The Hierophant's Daughter VBT

Blurb:

By 4042 CE, the Hierophant and his Church have risen to political dominance with his cannibalistic army of genetically modified humans: martyrs. In an era when mankind's intergenerational cold wars against their long-lived predators seem close to running hot, the Holy Family is poised on the verge of complete planetary control. It will take a miracle to save humanity from extinction.

It will also take a miracle to resurrect the wife of 331-year-old General Dominia di Mephitoli, who defects during martyr year 1997 AL in search of Lazarus, the one man rumored to bring life to the dead. With the Hierophant's Project Black Sun looming over her head, she has little choice but to believe this Lazarus is really all her new friends say he is--assuming he exists at all--and that these companions of hers are really able to help her. From the foulmouthed Japanese prostitute with a few secrets of her own to the outright sapient dog who seems to judge every move, they don't inspire a lot of confidence, but the General has to take the help she can get.

After all, Dominia is no ordinary martyr. She is THE HIEROPHANT'S DAUGHTER, and her Father won't let her switch sides without a fight. Not when she still has so much to learn.

The dystopic first entry of an epic cyberpunk trilogy, THE HIEROPHANT’S DAUGHTER is a horror/sci-fi adventure sure to delight and inspire adult readers of all stripes.

Excerpt:

VIII

Miki Soto

What couldn’t a person access from the Japanese Internet? The question inspired Dominia to get out of the bathtub for another look at the card. There was no address, whether web or physical, as there hadn’t been an address on the ad floating across that billboard; instead, when she studied the lotus embossed upon the card, the DIOX-I highlighted it as though it were a link. How fascinating, this augmented reality! After fixing the device’s settings back to manual control, she “clicked” on the link with an unsteady wink, and her right field of vision was covered by the floating window of a browser. Had she cochlear implants, she would have heard some sort of music, or even a voice accompanying the woman’s writhing in and out of the browser’s dark: less a whole person, and more a disembodied assortment of lips, fingers, lower backs, and thighs. At last, the vision disappeared to present her with the crimson words, “WELCOME TO THE RED MARKET.”

A button appeared: “Connect Your Halcyon for Age Verification.” The idea of giving the women of the international and highly loathed illegal organization any information might have stopped her in a simpler time, as it surely stopped 70 percent of potential Red Market customers—the ones able to access the site, anyway, inaccessible from Europa and the Front through traditional routes. That had been all the Hierophant could do to combat in any meaningful way the world’s oldest profession-cum-cult. Far trickier than hampering Internet access was controlling in-person transactions in gold or silver, or the off-brand cryptocurrency, Redcoin; and because there were almost no freelance prostitutes left in the world, catching a working girl was difficult.

Any weird things you do when you’re alone?

Do psychedelics count?  No, really, I’m a very responsible citizen. Probably the weirdest thing I do is dabble in the esoteric arts, but that, like all things, is an extension of my writing.

What is your favorite quote and why?

Too hard! I don’t think I have one particular favorite quote—at least, it shifts all the time. But if I had to pick one it’s usually “A paranoid is someone who knows a little of what's going on.” William S. Burroughs.

Who is your favorite author and why?

If you had asked me six months ago I would have still said Nabokov, but this past year I’ve read Gene Wolfe’s Book of the New Sun and about 10 Philip K. Dick novels. I’m going to have to give it to either one of those fine fellows—Wolfe because his prose is just stunning, and his stories elevate me to another plane of existence. His prose had a really positive impact on The Disgraced Martyr Trilogy, because I read it while in the early phases of the editing process. But PKD was a visionary genius whose echoes are felt in all sci-fi to this day, whether literature or film.

What, in your opinion, are the most important elements of good writing?

There’s a balance of linguistic flow and plot pacing which must be delicately struck. I don’t have patience for writers who wander off for ten paragraphs telling me about a field of flowers, but I also lack patience for authors who hasten through all their descriptions and give barren, staggered sentences. I love Chuck Palahniuk but I think he has a lot of imitators in the adult fiction world right now, and they’re not all as good as he is.

