When I heard about monster month, I thought, “Have I got a monster for you.”  It’s Vandar, a very nasty dragon-shifter who lives in my alternate universe.  He comes to life in DRAGON MOON, out October 6 from Berkley.  I was going to give the hero the first scene of the book.  But Vandar grabbed it.

Here’s the way the book begins.

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His name was Vandar, and he was a creature from an ancient nightmare.  A creature who had lived for centuries relying on his psychic powers, his cunning.
 
Now he lifted his massive head and roared for the pleasure of feeling his slaves cringe.

In his present incarnation, he was a huge, scaled being with glittering red eyes, a reptilian body, and wings shaped like those of a bat–only infinitely larger.  But he was just as likely to take human form.  Leaping into the air, he circled his lair, looking down with a feeling of satisfaction as he churned up the chemicals in his belly, then spewed out a blast of fire that singed the already blackened landscape.   
 
His huge mouth stretched into a parody of a smile as he looked down on the circle of destruction.  It was a warning to any enemies who dared approach this blighted place.  And a warning to the slaves who lived in the huge cave he had blasted out of a mountainside.  If any tried to escape, he could turn them to ash as easily as he had charred the land.

In his long life, he had seen many changes.  The world of men had climbed from primitive existence to a rich civilization.  Then in the space of a few years, everything had spun out of control, when thousands of people had developed psychic powers, throwing society into chaos.  Governments toppled as the ordinary people fought the psychics.  During those terrible times, he almost lost his life when the fearful hoards turned against him.  But he had survived–and learned to use the new order to his advantage.

He had built up his own little kingdom, with his own army.  The warriors helped keep his slaves in line and also went on raiding parties to the cities where they captured and brought back more slaves to serve him–and supply his food.

With his territory secure, widening his circle of influence had become one of his chief goals.  Which was why he’d become excited by the news that virgin land existed for the taking, in a world parallel to this one.  A world where the old rules still held sway, and the people who lived there would be helpless to fight a powerful being who could dig his mental claws into their minds and bend them to his will.

But he hadn’t lived for close to a thousand years by leaping unprepared into the unknown.

As he flew over his territory, he thought of the tasks that must be accomplished before the big invasion.  He had already started his preparations for the assault by sending spies to the other universe.  They were all men who had stayed for a few days and come back to give him a sense of the place.  In the next phase, his agent would remain longer and provide a more detailed report.

But this time he would send an attractive woman because she would seem weak and vulnerable, yet her pretty face, sexy figure and psychic powers would give her an advantage over the men she met.

Satisfied with the plan, he circled back and landed in the ceremonial site fifty yards from the mouth of his cave.  Lifting his head to the skies, he roared out four notes.  Two long and two short.  A signal to the people who did his bidding.

Three hundred slaves instantly dropped what they were doing and hurried to answer his call.

One by one and in groups, they stepped outside the cave, blinking in the morning sunshine.

He watched their stiff posture, their wary eyes as they stood in their color-coded tunics.  White for adepts.  Gray for house servants.  Brown for those who did the dirtiest jobs like washing the floors and mucking out the toilets.  And burgundy for his troops.

They knew what was coming, and they cringed, even as they came toward him with hesitant steps. 

Standing before them, he began to change his form, his wings folding inward.  His claws and his great tail retracting back into his body.  The shape of his torso shrinking and transmuting to the incarnation he used when he walked among his minions. 

He was vulnerable when he changed, but they didn’t know that, and they trembled as he transformed from silver-scaled monster to a tall, dark-haired man.  He stood before them naked for several moments, letting them take in his well-muscled body with its impressive male equipment. 

Satisfied that they had enough time to contemplate his magnificence, he snapped his fingers.   Two blond-haired women clad in white came forward and walked to the carved wooden chest where he kept a set of clothing.  From its depths, one of them removed a long black tunic of fine linen, edged with gold braid.  As he held out his arms, one of them slipped the garment over his head and the other knelt and strapped a pair of supple leather sandals onto his feet.

When he was dressed and they stepped back into the crowd,  he turned and smiled at the waiting throng, feeling the waves of tension rolling toward him.

