Before I introduce today's extra-special guest, I want to announce that the winner of FreE-Book Friday, for an e-copy of
Eternal Desire is:
mariska! Would you please email me at mirandadandridge@yahoo.com, so I can forward your prize? Congratulations, and thanks (really guys, I do mean it -- it means alot to me that you stop by and read my blog :) to all those who entered!
And now, for today's extra-special guest -- Rhiannon Frater. No, she's not special just because she lives in Austin, Texas! Ms. Frater is probably best known for combining two strong female heroines, Jenni and Katie, with Zombies in a Texas setting for her tour-de-force trilogy,
As the World Dies (ATWD). The books have generated quite a following and gotten great reviews (
check out the Amazon site), and what's really amazing is that -- they were self-published. Having gone with a small publisher myself, it's really nice to see the smaller guys pushing forward and making a name for themselves, while providing us readers with smart, different, and interesting tales, not just the same old formulas that a big corporation thinks will make money.
I was curious as to why Ms. Frater chose to write about zombies, and here's what she had to say:
As The World Dies was inspired by a vivid image that came into my mind while I was at work. It was a young woman in a pink bathrobe standing on the porch of her home in the early morning staring at the tiny fingers of her zombified toddler pressed under the front door. So I guess you can say I didn't choose the zombies, they just kind of showed up. Which is what they do...As an author myself, I can attest to the fact that sometimes, the stories just hit you, like lightening bolts from out of the blue. But Ms. Frater's intricate stories don't stop with zombies; she's also written
Pretty When She Dies, which is a vampire novel. I asked Ms. Frater why she switched from zombies to vampires, and she said,
I didn't switch to vampires. The first horror novel I ever wrote (which is unpublished) was about vampires. They are the boogeymen from my childhood. They are the monster that absolutely terrified. If I had a nightmare, it was about vampires. Christopher Lee's seductive and brutal count and Salem's Lot floating little boy vampire completely terrified me as a child. I always knew I wanted to be a writer, but I was never sure which genre. I wrote about vampires to contain them, to get control over what I fear, and it worked.
Vampires still terrify and facinate me.(I have to add here that after 25 years, vampires still fascinate me too!).
Pretty When She Dies tells the tale of Amaliya, a woman who has to literally claw her way out of her grave, only to discover that she's a vampire. Ms. Frater has posted the entire story
online here, and if you're interested in a paper or e-copy, you can buy it on Amazon or Kindle.
Reading about her books, I got the impression that the characters were just as important as the story. I wondered if Ms. Frater would describe her novels as character-driven, and she said this:
I firmly believe that if your reader cares about the characters they will be more emotionally invested in the story. Therefore, the stakes are higher in a horror story where terrible things could happen and the readers feel that suspense. If they don't care, then your story has less impact. I have been told that my characters feel like real people and that the readers love them (or loathe them). So, I do think my characterization is a major strength.You probably know by now that I do like strong female leads (why should guys have all the fun?!), and I asked Ms. Frater why she chose Jenni and Katie to lead us through the zombie world. She said,
A lot was made of the fact that in the zombie trilogy, Jenni and Katie were the leads. But there were also really strong male characters in the story as well. In Pretty When She Dies, it is the story of Amaliya, so it was only natural that her voice was the strongest. But, Cian, an older vampire, also plays a strong role.
I like to write about people, and it didn't really occur to me that I was doing anything unusual in the zombie genre by having female leads. I'll admit that I've yet to make my way to
As the World Dies and
Pretty When She Dies -- (gang, I'm still trying to get through
The Last Dickens that I started back in September! (instead of healthcare, I think Congress should be figuring out how to add more hours to the day ;)), but on my to-read list is Ms. Frater's upcoming novel,
The Tale of the Vampire Bride. The cover is absolutely gorgeous:
And if that's not enticing enough, here's the blurb:
All Lady Glynis Wright ever wanted was the freedom to live her life as she pleased. Unfortunately, her aristocratic parents want her to marry well and settle into a life of luxury. When her family becomes guests to one of the most fearsome and powerful vampires of all time, Glynis finds her fate is far more terrible than an arranged marriage.
Trapped in the power of her new master, she fights for freedom, revenge against her creator, and the chance to be with the one she truly loves.
Bloody, horrific, romantic and rich in gothic atmosphere, The Tale of the Vampire Bride is sure to thrill fans of the terrible, yet romantic vampires of literary past.I know, right? How full of awesome is it?
