Review: Tears of Requiem (Song of Dragons Book II) by Daniel Arenson

Rating: 4.5 out of 5

Look out, everyone! Big scaly beasts are on the loose!

Daniel Arenson returns with the second book in his Song of Dragons series, Tears of Requiem. We pick up the story right where Blood of Requiem leaves off, with the surviving Vir Requis – King Benedictus, his wife Lacrimosa, their daughter Agnus Dei, and Kyrie – fresh off their defeat and (near) fatal wounding of Benedictus’s brother and ruler of the land, Dies Irae. The griffins have been released, and hopefully life may come just a tad easier for these poor, harrowed folks.

No such luck, because Gloriae, the stolen daughter of Benedictus, has released the Nightshades, a race of strange shadow-creatures that swallow the souls of the living, leaving a hollowed (yet still living) husk behind. I can’t tell you how horrible this concept sounds, on theory and on paper. To have your soul sucked away and splintered into a million tiny pieces, while your consciousness is still aware, feeling every morsel of fear, longing, and pain it endures? It really is one of the more frightening concepts I’ve seen in a book.

Anyhow, I’m getting off track here. So Gloriae releases the nightshades, and then Dies Irae, who’s apparently indestructible – a dagger in the eye won’t kill this bastard? What’ll it take! – kicks his adopted (stolen) daughter out of his kingdom, for all intents and purposes disowning her. She eventually runs into the remaining Vir Requis she is intent on killing, to prove her loyalty to her “father”. Angst, fighting, seduction, and all sorts of other wackiness ensue.

From there, the book becomes a mad dash against time, with the survivors trying to figure out a way to defeat the ostensibly undefeatable nightshades and save what’s left of this new kingdom of the living dead. Blood is spilled, love is made, unexpected allies are brought together, and we all know that though there may be a light at the end of the tunnel for these tormented characters, they’re going to experience a good amount of tragedy first.

This is a more than worthy successor to the first book. It moves along very quickly, and it really boils down to a mad – though exceedingly violent – survival romp. The characters stay true to themselves, some make grand discoveries about themselves, and through it all an almost horror-novel sensation of isolation and fear washes over near every word.

And yet, unlike the first installment, there is an underlying sense of lightness. Strange as that is to say about a book as dark as this, there is actual levity in certain parts – particularly in the repartee between Agnus Dei and her father. These scenes worked very well to split up the doom and gloom that encompasses the rest of the story.

As for characters, Benedictus remains the stalwart old king, firm in his beliefs and yet nearly overwhelmed with guilt. Kyrie grows immensely, though he is still somewhat trapped in the timidity of being a very young man, especially when it comes to women. (As the father of two teenage boys, I can relate.) Agnus Dei demonstrates perhaps the most growth, as the angst that consumed her in the first book slowly wanes, revealing a strong and yet still sensitive woman underneath. About the only character that seemed a little off was Lacrimosa, as she sometimes acted a bit out of character, almost as a convenience for the plot. And Dies Irae is evil incarnate yet again, a bundle of hatred and brutality so single-minded in his goals that he’ll even sacrifice his own humanity to reach them…though it could be argued that, because of his loathing, he ceased to be human long ago.

As I said, Tears of Requiem is a brisk novel. It punches you in the gut from the very first chapter and only lets you regain your breath for moments at a time. It brings you on a journey of darkness and love, and asks the question of how this struggling race of people will ever survive in a world where everyone hates them. Even with this, it’s an overly fun read, a tale of mythical adventure. And Tears of Requiem does something very important for any series; it builds the tension of a fantastic storyline, with the sorrow at its conclusion setting up what is surely to be an intense – and imminently heartbreaking – conclusion to the series.

Bring it on, Mr. Arenson. I’m waiting.

Plot - 9

Characters - 9

Voice - 10

Execution - 8

Personal Enjoyment – 9

Overall – 45/50 (4.5/5)

Purchase Tears of Requiem in ebook format:

Review: Draculas by Jack Kilborn, Blake Crouch, Jeff Strand, & F. Paul Wilson

Rating: 4.7 out of 5

A few weeks ago I suffered a serious case of fantasy over-exposure. After opening the next novel on my list, I found myself dreading yet another exploration into world-building and magical powers. So, to relieve my readerly doldrums, I put it down and picked up another book, one that’s been hiding in my Kindle since I bought it the day it came out. That book…Draculas, by the combo of Jack Kilborn (aka J.A. Konrath), Blake Crouch, Jeff Strand, and F. Paul Wilson.

