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I normally don't talk about, read, or host horror books but when I saw this book I just couldn't help myself I had to be part of the tour. First thing that drew me was the cover then it was the blurb. What can I say I'm a sucker for a great cover and being that it's almost Halloween I was look to get a little scared and this sounded like the perfect treat to do it with. Take a look for yourself....
Title: Kavachi's Rise
Series: The Devouring #1
Author: Mike Kearby
Genre: Damnation Books
Publisher: Horror, Thriller
Paperback/Ebook
Words: 56,000
Purchase:
Book Description:
A Dark
Secret. Thomas Morehart and his sister, Kara are vampyre, not the undead, but
creatures evolved over hundreds of thousands of years to mimic their prey, man.
Then - rescued from a Nazi Prison Camp, Thomas and Kara are brought to the U.S. and forced
to work inside government-owned mortuaries. Now -betrayed by the government
sixty-seven years later, Thomas and Kara are in a race against time to
transform back to their feral states or risk Exsanguination by government
sanctioned hit squads.
Excerpt:
The soldiers knew this
lieutenant. Knew of him, anyway. Nikolai Borisoff was his Russian name, but if
all the rumors were true, nobody knew his real name. Others of his kind
referred to him as, “Rom baro,” the big man. But in the stories he was
known simply as the necromancer hunter.
“Shall we put him in
with the others, sir?” one soldier asked.
Nikolai ignored the
question and squared himself off to stand face-to-face with the prisoner. He
stared into the darkness of the creature’s eyes. “How do you write yourself?”
he asked in Amria.
The creature stopped
rocking. He looked up and opened a dark pit of a mouth. A word tumbled out:
“Death.”
Nikolai frowned, “But
where are the others?”
Death tilted his head
right and left, like a confused animal trying to make sense of an unfamiliar
sound. After several seconds of the head movement, he parted leathery lips and
emitted a rattling laugh.
“Others?”
“Yes, the others, like
yourself.”
“Killed, dead. All
meat.”
“In the showers?”
“A death they would have
welcomed.”
Nikolai leaned back. He
stared across his left shoulder, down the rows of barracks where the camp’s
prisoners were being assembled. The 48thhad found only a handful
of them, yet intelligence had said there would be thousands. Reports had
indicated as many as twenty thousand. He turned back to Death.
“Where?” he asked.
Death lifted his chin
toward the camp entrance. “There,” he whispered. “Only a short way from the
death gate. Toward the sea.”
Nikolai looked past the
gathered prisoners and through the opened gates of the camp. Pine and aspen
lined the road for as far as he could see. He turned back, questioning, “In the
woods?”
“In the ground.”
Nikolai frowned. “Can
you show me?”
Death shook his head. “I
prefer here. It’s very bad luck to go to that place.”
“Why?”
Death began to rock
again. “It’s a madhouse filled with all kinds of madness.”
Nikolai studied Death’s
face. “Then you’ve been there?”
Death wagged a finger in
Nikolai’s direction. “Oh, I went there once. It might even have been twice or
maybe three times. I can’t be sure, for the madness takes away one’s sensibility.”
“And your job there?”
“I helped push the carts
back to this camp.”
“Back? What had been on
the carts before?”
“Creatures.”
“And when you returned?”
“Shoes…and pyjamas…and
hair.”
“And what of those who
once wore the shoes and pyjamas and hair?”
Death rested his chin
against his knees once more and resumed his monotonous cantillate. Then, just
as quickly, stopped. It looked up at Nikolai. Its pupils contracted. “Porrajmos!”
Nikolai narrowed his
eyes and pinched his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger. His gaze
darted back to the front gate and to the forests outside. “Are you saying
violate?”
Death’s face twisted. He
screamed again, “Porrajmos!”
Nikolai shook his head
and released his lip. “To open? To open one’s mouth?”
Death stopped rocking
and stared ahead, rigid. His pupils dilated back to their dead state. He
exhaled a short breath, then pushed his right index finger into a spot just
below his right ear and directly above his jawbone. He held his finger in the
spot for several breaths, as if to make sure Nikolai understood, then slowly
dragged the finger down his neck to his collarbone.
Nikolai watched,
fascinated at the visual. “Rip open?” he uttered.
Death shook his head,
exasperated, exhaled a rattling breath, and motioned with an outstretched
finger for Nikolai to lean close.
Nikolai stooped forward
and turned an ear toward Death’s mouth.
A gush of stagnant air
rushed from the man’s lips and flowed across Nikolai’s cheek and nose.
Nikolai jerked away from
the dead gas -- and from the two words that had drifted on the offensive fumes.
He sucked in a quick breath and jerked the pilotka from his head.
Death nodded blindly, as
if pleased, and then started rocking again.
Nikolai could only stare
at the living corpse swaying in front of him.
Porrajmos.
Such a simple word.
And when translated into
Russian, two words: The devouring.
About the Author:
Kearby was born in Mineral Wells, Texas, and received a B.S. from North Texas State University (now the University of North Texas) in 1972. He taught high school English and reading for 10 years and created ""The Collaborative Novella Project"" The project allows future authors to go through the novel writing process from idea to published work.
""Ambush at Mustang Canyon"" was a finalist for the 2008 Spur Awards.
""A Hundred Miles to Water"" was awarded the 2011 Will Rogers Medallion Award for Best Adult Fiction.
“Texas Tales Illustrated” was awarded the 2012 Will Rogers Medallion Award for Best YA Non-Fiction.
Even though I am a major chicken and don't usually read anything too dark or scary -the excerpt for this has me intrigued. Thanks for spotlighting this book.
ReplyDeleteI felt the same way Maria! Thanks for stopping by.
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