The Tale of the Vampire Bride should be published (by the Library of Horror Press) within the next few weeks, and of course I'll keep you all posted, because I know I cannot wait to get my hands on a copy! If you want to read more about Rhiannon Frater, you can visit her blog
right here.
And now, for your reading pleasure, is Chapter 1 from
The Tale of the Vampire Bride:
Chapter 1
The Journal of Lady Glynis Wright,
The Castle
4th of August, 1819
There is no solace in this place. I struggle to find it, but it eludes me. I have drifted through this castle like a specter, seeking to find one shred of comfort. This place is death. It reeks of it. Tastes of it. I can hear its cries
on the wind, and I cannot hide from its cold touch.
How very odd that this sad little journal, with its tattered pages and frayed binding, should be my only companion. Yes, there are the others, but I am angry with them. I would rather curl up in this corner and record all that has occurred in this terrible place.
The death, the pain, the blood...so much blood...
It seems only proper to commit to paper the trials I have suffered, even if no one shall ever read this journal.
Sweet little diary, you are my one and only friend. Let me pour my words into you.
I shall write until my story in this place is fully told...The cruel beauty of my surroundings filled me with a sense of dread, and I slipped one of my small-gloved hands under my father’s strong, yet gentle fingers. With a tender smile, my father cradled my hand against his bony knee, squeezing it gently. I drew comfort from this small gesture of love as I gazed out at the brutal,
majestic beauty of the Carpathian Mountains beyond the dirty carriage window.
Tilting my chin, I stared toward the high summits looming above the pass. The dark red curls framing my face danced in a breeze that was a soothing balm to my flushed skin.
Allow me pause to describe myself; I am a strange looking creature with the light olive complexion of my Italian mother and the red hair of my British father. My features have been described as classical: large aquamarine eyes, Roman nose, and a perfect little rosebud mouth.
“What do you think, my dearest?” Father asked me.
I smiled ruefully. “It’s bloody awful.”
“What an improper response for a young lady,” Mother chided.
My mother sat across from my father, as dignified as one could be in a lurching carriage. With hair the color of bronze, eyes as blue as the Mediterranean, and her fine features still containing the illusion of youth, beautiful was the only word to describe my mother. Her one flaw was her sharp tongue, which was quicker and deadlier
than any sword, or so my father liked to declare.
“What should I say then?"
My mother sighed and flung out a hand in exasperation. “She is your daughter, Edric. Please speak to her. I have not the strength left after this abominable ride.” She gave me one sharp piercing look, then turned to comfort my sister.
May sat wan and sickly, her dark blue eyes gazing fearfully from beneath her bonnet at the view beyond the carriage. I adored my younger sister, but she was always timid and fearful. I was forced to bully her into any adventure we undertook. She had not taken well to traveling and always seemed sick during our transits, whether by water or by land. “I believe we are going to fall down this mountain, Mama.”
“Don’t say such a thing, cara mia. We shall reach the village soon, and all will be well.”
“She never calls me cara mia,” I whispered to my father.
“There, there,” Father said in a rather bored voice, patting my hand.
The journey had been long and tiresome. We were all so very weary and cantankerous.
“Well, if we do fall off the mountain, I’m sure it will be quite a relief from all this traveling. One last bit of excitement in our boring lives,” I decided.
“Glynis, really,” Mother scolded.
Ignoring her, I opened the carriage window and leaned out to peer down the steep drop that lay a mere two feet from the spinning wheels of the carriage.
“Mama, make her stop!” May cried out, burying her face in Mother’s shoulder.
“Really, Glynis! Have you no sense at all? Why do you wish to upset your sister so?”
I bristled under my mother’s scolding as Father intoned, “There, there,” patting her hand to soothe her.
Instead of coddling May, as Mother was wont to do, I decided to irk them both even more. I was incredibly tired of the two of them being so decidely female about the entire journey. So, I leaned even further out the window and flashed my mother a defiant smile.
“Glynis, pull your head back in here! I cannot believe your daughter, Edric!”
I realized that my mother’s Italian temper was about to get the best of her. As I did not wish her to scold Father for my disobedience, I sat back in my seat with a petulant sigh. Fluffing up my skirts, I perched primly and proceeded to glare at her.
“Do not look at me like that, young lady! If you had behaved yourself in Venezia, Roma, Firenze, and even in Paris, we would not have to be here now in this abominable place,” Mother scolded.