I'm glad I saved it, for it was the cure for what ailed me.

Draculas is a wham-bang, smack-em-around, eviscerate-the-enemy, action-packed adventure. It takes place in the boondocks town of Durango, Colorado, where the staple eccentric old rich guy, Mortimer Moorecock, has been delivered a very special package – the skull of an unknown, ancient being; a slice of archeology (complete with a mouthful of dagger teeth) that could possibly, if it proves real, be the missing link between the myth and reality of vampires.

Due to a self-imposed wound involving said artifact, Mortimer is rushed to the hospital. It is there, in Blessed Crucifixion, that the rest of the story unfolds. Regular, everyday people undergo startling changes, becoming blood-driven maniacs, their physical forms changing in virtually a blink of an eye. Bedlam ensues, as those poor survivors are forced to fend for themselves in this incongruously-named, backwoods medical center while murdering, scissor-mouthed freaks – the draculas from the title, though they’re nothing like traditional vampires except for the bloodlust – run amok.

Taken at face value, the rest of the book is standard hack-and-slash fare. The text is filled with gore, with people tossed into unbelievable circumstances and responding in some pretty outlandish ways. The body count becomes too high to count by the time the fifth chapter rolls around. In a way, the violence on the page is almost mind-numbing. And I mean this in a good way. A very good way.

The thing is, Draculas is the furthest thing from a serious book. Is it horror? Yes. But more than anything else, this is satire to the extreme. (The authors tell you this right from the dedication: For Bram Stoker, with deepest apologies, it reads.) Every character is a cliché – the skeptical researcher; the lawman obsessed with ultra-powerful weapons; the egotistical small-town doctor; the brave nurse who’s been shortchanged; the idiot lumberjack with a heart of gold; the clown with depression issues; the spoiled little girl. However, these clichés are exaggerated to the point of absurdity, which demonstrates a group of authors that 1) don’t take themselves too seriously, and 2) are just having fun with the typical horror tropes – making the characters special by amplifying personality traits, in effect flipping truism on its head. In fact, if this book has any fault at all, it’s that there are a couple characters that aren’t absurd enough. The scenes involving these particulars are the only ones that seem a bit slower than the others – as contradictory as it is to say, in the scope of the story involved they become less real.

But these scenes are few. For the most part, we have page after page of action, of wisecracking dialogue and dismemberment gone awry. And, oddly enough, there’s some actual emotion here, as well. Toward the latter stages of the novel, when the poop really starts hitting the fan, there are a couple extremely well-written and affecting scenes. It was strange to find, especially in a work of fiction this ridiculous and over-the-top, but it was most certainly appreciated. It takes a ton of talent to do this, talent these four writers obviously possess.

The writing is very smooth and virtually seamless, to the point that the only way you’d know this was written by more than a single author is by reading the multiple names in the title. Though I’m sure each of them have a style all their own (this is the first work I’ve read by any of them), here they’ve managed to meld their different approaches to the craft into a cohesive whole. Again, that takes talent.

Draculas is an exceedingly fun read. It might not be for everyone, what with the amount of blood spilled within its pages, but for those who want to laugh, cringe, and even feel their heart skip a beat more than once, this is the book for you. It’s a grindhouse adventure that doesn’t take its foot off the pedal until the end, which in itself is hilarious in its irony and rewriting of myth. But more than anything it’s a good time, no matter how irreverent to the source material the authors may be – in an affectionate way, of course.

I had a blast reading it. You will, too.

Plot - 10

Characters - 8

Voice - 10

Execution - 9

Personal Enjoyment – 10

Overall – 47/50 (4.7/5)

Purchase Draculas in ebook format:

Review: Freeze by Daniel Pyle

Rating: 4.8 out of 5

I usually start out these reviews with a bit of exposition about select themes I find within a given book, but this time I’d like to focus on something that is, in itself, a part of writing.

Voice.

Some writers know theirs. Some don’t. With the best authors, you know who they are from the moment you read the first sentence. It’s a comforting, and important, trait to have. King has it. Robbins has it. Layman and Lovecraft had it. Hemingway had it in spades, as did Fitzgerald.

And so does Daniel Pyle.

From the second I picked up Freeze, this author’s new novella, I was immediately sucked in. I felt the same exact way I did when I opened Down the Drain and Dismember, previous works by Pyle – like I was about to be taken on one massive, wildly-swinging ride of terror. Needless to say, I wasn’t disappointed.

