Tamara A. Lowery
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Tamara Lowery is a former maid and current auto industry
worker. She is a graduate of Soddy-Daisy High School and
Chattanooga State, where she majored in Journalism. She is a
new author. She currently lives in Tennessee with her husband
and the Rottentots, her cats.
For more information, Check out:
Facebook
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Congratulations to Tamara for being in the 2011
Preditors and Editors top ten Horror Novel Category for Blood Curse.
Congratulations to Tamara for being in the 2012 Preditors and
Editors top ten Horror Category for Demon Bayou.
New Title(s) from Tamara A. Lowery
Click on the thumbnail(s) above to learn more about the book(s) listed.
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Known as Bloody Vik Brandee, Viktor Brandewyne had a
reputation as a bloodthirsty pirate. The world would soon
learn just how bloodthirsty he had become. Thanks to the
vengeful curse of a powerful witch, he had become a vampire.
However, since he was cursed, rather than bitten, he was not
vulnerable to daylight or holy items. As curses went, he
didn’t think it was all that bad, until Mother Celie, his
foster mother and a witch in her own right, informed him
that the curse would eventually destroy him. Now he finds
himself in a race against time to find the seven Sisters of
Power and gain some of their magic in order to survive the
curse. He is aided in his quest by Hezekiah Grimm, his first
mate; Belladonna, a siren and sea witch; and Lazarus, a
creature that is sometimes a cat and sometimes a raven. |
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Excerpt
Word Count:
86,800
Pages to Print: 294
File Format: PDF
Price: $5.99 |
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From
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From bwormblogger |
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Viktor Brandewyne’s search for the second Sister of
Power leads him to the bayou country near colonial New
Orleans. Along the way, he has his first encounter with
vampires not made by him, as well as running afoul of
smugglers. The black waters of the bayous hold their own
danger as well. An ancient demon guards the way to the
Sister. Worse, the siren Belladonna begins to die in the
swamps. Should Viktor return the siren to the sea or
continue on to the Sister? Without magic from all the
Sisters, he won’t be able to break the curse that has made
him a vampire before it destroys him. Without Belladonna, he
cannot find the Sisters.
Excerpt
Word Count: 76,629
Pages to Print: 257
File Format: PDF
Price: $5.99
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Master Torbin feels honored to be accepted to a post at
the University of Cordun and eager to get there. His
greatest obstacle is the long trip around the edges of the
Forest of Narghill. Why is there no route through the
forest? No one in the village he stops in on his way seems
to know of any path through. The villagers try their best to
delay Master Torbin’s departure, at least until the after
the Solstice and the Winter Festival. Only one old man
claims to know of a shortcut through the forest, and offers
to show it to him. He soon learns why no one travels in the
Forest of Narghill, especially on Solstice.
Excerpt
Word Count: 4696
Pages to Print: 18
File Format: PDF
Price: $2.99 |
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EXCERPTS
| Blood Curse |
Once Upon a Tide…
On a pleasant summer afternoon in 1750, a young boy drifted
lazily among the salt marshes that inundate coastal Georgia.
He’d fished for a while that morning without any luck. Having
grown bored with the activity, he’d allowed his punt to drift
where it would in the maze-like channels between the marshlands,
tidal flats and small islands formed from the oyster shell
ballast dumped by merchant ships preparing to take on cargo in
port.
He had no worry of getting lost. He’d been boating these waters
for as long as he could remember. The boy knew that he was
currently about three miles south of Savannah.
The warm sun and cool breeze lent themselves to napping. Soon,
the boy had dozed off. He was awakened by the sound of other
boys chattering and laughing. They sounded nearby. As quietly as
possible, he rowed toward the voices. The tide was high, and he
decided to take the little flat-bottomed punt into the marsh
grass before getting too close. No telling what mood these
strangers might be in.
Peering through the grasses, he saw two boys around his age busy
pulling up their crab traps. The wooden tub seated in the middle
of their boat brimmed with their catch. Three empty traps were
stacked in the back of their boat, and the trap they were in the
process of emptying was very full; several of the crabs were
quite large.
The boy was very fond of the sweet meat of the sought-after blue
crabs. He knew old Mother would be glad of the treat, as well.
‘Although, she’ll probably grumble that I didn’t net her some
shrimp to go with them,’ he thought to himself. His decision
made, he nudged his boat through the flooded marsh to join the
other boys.
“Those are some mighty fine lookin’ crabs,” he told them by way
of greeting. “I’ll have them.”
The younger of the boys, brothers, smiled at him. “You want to
buy them?”