Where did you get the idea for this book?

My biggest goal with this story was to give the vampire back its fangs. The archetype has been one linked to romance and sexuality since before Stoker, but I feel from a social standpoint we’ve neglected the horrific aspects of the figures for about a decade now. Is that healthy for us? I don’t really know. I’ve talked about it elsewhere so I won’t ramble here, but the first thing I wanted to do was to push vampires, or something like vampires, back into the arena of actual horror. And what’s more horrific than outright cannibalism? One step beyond the romantic blood-drinking of Dracula—but, at the same time, the horrific aspects of the martyr race in The Disgraced Martyr Trilogy are still couched in this psychosexual atmosphere, and, when it comes to the Holy Martyr Church, a religious atmosphere. I guess I wanted to explore our Western cultural tendency toward fetishization—of celebrity heroes and villains, of violence, of religion, of even our monsters—and how important it is that we examine our urge to that.

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Author Bio and Links:

M.F. Sullivan is the author of Delilah, My Woman, The Lightning Stenography Device, and a slew of plays in addition to the Trilogy. She lives in Ashland, Oregon with her boyfriend and her cat, where she attends the local Shakespeare Festival and experiments with the occult. Find more information about her work (and plenty of free essays) at https://www.paintedblindpublishing.com!

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The Basement Book Blast

Blurb:

Alex is haunted by visions of the dying, but now it seems the ghosts he’s seeing are real as well.

In this sequel to ALEX and THE SHED, Alex wonders if he’s seeing ghosts. His friend Justin has bought the Fulton place, a beautiful old mansion on the edge of Oakton. But something’s wrong in the house. Alex has visions of a small boy, trapped in the basement, and a man at the top of the stairs who won’t let him leave.

And Logan Fulton has come to town, Helen Kramer’s cousin, a psychic medium who wants something from Helen, whatever the cost. He and Helen had spent time in the Fulton house as children and Alex suspects Logan has something to do with the spirits now awakening in the old mansion. But whether Logan is calling them forth or if something else is controlling them, Alex can’t be sure.

The child’s spirit calls to Alex, as do others trapped in the house. There is a dark entity holding them there, keeping the child forever in the basement, the others for his amusement. But Alex has never believed in ghosts, so what is really going on? As he strives to learn the boy’s secret, his friends are one by one pulled to the Fulton place and put in danger while Logan works against Alex, having an agenda of his own. Will Alex be able to solve the haunting of the old house, or will he and his friends be taken one by one, doomed to walk the dark hallways forever?


Excerpt:
“So, Alex… What’s up?” he drawled, shaking his head when Alex gave him a confused look. He waved his hand at Alex’s clothing and Alex glanced down. Dark color flooded his face, and he plucked at his shirt, coughing as dust rose up around him.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking,” Alex said quietly. He sounded humiliated, not meeting Justin’s gaze. Justin could have kicked himself. He hadn’t meant to make him feel self-conscious.

“Not a problem,” he hastened to say. “Just wondering what you’re doing under my house.”

Alex glanced at him, eyes dark with emotion, definitely troubled. “I had to get in…” He covered his face with his dirty hands, voice catching on a ragged breath. “Give me a minute. This one’s hard. He’s so scared…”

He began to shake, obviously fighting for control. A sob escaped him, and Angie flung an arm around his waist despite the dust. “Hey, we’re here. Everything’s okay.”

They waited, and Justin unclenched the fists he hadn’t known he’d made, his hands sore.

Taking a deep breath, Alex looked up at them, and his expression turned puzzled. “What’s going on? Justin, you look like you’ve seen a…ghost.”

“I think he has, but he won’t tell me,” Angie said, frowning at Justin.

He tried to shrug it off. “I thought I saw something… A little girl.”