Freeze is the story of Warren and Tess, an older couple living high in the mountains with their dog during the snowstorm of the century. There are strange goings-on about the house after the power goes out, adding to the feeling that this isn’t your garden-variety blizzard. A window breaks, showering Tess with glass. There are strange sounds outside. The family car has been seemingly vandalized. And all the while the cold and isolation creep in on this tight little family, until finally, after an emergency, Warren is forced to try and brave his way down the mountain in search of help. Little does he know, there are strange beings waiting for him out in the frigid wilderness, creatures that would love nothing more than to tear him apart.

The plot is very basic – couple trapped, flees from monsters, fights monsters, encounter terrors they never thought imaginable. However, it’s the way the story is constructed – the voice I spoke of earlier – that makes this such an entertaining and unrelenting read.

Pyle does something very interesting here, and it’s a way of constructing a story that I appreciated to no end. He makes the setting, the weather, the storm and cold, as important a character as Tess, Warren, Bub, or the strange creatures outside. I read this book outside, sitting in ninety-degree heat, and on more than one occasion I found myself shivering. That, my friends, takes copious amounts of talent. The seclusion of Pyle’s words wraps around you, the wind blows inside your ears, and you can’t help but empathize with what these poor characters are going through. In effect, we are placed directly in their shoes, made to feel their fear, anger, and desperation.

In many ways, this book reads like an episode of The Twilight Zone with a little Tales from the Darkside mixed in for good measure. Nothing is explained, the ending is open to the reader’s imagination. All we’re left with are the sensations involved. It’s like being plunked in the middle of a nightmare scenario and forced to fend for ourselves, which is refreshing, and also common with Pyle. Just as in Down the Drain, there isn’t page after page of details about the nature of the monsters. They’re there, they’re frightening, and that’s all you need to know. Is that enough? It damn well should be.

There is only one aspect of the writing that I didn’t like, and it’s the single issue keeping it from receiving a perfect score. On more than one occasion, the internal dialogue of the characters’ seemed to be too much for the given situation. There were a couple examples of ill-timed, ironic thoughts that I, personally, don’t think would go through the mind of someone experiencing that kind of terror. It slowed the momentum for me a bit when this occurred, but thankfully this only happened a few times, five at most. I can forgive an author for trying too hard sometimes, and that’s what those little snippets felt like to me. And it could also just have been my mood at the time, so my point dockage is very small.

In conclusion, Freeze is a gem of a short novel that will leave you panting by the end. It’s the perfect creature feature, hitting all the right emotional notes, making you care, cringe, and rattle your teeth at the same time. And once you finish, you’ll never be able to hear a scratch at your window on a cold winter night and pass it off as nothing again. There will always be that nibble of panic in the back of your mind that says, but what if…

Which is the type of effect that all horror – hell, all fiction – should aim to accomplish.

So congrats to Daniel Pyle, because he’s created something wonderful.

Plot - 10

Characters - 10

Voice - 10

Execution - 8

Personal Enjoyment – 10

Overall – 48/50 (4.8/5)

Purchase Freeze in ebook format from:

Review: Blood of Requiem (Requiem Fire I) by Daniel Arenson

Rating: 4.5 out of 5

When I like an author, I read books by that author. Sound like a simple statement? Well, it’s not as easy as it sounds, especially when you have a review blog to run. There are many books out there, by many different talented (and some not-so talented) writers, and you want to believe that, as a reader, they each deserve equal time under your eyes.

Well, the truth is, I have my favorite authors, but sometimes I feel the need to push aside the books these fine scribes send me in order to give everyone a fair shake. Yet there are also instances when doing so is a detriment to the book I choose to read, because from the moment of that decision onward, that book will be compared – perhaps unfairly – to the one I postponed.

This is why when Daniel Arenson, one of those aforementioned “favorite authors”, asked me to beta read his new book, Blood of Requiem, I gladly set everything else down and picked it up. He needed it finished by a certain date, you see, which took the decision of what to read next completely out of my hands.

I’m SO glad I did.

Blood of Requiem is the sad tale of the Vir Requis, a race of humans with the magical ability to become dragons. Sounds interesting already, right? And it is. At the very start of the book, we’re introduced to the fact that the Vir Requis are on their last legs. They’ve been hunted to virtual extinction, and they make one final stand against an army that far outnumbers them. The Requis are killed off, one-by-one, leaving seemingly only one survivor – Benedictus, the king of his people. Their home, the land of Requiem, is left in ashes.