They knew he would feed now.  On one of them.  He could have done that in his dragon form, of course.  But this was so much more intimate, and it impressed upon them that even when he looked like a man, he was as far above them as an eagle was above an ant. 

Long moments passed as he let them sweat, let them wonder  which of them he would select.  And why. 

A man or a woman?

They didn’t know he had already made that decision.  In his mind, he kept a running assessment of his slaves’ deeds–of the times they pleased him and of their transgressions.  One man above all the others had earned the privilege of participating in this ceremony. 

Finally, he raised his voice.  “Bendel, come forward.”

The man gasped.  Everyone else breathed out a sigh of relief.

For long moments, nothing happened.  Then Bendel broke and ran.
Vandar was ready for the man’s futile bid for freedom.  His tongue flicked out, lengthening like a whip, catching the man and pulling him back.
Bendel’s face turned white. His eyes were wide and pleading.

“Were you foolish enough to think you could outrun me?” Vandar murmured, his voice silky.  “And foolish enough to steal food from the larder?”

The slave’s jaw worked, but no words came out of his mouth. 
Vandar spread his lips, baring his teeth as he sent out his fangs, his gaze never leaving the man’s terrified eyes, as he grabbed his hair and arched his neck before sinking his fangs into the pale flesh.

The first draft of blood sent a burst of warmth through him.  He felt the life-giving liquid flow into his mouth, down his throat and into his stomach.

The nourishment brought him a satisfying glow of energy.  In his childhood, he hadn’t known what kind of creature he really was, and he had subsisted on a human diet.  He could still eat small amounts of food and drink if he wanted.  He had tried wine made from grapes and other fruit, and to his taste buds, the wine had a tang that was similar to blood.   

He could have spared his victim’s life.  Draining the lifeblood from any one individual wasn’t necessary to quench his thirst.  He didn’t even need to drink human blood.  An animal would do.  But an animal could not fear him with the intellect of a man, and that was part of the pleasure for him.  He loved feeling a victim’s terror swelling, then the inevitable acceptance as his life force slipped away.   
          
When he had drained the last drop of sweet-tasting nectar, he cast the husk of the body onto the ground and wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his tunic before raising his head to stare at the other slaves.  As he searched their faces, he let the moment stretch, prolonging the little ceremony and impressing the gravity of the occasion on the group of terrified watchers.  Then he snapped his fingers, calling out the two men who would take out the garbage.

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This guy loves to create terror.  He loves his power.  And I loved setting him up as a worthy opponent for the hero and heroine of DRAGON MOON.

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New York Times, USA Today best-selling novelist, Ruth Glick (aka Rebecca York) is the author of 125 books. She writes paranormal romantic thrillers for Berkley and romantic thrillers for Harlequin Intrigue.  Her many awards include a PRISM Award for “Second Chance” in MIDNIGHT MAGIC (Tor, May 2006).  She has received two Career Achievement Awards from RT BOOK REVIEW magazine.  Her KILLING MOON was a launch book for Berkley’s Sensation Imprint.  Her Berkley Moon series continues with DRAGON MOON (October 2009)   Her latest Harlequin Intrigue, MORE THAN A MAN, was out in August.  Also the author of 15 cookbooks, Ruth loves cooking, craft projects and watching defunct TV series on DVD.  Her garden contains rocks she’s collected from around the world.

Update!!! Sherrill’s winner is…Edie! Congrats, Edie! But wait…there’s more! Sherrill decided to pick two additional folks to receive bookmarks, pens, and other goodies. (Very cool, Sherrill!) These runners-up are Mel K and Carol.

My sister-in-law doesn’t understand my fascination (or her youngest daughter’s for that matter) with creatures that go bump in the night. I’ve loved them since I was a kid, not withstanding the Frankenstein monster who goosed me as I entered into a haunted house when I was 16. As a teenager I watched all those old Hammer Dracula films starring Christopher Lee–still by far one of my favorite Draculas. Although I think Leslie Nielsen did a credible job in Dracula: Dead and Loving It. LOL

The historical vampire was a reanimated corpse that crawled out of its grave each night to feast on the blood of nearby villages, usually family members. It wasn’t until Bram Stoker created Count Dracula that we ended up with the sexy villain (or hero, as in most paranormal romances) of today. We love them tall, dark and brooding, and if they’re fangy, too…well, all the better!