“Oh, her.” Alex looked unimpressed. “She’s just residual, a memory of a girl who once lived here. No consciousness. Nothing to be afraid of.”

“Oh really?” Justin said dryly. “Well, she scared the crap out of me.”

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About the Author:

Dianne grew up in one of the older homes in the middle of Los Angeles, a place of hardwood floors and secret closets and back staircases. A house where ghosts lurk in the basement and the faces in the paintings watch you walk up the front stairs. Rooms where you keep the closet doors closed tight at night. It’s where her love of the mysterious and wonderful came from. Dianne is the author of paranormal/suspense, fantasy adventure, m/m romance, the occasional thriller, and anything else that comes to mind.

She now lives in the beautiful Willamette Valley of Oregon with her incredibly patient husband, who puts up with the endless hours she spends hunched over the keyboard letting her characters play. Dianne says Oregon’s raindrops are the perfect setting in which to write. There’s something about being cooped up in the house with a fire crackling on the hearth and a cup of hot coffee in her hands, which kindles her imagination.

Currently, Dianne works as a floral designer in a locally-owned gift shop. Which is the perfect job for her. When not writing, she can express herself through the rich colors and textures of flowers and foliage.

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Derrick NBtM

Blurb:

In Hyde Park, a movie theater erupts in flames on a bitterly cold November evening.

It seems like a job for the fire department, but under Captain Creighton’s direct orders, Detective Gavin Nolan and his partner, Derrick Williamson, must investigate. Arriving on the chaotic scene, they find multiple fatalities —but one of the victims is most peculiar…

Gavin soon discovers that this fire wasn’t the first of its kind. The arsonist has set ablaze other buildings around Chicago, and more female victims left in the same gruesome state have been discovered.

Gavin and Derrick determine that the arsonist is not an arsonist at all—but a sinister serial killer with an agenda.

Juggling the unexpected events in his personal life, Gavin digs into the locations of the explosions. At the same time, Derrick probes into the victims’ lives, searching for any possible connection. 

However, when the next explosion occurs, the killer leaves behind a significant object, and Derrick becomes noticeably reserved. Gavin soon uncovers an enigmatic link, one that points to Derrick’s military past. A time that his partner had wished to forget. Yet, to catch the vicious maniac, Derrick must tell Gavin everything.

In a suspenseful, gripping ride to the end, it is up to Gavin to rescue his partner from the clutches of a  killer. But will he make it in time?

WARNING: This book contains graphic scenes, explicit language, and violent sexual situations.

Excerpt:

The Opus Theater was a gouged-out smoldering shell of a building, resembling a nefarious beast defeated at the hands of a mob of local villagers. Its massive first-floor entrance breathed out the last of the smoke, the toothy marquee scarred with black soot. Above, its blackened window-eyes stared down upon the people menacingly. As Gavin ambled closer, avoiding the other officers, a gripping scent of chemicals, fabric, and noxious gas filtered into his nostrils, then wafted away with the wind. Next to the theater, a pair of smaller sibling buildings, a shoe business and a comic magazine shop, were scarred and smoldering as well. Even from here, Gavin could make out the shattered glass sparkling grimly against the siren lights.

As he had seen on the news, the fire trucks clustered near the front of the buildings. The crews were already wrapping up their gear, and one was lowering its long ladder. Firemen dashed from the trucks into the dark façade of the building, being swallowed up by the dying beast. Other men tugged on the thick gray hoses that were haphazardly tossed around on the street. Already, pockets of ice were forming on the standing water and small icicles began to grow from the edges of the building. Gavin carefully stepped over the hoses, which reminded him of ripped-out intestines from the gut of the savage beast, and tried to get out of the firemen’s way.

Hastily, a fireman rushed past him and knocked him slightly. Grunting an apology, the man kept talking into his radio and rounded one of the trucks. The smell of smoke invaded Gavin’s nostrils once again.