From there, the story jumps into the future, where Dies Irae, the leader of the army of griffin-riders who destroyed the dragons, continues his reign of terror. It seems that there is another survivor of the Vir Requis genocide – a boy named Kyrie, now a teenager, who was rescued from the battlefield, injured and dying, by Mirum, a kind woman whose family was slaughtered by Irae and their land taken. Kyrie has grown up living in fear while locked away in a tower, hidden from sight. On only rare occasions does he brave the world and spread his wings, but it is because of one of these voyages outside that his reality – and safety – is shattered.

Dies Irae discovers him and seeks him out, and Kyrie is forced to flee. He traipses across the land in search of Benedictus, who most have written off as dead.

Kyrie eventually finds Benedictus, finds out that the old king’s wife and daughter are still alive, and together the four of them flee the searching Griffin hoard. There is great tension here, including a kidnapping and a search for the “true dragons” embarked upon by Kyrie and Benedictus’s daughter, Agnus Dei. The imagery is fantastic, the world the author built is wonderful and full of strange, dark forces, and the Salvanae, the “true dragons”, are a wondrous sight to behold. It all adds up to become a magnificently subtle world, with shades of Martin’s bleakness and Pratchett’s ingenuity.

But once more, with Arenson’s work (and the work of the other authors I admire), it is the premise that quivers just beneath the surface of the tale that brings it to life, battle scenes and melodrama be damned, and it all centers around the principal villain of the story, one Dies Irae.

You see, it turns out that Irae was born into Vir Requis royalty. He was Benedictus’s older brother, the rightful heir of their father the king’s throne. Yet the unfortunate Irae was born at a disadvantage – the magics that allowed the Vir Requis to take wing and fly were absent in him. He was abandoned by his father, left to live his life as a joke passed down upon their family. Stripped of his birthright and constantly told how worthless he was, of course Irae grew up to be a damaged person. Even the only one who loved him – Benedictus, his younger brother – treats him with a certain amount of pity rather than true love, as if he’s a charity case, not blood. He sees everything his brother has been handed, from the throne to his future wife, and despises the “Poor guy” attitude his admittedly supercilious brother displays.

Taking this into account, is it any wonder that Irae turned out to be such an asshole?

In other words, even though this novel does have a hero, in a twist that I appreciated greatly, there are really no true heroes to be found. All are tainted, either by pain or anger or despair. The great enemy that Kyrie, Benedictus, Lacrimosa (Ben’s wife), and Agnus Dei are fleeing from is a monster of their own creation, or at least the creation of their people. This is a pertinent aspect of storytelling for today’s world, especially those in the States, what with virtually every enemy the U.S. now faces being individuals who we nurtured and helped bring to power. Now, I’m not saying the author is making any judgments on this particular facet, just saying that he recognizes it exists. And that makes what the story brings to the table that much more important.

But even greater than this is the theme of hate spread through lies and fear. It’s everywhere in the book – the people of the land hate the Vir Requis because of the lies they’ve been told, just as Gloriae (the daughter of Benedictus, kidnapped by Dies Irae as a young child and raised as his own) is. This is such a heartbreaking development, and one that Arenson milks for all it’s worth from all angles, from the parents to the kidnapper to the child, herself, who has grown up with this hate imprinted on her soul and wears it like a badge of honor. And then there is Dies Irae, who honestly believes that his quest is justified and good because he’s convinced himself, through his own lies and deceit, that it is so. I’d go on about how much this line of thinking means in modern society, but I don’t think you have to look too far to see examples sprout up all around us. They’re everywhere, from the Middle East to fundamentalist churches to backwater towns and so many other places. It’s frightening, it’s disheartening, and it’s real, which gives the book that much more potency.

Blood of Requiem is an outstanding first book in a series, and by the end, when both the heroes and villains have been put through the absolute ringer, we see how much farther this story has to go to reach its conclusion. Sure, there is a major victory won, but that victory does not come without a dire price.

In all, this is a fantastic book that I couldn’t put down, and I can’t wait for the second volume to be released, because with all the loose threads, both emotional and dealing with the plot, that Arenson has left hanging, I know the intensity of the tale will only heighten. This is a special book with an original premise and a dark and gritty storyline, a book that will excite you and make you feel something.

And that, folks, is what it’s all about.

(Note to say that as a beta reader, I find it unfair to post my usual rating breakdown, so I’m simply going to give Blood of Requiem 4.5 stars. And it deserves it.)