The lone boy smiled back and calmly stated, “No. I’ll take them.
Now.”
The older brother scowled at him, ready to defend their catch
from the young interloper. “You can’t just take them,” he
countered. “You have to buy them, if you want them. We worked
hard for these crabs, and we’re going to take them back to town
to sell them.”
The boy said matter-of-factly, “My waters; my crabs. Hand them
over. I won’t tell you again.”
Rather than comply, the older brother shouted, “I said, you
can’t have them!”
Taking his oar, the boy nimbly jumped into the other boys’ boat
and promptly used it to knock the older of the two into the
water. He brandished the oar at the younger boy. The lad quickly
decided the water was a better place to be than in the same boat
with the mad young bully. The victor then began tying their boat
to his punt, to tow it back with him and ensure they didn’t try
to give chase to reclaim their catch.
The older brother looked a bit panicked at this. His sibling was
crying in fear.
“Hey! You can’t just leave us out here! We could drown trying to
get back home,” he pled.
He looked at them, almost expressionless, and said, “You should
have given me the crabs, when I told you to.” Then he rowed
away, not caring if they made it back or not. “Whatever fate the
tide and marsh have for you is your lot now.”
Of course, the lads made it back to Savannah. Otherwise, the
legend would never have been born of how, in the summer of 1750,
an eleven-year-old Viktor Brandewyne committed his first act of
piracy.
And the rest, as you soon will read, is history.
--Chapter 1--
Does any man know where the love of God goes, when the waves
turn the minutes to hours?—Gordon Lightfoot
Looking for love in all the wrong places. – Johnny Lee
On August 18, 1771, the pirate ship, Redfish, limped madly
across the choppy waters twenty miles northeast of Hispañola,
the HMS Bonnie Mae closing rapidly. The Navy ship had been
pursuing her for almost five hours, since exchanging fire just
north of Tortuga Harbor.
The pirate ship had not fared well in her exchange with the
Bonnie Mae. Her topmast and mizzenmast had been destroyed by
chain shot. Several pirates were dead or mortally wounded. To
add insult to injury, a stray cannonball had blasted a
good-sized hole at her waterline. The ship’s carpenter had
managed to get a makeshift patch in place, before he bled to
death from a leg wound. The rough waters were beginning to
hammer away at it, though, and it was clear it wouldn’t hold
much longer.
Already, the Redfish was taking on water. Her captain, Viktor
Brandewyne, known more commonly as Bloody Vik Brandee, knew the
ship was doomed. But, he was determined they’d not be taken to
experience the King’s “kind” mercies.
“Aft lookout report!” Brandee bellowed.
“Aft lookout, aye,” the pirate in the rigging called back. “She
be closing with us, Cap’n. Pro’ly be on us in another hour.
She’s atwixt us and the nearest land.”
“Understood, aft lookout. Forward lookout report!”
“Forward lookout, aye. That be a bad ‘un, Cap’n. Definitely a
hurricane. Heavy seas ahead. We be in no shape to tangle with
that bitch,” the lookout answered.
Brandee mulled his predicament. Navy at his back; monstrous
hurricane before him; no apparent escape. He made his decision.
“Mr. Rigger,” he addressed the helmsman, “steer me a course due
east.”
“Aye, Cap’n. Um, Cap’n, that’ll take us straight into the
hurricane,” Rigger pointed out.
Brandee smiled darkly. “Aye, Jim. It will.” Shouting loud enough
for the remains of his crew to hear, he announced, “Listen up
lads! We’re taking the Redfish right down the gullet of that
storm afore us! If the King wants our ship, he’ll have to follow
us into the mouth of Hell itself to catch us! What say ye?”
A unanimous roar of agreement rose from the crew. Each man knew
the only alternative was dangling from a gibbet in Port Royal or
at Wapping, on Execution Dock.
“Then step to it, ye scurrilous dregs!” he ordered. “We’ve a
hurricane to catch!” Turning, he faced the storm and their
certain doom. “Don’t fear, Jim. I’ve a few tricks left. We’ll
cheat ol’ Cob same as we’ll cheat the King of his prey.”
“Aye, Cap’n.”
Back to Blood Curse |
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| Demon Bayou |
Chapter 1
I dream of childhood friends and the dreams we had—Styx
Hezekiah Grimm found his captain at the railing on the fo’c’sle.
Viktor Brandewyne stood looking out at the stars, an involuntary
smile on his face. Lazarus was perched on the railing in front
of him. The huge black cat emitted a rumbling purr in response
to the captain’s strokes.
