Welcome to the #OctoberFrights Blog Hop and Dusk's Warriors!

Today begins the first day of the October Frights Blog Hop!

I have a week of delights for you, as do all the are lovely authors along this dark path known as October Frights. To kick things off, I have a peek at Emerian Rich's new vampire book, Dusk’s Warriors (we are also a stop on her Blog Tour) and an excerpt.

Take it away Emerian...

Since this is a horror crowd, I thought I’d share a particularly horrifying scene from my new novel Dusk’s Warriors.

Would you agree to do the Devil’s bidding if he presented you with a choice?

Pain or compliance?

Excerpt from Dusk’s Warriors

“I see. You’re fed up. You want out. You need some convincing.” Satan smiled, double rows of sharpened teeth gleaming in the dim light. “I can be very convincing.”

Darkness grew in around them and the room spun. When light returned, they were in a different place. A deep pit stretched out before them with hundreds of bodies writhing in razor wire. The victims tried desperately to leave, to sit up, to extricate themselves from the wire, but could not. Bodies—bloodied and raw—undulated in the pit of hopelessness. Those that lay still appeared asleep or dead. Moans and screams echoed in the hot chamber. Ripping skin and puss-filled sores consumed Ridge’s vision as he wondered, could he withstand such pain?

“Convinced yet?”

Ridge couldn’t say a thing. He stood staring at the struggling bodies as they continued to fight their way out.

Something bit him on his right forearm and he moved his jacket sleeve up to see what it was. A rip in his skin ached and bled. Some sort of metal object protruded from the wound. Ridge plucked it from his skin, but it didn’t come free easily. Something was attached to it and seemed to drag along his bone as he pulled. Yanking harder on the piece sent waves of pain throughout his arm and body. An inhuman moan escaped him as the object tore at the inside of his arm. The cord attached, didn’t seem to end.

“Stop this!” Ridge yelled.

“It’s only one piece on one location of your body. Think if you were in it all day and all night, forever. Think of the pain. Think of the agony. Think of the places it…might…creep.”

Sharp prickles shot through Ridge’s groin and backside.

“Stop! Stop!”

“Still want to give up our deal?”

“No, stop!”

“Say it.”

“Say what?”

“Say you’ll do whatever I ask to settle us up.”

Although in immense pain, Ridge hesitated. The statement “whatever I ask” seemed too wide for him. What if it turned into an unending life sentence?

The pain increased, shooting through his right leg, making him fall to one knee.

“Okay, okay!”

“Okay what?”

“Okay, I’ll get you another soul.”

The devil smiled, placing his hand on Ridge’s shoulder. Sharp claws dug into his shoulder blade as the room dimmed. The pit and tortured souls disappeared and the light increased. They were back in Satan’s office. Stepping around Ridge to his desk, the devil sat in his chair, putting his feet up on the desk.

“Now, let’s have a coffee, shall we?”

The pain in Ridge’s limbs subsided, allowing him to stand without further trauma to his nervous system.

“Yeah,” Ridge said as he sat in an office chair, wiping sweat and blood from his brow.

Dusk’s Warriors by Emerian Rich

Heaven has opened up and welcomed the vampires of Night’s Knights into a new reality. As they struggle to find their place in their new world, trouble brews on Earth.

Demon servant, Ridge, is causing havoc by gathering up all the souls on Earth that have been touched by immortality. When he injures one of the Night’s Knights crew, he launches a war between the vampires of Heaven, the Big Bad in Hell, and a mortal street gang of vigilante misfits.

Will Julien, Markham, and Reidar be able to defeat the evil that’s returned, or will they once again need Jespa’s help?

Praise for Dusk’s Warriors:

“All hail, the queen of Night's Knights has returned! Emerian Rich's unique take on vampires delights my black little heart.” ~Dan Shuarette, Lilith's Love

“A world of horror with realistic characters in a fast paced thriller you won't be able to put down.”

~David Watson, The All Night Library

Praise for Night’s Knights: 

“Fresh, original, and thoroughly entertaining.” ~Mark Eller, Traitor

“Emerian brought the Vampire Novel back from the dead.” ~C. E. Dorsett, Shine Like Thunder

Available now at Amazon.com in print and eBook

Emerian Rich is an artist, horror host, and author of the vampire series, Night’s Knights. She is the hostess of the internationally acclaimed podcast, HorrorAddicts.net. Under the name Emmy Z. Madrigal, she writes the musical romance series, Sweet Dreams and she’s the Editorial Director for the Bay Area magazine, SEARCH. She lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with her husband and son.

Be sure to check out the other stops on the Dusk's Warriors Blog Tour

But first check out our giveaway.

October Frights Book Giveaway

a Rafflecopter giveaway

And for more October Frights fun check out the other sites on the hop.

A Spotlight on Clockwork Wonderland

Today we drop down the dark, dark rabbit hole to emerge in a Wonderland of horrors. Today, the spotlight shines through the shadows on the creepy horror anthology Clockwork Wonderland...

Plus, I have an excerpt from one of the stories, so enjoy!

HorrorAddicts.net Press presents… Clockwork Wonderland

Clockwork Wonderland contains stories from authors that see Wonderland as a place of horror where anything can happen and time runs amok. In this book you’ll find tales of murderous clockworks, insane creations, serial killers, zombies, and a blood thirsty jabberclocky. Prepare to see Wonderland as a place where all your worst nightmares come true. You may never look at classic children’s literature the same way again.