From behind him, Derrick shouted, “About time you fucking got here.”

Choosing the City of Chicago as a Setting

Even from the very moments of the opening scenes, DERRICK transports the reader to the heart of Chicago. Throughout the book, various locations around the city and iconic destinations, the reader will admire the beauty and even darkness of Chicago. In Book 1 of the Gavin Nolan Trilogy, GAVIN immerses the reader in the vibrancy of city life.  When I wrote both GAVIN and now DERRICK, Chicago was a just a natural choice as a setting for several reasons.

First and foremost, Chicago has a rich, turbulent history. Between the historic landmarks, the Great Chicago Fire, infamous gangsters, 1893 World’s Fair, and the fated Chicago Stockyards, Chicago was built on determination, dedication and devotion. The city created a unique cityscape in the heart of the Midwest which bridged the East Coast and the West Coast. The beautiful turn-of-the-century architecture, the towering skyscrapers and the futuristic modern glass structures line Michigan Avenue, State Street and Wabash with both reverie and prestige. One can only imagine the streets of the burgeoning city in the Industrial Era, changing landscapes as buildings rose to the heavens in midcentury and the modern expanse circumventing the city to spiral out in the neighborhoods.  In addition, Chicago truly becomes a tertiary character. Echoing New York City and Los Angeles, Chicago’s bustling city life does not cease. Within the subtle shadows of DERRICK and GAVIN, Chicago can be seen as constant moving mechanism as it always stirs at any given point of the day. As you read my books, you will feel this motion of city life through bustling traffic noises, an intoxicating fragrance and busy streets full of people.

On a personal note, I lived in Chicago for nearly two decades. Having been raised in Milwaukee, WI, I didn’t know of any city larger. When I was eleven, my older sister and I travelled to Chicago, which had a profound effect on me. The grandeur and beauty of the city stole my imagination, and even then, I was instantaneously smitten for Chicago’s zeal of life. About fifteen years later, an opportunity rose for relocating to Chicago, which I grabbed immediately. With much excitement and trepidation, I became immersed in the city by touring and visiting as many sites, locations, museums and neighborhoods throughout the area. My admiration for Chicago comes out through Derrick’s poignant moments in the book.

Even though I currently live in South Texas, and had lived in Upstate New York, I often go back to my pseudo-hometown of Chicago and admire the beautiful glass and steel scenery. The city gives me a sense of wonder and awe. Each time when I see the beautiful city scape, I feel the goosebumps rise on my arms, and become memorized by the beauty.

Please check out both GAVIN and DERRICK today. Currently, I am working on the final part QUINN. Also, follow me on Instagram, Twitter and Facebook.

Read to Escape!

Russell

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Author Bio and Links:

Russell has been writing for the majority of his life. Slipping into alternative universes allows him to enjoy the process of creativity from the novel’s conception to its final draft. Currently, he lives in South Texas with his wife, two kids and several cats.

DERRICK is a 2018 Winner in the New Apple Literary Awards, receiving Official Selection in Psychological Suspense.

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Tar VBT

Blurb:

Brendan Cobb calls it tar, but there might be as many names for it as cities left standing.

To some, it’s known as filth, or blight. Others call it the Black God in reverential whispers. Whatever name it takes, the effects are the same. Cities left in ruins. People turned into monsters. Living infections with no known cure. The best anyone can do is avoid it, but even that gets harder the more it spreads.

Brendan survives this waking nightmare by trading salvage for shelter and for repairs to his cybernetic arm, until a newcomer arrives, convinced Brendan is the key to ridding the world of tar once and for all. Reluctantly, Brendan and his mechanic join the newcomer on a journey across the desolate highways of a ruined world, where he learns the true history of the tar…and of the dark power inside him, which grows stronger every day.

Excerpt:

I know who you are, and I know with whom you travel.

