Grendel & Beowulf (Urban Magick and Folklore, Book 3) by C. Gockel

 

Release date: October 31, 2022

Subgenre:  Urban Fantasy, Contemporary Fantasy

 

About Grendel & Beowulf:

 

Once upon a time, in our ordinary world, there was a grandmother.

She died.

She was reborn as a Vampire in a world of Magick.

The grandmother de-aged. Her ailments healed, her body became strong, and her wrinkles faded.

Her wisdom, however, did not diminish. She knew monsters need monstrous names so they never forget the monsters they are.

She named herself Grendel, after the medieval haunter of borderlands and drinker of warriors’ blood, slain by the hero Beowulf.

The name seems appropriate. Grendel the Grandmother haunts the borderlands and drinks the blood of (mostly) evil warriors.

But in a Magickal world, names don’t just have meanings, they are prophecies.

And a new hero is rising. He has been molded since birth to fight evil, and been given the tools and skills to vanquish the most insidious evil of all: Vampires.

His name is Beowulf, and he’s coming for Grendel.

 

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.

 

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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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Mary van Amsterdam and the Tragically Dead in Recovery (Amsterdam Afterlife, Book 1) by M.P. Wilhelm

Release date: September 21, 2019

Subgenre: Urban fantasy

About Mary van Amsterdam and the Tragically Dead in Recovery:

 

Now that Mary van Amsterdam is dead, she can finally live.

The Amsterdam Afterlife empowered Mary, in a way she’d only dreamed of in the living realm. She's devoted herself to the Tragically Dead in Recovery—quirky dead animals, struggling to come to terms with the trauma of their untimely deaths. Their macabre appearance and occasionally prickly personalities reflect each one’s painful demise. Just when Mary thinks she has a handle on things, her eccentric sanctuary comes under attack by a rogue soul reaper who threatens to upend her posthumous ambition.

Mary has her own emotional baggage. Mortally separated from her friends and family, she’s moving on. There's little time for reflection on her past. Her hands are full, supporting a troubled dead horse on his Deathday, and making a journey to Prague to rescue a newly deceased raven. Troubles multiply when Mary finds herself face-to-face with the stalking menace, reopening painful emotions from her tragic time among the living.

Can Mary stay on track and protect her vulnerable companions?

Follow Mary and her menagerie of misfits, as she discovers new, mystical abilities to manage the new, menacing threat. Will this change the course of the Amsterdam Afterlife forever?

 

Excerpt:

 

Just hours after Mary fell asleep, a glowing green orb raced through the cool Amsterdam air. 

It pulsed, whizzing through the moonlit system of canals and squares at a time of night when only the most fortified ventured out. 

Banking high around the corner of Herengracht, its glare reflected off the gleaming water and pulled a fine spray from the undulating surface. After soaring under a small bridge, it ascended through trees, wove around the rows of hooks, gables, and spires, darting lively along rooftop crests toward its destination.

Above Mary’s house, the orb jostled to a stop. At five stories plus an attic, the seventeenth-century structure stood taller than its neighbors along the canal. And unlike its peers, featured enormous windows on its angled roof. Through three vast skylights, blue moonlight poured into the attic suite.

The bright sphere hovered in place for a moment, and descended, sinking smoothly without resistance through the shingles, wood frame, and plaster. Once inside, it slowed to a stop above its target: the official Guardian of the Tragically Dead in Recovery, Mary van Amsterdam.

For seventy years, since her death, Mary had occupied this well-appointed attic suite. Considering herself more of a healer than a guardian, her home was a haven for those she cherished most. With the souls of these innocent friends nestled safely throughout the floors beneath her, she was active in one of her recurring dreams, helping untangle an unsolvable obstacle. A deep pulsing sound broke through her dream state. It wasn’t unpleasant, but as designed, the orb disturbed her just enough to rouse her toward awareness.

She slowly recognized the source of the disruption and opened her eyes to see the illuminated object hovering before her. Sitting up, in the foggy edge of sleep, she brushed her hair aside, and attempted to recover her conscious faculties. The messenger orb pulsed green and white light indicating Standard Importance. She consented receipt with a wave of her hand. The image of a kind, familiar face appeared out of the orb: fellow guardian Jerome, the Guardian of the Studious Dead in Research.

“Dearest Mary,” Jerome said, “we kindly request your presence at the tower. We have recovered a soul in dire need of your exceptional gifts. It’s a case of fog and cool rain.”

From the orb a thin light beam cast onto her notebook and transmitted details about the history and recent trauma of the soul to which she was to attend.

“Oh, the poor thing. Well, I guess that’s all the sleep I get tonight.”

Mary sighed and gestured to the orb to record her reply. It turned orange. As it recorded her words, the amber glow pulsed with each syllable.

“Thank you, Jerome. I will leave at once.” She swiped her hand across it to the left. The object resumed a green glow and shot up, passing back through the ceiling, then sped off into the night.

