Dave Zeltserman's Blog, page 25

Demons invade London!

The Boy Who Killed Demons is being published today in the UK by Duckworth Overlook!

New Demons review and Bullet of Prose #19 from BLOOD CRIMES

A new review for THE BOY WHO KILLED DEMONS is up on Ginger Nuts of Horror

and now for today's bullet of prose!


Metcalf’s private lab was reminiscent of some nightmarish scene from the Island of Dr. Moreau, and like Moreau’s laboratory, was a place of pain and abomination. For Metcalf, the lab served dual purposes; it helped him gain insights into the effects of the virus, and it acted as a deterrent to the other vampires in the compound from thinking about challenging his authority. The test subjects were all infected with the vampire virus. Some were originally brought in as “cattle” and had the misfortune of being chosen for this capacity—which was a fate far worse than being milked until illness or anemia set in; others were members of the compound who needed to be made examples of. All of the test subjects had their arms and lower halves removed; which made them appear like grotesque doll-like creatures. Some were pinned to their tables by spikes through their shoulders, others were chained along the walls. All of them were in the midst of experiments that would’ve made even the infamous Joseph Mengele cringe in horror.

Bullet of Prose #18 from BLOOD CRIMES

Metcalf looked down at the livestock. The near-ghost must’ve been a vagrant before he’d been picked up. His face was now as thin as a railroad spike, his beard sparse, his cheeks hollowed out and his eyes small as they remained buried within dark circles of ruined, grayish flesh. There wasn’t much left of him, another week or two of milking at the most. Metcalf scanned the glass walls separating the cattle pens from the milking area and spotted several other livestock who looked like they were going to need replacing soon. He felt no emotion about it—to him they really were never anything more than livestock to feed off of and dispose. Whatever empathy a normal human being was born with had always been missing from his makeup. That part of him hadn’t changed because of the infection. He knew Vanessa was the same—that was really the thing about her that he had felt instantly attracted to even if he didn’t understand it at the time, and it was why he’d been feeling more of a bond with her. It was also why she was the only member of the staff that he still had assigned to milking. The compassion that the other vampires showed the livestock made him sick. Because of this growing bond he’d been considering moving her to the main house permanently. It seemed to make sense, and besides, she was far better at sex than the other female vampires. Even before he brought her back to the compound, he’d been gradually losing interest in the others. Their constant sadness was becoming a real turn-off.

Justified, Better Call Saul, and another Bullet of Prose

Over at WBUR I opine about two of my favorite shows: Justified and Better Call Saul

Another bullet of prose from BLOOD CRIMES:


Vanessa was taking a pint from one of the livestock. She nodded at Metcalf as he approached, he nodded back. She had been a prostitute before he infected her. Originally he had picked her up to be a replacement for one of the dead livestock, but he liked the way she looked—long red hair that fell halfway down her back, sultry lips, almond-shaped green eyes and a thin waist with near perfect legs. Her breasts were smaller than what he typically liked—no bigger than what would fit in a champagne glass, but they had a perky quality to them so he decided to overlook that flaw, and besides, the infection would shrink them anyway. The infection had since bleached out her hair and had shrunk her tits to the size of small apples, but she dyed her hair the same reddish color as before and even with the changes to her body that the infection caused, he still liked the way she looked. There was something else about her that he found himself instantly attracted to. It took him a while to figure out what it was, but he eventually understood it. In her own way she was as ruthless as he was, even reminding him a bit of Serena, although she wasn’t nearly as cunning or as crazy. Since the other vampires were complaining about how overworked they were—and because of his immediate attraction to her—he infected her and added her to the staff. He was glad he did. Unlike the others, she accepted her situation and never showed any self-pity. As far as her competency, well, she never really developed a touch for drawing blood and was rough with the livestock, but it didn’t much matter. She’d get a pint out of them regardless of how many times she had to poke them searching for a vein. And it was not as if any of them were going to complain. All in all, Metcalf was glad he chose to infect her instead of making her one of the livestock.