The voice thundered across the expanse, bringing with it a powerful wind. Out of the corner of his eye, Brendan saw the tree bend under its force, and then break apart and turn to dust. This was the voice from his dream at Krystal’s house, the voice from his journey to Tir Anhrefnus with Alicia.

Your companion wishes to destroy this, for he finds it evil.

A form rose amid the tentacles. It had a recognizable head and body, but the waving tendrils and branching threads rendered the creature completely alien.

But there is no evil here, only hunger. To sate an appetite is not evil. The wizard you follow only sees evil because he has found something he cannot control. He does not seek justice. He seeks safety. He is not noble. He is afraid.

The voice buffeted Brendan like a hurricane, gaining strength until its power knocked him onto his back. The dusty earth gave way beneath Brendan. He plummeted into the fresh pit, and he watched the tar trace a network of paths across the sky until what little light remained was blotted out by the black infection.

Tell me which is more evil: Destruction out of hunger, or destruction out of fear?

Taylor, thanks so much for stopping by. Tell us a little about yourself.

Thanks for having me! Tar is my fifth full-length novel, which just came out November 27. When I’m not at my keyboard banging out another book, I’m at my day job, which is a total blast. I’m a morning show host and program director at a Christian radio station in Des Moines. So that means I spend the first half of my day telling stories and jokes with my awesome co-host, and then the rest of my day is spent making sure the station sounds as good as possible. It’s a demanding job, but really rewarding. If I’m not writing or working, I’m watching movies with my wife, hitting the gym, or reading whatever my latest Kindle find has been.

How did you get started writing?

I’ve always been drawn to stories. I remember drawing comic books on pieces of scrap paper, then stapling them together and trying to sell them door to door. I had a group of friends in junior high who all got involved on FanFiction.Net, and we all wrote stories together, many of which featured each other as main characters. It was after I got married that I really started pursuing the publication route, though. I’d always enjoyed writing, so the idea of having one of my books in actual print was a pretty cool idea. So I basically decided I was going to sit down and write every day until I had a new book on my hands. That was Alpha, which was the first book I self-published. Since then, I’ve published something new every year, and I’ve been having a blast doing it.

What was the inspiration for Tar?

Maybe it was the Desden Files. I think that was the first time I read about a wizard carrying around a shotgun, and I just thought that was the coolest thing ever. I didn’t sit down and say, “Yeah, I should make another Dresden Files,” but I did say, “Man, a book where a wizard with a shotgun goes on a road trip would be a blast to write.” That was an idea that really energized me, so I started with that little kernel and built out from there. By the time I was done, I’d created this weird, cyberpunk/urban fantasy/post-apocalyptic world with monsters and wizards and cybernetics, and I was even more energized than I was when I first had the idea. I am absolutely pumped to finally be able to share this with people.

What’s a genre you haven’t written in yet that you’d like to?

I’d like to tell a really good haunted house story, or just a good ghost story in general. Like, really drill down to the essence of these types of stories and put just a tiny twist on them to make them fresh. I don’t have a great idea for one yet, but the minute I do, I’ll probably start scribbling away.

Are there any genres you won’t read or write in? Why?

Historical fiction is just not my jam. I need monsters or aliens or ghosts or robots, or some combination of all four in my books…whether I’m reading them or writing them. Also, half the reason I write soft science fiction is that I don’t like doing research.

What are you up to now? Do you have any releases planned, or are you still writing?

I’m pretty much always working on something. I think there were like three or four weeks after I finished Tar that I really truly took time off working on a project of some sort. My current project is an end-of-the-world comedy. So, I’m still sticking to the apocalypse, which I’ve done for the last four books now, only this time things aren’t quite as dark as they’ve been. It’s a change of pace from my last few for sure, but it’s been really fun changing my tone a bit and using some different tools to solve different problems.

Alright, now for some random, fun questions. Favorite color?

Black. Everyone tells me that’s not a color, but I don’t care. Every color looks cooler when it’s next to black. And I look cooler when I’m in black. Anything that makes me look cooler is a winner in my book.

