Scribal Love Welcomes Cammie Eicher!
What is the name
of your novel?
Blood Oath
What first
attracted you to writing vampire fiction?
When I was a
teenager, I discovered “Dracula,” the novel – and my mother told me the story
handed down through the family that some of our ancestors were serfs on the
estate of the “real” Dracula. Ta-da – a lifelong fascination with vampires was
born.
Who is/are your
main character(s) and is he/she a vampire?
Giorgio Montrosa
and Leykin Reneau are both Ancients (as my vampires prefer to be called.)
How would you
describe your vampire character? Is he/she a lover or
fighter? Is the beast within held at bay? Or does
he/she go with her passions?
Giorgio is several
hundred years older than Leykin and is chief enforcer for the Council of Elders,
which is the ruling body of the Ancients. He is charged with training Leykin as
an enforcer; they are also lovers. Leykin was raised in Minnesota, where few
Ancients live, by the woman she called Grandmama. Giorgio lost his parents
during the Dark Times, before the current rules were established, and has a
reputation for being the biggest, baddest enforcer of them all. When his world
and his woman are threatened, no one better stand in his way!
What are your
thoughts on some of the traditional weaknesses of vampires?
Sunlight, crosses, wooden stakes etc. Did you incorporate
any of that into your fiction? If not what were some of the
weaknesses that your character must avoid?
My Ancients aren’t
immortal; they live about a thousand years. At age 13, they go through their
changing in a ritualistic ceremony and become fledglings. Gradually they are
able to tolerate sunlight and eat the same foods as short-livers. However, my
vampires are all lactose-intolerant and silver is poison to them. Holy water,
crosses, none of those things affect them – unless they’re made of silver, that
is!
Go crazy and tell
us about your book! Include an excerpt if you like!
This is book four
of my Shadow Ancients series BUT you don’t have to read them in order! Blood
Oath can be read as a stand-alone book, as can the others.
In Blood Oath, the
Ancient world is rocked after the famous model and talk-show host Nekia, an old
and powerful Ancient, is executed for treason and murder on council orders. When
her body is found in a state park by “regular” humans, short-lifer geocachers,
the crisis accelerates. And when information is leaked to the tabloids that not
only is Nekia a vampire, but so are many other famous people from around the
world, the high elder orders the clans to gather in their homelands, cancels all
scheduled ceremonies and forbids his people to use their mental talents to
connect with one another.
Instead of working
together, Giorgio and Leykin follow separate orders. As he seeks to find first
who moved Nekia’s body and then who killed the high elder’s closest friend, what
appears to be a routine bodyguard assignment for Leykin turns into a nightmare
as a powerful cadre of Ancients attempt to overthrow the council.
Here’s an
excerpt:
Giorgio stood on the
wide veranda of the limestone mansion and stared up into the dark sky. Once
there had been nothing above but starlight, before man ruined beauty in the name
of progress.
He wanted to see the
constellations. He needed to focus on something beautiful. The argument with
Leykin had pulled him back to the ugliest moments of his life, when he killed
other men not for justice but on an elder’s whim. In those days of blind
obedience, he hadn’t respected the value of life. He killed because he wanted to
advance. He wanted power. He wanted the things that being the best enforcer in
the Ancient world could bring.
Now all he wanted was
to ensure Leykin’s life. She was good, yeah, but she wasn’t good enough yet. A
split second of indecision, one wrong move, and she’d be the one with her heart
ripped out and her throat slashed.
“Giorgio, I am
ready.”
The high elder’s
command sounded inside his head. Giorgio pushed his dark thoughts away and
prepared to give Misha an update. His steps were heavy as he walked through the
house and up the stairs to Misha’s second-floor office.
Misha was his usual
cool self. As he bowed to the high elder, Giorgio wondered if he could stay so
collected during a troubled time like this. Then again, he wasn’t expected to.
Enforcers needed a reserve of rage to call on if they were to do their job
right.
Again, his thoughts
returned to Leykin. Did she have the capability for unbridled rage? More
importantly, would her upbringing, so much gentler than Giorgio’s, keep her from
acting on it?
“Please tell me you
have good news.”
Misha’s voice
revealed the strain missing from his face. The weariness it held was testimony
to the unprecedented task Giorgio had accepted. With footage of Nekia’s
tarp-covered body playing over and over on televisions worldwide, as well as
instantly accessible on computers and smartphones, the slightest misstep could
reveal the Ancients’ presence in the world and lead to unimaginable
consequences.
Giorgio hated to tell
this man he respected how little had been uncovered so far. Taking a deep
breath, he answered, “We know the names of those on the corpse detail. They were
ordered to stand guard and keep short-lifers away by whatever means were
necessary.”
“I assume these men
have been interrogated.”
Here came the part
Giorgio really hated.
“We have been unable
to locate them, sir.”
Misha’s hands
tightened on the arms of his chair, and his eyes took on the gold glint that
made
Giorgio back up a few steps.
“How can this be?”
Misha asked, his tone deceptively gentle. “You have the services of every
enforcer in the Ancient world at your disposal, and you’re unable to locate four
men whose identities are known. Is that correct?’
“Yes, sir.”
“You have led the
search for these men yourself?”
“Yes, sir,” Giorgio
repeated.
