Archive for Death.
Death has arrived
Hey everyone, Death, the last book in The Four Horsemen series is out today. Check it out here.
Also, Famine, the third book in the series, is now available in print. Stop by and see it here. I hate to see this series end, but I do believe there might be a fifth book about a certain messenger angel named Lam, who has a few more scenes in Death’s story.
Also, while I was in Chicago, I had a short story release at MLR Press. Replacing Memories is the sequel to Joy of the Season, and lets you see how Hal and Tavis’s relationship is progressing. Check it out here.
Now that I’m back from Chicago, it’s time to knuckle down and write. I’ll be posting the next installment of my blog story tomorrow. I’m sorry I didn’t get to it last week, but I was very busy.
Have a great Monday.
Another Late Start
Wow…I got up at 6:30 and took an allergy pill. Ended up going back to bed and sleeping until 9. Apparently I needed the rest…lol.
Writing went well this weekend, but I still have a lot to go. Oh, and also, if you’re interested, Death is up for pre-order at Total e-Bound. Check it out here.
I had better get started writing. Today’s going to be trying to catch up and hopefully get as much done as I can. đ
Have a great day.
New cover for Death
here’s the awesome cover for Death, the last of The Four Horsemen books. It comes out on April 16th. I love it…and I love the covers for all of these books. They fit each story with the colors and scenery.
I thought I’d share the blurb with you.
Death, the Pale Rider and the most feared member of the Four Horsemen, has been searching through the centuries for a soul to save him from his solitary life.
In the 1700s, Gatian Almasia was rich and a sought-after member of Parisian society. No one realised heâd lost his reason for living three years earlier. When his sister accuses another nobleman of raping her, Gatian does what any older brother would do. He challenges the man to a duel, and kills him. Later that night, the dead manâs family takes their revenge on Gatian.
Gatianâs death is just the beginning of the journey he must take as Death, the Pale Horseman of Apocalyptic fame. While he doesnât regret taking the noblemanâs life, the guilt of not being there when his lover died builds a wall around his heart, and until he accepts forgiveness, he must always be Death.
Pierre Fortsecue is a spoiled rich young man whose heart is broken by the man he thinks he loves. Finding himself alone in Paris, Pierre sinks into a haze of heroin. He gets a tainted baggie of the drug, and almost dies from it. Death arrives to take his soul, and something about Pierre touches the Pale Horseman, who steals him away to help heal.
As Pierre heals and Death begins to feel again, they begin to wonder if love really is the only emotion needed to overcome desolation and destruction.
Hope you’re all looking forward to reading Death’s story as much as I am to have you read it.
Have a great day, everyone. đ
Hello and welcome….
To my shiny new website and blog. There are still a few things that need to be tweaked, but all in all, it’s a beautiful new place. My web mistress has been pulling out her hair to set things up in a more organized manner than I had it. Now there are pages for my publishers, my series, my print book, and my single titles. Also, you can peek at the coming soon page, which will give you dates, and an idea of what I might be working on.
There’s also a free reads page, where you can download my free read I did for Samhain for Christmas. I’m thinking, from now on, I might add each new blog story to it as I finish it, making it available in it’s entirety for you all without having to actually buy it. I know you’re willing to do that, but now that I have the place and the ability to do it, I think I’ll be doing that way.
So the next blog story installment will be up tomorrow, and on Wednesday, I’m going to be sharing my new cover for the last Four Horseman book, Death.
Have a great day everyone.
Cover-Famine
Here is the awesome cover for Famine, which will be out on Feb. 21st of next year. I’ve adored the covers for all three of the books in this series so far. I love how the cover artist uses color to separate each cover, give it its own originality. đ I can’t wait to see what she does for Death. I finished the last book on Friday, and turned it in.Death-Blurb and Excerpt
Death, the Pale Rider and the most feared member of the Four Horsemen, has been searching through the centuries for a soul to save him from his solitary life.