Grimm eyed the cat warily as he joined Viktor. Although he did
not know the full story behind the act, he knew the creature was
not natural and was perhaps demonic. It rarely tolerated the
touch of anyone other than the Captain.
Viktor nodded, not speaking.
As uncomfortable as Lazarus made him, Grimm had to admit the cat
had a calming effect on Viktor. It was the only thing that
convinced him the creature, which was sometimes a cat, sometimes
a bird, sometimes shadow or smoke, was at least not inherently
evil, at least no more evil than the vampire Grimm called
Captain.
Grimm had never been as superstitious as most sailors and
pirates. He’d always believed in making his own luck and that
witches, ghosts and beasties were mostly stories told to
frighten small children or weak-minded fools. He’d not been
above using such stories to keep his crew cowed and in line, of
course.
These days, however, he’d found himself forced to come to grips
with the fact that such beings did exist outside of stories and
nightmares.
Since joining his old friend’s crew, he’d encountered vampires,
witches, shape-shifting familiars, mermaids and a sea monster.
Granted, the sea monster might easily be mistaken for a mermaid
by some.
“It’s been quiet the past few days,” he observed. “How long do
you think Belladonna will stay gone?”
“Until I call her back,” Viktor answered. “She’s busy with some
fisherman she caught.”
“You keep surprising me, Viktor. Never knew you to share a wench
before.”
“If it was anyone other than Belle, I wouldn’t. I still won’t
share her with any of my crew.”
“But a perfect stranger?”
“Safer that way, Hezekiah. I don’t trust her in my bed.” He
smiled at his first mate. “She’s just playing with her food.”
Grimm made a face. He’d seen the siren’s eating habits
firsthand. Anyone foolish enough to go in the water with her was
fair game. Even Viktor had felt her teeth, and she was supposed
to be there to help him.
Viktor went back to petting the cat. “I was just thinking back
to when Jim and I were first starting out. Old Billy Black said
Jim was as much trouble as I was.”
“Aye and the two of you were damn near inseparable, as I
remember. You never have said what happened to Jim.”
“No. I haven’t,” his tone made it clear that the subject was not
to be broached again. “Was there something in particular that
you wanted, Mr. Grimm?”
“There was talk in the last port of a convoy. Spices mostly, but
there was rumor that some emeralds were being smuggled.”
“I heard the talk, as well.”
“I checked over the charts, Captain. The timing is right, and
we’re in a prime position to intercept.”
Viktor thought about it for a while. The right spices could
bring a tidy sum, although the emeralds, if there really were
any, would be tricky to convert into cash. More importantly,
fresh provisions would be welcome, both foodstuffs and prisoners
to feed the bloodlust of his small cadre of vampires and
himself.
“Very well, Mr. Grimm. Have the lads ready by first light. When
the convoy comes into sight, pick us out a fat one.”
“Aye, Captain.”
****
“What’s the word, Mr. Grimm?”
“Sniff reports five ships in the convoy. They’re just to the
south of us on the horizon,” he answered as he entered the
captain’s cabin. “Their current heading is north. Three look to
be merchantmen. He said the lead and chase vessels appear to be
smaller gun boats.”
Viktor moved to the window, opening one of the panes to smell
and feel the wind. Five specks of white, the topsails of their
prey, were just visible where sky met sea.
“Have the riggers furl a third of the sails,” he ordered. “Give
them a better chance of catching us up. They won’t suspect our
purpose until it’s too late, if they come up behind us, rather
than if we turned toward them.”
“What colors should we fly?” Even though Sniff, using the glass,
couldn’t see what flag the convoy ran under, Grimm knew Viktor’s
eyesight was much sharper than his.
“British, Mr. Grimm.”
****
Even with fewer sails up, it soon became apparent it would take
the merchant ships most of the day to get remotely close to the
Incubus. Less experienced or less patient pirates might have
turned their ship toward their prey.
But Viktor didn’t want to spook them into scattering, or to
provoke their escorts. As long as he sailed as if they were of
no interest, their guard would be down when he did order an
attack. Past experience had taught him it was an effective ploy
when encountering convoys.
At midday, Sniff called down from the crow’s nest, “They look to
be changing course!”
Grimm took the glass and peered at the slowly approaching ships.
Viktor stood beside him, not needing a spyglass. They watched as
the ships made an eastward course change.
“Damn. Wasn’t expecting that,” Grimm muttered. “Most spice
traders usually don’t head eastward until they’re far enough to
the north to catch the
Trades. Something must have spooked them.”
“It is odd,” Viktor agreed, “but not as odd as how the middle
ship is sailing.”