Favorite movie?

If I want to feel deep and intellectual? Cloud Atlas. If I want to have fun? Scott Pilgrim vs. The World.

Book that inspired you to become an author?

I don’t know if it inspired me to become an author, but I read Stephen King’s IT while I was writing my first published novel Alpha, which I mentioned earlier. It was the most I’d loved a book in a long time, and I just kept imagining writing a book that would make other people feel the way I felt when I read IT. That’s what drives me with every book I write. I’m an entertainer at heart. My job has me performing live radio every morning, I’ve obviously written a few books, and I’ve played drums in my share of bands. As different as all of those media are, the thing that remains the same is that I love creating things that make people feel things.

You have one superpower. What is it?

Mind-reading. Underrated power for sure.

You can have dinner with any 3 people, dead, alive, fictitious, etc. Who are they?

1.     Have you picked up on how I’m a Stephen King fanboy yet? Because I’d totally sit down to dinner with him. I want to play just one song in his all-author band someday, and I would spend dinnertime simultaneously fanboying and auditioning.

2.    My cousin, Josh. He was one of my best friends, and I lost him this past spring. We never lived very close together, except for a couple years when we went to the same college and took the same major, but he was the kind of friend who you could pick up right where you left off every time you see him.

3.    My wife. She is truly my best friend, and being with her is just like breathing to me. Sometimes I don’t even think about how much I need that time with her, and sometimes it’s hard to be with her because there’s all this junk in the airway of my life…but when we make time to spend together—I mean, really spend together, not just browse Facebook on the same couch—I just come alive so much more.

Last question: Which of your characters are you most like and how/why?

This is a tough question, because I don’t really think of any characters as being a lot like me. Each one has a little piece of me in them, but I’ve never really tried to create someone that really behaves like me. I think I’d be boring in my types of stories. I’d just cower in the corner and ask if I can read my book and have a cup of coffee yet. Maybe one of my close friends who’s read all my books could answer this question a little better!

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Author Bio and Links:

Taylor Hohulin is a radio personality by morning, a science fiction author by afternoon, and asleep by 9:30. He is the author of The Marian Trilogy, Tar, and other genre-blending works. He lives in West Des Moines, Iowa, with his wife, where they are owned by a dog and a cat.

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Nadia's Heart Part One Excerpt Tour

Blurb:

When an amnesiac girl who thinks she has been born without a heart utters a prayer, she is met by a mysterious angelic stranger from her forgotten past. Together they embark on a journey to recover her removed heart, but enter into battle with an Evil Voice on a rampage to remove the hearts of an entire generation of children - and replace them with stones.

Exclusive Excerpt:

When she passed through the birch Trees on the Hill into Standhøfl Tourdemil the first thing that Nadia felt was the cold. She saw snow, but something was wrong. . .strange.  The wind blew faintly, but eerily.  And Nadia noticed, as snowflakes stuck to her face and arms, that she cleared a path, for the snowflakes were all suspended in mid air. What had first looked like a blizzard was now a white spotted sky.

Nothing moved, except for a distant wind.  It blew through the barren, uninhabited land.    It was a watching wind that searched for life.  It had nothing to do with the snow, with the season, with the weather, nor the Land itself.  It was an other- worldly wind, searching, defying what Nadia had done, unaffected by the dappled snow frozen in space and the stoppage of time itself.

Nadia had accumulated quite a few snowflakes on her face and arms, and as she looked back, she saw the path that she had cleared.    She was startled to hear Prince Talman’s voice, and hardly comprehended what he had said.  Looking ahead at the mountain, she adjusted the weighty parcels of meat she had brought along for the men.    The higher they flew, the less snowflakes there were.

Nadia swallowed.   She listened.   The wind was the only presence in the Land, and its sound was both distant and near. It was everywhere.