When people ask me what my favorite horror/vampire movie is, I have a hard time answering that question. Because my favorite vampire/horror movie has horror icons–Lon Chaney, Jr. as the Wolfman, Bela Lugosi as Dracula and, at the end, the voice of Vincent Price as the Invisible Man–but it’s not really a horror movie. It’s Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein.

So, do you like horror comedies? (Would that be a hormedy?) Or do you like your horror unadulterated and dark?

I have a copy of Belong to the Night, the anthology I’m in with Cynthia Eden and Shelley Laurenston up for grabs to one random commenter. So let me know your thoughts. Dark and brooding? Or not-so-dark and funny? Or somewhere in between?

Just to whet your appetite for what you have a chance to win, here’s the blurb and a short excerpt from my story, City of the Dead:

Dori Falcon is a witch with a plan: get to New Orleans, locate her missing brother, and recover the Eye of Bastet, a mysterious and powerful amulet. Her plan never included falling for sexy Cajun cop Jake Boudreau; but without his help, she may never find the demon who has her brother, and the key to her family’s survival.

Dori sighed and stared at Jake Boudreau’s implacable face. Dark brows were drawn down over eyes that held a look of concern sparked with a small amount of irritation.

Not just because of the way she’d left things between them six months ago, but also because here she was again, trying to encourage him to help her find her wayward younger brother.

Arthur Falcon had come to the Big Easy to meet a very dangerous and unpredictable witch named Alex Sabin. Art planned something that Dori had tried and tried to talk him out of. As much as she’d loved her father, trying to bring him back to life was not a good idea.

In fact, it was a very bad idea.

Now Art was missing. According to Sabin, her brother never shown at their rendezvous point. At least, that’s what he’d said. But Sabin was enigmatic. Why he’d agreed to let Art use the Eye of Bastet in the ritual resurrection was still a mystery to her. The Eye was dangerous, coveted by all those who served the cause of evil and wished to see witches destroyed.

Though if anyone could control the amulet’s power and protect them, it was Sabin. His power was scary, even to someone like her. He had stronger magick than any witch she knew, than any she’d ever known of. And no one knew why.

Others of her kind didn’t trust him. But she knew from his clear, clean aura that he was good and decent, even if there was a shadow in his aura that she’d never seen before.

But now she couldn’t find Sabin, either. He’d gone to ground after informing her of her brother’s disappearance.

Which left her with Boudreau. The one man she should stay away from. The one man hadn’t been able to forget.

If she told him why Art had come back to New Orleans he’d never believe her. And the reason wasn’t important, anyway. She needed Boudreau’s help.

Copyright 2009 Sherrill Quinn. All Rights Reserved.

Let the games begin!

Sherrill Quinn

www.sherrillquinn.com

Update: The winners of the two copies of Midnight Cravings are: Morning Glow and Barbara Elness. Congrats!!!

Most of us believe quite firmly we can never love a monster.  I mean, monsters are…monstrous, right?  They are not human, most often ugly and have fangs, and might even have body parts falling off at inconvenient times.  One of the most loved literary monsters happens to creep about in the night in search of human blood, he can fly, change to mist or a wolf, and isn’t at all averse to biting a gap in your neck and ripping you to shreds.  And when he’s done he crawls into a coffin lined with ancient dirt for a little shut-eye before engaging in more blood frenzy the following day.

A monster, right?

And yet, vampires seem to be the sexiest monsters around right now.  Women go crazy for them, yes, even the sparkly ones.  When did our monsters start to sparkle?  And when did our monsters decide taking a withdrawal from a blood bank was kinder and more efficient than chomping down on a warm, pulsing neck?  We’re supposed to fear vampires, not open our arms and embrace them.