In the 1700s, Gatian Almasia was rich and a sought-after member of Parisian society. No one realised heâd lost his reason for living three years earlier. When his sister accuses another nobleman of raping her, Gatian does what any older brother would do. He challenges the man to a duel, and kills him. Later that night, the dead manâs family takes their revenge on Gatian.
Gatianâs death is just the beginning of the journey he must take as Death, the Pale Horseman of Apocalyptic fame. While he doesnât regret taking the noblemanâs life, the guilt of not being there when his lover died builds a wall around his heart, and until he accepts forgiveness, he must always be Death.
Pierre Fortsecue is a spoiled rich young man whose heart is broken by the man he thinks he loves. Finding himself alone in Paris, Pierre sinks into a haze of heroin. He gets a tainted baggie of the drug, and almost dies from it. Death arrives to take his soul, and something about Pierre touches the Pale Horseman, who steals him away to help heal.
As Pierre heals and Death begins to feel again, they begin to wonder if love really is the only emotion needed to overcome desolation and destruction.
Excerpt:
His last thought was of Oliver, and he wished he would be seeing his dead lover soon, but Gatian knew he would be heading to Hell, not Heaven. Oliver had been innocent, and his only sin was caring for Gatian, not knowing what an utter bastard Gatian was.
* * * *
âGet up. We donât have time for you to lie about.â
The voice tore through Gatianâs mind, and he jerked straight up, looking around for his opponents. Frowning, he realised he wasnât in the alleyway anymore. The landscape surrounding him was barren, and looked like nothing Gatian had seen. He pushed to his feet, and turned slowly in a circle.
âAre you done?â
Finishing his circle, he glared at the slender silver-haired man standing there, his arms folded like he impatiently waited for Gatian to complete his circuit. Staring into the manâs blue eyes, Gatian barely swallowed his gasp as he noticed the colour filled the entire eye, with not pupil or iris.
âWho are you?â He often found attacking a person got him answers when they were more likely not to reply.
The man snorted. âYou may call me Lam. You have been chosen, and I have to show you what your new job is.â
âChosen? Where am I? I have never seen a place like this.â He motioned in a vague circle. âHow did I get here?â
âYou died in a back alley in Paris. Instead of being sent to wherever your judgement called for you to go, you were sent to me. Iâm pretty sure you wonât like what youâre about to do, but itâs none of my business. Iâm only here to teach you before you are sent out on your own.â
Lam whistled, and Gatian jumped when a pale grey stallion appeared out of thin air. The stallion snorted at him like it was saying hello. Gatian reached out to touch the horseâs nose. Jerking away from him, the horse shook its head. Obviously it wasnât interested in him petting it.
âThis is your horse.â Lam nodded in the greyâs direction. âNow that youâre Death, the Pale Rider, you need a mount.â
âDeath? Pale Rider?â Gatian repeated, confusion pounding in his head.
Gatian remembered what else happened before he woke up in the strange place. He stretched, searching for pain or broken bones. Yet nothing hurt, and there were no wounds or blood anywhere.
âIs there a reason why I have no wounds or torn clothes?â Gatian grasped Lamâs arms and shook the man. âWho are you, and why am I not dead?â
Lam didnât respond, and didnât try to break Gatianâs hold. He simply studied Gatian with a sardonic twist to his lips. Gatian found he hated Lam, if only for his calm reaction to Gatianâs yelling.
When his anger settled back into coldness, he let Lam go and stepped back. Heâd never gotten anything by losing his temper. He tampered all his questions and doubts down deep, and rested his hands on his hips.