Bullet of Prose #16 from BLOOD CRIMES

Carol pulled the bedspread off and kicked it away into a corner, then opened the suitcase and removed a small medical kit from her nursing school days. From inside of it she took out a rubber hose and a syringe. She wrapped the hose tightly around her upper arm, then walked over to Jim and sat in his lap while he pulled the hose even tighter and tied it. She walked back to her medical kit, sat down on the bed and flicked on her arm until she could spot a vein. She had such thin arms, and it was hard for her to locate a good vein. Once she had one, she pushed in the syringe and took a blood sample, her face a complete blank as she did this. Jim kept his eyes squeezed shut. He couldn’t risk seeing blood now, not in the state he was in. He heard her remove the plastic vial from within the syringe, then the rush of blood filling up a second vial as she took another blood sample. After a minute or so, he could hear the hose being untied, and then the door opening and closing. He was ashamed of the fact that he was salivating.

Bullet of Prose #15 from THE INTERLOPER

They left the house then. After opening the door, Willis stood back and let the others leave first, and then they all moved in a half jog to the side of the house where their cars had been parked. As they approached the van Willis drove, which was the best vehicle they had for transporting the painting, Lowenstein cried out and dropped his end of the painting. He fell to one knee and grasped his ankle which was now covered with blood. There had been no sound of gunfire, so a silencer had to have been used. Willis dropped into a crouch and searched for where the shot came from. From the corner of his eye he saw the top of Hack’s head fly off, and then Pruitt’s throat explode into a bloody mess. He realized then how many shots had actually been fired and the source of the gunfire, but before he could turn his gun on Lowenstein, he took two bullets to the chest.

Bullet of prose #14 from JULIUS KATZ AND ARCHIE

“Yeah, well, as far as the TV and newspaper reporters are going to be concerned, Kenneth J. Kingston will be trumping you at your own game. Should I be ordering you a dunce cap now for the occasion? I might be able to find a good deal.”

Julius slowly began rubbing his knuckles again. “Enough of this, Archie.” 

I should’ve taken the hint, but I couldn’t help myself. “Sure, of course,” I said. “I understand. But Boss, should I get a jump on updating your biography to reference that you’re no longer Boston’s most brilliant detective, but have slipped to the second-most? Or should I wait until after Kingston plays you for a chump? Now that I think of it, after that happens I’m not even sure you could legitimately claim that title since probably every other working private investigator in Boston would be able to prove themselves intellectually superior to Kingston, so by the transitive property that would in effect make you Boston’s least brilliant detective. Not as compelling a title for you to hold, but I guess we’ll have to deal with it. If you want I can order stationary now to that effect, or I can wait until—” 

I pushed him too far. Julius cut me off, saying, “Goodnight, Archie.” And blast it! My world went black as he turned me off!

Bullet of Prose #13 from BLOOD CRIMES

The thug looked confused that someone as thin as Jim could lift him with one hand so effortlessly off the ground, especially since he outweighed Jim by a good sixty pounds. Up close the thug was ugly as sin; pockmarked, bald—and for a short moment before he had edged his switchblade out of his pants pocket—as scared-looking as any little kid had ever been.
  
Once the blade was open and the moonlight reflected off of it that changed and the thug transformed back to the brutish animal he was. Jim was grateful for that. It made it easier for him to do what he had to. He didn’t give him a chance to use the knife; instead he crushed every bone in the thug’s hand and sent the blade falling harmlessly to the ground—not that the thug would’ve been able to do much with it anyway. After that the skull was next.

KILLER strikes again in Germany!

I'm happy to be able to report that KILLER made Die Welt's best crime novel list for a second straight month, along with novels from Adrian McKinty, James Ellroy, and James Lee Burke.

Bullet of Prose #12 from KILLER

“What if I gave them Salvatore Lombard?”
That gets my lawyer’s attention. It would have to, me offering up Boston’s top crime boss. Up until that moment he’d only been going through the motions, halfheartedly suggesting that he might be able to cut me a deal for thirty years, but using a tone which indicated he didn’t really believe that. I can’t blame him. I’ve already seen the same videotapes and wire tap transcripts that he has. The state has me dead to rights for a long laundry list of crimes including extortion, a shitload of Mann Act violations and attempted murder. My busting up an undercover cop’s skull with a crowbar was only icing on the cake as far as they were concerned.