Edited by Emerian Rich

Cover by Carmen Masloski

Featuring authors:

Trinity Adler

Ezra Barany

Jaap Boekestein

Dustin Coffman

Stephanie Ellis

Jonathan Fortin

Laurel Anne Hill

N. McGuire

Jeremy Megargee

James Pyne

Michele Roger

H.E. Roulo

Sumiko Saulson

K.L. Wallis

With Foreword by David Watson

Clockwork Wonderland is available on Amazon

Excerpt from Jabberclocky by Jonathan Fortin

As the fist hit Henry’s jaw, the impact rippled through his whole body.

“That the best you can do, you little shit?” his father roared, looming over him like an irate bear. His father’s hands, Henry knew, were accustomed to detailed, delicate work, bearing tools tiny enough to make clocks tick again. Then, when night fell and the shop closed, one of those hands would curl around a bottle, and the other would form a beefy fist. Henry’s father’s hands, it seemed, could take whatever shape the situation required.

Henry had never had dexterous hands like his father’s. Henry’s hands were clumsy and frail, and shook when he tried to grip tiny tools. If he ever tried to throw a punch, it would be his hand that was hurt. And just then, as he fell to the floor, the pain seemed to rattle his very bones.

“Try again!” His father picked up a clock and threw it to the floor. Gears blasted out, one nicking Henry in the cheek. “Try again, or no dinner!”

Although it hurt to even move, Henry pushed himself up and crawled like a rat to pick up the scattered pieces of clock. As he examined them, he had a rush of panic.

“They’re...dented,” Henry said.

His father brought the bottle to his lips for another swig before coughing.

“Dented? Must have been because you weren’t careful enough the first time, you ungrateful little shit. Dented. Pft. I’ll show you what’s dented.”

He stomped over. Henry, hypnotized in fear, dropped the clock, and even more pieces scattered away.

***

Father had a very bad hangover the next morning.

“Go open the shop,” he grunted from his bed, and Henry obeyed. Henry knew how to man the register and take orders. In truth, he didn’t mind doing it all on his own. It was quieter. Less stressful.

The way Henry saw it, all he needed was a chance. Every day, he watched his father in the shop, seeing him smile so sweetly to the customers. The bear that came out at night was a purring teddy during business hours. But even sober, his father might glance at Henry from the corner of his eye, and the ferocity would be there, warning what might come once night fell. The fear was suffocating. Whenever Henry tried to repair a broken clock, his father’s eyes would be on him, and Henry knew what would be coming if he failed. If he could just work on a clock without his father watching, then maybe he’d get it right.

Henry opened the drapes in the front window and saw the most peculiar thing outside. A man in a top hat was twirling through the streets like some kind of gentleman ballet dancer. Only, the more Henry looked, the less the man seemed like a gentleman at all.

The man’s clothes were tattered, with many rips and brown stains that might have been from mud, or perhaps tea. His hat was absurdly tall, and his waistcoat and tailcoat both had exceedingly long tails that snaked down to the backs of his knees and swished in wide, hungry arcs.

It was a cold, rainy morning, and the street was empty save for the man. He seemed to take no notice of the rain, but merely continued to spin and spin, his arm outstretched, perpetually pointing every which way his body turned. What on Earth could possess a man to do such a thing? He had to be mad. Yes, he was obviously a gentleman who’d lost his mind and—for whatever reason—had not yet been escorted to Bedlam.

So, it was quite alarming when the man stopped spinning at the exact moment his outstretched finger pointed in Henry’s direction.

Henry’s heart stopped. It was the first time he could see the man’s face clearly, and his visage froze Henry to the core. It was a gnarled face, with a nose that seemed as long and jointed as a bent finger. The man’s eyes were wide with glee, and his smile was twisted into a grin that resembled a jagged series of arches.

Panicking, Henry ducked away from the window, but only a moment later, he heard a knock upon the door.

“Is this a clock repair shop?” came a muffled voice. “I find myself in need of your services.”

Henry crouched in the corner, quivering. Unlocking the door was the last thing left to do, and it was certainly the last thing he wanted to do.

“Pardon my rudeness, but are you indeed open?” The knock became a furious rapping.

Above Henry were shelves where clocks ticked incessantly. Combined with the rapping on the door, Henry’s head rattled. All the same, his father had ordered him to open the shop and if Henry did not do that, he would certainly be in danger of a beating. The man in the tall hat was strange, but that didn’t necessarily mean he was dangerous. Henry’s father, however, most certainly was.

Henry reluctantly pulled himself to his feet and went to open the door. The man stood outside, his eyes and grin both unnaturally wide.

“I apologize for any trouble. I seem to, herm, my clock seems to be broken. I should very much like aid.” There was an unusual affectation to the man’s speech, and his eyes had a confused wildness to them, as though he wasn’t quite certain whether Henry was real or not.

“I would be happy to help you, sir. May I see the item in question?” Despite his fear, Henry greeted him with the same smile he’d seen his father give customers many times before.

“But of course, child.” The man with the tall hat dug into his pocket and pulled out a pocket watch. Henry couldn’t help but notice the man’s remarkably long fingers.

Henry took the watch and jerked his hand back, as if trying to snatch a paper from a roaring fire. The man took no notice of Henry’s nervousness. Instead, he tossed a bundle of notes onto the floor and bowed.

“I shall check in tomorrow at nine o’clock precisely. I trust it will be done by then?”

“Well, er—”

“Splendid!” the man interrupted and disappeared back into the rainy street.

To read the full story and more Clock-inspired, Alice Horror, check out Clockwork Wonderland