She had a point. The entire purpose of our travels abroad were to find suitable husbands for me and my dear sister May. Our English suitors found me far too outspoken and my sister far too passive. Plus, we were a bit too foreign for many of the English aristocracy because of our Italian mother. Even her Medici lineage did not help us find favor amongst the nobility.
“I do not want a husband,” I responded coyly.
“Oh, really? And what is it that you want?”
“A series of young lovers.” There! I knew that would send her over the edge at me and spare Father her wrath.
Instead, Mother narrowed her eyes and turned her gaze sharply to my father. “Edric! See, do you see, what you have permitted?”
“She is trying to provoke you, dearest.”
I could not help, but smile. Father knew me so well. I was really quite bored and restless. And when I am bored and restless, I tend to behave rather badly.
“She is the way she is because of you!”
“Perhaps,” Father said. He tilted his head to regard me, smiling at me affectionately.
I mirrored his actions and relaxed slightly. Despite Mother’s constant chiding, I felt quite secure in who she was: my adoring, temperamental mother. And I knew that Father would always come to my defense. He adored my outspokenness as much as he did my mother's. Many times he told me how like her I am, and that is why he did not want to change me. If he loved my mother for all her fiery temper, then some man would love me for the same reason.
“Look, Glynis. See those graves there at the crossroads. The peasants of this country believe if you bury criminals at the crossroads they will not be able to return from the dead.”
“Really?” I immediately leaned over to see, my eyes filled with morbid curiosity.
“Oh, how dreadful,” May gasped, looking even more pale than before.
“Do you see what you are doing, Edric? Again, you are only promoting her outlandishness. Why, why, Glynis can you not act like a proper young lady?”
“I do act like a proper young lady, Mother. Everyone adored me in Italy except for the men. It is my mouth that gets me into trouble. Remember? That is what you always remark.” I regarded her with wide, innocent eyes.
“That tongue of yours. Where did you get it?” Mother sighed, growing weary of the argument.
“I wonder,” Father said in a soft voice. A small smile played across his lips.
Mother looked piqued, then she relaxed and smiled. “I will say no more! We are all exhausted by this tedious journey. Let us think of more pleasant matters.”
“I feel so very sick.” May moaned as she tried to brace herself in the lurching carriage.
“We do seem to be traveling awfully fast,” Father decided. He unfastened the window beside of him and slid it open. Leaning out of the carriage window, he shouted, “Ovidiu, why are we moving so rapidly?”
I could not hear the response over the rattling of the carriage, but when Father sat back, his expression was one of bewilderment.
“What did he say?” Mother demanded.
“He said that the night is approaching and we must reach the village before darkness falls. Then he said the oddest thing.”
“Which was?” I asked.
“The dead travel fast,” Father answered in a mystified tone.
“Savages. They are all superstitious savages.” Mother sniffed, continuing to coddle May.
“And you want me to marry one,” I said.
“There, there, enough of that,” Father droned, his gaze a bit hazy as he pondered the meaning of Ovidiu’s words.
“I wish we would get to the village soon,” May said. “I feel so sick!”
“I hope we never get there,” I said with a pout.
“Please, Glynis, you must be kind to our host.” Mother reached out to me. “This man is a very respected member of Hungarian Society. Sir Stephen said he has had many dealings with the Count, and he has a very high opinion of him.”
“But we do not even know him! And I certainly do not remember meeting this Count at any of the dinner parties we attended!” I ignored my mother’s imploring hand and glared at her. I honestly did not recall meeting any such man at any of the events my parents had insisted we attend. Of course, I had deliberately avoided
spending too much time with anyone who seemed sincerely interested in me.
I did remember one particular night when I had felt chills down my back and had known someone was watching me. I had never been able to figure out who it had been, but the experience had made me feel horribly uneasy. With my sort of luck, the unknown admirer was the man who had summoned my family to his estate high in the Carpathian Mountains. I was sure it was some disgusting old man who wanted nothing more than a nubile young body to satisfy his lascivious lust. Little did I realize how close to the mark I was in my ruminations…
Mother threw up her hands. “Edric, please deal with your daughter!”
Father reached over and pressed my hand firmly. “There, there, Glynis.”