âWhere are we going? And tell me again what a Pale Rider is?â
âNice try, my friend. I never told you once what a Pale Rider is, except that youâre the new one. You are dead, in the most fundamental way possible. You can never go back to your old life, and while all those you know will die, you will continue to live forever.â Lam paused, and tilted his head. âOr until you forgive yourself of all that guilt youâve been carrying around.â
âGuilt? What guilt?â
Lam grinned, and slapped Gatian on the shoulder. âYou can deny it all you want, but I can see it in the set of your shoulders, and the chill in your eyes. You did something you regret, and itâs been eating at you since it happened. Well, whatever it was, itâs brought you to this. As the leader of the Four Horsemen, you will be in charge of keeping the world in balance.â
Gatian shrugged. âI have no idea what you are talking about. Who are the Four Horsemen?â
âClimb on your horse, and come with me. I have a lot to teach you, and a short window of time to do it in.â Lam motioned to the grey stallion.
Should he go? Was this some sort of trick Gatianâs brain played on him? Could he be alive, but caught in his head somehow? Gatian swung astride the stallion, and smiled at Lam.
âLead the way, Lam. I am sure you will answer all my questions in due time.â
Lam narrowed his eyes at Gatian like he understood Gatian wasnât satisfied. Gatian kept his expression bland, not willing to give anything away. With a nod of Lamâs head, they disappeared.
Hope you enjoyed it. Have a great Friday and a wonderful weekend.
Famine-Blurb and excerpt
Having been sacrificed by his village shaman, Famine knows what itâs like to do anything to survive. He wanders the world, sowing drought and starvation in his wake. Yet he hates being the Black Horseman more than anything in the world, except the man who ended his life all those centuries ago. Famine never stops doing his job, and never allows himself to fall in love.
Ekundayo wants a better life for himself, so he steals a diamond from the mine where he works. Nothing goes well for him after that, and he finds himself dying in the desert on his way to the border. When heâs rescued by Famine, Ekundayo isnât sure if his luck has changed or not. The longer he stays in Famineâs company, the more Ekundayo discovers he just might be falling in love with Famine.
One bad choice of Ekundayoâs part, and a future together seems out of reach. Will Famine let his only possibility of love go or will he defy Death himself to keep Ekundayo?
Excerpt:
Famine shot a glance at Death. The hair and eyes were the same colour, but this Death was younger, and if possible, even more cynical than the one who originally showed Famine the ropes. This Death became a Horseman shortly after the French Revolution. Famine always wondered if heâd been instrumentally in starting the genocide, but he didnât have the nerve to ask Death about it. He figured Death wouldnât have answered him anyway.
Heâd learned about the Horsemen and how there were always four of them-Pestilence, War, Famine, and Death. Each one had a purpose in keeping the balance between good and evil. Each Horseman would come in, and if the mortals didnât heed the first warning, the death tolls grew until someone in power changed the situations if they could. There had been two Deaths and two Pestilences since Famine came to be a Horseman. Of course, the most recent Pestilence had gone back to being mortal, and War did so as well.
With two new Horsemen, Death seemed a little more rushed and not as interested in dealing with Famineâs issues. Not that Death cared all that much before. Out of all the Horsemen Famine had dealt with, this Death seemed the less guilt-stricken by what heâd done in his mortal life to get him the illustrious job as Death, the Pale Horseman.
âWill the others be coming here?â
Death shrugged one shoulder. âWar will probably be showing up. I believe the warlords are getting restless, and itâs time for them to go on another rampage. Iâm hoping this skirmish is the one to convince those in power to do something about the innocents here.â
The Pale Horseman didnât sound convinced that it would happen, and neither was Famine. Heâd been through too many centuries of wishing the mortals would pay attention to their warnings, but so far none of them had. Oh, wars would end, and diseases would be eradicated, but only for a little while before they started fighting amongst themselves again. As the balance between good and evil tips in favour of one or the other, the Horsemen rode out to even things again.
Famine glanced down at the dirt under his horseâs hooves. It was dusty and dry because no water had fallen in the area for more than six months. Before that, what rain did fall had been soaked up so quickly, nothing had a chance to grow. The ground was fallow like itâd been sown with salt. Famine had walked miles around the area, ensuring nothing would grow for decades to come.