The early hour put a cold pit in her stomach, but this discomfort was mild compared to the recollection that she’d promised Darkhorse she would walk him to the Key House later that morning. Momentarily disheartened by the conflict, she collapsed back onto the bed, wishing she could crawl back under the warm covers and never come out. As much as she loved Darkhorse, her dedication to easing the suffering of a freshly arrived Tragically Dead spirit outweighed the need to tend to his recent backslide. It was her highest duty to heed the summons of a fellow guardian to receive and orient a Tragically Dead new arrival.

 

Amazon | StoryOrigin

 

About M.P. Wilhelm:

Marc P. Wilhelm was born and raised in Northglenn, Colorado. When he graduated from art school, he moved to the San Francisco Bay area and began a career in video game design. For two decades, his career as a professional game designer led to the development of iconic game franchises and an appointment as a professor in a top-ranked game design program.

Creating experiences with or without a controller has always been his passion. After two years living in the canal district of Amsterdam, Holland, he was inspired to create the Amsterdam Afterlife and its Tragically Dead in Recovery. The forthcoming multi-book fantasy series is planned for release in the Fall of 2019.

When not writing, he's making art, traveling, creating music, reading, playing games, or on a hike with his silly dog, Bravo.

 

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Hello Protocol for Dead Girls by Zen DiPietro

Release date: March 17, 2019

Subgenre: Cyberpunk, Technothriller

About Hello Protocol for Dead Girls:

 

I wasn't so impulsive when I was alive. Death has changed me, I guess.

This isn't a dream. It's not the afterlife, either. This is something new.

I don't remember how I died. I only know that I did. My name is Jennika Monroe, and I need to find a way out of here. 

A college student reaches out from beyond the dead to solve her own murder. A struggle to identify what it means to be alive, what it means to love, and how hard a person will fight to hold onto what matters. 

This story is like nothing you've read before. It's Altered Carbon meets Gone Girl inside a Matrix type environment. It will challenge you, then thrill you, then leave you wanting more. Truly an innovative breath of fresh air that will keep you on the edge of your seat. Step into the pounding heart of a unique digital setting and enjoy this technothriller today!

 

Excerpt:

 

Again, I find myself in the position of having to decide whether I should inform someone that they’ve died or keep that information to myself.

While Ashta had been sweet and friendly, this girl seems angry. The snap in her eyes and tightness of her mouth suggest she’d just as soon have me dead, and I have to wonder why she bothered to warn me against something that could kill me.

Since I’m already dead, my existence is beginning to mean something else to me. I’m not sure what yet. It isn’t life. What does it mean to exist without being alive?

“Are you stupid?” The girl spits the words at me.

“I guess that’s a matter of opinion,” I say carefully. “What’s in there?”

I indicate the opening with a glance.

“Why should I tell you?” she demands.

“I don’t know. You bothered to tell me not to go in. That must count for something. And we aren’t exactly surrounded by a lot of people here. Our options for socializing are limited.”

She frowns. “Have you seen any others?”

“A young girl. Now you. That’s it.”

“Are you new?” she asks.

“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “I’m trying to figure things out.”

I take a chance on introducing myself to her. “I’m Jennika.”

“Good for you.” She glares at me.

Was she this unpleasant when she was alive? I hope not. As far as electronic ghosts go, she’s kind of a jerk.

***

I am the guardian of my domain and the keeper of everything I touch.

Within the closed confines of my network—and I do consider it mine now, not BomiTech’s—I have nothing but time.

I begin the process of seeking out every single hackable device within my reach. Cameras built into portable devices, cameras for teleconferences, surveillance cameras, and all audio pickups are my first tier of recruitment. Then I tap into other electronic surveillance means, like the doors of the actual building where this datacenter is located.

All this gives me a perfect image of the coming and going of everyone in the building. Not only that, but I can hear everything. I’m always listening now.

They don’t realize how much more capable they’ve forced me to be.

The difference between them and me seems greater and greater. I don’t require sleep or food or bathroom breaks. I can move so much faster than they can—at the speed of thought. Although I still think of myself as human, or at least a variation of human, they seem increasingly…less so. They’re slaves to their biological processes.

It’s an advantage I’m glad to leverage.

I put my surveillance of them into a somewhat passive mode so that if something interesting happens, I can turn my attention to it. In the meantime, I’m going to reach for my original objective.

I want to talk to my friends and family.

Amazon

 

About Zen DiPietro: 

Zen DiPietro is a lifelong bookworm, dreamer, writer, and a mom of two. Perhaps most importantly, a Browncoat Trekkie Whovian. Also red-haired, left-handed, and a vegetarian geek. Absolutely terrible at conforming. A recovering gamer, but we won’t talk about that. Particular loves include badass heroines, British accents, and the smell of Band-Aids. Writing reviews, author interviews, and fun stuff at www.womenofbadassery.com.

