Vampires: An Insight

The Blood Countess: Erzebet Bathory

There are many books and movies on vampires out there, both past and present. It’s all the rage right now, as they have been resurrected from Anne Rice’s romantic and sexy reign into a new, more carefully crafted modern version consisting of glitter, current clothing trends, and youth. And people are eating it up. Can’t get enough! Nothing wrong with that. Stephenie Meyer created a masterful series that is completely unparalleled and I applaud her. Nor is there anything wrong with the wildly popular series’ Vampire Diaries or True Blood. I remember when True Blood was getting ready to reveal itself. A vial of fake blood in a syringe made its way to my mailbox with absolutely no explanation and creeped me the eff out. O.o

MANY MANY versions of vampires these days… and they are all unique. That makes me happy, being that I’ve just released a book chock full of my very own version of these alluring, lovable, sexy immortal creatures. These days in literature and in Hollywood, the vampire has been dissected every which way but loose. (Well, maybe a little loose if you consider Eddie Murphy or Leslie Neilson as the vampire!) Some wear sunglasses, foundation, and sunscreen to blend in, others bathe in the blood of virgins, impale guests at dinner, vaporize, shape-shift. Still others walk around in Victorian lace, Levis (or the like), patent leather or latex, combat boots and cloaks… some even resist the urge to feed (gasp!) with special serums, while others prey on the weak or ruined. You name it, it’s out there; there’re never-ending possibilities. They’re fictional characters after all, are they not? But mine don’t sparkle or burst into flames when sunlight touches their skin. Nor are mine geared toward the young adult audience. I’m aiming at the 16+ crowd.

My vamps live in a colorful world of their own, borrowing little to nothing from anyone else. They play and prey by their own rules, they love sex, participate in violence, magic, and match and test Fate on a daily basis. They don’t sparkle in sunlight; in fact, sunlight doesn’t affect them at all. They walk among humans and witches and wolves (not werewolves… just wolves). Some even share blood with witches and become their own race: The Combined. These are mega vamps or mega witches, if you will, whichever side you’re on. Me? I’m on both. I play for both teams, the witches and the vampires. And I prefer mine dark and sexy, with a splash of undeniable intrigue. And magic, of course.

Who do you play for? Why? What do you like in your vamp or to get your vamp on? Humor me.

Advertisements

Through My Eyes

One thing I love to do is go to a local cafe where the ambiance is just perfect for writing as I get my best work done there.  This used to be Copperfield’s Cafe which was located right next to the bookstore (where now it’s just the extended bookstore) in downtown Petaluma.  Man do I miss that place.  It is where Blood Life was born, although that wasn’t the title at the time.  There was great food, even greater people and staff, and live entertainment of some sort daily.

Proofing the first part of Devendra at Aqus Cafe in Petaluma.

Aqus Cafe seems to be the new place for that in town.  A place where I can spend hours eating, writing, and people-watching.  People-watching is amazing for a writer’s fuel tank.  I can just look at someone and get stuck (sometimes staring/mad-dogging, though I don’t mean to). My mind will race and I’ll start to see them in a fictional world as a character or just pieces of one.  The rest is made up as I go.

Music is another important factor for me with writing.  When I am into a story/scene, there cannot be vocals.  Or, if there are, very little so they’re not distracting to me because when I hear vocals, I want to know their story. So my writing music must be ambient, classical, ethereal…

I’ve been working on the prequel to Blood Life, which I would like to have out by the end of 2012. Sooner if at all possible. It’s moving right along and well! It’s all about Devendra.  Her story leading up to Blood Life.  The book opens with her in jail and there’s a witch trial.  The research was so much fun for this.  Now putting it to paper in story form in order to bring what is in my mind to life on the pages for readers to enjoy – the most amazing, gratifying thing there is.  I am so in love with Devendra’s story.  I love Blood Life, don’t get me wrong, but Devendra… she’s my alter-ego, my muse, my inner witch.  She looks like me (at least how I’d love for people to see me), she sounds like me, she even smiles like me.  If you have read Blood Life, you’ll see how she was a very important character, but not the main one.  And you’ll also notice that she has so much more to her that was unsaid/written, but needs to be.

When I finished Blood Life the first time, she kept bothering me until I decided to give her a book.  Blood Life will become Book 2 in a trilogy I will call, “The Parallel Trilogy.”  That is the way I always planned to release them and for people to read them.  Blood Life could easily be a standalone novel… but there’s much more.

Book 3 . . . I’ll just save that for another post.  😉

Excerpt from Blood Life

The following excerpt is from Blood Life

Copyright (c) Gianna Perada 2012

He led her upstairs into his office. She remained in front of the doors after he had closed them and waited for him to say something, anything to justify her being there.