The first mate focused on the vessel indicated. “Interesting.
Looks like she’s pulling away from the pack and returning to the
original heading. Wonder why she’d leave the protection?”
The vampire sniffed the air. Viktor’s heightened perceptions
greatly augmented his already well-honed weather eye. “The wind
is going to hold steady for at least another day. Our stray
little lamb should be pulling even with us by dusk. That should
be perfect.”
“Thinking of trying the harpoon and counterweight system?”
“Aye. It’s set up to pull them right to us. I want to see if it
works.”
“I’ll have the lads get the buffers ready to take the brunt of
the impact. What’s the plan if the contraption doesn’t work?”
“It would do my little cadre good to indulge in a fresh feed,”
he said, referring to the five crewmen he’d turned. “The rum and
blood blend is sustaining them, but blood is much better in its
pure form straight from the source.”
Grimm suppressed a slight shudder. He’d seen the vampires in a
feeding frenzy back when Viktor had set them on the pirate
hunter who had managed to capture the first mate. He’d never
wanted to be the target of their Hunger.
“If you say so.”
****
It was moonless that night, a fact that normally would preclude
any kind of pirate attack. The merchantman only had one man on
watch.
Nighttime, however, was no barrier to Viktor Brandewyne. For
that matter, neither was daylight, since his vampirism was the
result of a curse placed on him by an irate witch. He had never
actually died, unlike his cadre of five. They were now permanent
members of his crew, pirates he had killed personally when his
blood Hunger had threatened to overwhelm him.
Since the five were true vampires, they had the same weaknesses
described in most of the legends: sunlight and holy objects.
There was another weakness one had discovered the hard way.
Viktor had originally made six vampires, but one had made the
mistake of trying to feed on Belladonna. The siren’s blood had
been instantly fatal to the vampire.
Brandee had the cadre assembled on deck. He’d already ordered
all the topside lamps shuttered, so as not to give away their
position to the other ship. The Incubus was a dark shadow
against the star-studded sky and all but invisible.
Silently, the pirate ship maneuvered alongside the merchant
vessel. Large cork buffers were hung over the side facing their
prey. Using the swivel guns mounted on the rails, the pirates
launched several harpoons. As soon as he heard them thud home
into the wood of the other ship, Viktor gave the signal to
release the counterweights.
Line attached to the harpoons passed through small ports in the
deck via pulleys and attached to heavy iron weights. These were
shoved out the lower gun ports. The result was that the other
ship was rapidly pulled to the pirate vessel. The cork buffers
prevented the hulls from damaging each other.
The sleeping crew of the merchantman was taken completely by
surprise, jarred awake by the collision. Within seconds, the
vampires were on board. Two quickly silenced the lone watchman;
he was drained and dead in a matter of minutes. The other three
swarmed the rigging, in case any sailors were in the crow’s
nest.
Quickly and quietly, Viktor sent a large part of his crew over,
led by the Grimm Reaper, to secure the ship. Most of the
merchantman’s crew was still half-asleep, making for a swift
victory.
The ship’s captain must have been a heavy sleeper. Not only had
the colliding of the ships not wakened him, but Grimm had to
shake him a few times to get him on his feet. The man was only
half-dressed and disheveled, when Viktor entered his cabin.
“I apologize for this untimely interruption of your voyage, sir,
but I believe you and I have some urgent business to attend to.”
Brandee gave a mock bow. Before he could continue, however,
Lazarus darted past him. In a black blur, the demon cat launched
himself at the prisoner, clawing and biting any part of the man
he could reach. This did not fit in with Brandee’s plan.
“Lazarus! Return.”
The cat abandoned his attack and leapt to Viktor’s shoulder in
one fluid movement. He glared and growled at the merchant
captain from his perch.
Brandee narrowed his eyes at the man. “My friend does not like
you, sir. Have we perhaps met before? What is your name?”
“I’ve never set eyes on you before in my life,” he spat. “I am
Captain Thomas Brumble. Who the hell are you?”
“Brumble? Brumble. Hmm, that would explain it, then. Your father
wouldn’t happen to be Tobias Brumble?”
“I am his younger son. Who are you, and how do you know my
father?”
“Captain Vik Brandee, sir, at your service. You’ve already met
my first mate, Hezekiah Grimm.”
The young captain blanched, recognizing the names of the two
most feared pirates to sail these waters.
“I don’t know your sire personally, Mr. Brumble, but an old
friend of mine once spent six miserable months as cabin boy to
that cowardly piece of shit. I promised him that I’d pay the
bastard back, with interest, for every lash of the whip he’d
given my friend unjustly.”