âI have to go,â Death declared.
âAll right. Oh, wait. How are Pestilence and War doing with their mortal lovers? Have you seen either of them?â
He wasnât sure why he wanted to know. It wasnât like he and the other two were best friends or anything. More colleagues than anything else. Maybe he wanted to know they were happy because he hoped for a good outcome for himself. Famine didnât know if he did believe in his ability to fall in love. How could there possibly be someone out there who could fall in love with a man who sowed famine and drought wherever he walked?
Famine touched the medicine bag lying on his chest. When heâd first become Famine, heâd been given the bag full of salt, and told his power of drought and starvation manifested in it. He never took it off, fearing someone else would get a hold of it, and cause more problems. Yet Famine had been informed no one else could do what he did, which didnât make him feel any better about his job.
Death pursed his lips, looking thoughtful for the first time since Famine met him. âThey seem to be getting on rather well. Iâm surprised at how well they are adapting back into the mortal world.â
âDo you talk to them or anything?â
âNo. They remember their time as a Horseman, but weâre not allowed contact with them. They are to fully incorporate back into mortal life.â Death shook his head. âIâm not worried about them anymore. They will live and die like the mortals they fell in love with.â
Famine was glad to hear that. Living alone for centuries, and interacting with mortals very rarely made for a lonely existence. At least Pestilence and War were able to take time off once in a while. Next to Death, Famine was the busiest of the Horsemen. The African continent was in a state of constant turmoil, and he spent a majority of his time walking from one end to the other, spreading the drought and starvation to as many mortals as he could. He rarely travelled outside to the other countries in the world.
Hope you enjoyed the sneak peek. On Friday, you’ll get a peek at Death, which I’m hoping will be done by then or very very close to being done. đ Have a great Wednesday.
War-Blurb and Excerpt
Book two in The Four Horsemen Seriesâ¨â¨
Fighting the battle in his own heart, War must find peace before he can find love.
War destroyed an entire tribe of innocent people when he was human, all because his best friend lied to him. His guilt brings him a destiny he never planned. As the Red Horseman, War spends the centuries creating battles and wars between countries to restore balance in the world. While he accepts the job to atone for his sins, he wishes he didnât cause men to kill each other. War lives a solitary life, without hope of ever finding forgiveness.
From the mountains of Afghanistan to the plains of Kansas, and to the steppes of Mongolia, Russell Heinz searches for peace. Heâs battling survivorâs guilt after having two members of his army unit die within feet of him. His own mind shuts down, and Russell spends time in a mental ward, dreaming of a man with blood-red hair and all-black eyes. Unsure if the man is real or just a figment of his wounded mind, Russell heads to Mongolia, looking for forgiveness of his own.
Separately, Russell and War fight their own personal demons. Together, they find peace in a love tested by the fires of battle.
Reader Advisory: This book is best read in sequence as part of a series.
Excerpt: (unedited)
Baqir shivered as he grew colder from blood loss. He gritted his teeth to keep from shouting out and bring his guards in to save him. If he waited long enough, nothing could be done for him.
Blackness dotted his vision and he let his eyes close. He drifted along until he slipped under and lost consciousness.
âOpen your eyes.â
Baqir frowned and forced his eyes open. Blinking, he stared up into the face of a pale haired man. Something about the manâs eyes bothered him. He studied the stranger until he realised the manâs eyes were pure black, no white parts or pupils.
âWho are you? Where are we?â
After sitting up, Baqir glanced around, trying to place the barren landscape. It didnât look anything like the desert he grew up in and ruled until his death.
âWait a minute. Didnât I die? Did someone save me?â
âGet up.â
Stiffening, Baqir glared at him. âWho are you to tell me what to do?â
âIâm Death and you are War.â
âWar? What the hell are you talking about?â
âThere are four of us and we keep the balance between good and evil. If the world becomes unbalanced, we must step in to even it out. I am Death. Iâm the last defence against the end of the world. Pestilence is the first line with you and Famine coming along. We can only hope mortals listen before I arrive.â
The stranger grabbed Baqirâs arm and yanked him to his feet. Baqir stumbled, but managed to right himself before he landed on his face. He touched his hand to his chest and pulled it back. No sign of blood anywhere.