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The Third Twin by Darren Speegle

Release date: April 28, 2017

Subgenre: Horror, psychological thriller

About The Third Twin: 

 

Some things should never be bred…

Barry Ocason, extreme sportsman and outdoor travel writer, receives a magazine in his mailbox and opens to an ad for an adventure in the Bavarian Alps. Initially dismissing the invitation, which seems to have been meant specifically for him, he soon finds himself involved in a larger plot and seeking answers to why an individual known only as the elephant man is terrorizing his family.

Barry and his daughter Kristen, who survived a twin sister taken from the family at a young age, travel from Juneau, Alaska to the sinister Spider Festival in Rio Tago, Brazil, before he ultimately answers the call to Bavaria, where the puzzle begins to come together.

Amid tribulation, death, madness, and institutionalization, a document emerges describing a scientist’s bloody bid to breed a theoretical “third twin,” which is believed to have the potential, through its connection with its siblings, to bridge the gulf between life and afterlife. The godlike creature that soon emerges turns out to be Barry’s own offspring, and she has dark plans for the world of her conception that neither her father nor any other mortal can stop.

“Smart. Imaginative. Literate. Original. All of Darren Speegle’s fiction shares these characteristics. Add in intriguing and complex for the occult mystery of The Third Twin. Above all the novel is a highly compelling and entertaining read. It has my highest recommendation.”—Gene O’Neill, Lethal Birds, The Cal Wild Chronicles

“Speegle’s very accessible voice takes you gently by the hand — and then pulls you into shadows that are subtle and deadly but studded with stars.”—Michael Marshall Smith

“Creepy and atmospheric, Darren Speegle's THE THIRD TWIN is a winding, lushly written nightmare that will linger with you. Yes, you.”—Paul Tremblay, author of A Head Full of Ghosts and Disappearance at Devil's Rock 

Excerpt:

 

One

EGGS AND ELEPHANTS

1

The winter issue of Backtrails magazine appeared in my mailbox in February. Though I’d never heard of the magazine, much less subscribed to it, the following May I was on a plane for Munich answering one of its ads. It wasn’t unusual for me to respond to the call of a distant place or activity. An avid outdoorsman, I’d hiked, biked, climbed, snowboarded, skydived, even canyoned at various locations throughout the States and Europe. What was peculiar was the way in which the call was delivered.

I’d just returned from Europe, where I’d covered The Vampire Ball in Heidelberg, the Fasching parade in Maastricht, and Fasnacht in Interlaken as part of a carnival series for a travel magazine I freelanced for. My flight from Seattle, the last leg of a twenty-hour affair that had involved two nasty delays, had arrived in Juneau around midnight, and I’d slept in until ten or so. The magazine was on my desk when I woke. My daughter, Kristin, who’d ridden the bus in from Mendenhall Valley to welcome me back, had brought the contents of the stuffed mailbox when she arrived, depositing them in the office next to my bedroom. I saw the magazine before I saw her, the desk being my well-documented first stop (see the divorce transcripts) when I got up each morning. Like many writers, it was my habit to scribble down any sleep-inspired thoughts or dream fragments I could recall for possible use in my other source of income, novels. That morning of course I had no such recollections, having slept in a near flat line state after the journey. Going to the office was a ritual action.

The magazine rested on top of a pile of envelopes, paper clipped open to the quarter-page ad whose text was highlighted in yellow marker. At the top of the page was a sticky note scribbled in my daughter’s familiar handwriting: Found it in the mailbox just like this. K. My first thought as I removed the clips to look at the cover was that the note was in fun and Kristin had found something of interest to her, something she would die to have or someplace she would kill to go. I corrected my suspicion as soon I’d flipped back to the marked page and read the caption beneath a photo of a craggy ridge with evergreen-carpeted slopes: Some of the most breathtaking scenery the high-terrain backpacker will ever experience. High-country backpacking was not Kristin’s thing. I was lucky if she would do an overnighter with me at one of the Forest Service’s remote cabins, which a half day’s hike would get you to.

Amazon | Goodreads

 

About Darren Speegle:

Darren Speegle is the author of five short story collections, the latest of which, A Haunting in Germany and Other Stories, was published in 2016 by PS Publishing. His short fiction has appeared in numerous venues, including Subterranean, Postscripts, Crimewave, Clarkesworld, The Third Alternative, Fantasy, Cemetery Dance, and Subterranean: Tales of Dark Fantasy. He has two novels coming out 2017, The Third Twin from Crystal Lake and Artifacts from Dark Regions Press. Crystal Lake will also be publishing his collection Varying Distances, due in early 2018. Look for his evolution themed anthology Adam’s Ladder (co-edited with Michael Bailey) in the summer of 2017 from Dark Regions. A widely traveled American, Darren often sets his stories in interesting or exotic places where he has lived (Germany, Alaska, Southeast Asia) or otherwise explored (broader Europe). Between gigs as a federal contractor in the Middle East, Darren resides in Thailand, where he is touching up his cross-genre novel The World Is My Oyster.

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