It frightened her.   She had a quick, sinking feeling in her chest, and she had to check to make sure she hadn’t dipped down in flight.   For a fleeting moment, she wondered if  the wish had been a good idea, and had the sensation that she had done something of quite a serious magnitude.

What had she done?  It was the only thing she could do—a decision she had to make—and now they had only one wish left.   It would have to be used to start time up again. 

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Author Bio and Links:

Wendy Altshuler is a writer-producer who explores myth in new media. She writes fantasy novels and creates works in stop motion animation.  Her credits include award-winning screenwriting and WGA-accredited representation. With a degree in psychology and a Master of Arts from Columbia University, Altshuler documented the work of international choreographers and wrote and produced regional programming. Her short plays have been performed at Boston Playwrights' Theatre, at regional schools and most recently, Puppet Showplace Theatre. Altshuler's young adult book series has been hailed as "emotionally moving, uplifting and wholesome," and "spirited and haunting. . .with much symbolism and beauty." 

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Birthday Presents VBT

Blurb:

For Tracey, life has become a nightmare. Kidnapped from a nightclub in Boulder, Colorado, brutalized and raped by the killer known as Crimson, he's held captive alongside Kyle, a young man Crimson keeps chained to his bed and is slowly torturing to death. Though Tracey manages to escape with Kyle's help, he is forced to leave Kyle behind.

Gene has never stopped looking for his brother Kyle, abducted from a nightclub seven months previously. The case breaks open when Tracey comes forward, claiming to have knowledge of the whereabouts of Crimson's hideout.

A manhunt begins, but Crimson's birthday has come and gone, and he will kill again.

Excerpt:

Gene knuckled his tired eyes and yawned audibly in the large room crammed with desks and files and very few detectives. No one came in on a Sunday unless absolutely necessary, or in his case, unable to stay away. His gaze wandered again to the closed door of the office on the far end of the room. Craig was in there with the rest of the Target Crime Team. He'd gotten a call a short time ago saying an eyewitness over in Pine Bluff had seen Kyle alive no less than two days ago. God.

Hope trembled in Gene's chest despite Craig's cautionary words that Kyle hadn't been found yet. But this was the closest they'd come since Kyle's disappearance last November. And Gene had the bastard's knife. Hopefully forensics could get something off it, fingerprints or a serial number, anything to link it to a name so they could track him.

He rubbed the back of his neck. Craig had been furious with him when he found out Gene had been prowling nightclubs again. But what was he to do? No one else was looking for Kyle. Craig claimed Gene jeopardized his investigation. Fuck that. Kyle was his brother and he wasn't about to give up on him. And Gene was careful, only going on his nights off. If he happened to stumble on the kidnapper…

The front entrance thumped open and he glanced in that direction, then dropped his gaze to the papers on his desk, scowling. Just what he needed… A low whistle from one of the detectives walking in made his blood boil.

Survivor Guilt and PTSD

Survivor Guilt: A mental condition that occurs when a person believes they have done something wrong by surviving a traumatic event when others did not. –Wikipedia

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder: A mental disorder that can develop after a person is exposed to a traumatic event, such as sexual assault, warfare, traffic collisions, or other threats on a person's life. The disorder is characterized by three main types of symptoms:

• Re-experiencing the trauma through intrusive distressing recollections of the event, flashbacks, and nightmares.
• Emotional numbness and avoidance of places, people, and activities that are reminders of the trauma.
• Increased arousal such as difficulty sleeping and concentrating, feeling jumpy, and being easily irritated and angered.  –Wikipedia

BIRTHDAY PRESENTS is the story of a serial killer who kidnaps and tortures his victims and the people fighting to stop him. Kyle is the young man he’s kept alive the longest, but Tracey escaped him, and we spend the story watching Tracey deal with his PTSD and learning how to have a ‘normal’ life once again.

Survivors Guilt:

"But you escaped," Andi prompted.