Purchase Blood of Requiem in ebook format:

Review: Lessons II by Michael Crane

Rating: 5 out of 5

Here we are again, folks! Time for another collection of shorts by the incomparable Michael Crane.

Just as with the first volume, Lessons, Lessons II contains upwards of twenty-five "drabbles", complete stories told in exactly 100 words. Also as with the first book, every story the author crafts is entertaining and well worth the read. They suck you in immediately and then punch you in the gut.

I don't know if people really understand how hard it is to write these types of stories. One has to create atmosphere and characterization using an economy of words. And yet here it's pulled off beautifully.

In many ways a collection like this is like a songbook. You have different stanzas and verses, all reflecting a similar theme in different ways. There is horror and comedy, and a twist at the end of nearly every one. From "Solution" (my favorite) to "Punishment", they're small illustrations of everyday problems solved in the most extreme and brutal of ways.

In other words, this is a damn good little collection. My only hope is that the author will start putting out longer works, because his voice needs to be heard in a more fleshed-out format. I, for one, would line up to buy it.

Two great big severed thumbs up from me!

Purchase Lessons II in ebook format from:

Review: Lessons by Michael Crane

Rating: 5 out of 5

When you have a collection of twenty-five stories, and they're all exactly one hundred words long, it's not really practical to give a full five-part breakdown of them. Mainly because, if a story is that short, it either grabs you or it doesn't. There's really no other way to judge them.

Lessons by Michael Crane is a wonderfully campy, disgusting, funny, and ironic collection of the aforementioned 100-word "drabbles". They snag you by the title and by the time you reach the last sentence, you excitedly turn to the next page, where even more snippets of horror goodness awaits you.

Every...single...one...of these short tales are fantastic. Some rise above others - such as the hilarious Grim, the darkly ominous Spoiled, the masterfully ironic Haunted, and finally the masterful and creepy slice-of-regret Simple, which might well be the best piece of microfiction I've ever read. But all of them are fantastic. There is not a lacking tale to be found.

This is a great - and brisk - little collection, folks. It's well worth the dollar you'll spend on it. I highly recommend it to any lover of horror out there. They'll grab you by the throat, shake you around a bit, and then spit you out wanting more.

Good times. Seriously.

Purchase Lessons by clicking the link below:

Review: The Long Last Call by John Skipp

Rating: 4.7 out of 5

I read The Scream in eighth grade, and The Bridge in high school. I adored both of those books, and they helped build my love of horror. These novels were penned by John Skipp (with an assist from Craig Spector), the guy who pretty much invented the splatterpunk genre.

However, in the time after The Bridge was released in ‘91, it was years before I heard from him again. As far as I could tell, the only appearance Mr. Skip was as the editor of the two “Books of the Dead”, which are the seminal compilations in the world of zombies. And oh, did I miss him.

Well, he’s back. (Actually, he has been for a time, but I’m a bit, er, clueless when it comes to actually seeking things out.) This past week, I was handed a copy of The Long Last Call, in paperback from Leisure Fiction, and I dove in head first.

This particular tome actually contains two novellas – the title piece, “The Long Last Call”, and “Conscience”, which was released in 2004 (unbeknownst to me). I will review them both here, in that order.

In “The Long Last Call”, a strip club off the beaten path in Podunk America is visited by a strange (and oily) visitor. There are the requisite characters for such a setting – the sleazeball owner, the grumpy bouncer, the old hick regulars, the guy who stops in who doesn’t belong, and strippers who snort a ton of coke or are paying their way through college or are simply dumb and blessed with stunning beauty. Yes, these characters are simple, but they work, because this story isn’t about making some grand social commentary (at least not at first). No, this is a slam-bang tale of horror, and we’re all better for it.

The patrons of Sweet Thangs are taken for a ride when that dark (and oily) stranger strolls in with a bucketload of cash. He feeds into the characters’ inherent greed and desperation, intent on proving that all people are corruptible and at their core dreadful, until a twist at the end throws everything on its head. It was quite interesting to see the interplay between all of these characters, both despicable and not. This book would work beautifully if were nothing but a social experiment, but it is much more than that.

The writing style is one I haven’t seen in a long time. It is brisk and fast-paced, leading you from one sentence to another without giving the reader a chance to breathe. The use of ellipses is brilliant. You flip through the pages one after the other, excited to see what sort of depravity Skipp will show you next. It’s a small book, and simple, but it does its job well, which is all you can ask for.

Whereas “The Long Last Call” aims to shock you, “Conscience”, the second of the novellas, wants to do so much more than that. It wants to make you think, to make you consider the frailty of your own soul and those of the people around you.

