Division of The Damned
By Richard Rhys Jones
Genre:Horror
Publisher: Taylor Street Publishing
Date of Publication: April 5, 2012
ISBN: 978-1475155433
ASIN: B007RS1YUI
Number of pages: 298
Word Count: 90.000
Cover Artist: Chris Salmen
Cover Artist: Chris Salmen
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Blurb/Book Description:
It was a brilliant plan to win the war.
What if the Third Reich could own the night?
What if they had a Division of Vampires?
And if those Vampires didn't stop?
If they had plans to conquer the whole world?
What if the Third Reich could own the night?
What if they had a Division of Vampires?
And if those Vampires didn't stop?
If they had plans to conquer the whole world?
Even Heinrich Himmler hadn't thought of that. But in Transylvania someone had. And on the Winter Solstice of 1944, the world would be at their mercy.
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Excerpt:
Chapter 1
Russia
1944
They flew from tree to tree, as silent and cold as the churning snow around them. Armed only with blade and tooth, they darted through the night with supernatural grace. The dark held no secrets for them as the day held no mercy and, slick and practised, they spread into formation as the quarry neared.
On a densely wooded hill five miles away from the German lines, a lone Russian guard stamped his feet to ward off the cold. It was the dead man’s stag, two till three, and he was bone tired. They had driven all day before halting to set up the communications post, then he had serviced his wagon, set up the tented area for the officers and helped position the radio masts. Now, after only three hours sleep, he was back on guard duty and he couldn’t see further than his dire need of a cigarette.
The war would soon be over. he reckoned. A couple more months and then he could go back to his hometown. There he would find a wife, start a family and work on a farm or in a factory. He would be a hero and, on family gatherings, he would regale them all with stories of how he single-handedly took on the might of the Fascist army and conquered them.
Like pouncing arachnids, they dropped from the trees on the unsuspecting camp. The lone Russian’s last sensation was the warm gush of blood spurting from his now lacerated throat and the voracious teeth that greedily violated the wound. As the blackness of death dimmed his sight, he heard the first screams of the officers and men he had been guarding as the enemy wreaked carnage and death.
With steel and fang, they killed and fed the way they had always done.
No mercy, only butchery and then gorging on the blood of the fallen.
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Hi Liz, thanks for having me on your Blog. :-)
ReplyDeleteThanks so much for the awesome book!
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