She stood staring at him, waiting, hoping she would be able to keep her face hard in the presence of such a man, because what she really wanted to do was fall into his arms and just let him hold her forever. That thought troubled her the most because her feelings were unrealistically strong. She never seemed the type for this sort of thing. She was always the one in denial, especially concerning matters of the heart.

“Alethea,” he started, pouring her a glass of merlot, “allow me to explain myself to you.”

He picked up the crystal glass and set it down on the dark granite coffee table in front of the checkered brown and black suede sofa, motioning for her to take a seat. She flinched when he spoke her name.

Hesitantly, she walked over and accepted his offerings.

He continued, after giving her a few seconds to adjust. “Now, I realize you must be quite confused right now, but—”

“Yes, I am,” she cut in, trying to sip her merlot and keep her wobbly self under control at the same time. Of course, she failed, causing a stream of wine to jump out of the glass onto her dress.

“At least the dress is dark,” he laughed and passed her a handkerchief. “There’s a bathroom right through those doors if you need to wipe it up better.”

“No,” she said, soaking the wine up with the handkerchief, “but I don’t think this handkerchief will ever be the same.”

“I don’t mind. Keep it.” He strolled over to the window, and, although she kept herself busy wiping at the wine, she knew he was watching her through the reflection of the glass. She could feel his eyes again.

“I do apologize if I have upset you. You must understand that it is not my nature to explain myself to others.” He turned and faced her squarely, locking into her eyes as he walked towards her. “In fact, what I want to tell you will be hard for you to accept and I greatly fear your disapproval. But it is very important and so you must know.” He looked down at the wet spot on her dress. “Is that wine coming out all right?”

“Oh—” She unlocked her eyes, looking down at the dress, “yeah, it’s black, no one will even notice.” Her heart beat dangerously fast.

“I’m glad,” he replied, lifting her eyes to his and holding them there. He searched her again and finally saw it. Through her soul mirrors, when he looked deep into their abyss, he saw Alexandria’s spirit and his heart rejoiced.

Keeping his emotions at bay, and releasing her gaze, he said, “Good. I don’t think that I could tolerate having you stained in my club. It took me a long time to get this place and I would hate to have to tear it down for ruining your exquisite dress.”

“Tear it down?” she half-laughed.

“If that is what you wish. You see there are some men who would do anything for love, my sweet Alexandria.” He closed his eyes, tapping his fist on his head.

“What? Who is Alexandria?” She was confused, and surprised about the feeling in her chest, the pang of jealously that struck her deep inside.

“Oh, but you know, I assure you,” he whispered softly, opening his eyes again to focus on her sitting there, angry, confused and beautiful. “And you know who I am. I should never have to explain anything to you, should I? Do you need to be reminded of who I am? Are you so soon to forget?”

He sat down beside her, his words upsetting her so much she fought to keep from losing her temper. Her head swam; it felt as though it were floating just above her neck, disconnected and threatening to fall at any moment.

“Forget what?” she managed to force out. “No, I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about. Your name is Roman Demone and you own this nightclub; that is all I know about you!”

He moved, no, crawled over to her giving her a look of such desire she couldn’t swallow the lump of anxiety that formed in her throat, suffocating her. She jumped up and started backing up toward the door, shaking her head furiously.

“Alexandria, my love—” he cooed, opening his arms to her.

“Why do you keep calling me that?” Tears were streaming down her face.

“Calling you what?”

“You know what!” she snapped, slapping at the hands he extended to her. Her eyes widened, growing as big as her face. “You’re crazy!” she cried.

“I have already considered that, but frankly insanity doesn’t suit me,” he commented, smugly, “nor does this ignorance suit you.”

He hadn’t meant to be cruel, but something came over him. Perhaps it was the tension of the long-awaited reunion, vampire-style? He did not know for sure, but she was beginning to understand, and she was not leaving him ever again.

Before she knew to be alarmed, he was painfully pinning her against the office door.

“In two hundred years my memory has never failed me, never left me. You must remember me, my love.”

She shivered beneath him. He cocked his head at her.

“But, if you truly do not see, than I shall give you the memories back!” he boomed as he pressed his fingers against her temples and his thumbs pressed gently over her eyes.

Alethea collapsed under his grip as the pictures began to invade her mind.

For an instant, she was hovering above a gleaming white castle, surrounded by the density of a lush forest. Then, with a sudden flash, she witnessed herself with a different face, closed in by maids and imprisoned by those same castle walls.

Looking out one of the stone portholes, a young dark-haired man stood, watching her, hiding himself on the edge of the thicket. And as he walked out into sight, she instantly recognized Roman’s face.