I felt a hot anger welling up within me. I hated that my parents dared to believe they could just tell me who to marry and expect me to be agreeable! This Count was probably an ugly old man with no hair and bad teeth. I did not care to meet with this stranger that was so enamored with me. I had not liked his calligraphy: all loopy and fancy. And that ugly seal on the letter disgusted me. A dragon, of all things!
“You would be a Countess if you married this gentlemen,” Mother said, attempting to pacify me.
I made a face and pointedly stared out the window at the winding road we were so precariously traveling. I found myself almost wishing we would fall off the mountain. Death must be a lovely, poetic thing. Angels would pluck my soul from my shattered body and fly me up to Heaven. Yes, that would be better than marrying some old, bald, fat Count.
“You must be nice to the Count. You simply must be pleasant,” Mother said firmly. She sounded very desperate. “Please, my darling, please!”
“Glynis, do not aggravate your mother,” Father said.
The carriage lurched suddenly and the horses whinnied. I was pitched over into my mother, and we both fell to the floor as the carriage careened upwards off the road into the brush. We struggled back into our seats as the carriage continued to lurch about.
May swooned in our mother’s arms.
“Edric!” Mother clutched May tightly as we were swung about.
Father leaned out the window and shouted at the driver to stop. He was nearly jolted right out the window by the wild shimmy of the carriage.
I braced myself as well as I could as I wondered if my hasty death wish was about to come true. I was not so certain that I wanted to die in this strange land.
Abruptly, our steep ascent ceased, and we were all tossed into a heap on the floor.
Father thrust the door open and hopped out of the still rocking carriage.
In a loud voice, he demanded, “What in God’s name is going on?”
Our guide, Ovidiu, and the driver were already speaking anxiously in their native language, gesturing wildly.
“Good God, man, did you hear me? What is happening?”
I stumbled out of the carriage and stood next to my father, shaken and tucking my curls under my bonnet.
The swarthy Transylvanian guide dropped down next to Father. His dark eyes looked almost crazed with fear. “The pass to the village has been cut off. There was a big storm. It blew down many large rocks and blocked the way. The only other road leads up into the mountains.”
“Will it take us to the village? We have a very important connection to make there,” Father said impatiently.
“It is a dangerous road. Very dangerous.” Ovidiu looked as if he were about to sit down on the ground and cry.
“We have no choice. Take the high road to the village,” Father ordered.
While they spoke I was studying the road intently. The carriage was a little beyond the break in the road. The lower road obviously lead toward the small village where we were due to arrive that night. The carriage had skidded when the driver abruptly reined the horses up onto the high road, crashing through the foliage.
“It is a dangerous way!” Ovidiu shook his head. “Too dangerous to go that way!”
“Father, where did the boulders come from? Not off this road.” I stared down at the strange barricade. “It is as if they were set there.”
Father was irritated with our guide. He was a man who expected to be obeyed without question. “It is dangerous, but it is also the only road open to our destination. We are expecting a carriage to pick us up tomorrow in the village of Rosu. We must be there tonight!”
“Night will come fast now. The sun is low,” Ovidiu said. His anxious dark eyes darted toward the descending sun.
“Yes, yes. Light the lanterns on the carriage. Let us be off. We are wasting time!”
I reached out to Father. I was very bothered by the way the road was blocked. It seemed so deliberate. “The boulders, Father-”
“It is a dangerous way!” Ovidiu looked stricken. “We can turn back now! We can be far away by the time the moon is full!”
“Stuff and nonsense, Ovidiu. Light the lanterns and let us be off!” Father motioned at the driver that we were continuing on this high road.
“Father!”
“What is it, Glynis?”
“The boulders down there-”
“Yes, yes, what of them?” Father glanced down through the trees at the barrier blocking the lower road.
“Where did they come from?”
“We are in the mountains, Glynis. There are rocks of all shapes and sizes about. Now, into the carriage with you.”
“But, it is so odd, Father!”
“This is an odd country, Glynis.”
I was ushered up into the carriage and seated reluctantly across from my mother.
“It was as if they were placed there, Father. Do you not think it is odd? Maybe it is a sign.”
Mother held May close as she tried to soothe my panicked sister. “What is a sign?”
“The road being blocked. Maybe God does not want me to go see the Count. Maybe God has blocked our way as a sign to us,” I answered. I did not truly believe my words, but I dreaded continuing on with our journey.
“This is 1819. I think we are far beyond believing in signs,” Father declared as he took his seat. He swung the door shut and knocked on the side of the carriage with his fist.
