebook.com/events/1524813084430035/?ref_notif_type=plan_user_joined&source=1

AND so you don’t miss any of the posts in November, here’s the complete list, updated daily:

http://armandrosamilia.com/2014/11/01/winter-of-zombie-post-list-winterzombie2014/

Book tour: Death’s Dance by Crymsyn Hart

Published August 21, 2014 by admin

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It’s tour time! I’m stoked to have my pal Crymsyn Hart on my blog with her latest book, Death’s Dance! We’ll hear from her in a moment, but first let’s check out the title – c’mon, you know how things work round these parts by now!

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Amazon           Barnes & Noble          Kobo

Being a psychic, you would think talking to the dead was a walk in the park. However, it’s not always that simple. The hooded specter haunting me is one I’ve been dreaming about since I was a kid. One day, he appeared in my bedroom mirror. Good. Evil. I don’t know what his true intentions are.

Enter Jackson, ghost hunting show host extraordinaire, and my ex, to save me from the big bad ghost.

From there…well…it’s been a world wind of complications. My house burnt down. I’m being stalked by an ancient evil and gotten myself back into the world of being a ghost hunting psychic. Jackson dragged me, along with a few other psychics, to a ghost town wiped off the map called Death’s Dance.

From there things went from bad to worse.

***

Top Ten Versions of Death

                Death comes in many forms. And it is hard to narrow down the personifications of death into ten different things. Since Death comes in different mediums I’m going to list my top ten in movies, books, and in art. I’ve come across many different paintings and artwork that to me show what death would look like. I don’t view Death as a scary thing, but as a helper even if his visage might be frightening. You’re probably going to think I’m macabre, but I’m not. I just have an affinity for grim reapers.

 

  1. The Golem of Azrael by Leliah Wendell
  2. Azrael by Joseph Vargo
  3. My Soul to Reap posted by Emma
  4. Kiss of Death Statue at the Old Graveyard of Poblenou in Barcelona
  5. Death from the Final Destination movies
  6. The Gift by Leliah Wendell
  7. Shadows by Joseph Vargo
  8. On A Pale Horse by Piers Anthony
  9. Azriel – The Angel of Death by Ruth Thompson
  10. Cat Magic by Whitley Strieber

CrymsynHart

Crymsyn is a National Bestselling author of over seventy paranormal romance and horror novels. Her experiences as a psychic have given her a lot of material to use in her books. She currently resides in Charlotte, NC with her hubby and her three dogs. If she’s not writing, she’s curled up with the dogs watching a good horror movie or off with friends.

 To find out more about Crymsyn:

 Website: http://www.ravynhart.com

Twitter: @crymsynhart

Blog: http://www.crymsynhart.blogspot.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/crymsynhart

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Crymsyn-Hart/e/B002BMJ1Z0/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1405515745&sr=8-1

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