There was blood streaming down from his temples over the sides of his face. He was being restrained by two ironclad guards. Snickering by her side stood a man drawing pleasure from Roman’s pain. That’s when she looked down at herself to discover she was dressed in a wedding gown, obviously given to the strange man standing next to her.

She fought for control, prying her eyes open with all her might. As soon as she saw Roman in front of her, the images flooded again.

The two of them, wrapped around one another on top of a horse, walking across the thin green lining of a forest floor. She saw him above her and felt him come inside. Could feel him holding her in his arms with such love, the kind of love you cannot explain, but you know you’ve waited all your life to have. She was remembering, all at once, without warning. She did know him and had once loved him deeply, with all she was made of. But what stood before her now seemed only a cold reflection of the images. He was not the same warm man; he was cold to the touch, an animated statue.

With a frightened push, she shoved him away forcefully, but even then it seemed that he was the one who released her. She remained fixed, contained by one of his lordly stares, a look that seemed to coat his face like hard, gray marble. Though she was free from his hold, the images continued to overwhelm her. The intensity increased and her body became weaker as she slid down against the door in defeat.

Raising her hands to her head, she closed her eyes tight in a vain attempt to refuse the flashes. Roman continued to stare at her with eyebrows closing in together; a parallel vein ran down the center of his forehead. Rage surfaced at her inability or unwillingness to understand. He stood before her, frozen from emotions.

Alethea began mumbling, and as the mumbles rose into screams, the visions of Lokee moved in, torturing her.

A flash of a bathroom. A faint perfume. The woman emerged in a steaming tub with her eyes closed, relaxed and in peace. A slender form invaded her home. She was startled by screams in the next room, jolting herself upright in the tub.

The intruder made his way into the bathroom, and she looked up into the vengeful face of Lokee, with rich mahogany streaks of blood lashed across his clothes and face. Slowly, his arms rose and extended down towards her squirming body. He placed his hands on both sides of her head and forced her to look at him. She was kicking madly, spilling water from over the tub. With a swift motion, he pulled her from the tub and threw her into the wall behind him. Alethea could feel the woman’s pain, her suffering. Her thoughts of Roman, in the moments she could still think, before hitting that wall with force enough to break her neck.

Alethea panicked, stumbling against the wall, reaching out to strike back at the vision, trying to save the woman, Alexandria . . . her. Alethea called out for someone to help her, this dying, suffering woman.

Unable to move before he reached her again, Lokee pierced her breasts and stomach with his long, jagged nails. Alexandria screeched in pain as he finally drug her by the hair back into the other room to see the other woman lying with eyes glazed over, drained of life on the floor.

Alexandria started scratching at him, frantically, anywhere she could reach but he again threw her up against the wall, with twice the force as before. Alethea tasted blood in her mouth. He tugged at Alexandria’s hair to pull her face towards the ceiling as he pierced the skin under her rib cage and picked her up like a ragdoll to toss back into the tub. The water became a pool of gore, a Red Sea, disturbed by turbulence, stained from the blood draining from her near lifeless body. He stole the last breath from her neck as he bit and drank until her heart finally gave up its fight, leaving the world with a single memory of Roman’s face, her beloved, an image to save with her soul. Then she was gone. Even when she breathed no more, Lokee decided to drink from her neck, like a fiend, a scavenger in the wild, caring not of poison.

Alethea’s eyes opened wide to catch a glimpse of Roman leaning over her. Unable to differentiate the images of Lokee from crossing her sight, she started lashing out at Roman, wildly, trying to fend off his approach.

Scrambling away and grabbing hold of anything in reach, she started blindly throwing things as she tried to pull herself out of the vulnerable position she was in. Sheer terror blessed her with a new pulse of strength, enough to lift herself up, but again her legs gave out and she was flat on the floor.

Roman looked down at her body and was suddenly hit with the intoxicating aroma of fresh blood. He stepped over her, searching for the outlet of a wound.

Salivating, his fangs pushed through his gums, razor sharp and ready to assist him in breaking through tough, human skin. Biting back the urge to feed on her, he noticed her back.

Memories surfaced as he studied the Vampire Mark. It had raised on her back as if pushed out from within. It bled as if fresh!

Sweet Dreams Are Made of This?

Woke up from a not-so-sweet dream this morning at 7:00am when my sweetie called to “rescue me” from it.