The carriage lurched forward, and we began our ascent into the darkening forest.
As the sun continued its journey downwards, dark shadows began to fill the valleys. I sat quietly pondering the strange configuration of large boulders that blocked our passage. May finally stopped whimpering and fell asleep in our mother’s arms. Father seemed lost in the wilderness of his own mind, staring blindly out the
window. Silence filled our tiny haven.
The climb was treacherous, but as the sun continued to sink below the craggy mountaintops, the horses raced on more swiftly than before. We were rattled about the carriage with every curve in the road.
I could feel the urgency in the driver’s voice as he prodded the horses to greater momentum. The rumble of thunder could be heard rolling through the mountains as foreboding dark clouds rolled overhead obscuring the starry sky. The sun vanished with one last glimmer through the pine trees, then night took possession of the earth.
As the sky transformed from light to dark, so did our mood. The day had been drenched with refreshing sunlight. The night was darker than any I could recall, the air stifling. I felt as though I could not even take a full breath. The darkness filling the carriage smothered me.
Strangely, my family also seemed to sense the change. We fell into an eerie silence. Mother’s mouth was clamped so tightly shut that her lips were as pale as the moon she so warily regarded.
“What was that?” May whispered.
“The neighing of the horses,” Father said, his voice slicing harshly through the darkness.
A sharp yelp ripped out of the night.
“Father, I heard something, too!” I gripped his arm tightly.
It was then that Ovidiu began to call out shrilly. Even though it was in another language, I could have sworn his words were the Lord’s Prayer. As I heard the deep voice of the driver join in, I glanced with worry at my father.
“Father, what did the driver say earlier?”
“Glynis!” Mother’s voice was a hiss.
“The dead travel fast,” my father answered. His uneasiness was very evident in his voice.
I shivered at the thought. It was horribly morbid. Yet, somehow, fascinating. We were in such an exotic country with odd customs far removed from prim English society. I could only imagine what the driver had meant. Boldly, I leaned out the window.
The cold wind tugged at my hair and clothes, nipping at my nose. Ahead of the carriage, the road twisted among the trees. I turned my gaze and immediately let out a small gasp.
Three wolves, two dark gray, one white as the moonlight, were racing behind the carriage. The wolves' eyes seemed to flash with red fire. Their strong legs appeared to carry them on the wind itself. I could have sworn their great paws never touched the ground.
The white wolf gazed directly into my eyes. For a moment, a cold, tight hand of fear gripped my body. Then the three wolves veered off the road and disappeared into the forest.
I practically fell back into my seat, breathless with excitement. “There were wolves out there! Following us! It was most peculiar!”
“What? Wolves?” Mother let out a little gasp.
“Yes, wolves! There were three wolves running behind us,” I said. My eyes must have been very bright.
“They were beautiful!”
“Nonsense! The night is playing tricks on your mind!” Mother cast a fearful look toward the windows.
“Truly I saw them! They were rushing along behind us!”
May whimpered in fear and clutched Mother’s arm.
“Edric, she is frightening her sister. Make her stop!”
Father patted my arm lightly. “Be kind to your sister.”
I frowned, then turned my gaze sharply out the window. Damn them all! They never believed me. I was not fanciful. I was merely much more observant than any of them cared to be.
I felt the presence of the night all about me: a living, breathing entity, whispering soft words against my flesh.
I had never before felt the silken touch of the night caress me as I did now. It was a frightening, yet exhilarating experience. It was as if the night itself were attempting to seduce me.
As the horses’ hooves thundered and the night sky rumbled, all those within the frail carriage cowered except for me. Instead of feeling terror, I felt very much alive. I leaned out into the darkness beyond the carriage once more; my hands gripping the window frame as the cold wind pressed stinging kisses against my cheeks.
“Glynis! Sit back!”
I pointedly ignored my mother and watched as the forest began to thin. I could see the dark impression of the valley beneath us. For an instant, I thought I saw a flash of white. I strained to see and witnessed a glimmer of something pale racing through the trees. It had to be the ivory wolf.
“Let me see you, please,” I called out, not truly understanding the meaning of my words.
“I am here,” the wind seemed to answer me, and I felt quite mad.
I saw a woman standing next to the road. A beautiful woman with her long blond hair and white gown billowing on the wind. The carriage sped past the apparition, and, impulsively, I stretched out my hand. To my surprise, the ghostly woman reached out as well, and our fingertips touched.