Tracey trembled head to foot, the horror coming back. "Sometimes Crimson would take off my cuff so I could help position Kyle. He likes to hurt him, I don't know why." Tears choked his voice and Tracey swallowed them down, needing to finish before the anguish tore him apart. "Crimson likes Kyle sobbing when he takes him." He drew a shaky breath. "Kyle's dying. We both knew it. So we made plans."

He found it hard to continue. "Crimson let me loose, then turned to Kyle. But that night we fought him. Kyle clawed at his face, I scratched his eye. I don't think he was aware of me when I slipped from the bed. Kyle looked at me, but then Crimson bit his collarbone. I still hear his screams."

Tracey covered his face as it all came back, and screamed into his hands, echoing Kyle's shrieks in his head. A red haze filled him mind. It would never be over! Sobbing, he couldn't catch his breath, and it was a long while before the softly spoken words of the counselor broke the chaos inside him.

PTSD:

1. Re-experiencing the trauma…

He'd begun to doze off, the uneasiness of a bad dream creeping up on him, when movement beside him startled him awake. God! What was it? He scrambled to sit up, terror momentarily blinding him. He'd fight Crimson off this time—

"Tracey! It's okay. You're safe."

What? The conference room swept back into focus. Daniel stood next to the couch while Gene looked at him in concern from the table. Shit. He rubbed his face with his hands, feeling sick.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know you'd fallen asleep," Daniel apologized, dismayed.

"Don't worry about it." Tracey rubbed his hands over his jeans, straightened his shirt. He must look a mess and he would kill for a shower and soft bed, anything to distract him from what was happening in the forest at that very moment.

2. Emotional numbness…

They didn't speak on the way to the parking lot, Tracey sliding into the passenger seat after Daniel unlocked the Jeep. Daniel took his place behind the steering wheel, heart thumping. "You don't have to do this," he said to Tracey's averted profile.

"Yes, I really do." Tracey looked at him and the bleakness in his eyes broke Daniel's heart. Then he squared his shoulders, taking a deep breath. "If I'm going out tonight, I'll need clothes and make-up. Will you loan me some money and a ride to Fort Collins? There's a store there with the best leathers."

"Of course." Daniel watched him, but Tracey's eyes skittered away and he stared out the side window. Daniel turned on the ignition and shifted the Jeep into gear, exiting onto the street. Of course Tracey distanced himself. Daniel had been expecting it. But he'd hoped it wouldn't come until much later in the evening.

3. Increased arousal such as difficulty sleeping and concentrating…

Tracey fingered the coat covering him. Daniel must have lain it over him at some point while he slept. He glanced at him and caught his worried expression. Daniel smiled encouragingly but Tracey let his gaze slide away. He absently scraped chipped nail polish from his thumb, watched the rose flakes drift to the floor. It was nice to have someone there, on his side, but he hoped the guy knew he'd have to settle for friendship. No one better fucking touch him.

He huddled under the borrowed coat as a sense of sadness and loss came over him. He wasn't the same person he had been three weeks ago. He missed the confident, sometimes conceited and bratty guy he'd been. The one who'd boldly painted these nails. Now he jumped at everything, always afraid, timid. He didn't like this person very much.

As you can see, Tracey has a long way to go, but with the support and love from his friends, he survives and slowly learns to relish life once again.

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Author Bio and Links:

Dianne is the author of paranormal/suspense, fantasy adventure, m/m romance, the occasional thriller, and anything else that comes to mind. She lives in the beautiful Willamette Valley of Oregon with her incredibly patient husband, who puts up with the endless hours she spends hunched over the keyboard letting her characters play. She says Oregon’s raindrops are the perfect setting in which to write. There’s something about being cooped up in the house with a fire crackling on the hearth and a cup of hot coffee warming her hands, which kindles her imagination.

Currently, Dianne works as a floral designer in a locally-owned gift shop. Which is the perfect job for her. When not writing, she can express herself through the rich colors and textures of flowers and foliage.

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