My first vampire ‘love’ was Lestat.  He seduced me with his brat-prince antics and 18th century fashion sense.  Sure, he was a monster who slept in a coffin and yet he owned his monstrosity.  Yeah, he was a brooder, but I don’t recall him apologizing for it.

Who was your first vampire love?  Does he have his moments of monstrosity despite his dark and brooding appeal?

I have 2 copies of MIDNIGHT CRAVINGS, an anthology featuring my short story “Racing the Moon” to giveaway.

Michele Hauf
www.michelehauf.com

Update:  Annette randomly selected a winner and that lucky commenter is…Angela! Congrats, Angela!

I love monsters. A great monster can lift a story from okay to fabulous, as Frankenstein delightfully proved. There are so many terrific monsters in books and movies that I’m not sure you could possibly create a satisfying list, but I will say that I think the best monsters are the ones with a touch of humanity in them. Either poignant like Frank, or seductive like Dracula.

It’s such great fun to wonder which side of the monster will ultimately win out—the horrific, slobbering, blood-sucking, evil side or the tiny slice of human being. Even if the monstrous side wins, if I catch a glimpse of that tiny human part at the end, just before the evil side swallows it up for good, I’m a happy camper.

I will always have a soft spot for those good souls who are trapped as monsters. Talk about your epitome of the tortured hero. Angel. Beauty and the Beast. Terminator 2.

The scariest monsters? For me, hands down, it’s the monsters capable of masquerading as regular people. The ones that look like your next door neighbor or that nice motel owner or the woman you hired to look after your kids, but are really wicked to the core.

The monster in my book DRAWN INTO DARKNESS is masquerading as a regular guy. A rather handsome fellow with blond curls. His humanity isn’t happening, though, and when he’s feeling particularly nasty, he calls up friends from the deep, dank earth. Good thing my hero Lachlan can summon a few eeries of his own…

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Fireballs weren’t the only weapons at the demon’s disposal.

No sooner had Lachlan repaired the gouge in his shield than the demon raised a flurry of dead bats from somewhere in the caves. They flew at Lachlan’s shield, unable to penetrate it, but blinding him with the sheer volume of their fluttering, ghoulish wings. His shield took another heavy pounding of fire from Drusus, and sightless, Lachlan dove desperately to the right.

He struck the wood-framed divan with his shoulder and grunted as he rolled back to his feet. Grateful for the freedom his plaid provided and temporarily free of the phantom bats, he parried yet another of the demon’s masterful blade strokes and flung a summons into the shadows.

The eerie howl that immediately rose into the air gave him gooseflesh.

The shadows stirred, and a grisly chill descended like heavy dew. Long, inky fingers reached out from every darkened crevice in the cavern. Screeching loudly, the bats swerved up and over his shoulder in a desperate attempt to flee. The bone sappers he’d summoned slithered over the walls in rapid pursuit, eager to dine upon their spirit forms.

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To celebrate the monster-filled month of October, I’m giving away a copy of DRAWN INTO DARKNESS to one random commenter today. Just share your favorite ‘good soul trapped as a monster’ character and you could win. Good luck!

Annette McCleave

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www.AnnetteMccleave.com
DRAWN INTO DARKNESS, Signet Eclipse, Available now!
BOUND BY DARKNESS, Signet Eclipse, May 2010

What a great Month of Monsters!  Thanks, Cynthia, for letting me post about my favorite creatures.  I can’t wait for your Night Watch to get here in December!  (And not just because I want that chest on my bookshelf 😉 )

Speaking of books finally landing…  It’s almost here!  My debut urban fantasy romance, SEDUCED BY SHADOWS, Book 1 of The Marked Souls, officially appears in book stores tomorrow, October 6!  (Although rumor has it, Archer’s rippling abs have graced a few shelves already.)

It’s a dream come true.  And to think it all started with a nightmare….

Well, not an actual awake-sweating-in-the-middle-of-the-night nightmare, but the story did arise — ghoul-like — from the marshy mists of my imagination where more than one nightmare has been known to walk.