To say I was shocked by what I read in this second novella would be an understatement. It is the story of Charlie, a killer-for-hire working for a clandestine organization that specializes in ruining the lives of the affluent. (Think “Access Hollywood” run by Don Corlione) He is a miserable sod. He hates life, he hates people, he hates his past and his future. He kills folks without thinking twice and waxes poetic about how the whole world has gone to hell. He also reflects with passion about his first love, his dog Rex, and this is the first clue we are given that there is more going on underneath Charlie’s layers of hatred than we realize.

I won’t go too far into the plot of the book, because to do that would be to ruin the surprise it has in store. And oh, what a surprise it is. I was utterly floored by the revelations here. It read like a tale of Poe for a new generation. It was sweet, it was harsh, and it made me THINK, DAMMIT. Actually, if I had to think of two words to describe it, they would be “hideously beautiful”, because the novella itself is a contradiction, which makes it really close to what we, as people, have always been.

Contradictions.

In fact, I’ll go even further and say that this might be one of the most perfect stories I’ve ever read. My one and only complaint is that more info about the organization Charlie works for wasn’t presented, but that could be another novel for another day (I hope it is). The writing is spot on, there are sufficiently violent and gruesome scenes, the voice is sublime and cynical, the main character changes in a way that makes sense once the hidden meaning of everything is revealed, and it has something beautiful to say. Let’s just say that, by the end, my eyes were welling up. For a work of art as cruel as this is, to have that purity underneath, that sense of lost innocence that might someday be regained, is something to be greatly admired.

So yes, folks, John Skipp is indeed still one of the best horror writers out there. And with these two stories, he proves that, with age, comes wisdom and understanding. His unveiling of the human condition in these tales says that much…and more.

They’re well worth the read. You’ll love every minute. I know I did.

The Long Last Call

Plot – 9

Characters – 8

Voice – 10

Execution - 9

Personal Enjoyment – 9

Conscience

Plot – 9

Characters – 10

Voice – 10

Execution - 10

Personal Enjoyment – 10

Overall – 94/100 (4.7/5)

Purchase The Long Last Call in paperback at Amazon now!

Review: The Cost of Betrayal by David Dalglish

Rating: 5 out of 5

Let me preface this by saying that normally I like to sit on a book a few days before I review it. This allows me time to ponder the meaning of the story in greater detail, to mull over the finer aspects of the storytelling and decide whether my initial, guttural reaction was indeed true, or if I was simply caught up in the moment. Sometimes a book I loved will appear lesser after time, sometimes one I loathed will be struck with new meaning. This balance is what I seek and what this practice is for, to come from an objective place. However, as with most things of an objective nature, sometimes the emotion can be wrung from my explanation of it, due to both the time and that pondering.

So now I sit here, an hour past finishing “The Cost of Betrayal”, the second of the Half-Orc series by David Dalglish, and I want nothing more than to get my thoughts down on paper now. This is a work that is demanding of a highly emotional state, and it’s in my own, right now, that I honor it.

The story picks up where “The Weight of Blood” left off, in the aftermath of master necromancer Velixar’s failed attempt to destroy Woodhaven. The three partners-in-convoluted-crime – Harruq and Qurrah, the half-orc brothers, and Aurelia, an elven sorceress – are on their way back to Veldaren, the city in which the brothers grew up, on the streets and all alone. Upon reentering the city, they are immediately attacked, by a group called the Eschaton, a militia who protects the city for coin and favor. The way Dalglish pours you right into the action is admirable. He does it without missing a beat and without a ton of setup, which is appreciated.

The small group joins up with the Eschaton, and wackiness ensues. They encounter a plot by the local thieves’ guild and the battle scenes are epic. In fact, ALL the battle scenes are epic, extremely graphic, and skillfully presented, just as in the first book. You don’t get lost in the action and you actually care about what’s about to happen to the characters.

The funny thing about these battles, however grand they might be, is that they are overshadowed by the emotional threads that run through the novel. The relationship between Harruq and Aurelia grows by leaps and bounds, and Qurrah becomes obsessed with a strange and tweaked-out girl named Tessanna, who is possessed of power that not even she knows the depths. It is with these two relationships, mirrored against each other, that the bulk of the story grows and flourishes. More than in book one, the differences between Harruq and Qurrah are made that much more apparent by the way they relate to their loved ones. Harruq, though a big lunk, is thoughtful and caring. He listens and is willing to change. Qurrah, on the other hand, is fanatical, cynical, and unbending. He thinks he knows his place in the world and is not willing to alter his mindset…or his actions.