âWas it just a dream?â
Death shook his head. âNo. A boy whose tribe you massacred really murdered you in your tent. I need you to come with me.â
The pale haired man gestured to where a red stallion stood, pawing the ground. âHe is yours. Come with me and I will show you what you need to do.â
âIâm not going with you.â He dug his heels in and shook his head.
âYou donât have a choice. Not anymore. You made it when you allowed the kid to plunge his knife into your chest without fighting back.â
âI understood his need for revenge. I destroyed his tribe because a person I thought I knew betrayed me.â Baqir shrugged. âI probably would have done the same if it was my tribe massacred.â
âHmmm.â Death didnât look concerned either way about it.
Baqir growled as Death grabbed his arm and dragged him over to the stallion. He struggled, but the manâs grip tightened enough, he almost cut off Baqirâs circulation. His mount turned his head to look at him and Baqir gasped.
As if the blood red colour of the horseâs coat wasnât clue enough, the blood red eyes told him the creature wasnât a normal horse. Reaching out, Baqir rested his hand on the stallionâs shoulder. An electric shock raced through him and the horse snorted like he felt it as well.
âGet on. We have things to do and I donât have much time to get you up to speed.â
Dazed, Baqir climbed aboard the horse and settled into the saddle. The moment his butt hit the leather, Death nudged his pale horse and they leapt into action. He gasped as he saw the cliff they raced towards without any hint of stopping.
âWhat the hell,â he shouted as the horses jumped off the edge.
A clap of thunder and a flash of lightning blinded him, and all went black around him.
Centuries had gone by and Baqir slowly forgot most of his life before he died. Oh he remembered what heâd done to deserve the hell he lived in now, but he didnât remember faces or names. He went by the title War since he was the Red Horseman. So many wars and battles. So many mortals dead because of greed or revenge.
âWhen will this be over?â
War stood on a cliff higher up the mountain, overlooking a pass. Both sides of the ten-year long war shot at each other. Over the centuries he did this, heâd grown deaf to the sounds of battle, though the noise of the dying still bothered him at a soul deep level.
âSome form of this conflict will continue for decades more, but one side of this particular war will be leaving soon.â
He turned to meet the impassive gaze of Death, his fellow Horseman. Not the same one whoâd shaken him from the darkness and told him his entire life would be different from that moment on.
âHow do you know?â
Death shrugged, his face expressionless. He made a snake seem warm and cuddly. âTheyâve paid dearly with blood and money for a never-ending war. They will return to their own country where their own people threaten to revolt.â
As he turned back to look at the fight below him, weariness waved over War. Heâd been a Horseman for more centuries than he could remember. Battles and fighting was all he knew. At moments like these though, he wished he could give it all up for a lasting death.
âGo home. Ride your horses. Train the young ones. Forget about this for a while.â
Death gestured towards the mayhem going on below them. War nodded as a large red stallion paced up to him.
He mounted, but before he left, he asked, âWill this ever stop?â
âWhat?â For a moment, Death seemed puzzled by Warâs question.
âWar and the constant need to destroy each other and the world.â
The Pale Horseman looked at him with a strangely understanding glance. âSoon it wonât matter to you anymore.â
War frowned, but Death turned away, ending the conversation. It was time for him to return to the steppes of Mongolia, where his herd wandered and he could forget about battles for a while.
As he rode off, Death sighed. Melancholy and despair radiated from War, yet Death had seen what was in store for the Red Horseman and what heâd said had been true.
Soon War wouldnât care about being a Horseman. Change was coming quickly.
Hope you enjoyed the sneak peek. Have a great Monday, everyone. đ