I think the one of the reasons I love science fiction, fantasy, urban fantasy and paranormal romance is that the bad guys can be soooo bad… and they don’t even have to be human.  Human monsters are wonderful too — think Hannibal Lecter, for example — but he just didn’t drool enough, ya know? 

I like long, jaggedy teeth in my monsters. I also like drool. And stench. I’m no artist, and I don’t have scratch’n’sniff on this computer, but here are some of the unkind critters that have invaded the world of the Marked Souls.  I penned them out because I wanted to get a feel for them.  Not that you’d want to feel them — eew — since I like weird pebbly skin on my monsters, and scales, and more ooze.

Of course, these little sketches don’t do justice to what’s squirming in my head.  I’m a particular fan of the monsters produced by Weta Workshop — who created creatures for Peter Jackson’s vision of The Lord of the Rings — the Nazgul steeds rule! — and Guillermo Del Toro’s freakish beasts from Pan’s Labyrinth and Hellboy 2.   But until I can get them to do my movie (weren’t we speaking of dreams coming true?) I’ll weave words to share the mayhem in my mind.

Here’s an excerpt from “Boys’ Night Out,” the free online short story I use to introduce the world of the Marked Souls, where the talyan — immortal warriors possessed by repentant teshuva demons — fight the resident nasties, including the ferales:

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Waiting for the other talyan to make their way to the end of the block and back along the alley, Jonah crept closer to the building.  He kept to the darkness beside the lighted windows.  The feralis might be animated by demonic forces, but it still used physical matter from this realm to build itself, so the bright light of the Laundromat should blind it to the destruction creeping upon it.

Or so he hoped.  Where demonic forces were concerned, should didn’t always matter.

He peered around the corner.  Dear God in heaven.  He whispered the words as a prayer, though he knew he no longer had the right.  The thing was huge.  It stood half again as tall as the industrial-sized washing machines that could easily hold all the talyan’s dirty trench coats.  It lurched upright, vaguely humanoid.  But no one—even under the influence of more beers than they’d planned to consume, even with the disguises of Halloween—no one would mistake it for human. 

Especially since it was missing a head.  The hulking shoulders sloped inward, and where the neck should have been was only a moist, gaping hole ringed with finger-long teeth.  Where it had scavenged the organic residue for teeth like that, Jonah didn’t want to guess, although the etheric mutations a feralis wreaked on its physical husk could grow even more bizarrely dangerous if left unchecked.

He was the check and balance, he reminded himself.  His demon twisted within him, yearning to match itself against the feralis, to drain its malevolent power.  He tamped the teshuva down, wouldn’t let it rise past his control.  If only Liam and Archer would make an appearance, they’d make sure at least one demon didn’t celebrate tonight.

The feralis huddled—if a thing almost the size of a Volkswagen Bug could huddle—behind the tables where a single sock had been abandoned after someone’s last folded load.  Strangely, it had draped itself with a tattered housecoat.  Jonah frowned.  For all their animalistic nature, ferales lacked the common sense God had given even the lowliest of its constituent parts when alive.  A feralis might eat the frau who had worn the coat, but it wouldn’t save the wrapper.  Why would one have covered itself?

He moved closer to the window.  At least its headlessness ensured it wouldn’t see him.  Or so he hoped.

It had snagged a pigeon, recently, judging by the fact that he could still identify the remaining wing, feathers bedraggled but recognizable.  The wing stuck up from one stooped shoulder like half a pet bird perched on an eccentric—and headless—housewife.

An abomination.  His gorge rose, along with his demon. Every impulse screamed that the thing was a blight and must be banished.  The demon was more than willing to oblige.  Its fires crowned in him, shifting his vision to the hunter’s black light phosphorescence.

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You can read the rest online at the Borders short story page.  How about you?  When it comes to inhuman monsters, what do you find most terrifying?  Sheer size, like Godzilla?  Or maybe tiny, like the out-of-control ants from Them?  Speed and animal cunning, like the velociraptors from Jurassic Park?  The gross factor, like Alien?  

In celebration of tomorrow’s release, I’m giving away two signed copies of SEDUCED BY SHADOWS.  Share your favorite icky monster factor for a chance to win!