Though a work of fantasy – and a graphic, cringe-inducing work at that – it is this heart that sets this book apart from others I’ve read. The emotional and social threads that run through it cast it above the realm of high fantasy and into highly literary. There are so many issues presented, from racism (how well an individual can “pass” when partially of a lineage deemed unsavory) to the difference between love and fixation (how far will one go, how much will one sacrifice, to help out someone they care about) to the simple act of forgiveness (an example of which I will not give away, as it is the most powerful and gut-wrenching part of the book).

Yet despite all this, there is one theme that rises above all others: family. What does it mean to be family? Can there be family without blood relation? Can that family overcome the faults of its members, even if those faults endanger them? These were stunning revelations to read, and some of the more prophetic words and ideas presented left me with a gigantic lump in my throat. By the end of the book I was a quivering mess. I cried. I couldn’t help but look at my own family, pull them in, and tell them how much I loved them. I thought of the actions of those involved in this yarn and wondered if I would be able to be as forgiving as they were. That is what I found surprising. Almost every character in these novels is a highly flawed individual. They perpetuate horrible acts and seek no clemency. They murder and maim because it’s their job, and they refuse to apologize because that is the state of the world they live in. And yet, through each of them runs a deeply emotional center, a potential to love and be loved that they wish to feed and encourage. There is change, and as I said before, there is forgiveness, and we the readers forgive right along with them. We do this because we recognize the power they hold, the love they are capable of, and when one treads off that path, we shake our heads in pity. We want them to succeed, to overcome whatever demons have befallen them, and it actually HURTS when they fail.

This is a deeply sad book. And it is poignant. I couldn’t put it down. It is painful, at times, to take in, and yet you can’t stop. It makes you FEEL and THINK, and that is, besides pure entertainment, the reason most of us read in the first place. For this, David Dalglish should be commended. I do not speak in hyperbole to say that this is one of the four or five best novels I have read IN MY LIFETIME. It has everything one would want in a book. It takes you through the roller coaster of sensations – from hopeful to despaired to overjoyed to, finally, broken – and spits you out on the other side shaken and thankful for what you have. You laugh, you cry, you ponder. This is truly an accomplishment, and one that should not be overlooked.

Yes, “The Cost of Betrayal” is that good. I dare anyone to read it, to take it in, to relish it. The mistakes in the writing from the first book (which weren’t that noticeable to begin with) have been remedied. What remains is a tale of such power that you have no choice but listen. Carnage and conflict aside, as some might not welcome them, there is too much here to not appreciate it.

This needs to be read. It needs to be out there.

And with that, for the emotions I feel, I give the author two simple words that I think say everything.

Thank you.

Buy The Cost of Betrayal in paperback or for the Amazon Kindle

Plot - 10

Characters - 10

Voice - 10

Execution - 10

Personal Enjoyment - 10

Overall - 50/50 (5.o/5)

Review: 33 A.D. by David McAfee

Rating: 4.5 out of 5

If one were to take the story of the crucifixion and combine it with vampires, you would most likely get one of the most clichéd stories imaginable. I’ve read quite a few tales regarding this very setup – all in short story format, mind you – and they all were variations on a few different plots. Either Jesus himself is a vampire, hence his rising from the dead, or he becomes Jesus Christ Action Star, staking those pesky vamps left and right. These are unimaginative stories. They either don’t do anything new with the characters or they pervert them to where they’re no longer viable. And also, there tends to be a trend towards using these stories as a promotion or criticism of Christianity. Never have I seen a story that took the setting of Christ’s last days and used them as a framework. In other words, taking the setting and telling a story around that setting to create a complete, comprehensive, and entertaining work.

Never, that is, until I read 33 A.D. This was a book that I loved so much that I can come to only one conclusion about its author:

I have seen the new face of horror, and it resides beneath the glossy, waxed dome of David McAfee.

Mr. McAfee has done the (virtually) impossible. He’s taken an iconic figure and backdrop, stayed true to their roots in legend, and layered a very human tale that deals with the supernatural over it. This book is bloody, brutal, depressing, and also moral…however, that morality doesn’t overwhelm the reader, as ethical writing is wont to do. Instead it makes us think, both about what we feel about our own past misdeeds and the power each of us holds within us to forgive ourselves.