“I suggest you take
advantage of the enforcers we have scattered across the globe. And I would
suggest you begin intensifying the search now.”
Giorgio bowed and
uttered a final “Yes, sir,” before hurrying toward the door. He was almost there
when Misha’s voice interrupted him.
“I would also ask
that you institute a lockdown for every Ancient who has known Nekia well. It
would not surprise me if someone is using this situation for his own agenda. I’m
certain we both know to what end.”
Walking rapidly down
the hallway to the steps leading to the first floor and his escape, Giorgio slid
back into enforcer mode. Attempts to overthrow the council had been made in the
past decade, first by the Ancients Underground, an informal association of young
malcontents, and then by Nekia herself, with the unwitting backing of
Harrington, the sitting senator from Louisiana. In a classic double-cross,
Harrington had planned to get Nekia seated on the council and make her his
puppet; Nekia hoped to use Harrington’s influence to gain an elder’s seat. Soon
after, Giorgio suspected, she would have found an excuse to have him marked for
execution.
Luckily, both plans
had unraveled, but not without two deaths and a kidnapping. He wondered now if
the prophecy of the Book of the Ancients had been fulfilled. A shiver snaked
along his spine. If so, these moments of discord would soon be an all-out
battle, not only among the Ancients but against short-lifers as well.
* * *
*
Quincy leaned back in
his leather club chair and closed his eyes. Calling on the empathy that linked
his people, he searched and found the men who had worn the gray uniforms of the
Confederate Army with him.
Tomas Petrov — Thomas
Peters 150 years ago.
Stefan Margios, known
among the Rebs as Steven March.
Duncan Phipps and
Quincy himself, the final of the Gray Ghosts, nicknamed for their ability to
infiltrate the Union ranks and slip safely out again.
One by one, he made
the mental connection and invited each man to join him before dawn.
They’d
banded together once to save their people and their way of life from being
discovered.
The time had come to do it again.
“Sir?” Remir’s voice
intruded.
“What?” Quincy
snapped, his eyes opening.
“The high elder
requests your presence.”
Quincy smiled.
Perhaps overthrowing the council would be easier than he expected.
“Call a driver,” he
said. “And tell the kitchen staff to delay dinner. I may be late.”
Humming to himself,
Quincy searched through his closet for the right suit and tie. It wouldn’t do to
meet with Tsarentza in his slacks and golf shirt. He needed to look good.
Trustworthy.
Twenty minutes later,
satisfied with his appearance, he stepped into the backseat of the long, dark
sedan. Remir took the front passenger seat. Normally, Quincy wouldn’t bring his
enforcer to a meeting at the high elder’s home, but nothing was normal in the
Ancient world today. He intended for Tsarentza to see him as an equal, despite
Quincy’s lack of elder status.
Intimidation was an
art he’d learned at a young age and was fond of employing. It was surprising,
Quincy mused, how even the most powerful had their weak spots. He intended to
find the high elder’s and exploit it.
That, after all, was
what had made the Gray Ghosts so successful and so feared.
* * *
*
Leykin immediately
recognized Quincy Hawthorne. She squared her shoulders and adopted an enforcer’s
stance before opening the front door to admit him to Misha’s home.
“Good evening.” She
bowed a half-bow, as befitting an Ancient of standing. Only the elders received
a full bow; the Prophetess was greeted with the most formal of Ancient honors, a
bow with fingertips placed to forehead.
“We meet again,”
Quincy said, offering a charming smile. “Have you taken the place of the
beautiful Belle DuPont as the high elder’s enforcer?”
“Oh, no. I am still
learning. I can’t even dream of such a high position.”
Quincy patted her
shoulder. “No need that you should. There are many equally satisfying positions
for an enforcer these days.”
She acknowledged the
compliment with a small nod of her head before turning to lead Hawthorne to the
elevator hidden off the entry alcove. His enforcer remained behind as they rode
to the third floor with only the hum of the lift breaking the silence. When the
doors opened, Leykin waited until Hawthorne stepped out to lead the way to
Misha’s study.
The heavy oak door
was open. Misha called “Please, come in,” when he spotted the duo.
Once again, Leykin
admired how Misha’s study was arranged to demonstrate his power. He sat behind a
massive desk while across from it, small club chairs awaited visitors. A wing
chair was placed to his left, beside the window, and she wondered if the high
elder chose to retreat from the demands of his position by sitting there and
watching the world outside.
As was customary,
Leykin left the room as soon as Hawthorne was seated. She closed the door and
assumed a watch position a few feet away. Still, thanks to the superior hearing
of Ancients, she could have listened in if she wanted to.
She didn’t. Granmama
had taught her it was impolite to eavesdrop. Anyway, there were times when
knowledge was a one-way ticket to an execution.
As she waited in the
hall, her boots sinking into the sumptuous carpet, her thoughts flashed back to
her argument with Giorgio. She hated to fight, but sometimes it was inevitable.
This had been one of those times. He needed to understand how she felt. He
needed to recall his days as a new enforcer, and his dreams and ambitions.
“I’ve got the
blood of Ancients from seven centuries on my hands, forced to prove what kind of
man I am.”
A chill ran through her at the remembered words. How
many had he killed? Dozens? Hundreds?
Did she really want
to know?
End Excerpt.
Thanks Cammie For Dropping By!
