The vampires are closing in.

The short synopsis of my BIG CRIMSON series: Jim has been a teenager since 1959—the year he was turned into a vampire and condemned to walk the Dark Road. Night after night, down through the years, he has roamed the halls of the finest hotels and casinos, from New York to New Orleans, from Las Vegas to L.A., being seduced and seducing, enjoying the pleasures of the flesh, and taking what he needed from so many willing bodies. That is until he earned the wrath of Zachariah Locke, the ancient king of a vampire clan, forcing Jim to hide out in a small southern town. But Locke tracks him down, and Jim would have died the true death if not for the intervention of Kyle Harris, a young prison guard whose door Jim knocked on in his hour of need. Having slain Locke, known as the Big Crimson among his kind, Kyle earns the gratitude of Jim, who vows to honor his debt no matter what. It’s a big obligation because Locke’s bloodsucking clan is determined to exact vengeance on the killer of their Maker. Forced to endure small-town life, Jim rediscovers the things missing from his immortal existence: a friendship with Kyle, and perhaps, love. The latter in the form of Jennifer Pryor, the lonely girl next door who has caught on to Jim’s true nature. The three of them form a bond of sorts and for a few drowsy days during a hot summer, this creature of the night has a brother and a girlfriend. But then Little Angel, Locke’s child vampire pet, shows up in town and proceeds to make a few vampires of her own. Worse, she is followed by Luther Hatfield, a blood-drinking, flesh-eating monster. Both Little Angel and Luther are bent on avenging their Maker, and they have help from some willing locals. Jim manages to save Jennifer from their blood-stained fangs, but when Luther invades the prison where Kyle works, Jim must be prepared to risk more than everything he has to lose to honor the debt he owes.

An excerpt from BIG CRIMSON 3: BLOOD WILL TELL:

But Kyle couldn’t get past it: that the reason Luther Hatfield and his crew were there was because of him. All the day’s events—as well as the atrocities of this night—were on him. “It should have been me and no one else in that basement. I’m the reason why all this shit’s gone down.”

“Don’t say that, don’t even think it.” Jim was adamant. “Blame me if anybody. It was my decision to try and hide out here that got this whole crap storm brewing. You’ve done nothing but the right thing from the get-go. No shame in that. Put the blame where it belongs, on Luther, Little Angel, that bastard Cutler, even Captain Garland Quinn. They’re the ones who only cared about what they wanted and didn’t give a rat’s ass who they hurt getting it. Besides, you not being home today gave me the perfect opportunity to impress Miss Pryor by rescuing her from the bad guy.”

Jim’s words were the truth, and they eased the guilt some. “I think it’s the other way around. She’s been impressing you from the first night you laid eyes on her.”

The vampire started to respond but stopped and turned toward the office door, his brow furrowed, and for the first time, Kyle noticed how quiet the night had become. Gone were the war cries of rage and joy from the departing inmates.

“What’s wrong?” Kyle asked, fearing the answer.

“They’re coming.” It was the answer Kyle absolutely did not want to hear.

Jim’s movements were a blur, snatching up a computer monitor at least fifteen years beyond obsolete from a desk and hurling it at the window, shattering the glass and ripping down the blinds. What happened next occurred at the speed of light. Kyle felt the familiar tug at his collar, and then a rush of fresh air against his face and sweat-drenched shirt before he was lying on the flat roof of the administration building, the inky night sky above.

“It was Rivera, one of Luther’s attack dogs,” Jim said as he pulled Kyle upright. “Heard him coming through the door on the floor below us; had to move fast before he smelled you.”

“And we’re safe up here?” The roof of the administration building afforded a good view of the five cellblocks, all lit up and deadly quiet—a sight Kyle found very unnerving with the knowledge the cells inside were now as empty as Christ’s tomb.

Jim gestured with his thumb. “Safer than being down there.”

“Not anymore!” Little Angel Frye sprang over the parapet and landed on a rooftop AC unit with the deftness of a feline. “Luther is going to be sooo pleased with us.” The “us” were right behind her; Jason Macendale and his three buddies clambered over the parapets, their faces fish-belly white.

“Oh shit.” Kyle and Jim had exactly the same reaction at exactly the same time.


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