With a gasp, I plunged my frozen finger into my mouth.
The carriage lurched unexpectedly as the forest disappeared. I found myself staring down into a dark chasm.
Glancing ahead, I saw the road was leading directly to a great castle resting on the edge of a precipice.
“There is a castle ahead!”
“A castle!” Mother forgot herself, leaning her head out of the window. “Thank God!”
The horses began to whinny and the carriage lurched. The driver was trying to pull on up on the reins to stop the carriage before it reached the vast courtyard of the castle.
“Good God, Ovidiu! Do not stop them! There is shelter,” Father shouted out.
Whatever the two frightened Transylvanians were attempting failed as the horses resisted. The carriage careened into the courtyard despite the efforts of the driver. Snorting and neighing, the horses clattered to a stop.
“At last! Shelter!” Mother snuggled her frightened youngest daughter to her body. “It is shelter, my darling May.”
“Thank goodness, Mama. I was so frightened!”
I cast an annoyed glance at them, then stared out the window at the imposing castle. It had obviously fallen into disuse, and I doubted anyone should live within its walls. Its craggy exterior bid no welcome. I thought I saw a light above me. Glancing up, I saw a face peering down at me from one of the long narrow topmost
windows. But as the clouds slipped over the full moon, the face vanished.
Ovidiu whipped the door open and stared at us with horrified eyes. “We cannot stay here! We must leave!"
“Do not be ridiculous. We must consult with the master of this castle.” Father climbed down and straightened his coat. “We must take care of the women.” He stood on the ruined steps of the entrance, looking about at his dreary surroundings. He seemed not very encouraged by the sorry state of this gruesome castle, but
he did have us to consider. He attempted to straighten his clothes and smooth his mussed graying red hair with his hands. Resolute, he marched up to the great ancient door of the castle, and then he hesitated.
Peering out at my father, I thought I saw his demeanor change for a moment. He glanced back at me with the strangest look. I thought I saw fear in his eyes, then he regained his composure, rapped on the door and waited.
“Please, sir, please, let us leave this place,” Ovidiu said piteously. He fearfully gazed at the door and clutched his hand to his heart.
The door opened and light spilled out of the doorway. A man appeared carrying a lantern. He carried it low at his side and I could not make out his face.
“I’m sorry to disturb you-“ Father began.
“Earl Wright, this is most certainly a surprise. I did not expect you until tomorrow.” The voice coming from the stranger was low, seductive and powerful. It carried the accent of the country, and it chilled me to the bone.
“It is the Count!” Mother smiled with relief, laying her hand over her heart. “All is well!”
I glanced over at Ovidiu. The man was gesturing anxiously, looking more than a little afraid. I had the feeling that all was not as well as Mother thought.
“I am surprised you found my home.”
Father looked too startled to respond. “Yes, err, um...”
The Count moved toward the carriage. “I take it this is your lovely family, Earl Wright.”
“Yes, yes! We are all here per your kind invitation, sir. We did not expect to find your castle. It was quite by accident.”
“A most delightful accident! But rest assured, many strange things happen on nights such as these in this country.” The Count reached the doorway of the carriage and lifted his lantern. His green eyes came sharply into focus and he stared directly at me. “Do they not, Lady Glynis?”
“I suppose,” I answered. I felt unnerved by this man. I could feel his aura of power pressing against me, and I shivered under his gaze.
The Count smiled with his sensuous lips, his eyes burning into mine. “Oh, I assure you they do. And welcome to my home. I am Dracula.”
HOW FULL OF AWESOME IS THAT?!?!? I love gothic tales, and the scenes with the brides in the novel Dracula particularly intrigue me, for I wonder where they came from, and if they were happy there (or did they get distraught and upset when he left to go to England?). As
Bride looks like a prequel to Dracula, I think it's going to be awesome. There are alot of re-telling of stories these days, and it can get a bit tiresome, but from this chapter, it looks like Ms. Frater has created a smart, feisty, fun heroine who will give a fresh take on the Dracula tale. I can't wait for more. And I do want to thank Ms. Frater for agreeing to have her work posted on my humble site and for having answered my questions about her novels.
Hope you guys enjoyed it too!
Chapter 1 from
The Tale of the Vampire Bride copyright 2009 by Rhiannon Frater, all rights reserved. Reprinted herein with permission of the author.