The two most important characters in 33 A.D. are Theron, a vampire assassin who’s lived for more than nine-hundred years, and Taras, a golden-haired Roman Legionary (think a primitive version of the Secret Service) whose greatest desire is to skip out of Jerusalem with Mary, his forbidden Jewish lover, and start a family. Although there are many other characters (including Marcus, the Centurion, whose nobility and strength are measured against his weak willpower, making him a fantastic creation), this is ostensibly their story.

Theron, after killing a renegade vampire at the beginning of the novel, is saddled with the task of executing Jesus, as the Nazarene and his ability to heighten the faith of those around him is dangerous to the Bachiyr (Vampiric) Council of 13. This proves to be an arduous undertaking becaue Theron, as a vampire, cannot get close enough to a man with such strong beliefs. Because of this, he goes about framing the supposed prophet, for all intents and purposes setting in motion the events that lead to Jesus’ demise.

Taras, on the other hand, is a loyal and capable soldier. He is strong, both in beliefs and in physicality. He, as well as every other Roman, is turned against the Nazarene due to Theron’s actions.

And this is where the meat of the novel lies. Theron and Taras are different characters, and yet they are virtual mirror images of each other. One could imagine that Theron, when he was still human oh so long ago, might have been virtually identical to the Roman he now calls adversary. It’s a brilliant piece of writing, and I think the similarity of their names is meant for the reader to realize that, when you cut down to the core, they aren’t as different as they think they are. In this way, the entire book is about the choices and the aforementioned need to forgive oneself. Theron cannot. He’s been around too long, deviated too much, to will a change, even though he can. No matter how much strength he possesses, he will always be weak. Likewise Taras, towards the end, when confronted with a decision that will define the rest of his life, is similarly frail. This speaks to the humanity in both of them. Even Theron, though immortal, is inexorably human, and it is that human frailty that leads to his ultimate descent into madness. And when Jesus “rises” from the grave, that event is mirrored by the rebirths, in different ways, of the two main characters. In other words, you can draw a parallel between all three, the monster, the hero, and the prophet, and come out on the other side thinking they’re all quite analogous. In writing it this way, the author is telling us that at our core we’re all the same, all fallible, and it’s up to us – and ONLY us – to change.

The subject of religion, when used in fiction, is a slippery slope to climb. It can come off as preachy or ostentatious, and while a core Christian might find that intriguing, my guess is that the majority of readers in no way want to be sermonized to. This is yet another way that McAfee did an unbelievable job. He succeeded in taking the base values of the sermons of Jesus – his theories of love, forgiveness, and togetherness – and took away the devout fanaticism that can curtail lesser works. In this novel Jesus is a loveable, though ethereally strong, hippie. The scenes in which he is involved are tastefully done, subtle, and sublime. He is not a man of action, but one of introspection, tenderness, and amnesty. He never gives up hope for those he runs across, and in the reflection of that faith in others lays the refraction of his words. It causes those not ready to hear them to back away.

I’m sure some, especially those who aren’t Christian, may look upon this book and think it distasteful. It is not. I, myself, am strictly anti-religious. Whereas I do have faith, I understand the dangers of dogmatic belief and have no desire to pursue it. However, and this is important, McAfee does NOT preach. He uses the beliefs of New Testament Christianity as a tool, not a be-all-end-all, because I think most would admit that the idea of love, community, and mercy are something to strive for. In other words, much like in AA, he takes what works and leaves the rest. You will find no heavy-handedness here.

Okay, one last thing. Because I’m anal and certain facts never escape my attention, I have to mention the only problem I had with this book. In one scene, a character is described as “short, only five-and-a-half feet tall.” The problem is, the average height of a Roman at that time was barely five feet even. Not a huge gaffe, but one that I noticed, and I wouldn’t be pretentious old me if I didn’t point it out.

That being said, it’s a tiny little issue that doesn’t take away the fact that this is a fantastic and beautifully written novel. There is death and rebirth, betrayal and loyalty, hope and despair, and ultimately sorrow. We see where the characters end up, and we feel sorry for them. It’s well worth the read, and I have to admit that I did cry more than once while sitting on the beach reading it. For me, it is the best vampire novel to come out since “The Vampire Lestat” hit the shelves a quarter century ago. And I LOVED that book.

You get a heartfelt recommendation from me, people. Go get it. Make David McAfee a success. We should all want to read more of what he has to offer.

Available at Amazon in

Paperback

or

Amazon Kindle

Plot - 10

Characters - 7

Voice - 10

Execution - 8

Personal Enjoyment - 10

Overall - 45/50 (4.5/5)