“Then I am a dead man. I know the reputations of Bloody Vik
Brandee and the Grimm Reaper. All I ask, sir, is that you allow
me to dress, so that I may face my fate with some dignity,”
Brumble requested.
“What say you, Lazarus?” Brandee asked, stroking the agitated
cat’s head.
Lazarus stopped growling, yawned and stretched out one paw, toes
and claws spread. “Meh,” he mewed. Then he proceeded to groom
the paw and ignore the prisoner.
“Very well, Mr. Brumble. Mr. Grimm, if you will escort our guest
topside once he’s properly attired? I shall be inspecting our
prisoners and new recruits.”
“Aye, Captain.” |
| Back to
Demon Bayou |
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| In the Dead of
Winter |
The traveler was not surprised when the old man approached him
with word of a shorter route to Cordun. He’d made no secret of
his destination or why he was going there. And he had been
asking around the village if anyone knew of a path that would
take him through the Forest of Narghill.
No, the surprising and somewhat annoying thing was that no one
in the village of Timbro seemed to know of any such path.
Everyone thus far had told him the only route was to stick to
the main road. The problem for the traveler was that the road
skirted the vast forest. Villages were spaced three to five
days’ travel apart along the road, but the maps showed Timbro
was directly opposite of Cordun with only the forest between
them.
The traveler had been sent from the University in Borduin. He
was to go to the University in Cordun, to assist the Dean of
Science there. He had been chosen from a large number of
candidates for this honor.
He studied the maps, and it had been his reasoning he could
shorten his journey by nearly a fortnight simply by going
through the forest, rather than following the road several
leagues to the south to go around it. Being nearly fifty leagues
west of the forest, no one in Borduin could find any record or
reason why the road had not been cut through the forest.
His friends at the University begged him to put off his journey
until after the Solstice and the Winter Festival. They knew it
might be many years before they could celebrate the Festival
together again. But he had been eager to assume his new post and
set out as soon as he could get his affairs in Borduin settled.
So it was with gratitude that he welcomed the old man to his
table in the dining room of the Timbro Inn.
“You are the young man seeking a way through the Narghill?” the
old man asked.
“Yes, Grandfather, I am,” he replied, using the customary title
of respect for the unrelated elder.
“Please, sit with me. Would you care for some food or drink?”
“No, thank you,” he said, shaking his head. “I am fasting until
Solstice night. It is my custom.”
“I see. Tell me, Grandfather, do you know of any path that leads
all the way through the forest to Cordun?”
“There are many paths in Narghill, my son, but only one that may
take you to your destination,” he said. “I was a hunter in my
youth. I have wandered farther into the forest than any other
man alive. I can lead you to the trailhead.”
“My thanks, Grandfather,” the traveler smiled. “Are you sure you
won’t dine with me?”
The old man shook his head with a sad smile. “No, my son, I must
keep to my vow. Just be ready to go at daybreak. I will meet you
at the village gate.”
“Thank you. I will.”
Shortly after the old man left, a serving girl brought a flagon
of wine to the table. She seemed nervous, darting her eyes about
as if to see if anyone was watching.
“Is it true? You plan to go into the forest?” she whispered.
“Yes. I leave in the morning,” he replied, puzzled by her
behavior. “Please inform the landlord I wish to settle my bill.”
Rather than leave to do so right away, she gave him an almost
frightened smile. “Please, sir, delay your departure for a few
days. It’s almost Solstice. Our Winter Festival is quite the
spectacle.”
He frowned politely. “I am afraid I cannot. The Dean of Science
at the University in Cordun is expecting me. It would do much
for me in his eyes if I could reach there a fortnight early.”
Once again glancing around nervously, she leaned closer and said
in a low voice, “If you try to go through Narghill, you may
never reach Cordun. There’s an evil that stalks the forest, and
it is not safe to enter into this close to Solstice. Please,
sir, stay here for a while, or at least stay to the road.”
“I appreciate your concern, my dear, but I am a man of science.
I do not subscribe to unfounded superstitions,” he said firmly,
but politely. “Now, go inform the landlord I will be leaving in
the morning and wish to settle my bill.”
Bowing her head at the dismissal, she replied meekly, “Yes,
sir.”
After a few minutes, she returned with his meal and the landlord
of the inn. Silently, she placed the food on the table and then
left to wait on another table. The landlord cocked his head
toward the opposite chair with a questioning look in his eye.
The traveler nodded, and he took the seat. |
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Back to In the Dead of Winter |
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