I was in a house, not ours, upstairs in a creepy, dilapidated bedroom/attic space in a bed but waking up.  My suitcase was on the floor and I looked over at it and noticed a creepy crawly going underneath it.  Looked like a cockroach which I cannot tolerate at all! Worst bug ever. I screamed and ran into the bathroom.  Next thing I knew I was looking up into the mirror and it felt so surreal, as if I’d just woken up to find myself there in the bathroom.  I looked over and the door had been shut, which I did not do. When I tried to open it, I found it had been locked, but I could find no lock on the door anywhere!  Panicking, I started pounding on the door and screaming.  It suddenly opened.  I was so scared, so I “got big” like they tell you to do if you’re confronted by an angry wild animal.  I put my hands up in the air over my head and made claws with them, and started roaring (haha!) and running around the house like a maniac to try to frighten away who/whatever was after me.

I suddenly found myself upstairs in the attic bed again, studying my suitcase for movement.  My husband was now in the room and I asked him how and why, because he was supposed to be away on a work project.  He told me he just wanted to sleep for a while (so typical of him — hehe).  I insisted he check the suitcase for cockroaches first and then seal it up tight, which he started to do, then made this weird hissing sound.  I told him to stop!  I asked him why he made that awful sound and he said it called to the cockroaches!?  EWW!  Then there was loud dolby-surround hissing all around us!  He said, “Do you hear that,” with huge eyes, and then ran out of the room without me.  I screamed, “WAIT!” but he was gone and I was trapped inside the room, pounding on the door and crying.

Not a good dream at all… I was glad he woke me up from it — and to open my eyes to three cats sitting on the bed and staring at me like I was the most interesting thing they’d seen in years.  I guess this is what I get for writing what I do? Or for watching horror movies alone at night.  Whatever the case, goodbye to that dream forever.  *shudder*

Life as Fiction

Life teaches us so many lessons.  Some are good, some are bad, and some are hanging in the balance.  It seems that with writers, many life experiences that touch or move us in a way, channel into a story that we’re writing.  Whether it’s a glimpse, a whisper, a fragment, or a complete tell-all, it’s there.  You just have to look closely and pay attention to the words.  And if you know the writer, it’s even more special (or hurtful?) because you are able to recognize it and reflect; if not, hopefully you are still taken in by it and can relate somehow either for or against the words or situation.

In my stories, I am an open book. There are many of my own life experiences and memories and personal traits in them, the way that I remember or perceive them. Of course not everything in my stories are from truth!  I’d say that 95% is pure embellished fiction.  But that 5% really runs deep.  It opens the door if it was a bad memory put to paper as part of the story, it helps to heal that scar on your soul.  I think that is the coolest thing, and I thank storytelling for being my passion and my solace.

My Debut Novel: Blood Life

Blood Life is one book of a planned trilogy. I first finished writing it close to 15 years ago and have since rewritten it about 100 times. 😉 After finally finishing it, I realized that one of the characters had so much more to say, so I’ve begun writing her history, which will be released later this year as a prequel to Blood Life. Next year I’ll release the third in the series, a sequel, and that will be that! The vampires will go to sleep. Mine will, anyway.

Blood Life is a vampire/witch adventure story full of blood, magic, love, violence, and sex. It is no Twilight or Vampire Diaries!  It’s much darker and sexier, but equally as engrossing and unique. The witches and vampires of the fictional world of the Spectrum have united and created a race of half-breeds called the Combined. These are very powerful entities, but their race has been threatened by a rogue vampire with very old, powerful blood named Lokee, the son of the Great Witch, Devendra. This story is about letting Fate play out, but in all its turmoil, trying to save one woman who will be the key to saving the witches, the vampires, AND the Combined. Of course, the villain is very much against all that, and tortures her time and again to try to destroy her.

I learned a lot about my ability to tell a good, solid story writing this the 100 times it felt like I did. I had trouble letting it go, but finally decided it was time. And now, I can focus on the other two books, and the ones still begging to be written in completely different realms (other than the vampire/witch world). Blood Life is my first born, and I feel the name speaks for itself… a blood life, in the blood, of the blood.

The previous cover was a quick release, limited 1st edition intended for a short run. I purposefully released it with typos and imperfections (including two extra chapters that were cut) as a soft launch. If I ever make it huge, that one will really be worth something! This newer, more appealing cover (courtesy of the very talented Myah Frazer of Redeye Design Haus) is available now as the clean and pristine second edition release. This is the version that will go with me to signings (I have one scheduled the 22nd of April in Petaluma, CA) and be entered into at least four contests this year. I’ve sent press releases out to local and far-away newspapers, been using social marketing tools, submitting for editorial reviews, creating websites and author pages, joining writing groups, etc. I’m doing a lot here to market myself, but learning as I go, and all the help I can find/get is so appreciated. =)

I hope this helps me spread the word about my story! If you’d like to read it, it is available from various channels at:  http://www.giannaperada.com – please leave a review after you read it too.  xxoo