Release date: October 31, 2022
Subgenre: Urban Fantasy, Contemporary Fantasy
About Grendel & Beowulf:
Excerpt:
“He’s … not … that bad a person,” Grendel said. “He’s only trying to
kill me.” Arms and legs pumping, she raced along the deer path, almost
too tired to answer herself. “He could be a … a … slaver …”
She panted. Faltered. Pain shot from the big toe of her right foot, and she went tumbling. Rocks and grit bit her palms, and her fangs bit her tongue as she hit the ground. Her own Vampiric blood, warm but unsatisfying, pooled in her mouth.
The Quest for human blood had gotten her into this mess to begin with.
“God damn me,” she muttered. Struggling to rise, knees and fingers slipping in cold spring mud, she snickered. “God damn me again.”
Off in the distance, wolves howled. Closer, bootsteps sounded behind her, and something else, the thrum of Magick like a drumbeat. That drumbeat had seduced her into getting too close to her pursuer. How far back was he? A hundred yards? Surely far enough away to execute Vampirism’s greatest trick. Snarling, she exhaled, and her soul ripped from her chest with her breath.
She left time.
Her body instantly felt lighter. Sound did not exist in the out-of-time, and the pre-dawn bird song vanished. The world became colder and dimmer, and the breeze no longer moved. The scant clouds that had been drifting steadily across the Midwestern sky hovered now, frozen in shape and place.
Pushing herself up, Grendel took a few steps and cursed.
She could still feel her pursuer’s Magick, and worse, she could feel him in the out-of-time with her. Humans could not slip out-of-time, but they could let a Vampire drag them out-of-time if they wore specialized “Vampire armor.” But Vampire armor only had an effective radius of about five yards. He should be too far away to be clinging to her wake like an unbloody barnacle.
Lunging along the deer path, Grendel felt the weight of the man chasing her with every step—not like a barnacle, she decided—like an anchor. Her mind spun faster than her feet on the forest floor. Her pursuer had to be young. He—she’d caught a glimpse of him, and he was definitely a he—had a young man’s strength and speed, and he was obviously powerful and skilled.
She had just a little more strength and speed than the elderly woman she’d been when she’d died. He would catch up to her soon, and he would beat her in a fight. She remembered the stakes she’d seen dangling at his waist and wondered if this was finally the end.
Faces of all those lost in her human life—husband, children, grandchildren—and those she’d lost—or murdered—in her Vampiric life flickered through her mind like a reel of old film. The lack of definition in the faces made them eerier. How long before that reel lost all semblance of those gone?
A fallen log invited her to sit. A boulder covered in moss looked like a delicious place to lie down. A stake would be quick and … “An end would be nice,” she whispered, the words lost in the soundlessness of the out-of-time.
More faces flashed through her eyes, and the words of one of the dead rang in her mind, You will save my family. And you will destroy those who did this. The voice was so clear and familiar, Grendel almost looked for the speaker’s ghost.
Snarling silently, Grendel pressed on, the drag of her pursuer growing heavier with each step. He was gaining on her. She could not outrun or outfight him. She couldn’t allow herself to be caught. She’d made promises.
She panted. Faltered. Pain shot from the big toe of her right foot, and she went tumbling. Rocks and grit bit her palms, and her fangs bit her tongue as she hit the ground. Her own Vampiric blood, warm but unsatisfying, pooled in her mouth.
The Quest for human blood had gotten her into this mess to begin with.
“God damn me,” she muttered. Struggling to rise, knees and fingers slipping in cold spring mud, she snickered. “God damn me again.”
Off in the distance, wolves howled. Closer, bootsteps sounded behind her, and something else, the thrum of Magick like a drumbeat. That drumbeat had seduced her into getting too close to her pursuer. How far back was he? A hundred yards? Surely far enough away to execute Vampirism’s greatest trick. Snarling, she exhaled, and her soul ripped from her chest with her breath.
She left time.
Her body instantly felt lighter. Sound did not exist in the out-of-time, and the pre-dawn bird song vanished. The world became colder and dimmer, and the breeze no longer moved. The scant clouds that had been drifting steadily across the Midwestern sky hovered now, frozen in shape and place.
Pushing herself up, Grendel took a few steps and cursed.
She could still feel her pursuer’s Magick, and worse, she could feel him in the out-of-time with her. Humans could not slip out-of-time, but they could let a Vampire drag them out-of-time if they wore specialized “Vampire armor.” But Vampire armor only had an effective radius of about five yards. He should be too far away to be clinging to her wake like an unbloody barnacle.
Lunging along the deer path, Grendel felt the weight of the man chasing her with every step—not like a barnacle, she decided—like an anchor. Her mind spun faster than her feet on the forest floor. Her pursuer had to be young. He—she’d caught a glimpse of him, and he was definitely a he—had a young man’s strength and speed, and he was obviously powerful and skilled.
She had just a little more strength and speed than the elderly woman she’d been when she’d died. He would catch up to her soon, and he would beat her in a fight. She remembered the stakes she’d seen dangling at his waist and wondered if this was finally the end.
Faces of all those lost in her human life—husband, children, grandchildren—and those she’d lost—or murdered—in her Vampiric life flickered through her mind like a reel of old film. The lack of definition in the faces made them eerier. How long before that reel lost all semblance of those gone?
A fallen log invited her to sit. A boulder covered in moss looked like a delicious place to lie down. A stake would be quick and … “An end would be nice,” she whispered, the words lost in the soundlessness of the out-of-time.
More faces flashed through her eyes, and the words of one of the dead rang in her mind, You will save my family. And you will destroy those who did this. The voice was so clear and familiar, Grendel almost looked for the speaker’s ghost.
Snarling silently, Grendel pressed on, the drag of her pursuer growing heavier with each step. He was gaining on her. She could not outrun or outfight him. She couldn’t allow herself to be caught. She’d made promises.
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About C. Gockel:
C. Gockel got her start writing fanfiction, and she is not
ashamed! Much. She received emails, messages and reviews from her fans
telling her she should 'do this professionally'. She didn't; because
she is a coward and life as a digital designer, copywriter and coder is
more dependable. But in the end, her husband's nagging wore her down:
"You could be the next '50 Shades of Gray' and I could retire!"
Unfortunately, the author isn't much for writing smut. She is sad about
this; she'd love for her husband to be able to retire and just work for
her so she could nag him.
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