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Who is killing the vampires of Albidon-7?
It is the year 2525, and at last, Mankind faces the fact that vampires exist, solving the problem by imprisoning the Undead in concentration camps throughout the Galaxy. When three of the Undead in the Detention Colony on Albidon-7 are destroyed by silver nitrate injected into their hemoglobin supply, the local police are forced to investigate. Officer in charge Lieutenant Katherine Dalia insists that Christopher Landless, the Colony’s reluctant leader, assist her. Their association results in a love affair which estranges Kit from his Undead colleagues, and leads them to the discovery that old crimes never go unpunished.
Murder in Old Blood
by Toni V. Sweeney
August 24, 2006
ISBN-13: 978-1-55404-374-3
384 pages
Horror/Mystery
Paperback/ebook
Toni Sweeney’s unique vampire novel begins in the year 1794, when
Honoria Neville turns Christopher Landless into a vampire. Mates for
over 600 years, the two hunt the world and then the galaxy, until
humans learn to accept their existence. Once outed, vampires live in
harmony with the “breathers” for decades, until the massacre at Bethel.
From then on, all Undead are imprisoned in concentration camps, and
blood is brought to them through transfusions. When one of the vampires
imprisoned on planet Albidon-7 is destroyed, the local police are
forced to investigate. Thus begins a love affair between lieutenant
Kate Dalia and vampire leader Kit Landiss.
What happens when the boundaries between human and nonhuman and good and evil become blurred? The answer is Murder in Old Blood.
The characters in Murder in Old Blood are well developed
and Sweeney’s writing simply carries you along. This was a most
enjoyable read. Too enjoyable, in fact, to fit the category of horror
selected by the author. The book was more of a futuristic and
paranormal mystery.
But so what? I think all you vampire lovers who haven’t read Murder in Old Blood
are in for a treat. There are so many unusual aspects to the story I
hated to write the outline. Even so, I believe you’ll run into enough
twists and turns that this little gem will entertain.
Reviewer’s notes: There’s a bit of spice. Not for
youngsters. And, as I mentioned, the book just isn’t dark enough to be
horror. I also found the concept of moving water as anathema to
vampires a bit unbelievable.
Publishers Comments: I found the premise very intriguing in that is places centuries old vampires in the far off future. I?d give this a 5 star rating.
Nights and Weekends I haven’t read a vampire novel this good since Ann Rice’s Interview with the Vampire. Like Lestat, Kit is both good and bad, but you can’t help liking him no matter what he does. Though these creatures are unnatural—and, to a certain extent, evil—you still care about their fate.
Some scenes involving sex and violence are graphic, but not overly crude, and they weren’t just thrown in for gratuitous purposes. Each scene moves the story toward an explosive and bittersweet end.
Ms. Sweeney brings a wealth of imagination to Murder in Old Blood, and I found myself wanting more after I read the last page. The ending has a surprising, but plausible twist. This is an author to watch; she’s sure to go places in the vampire genre.
CHAPTER ONE
London, England, 1794 AD
The night Kit Landless chose to rob Honoria Neville was a momentous one, for it marked the ending of his life-as well as its beginning.
Forever afterward, when looking back through the corridor of centuries, he would call it the worse mistake he ever made, as well as the best, since it lost him his soul while gaining him Immortality.
At the time however, he had no idea what was going to happen and so was totally unprepared when it did.
In the Year of Our Lord, Seventeen and Ninety-four, Christopher Landless was a criminal-a robber, to be more precise. Twentieth century lawmen would have called him a mugger; the thieftakers of his own time labeled him a footpad, a highwayman who traveled on foot. (Kit didn?t trust horses; never had, never would.)
He was very successful in his chosen profession, having had a price on his head for ten of his twenty-six years and an inevitable future as a gallows-bird for longer than that, but was as close to his appointment with the scaffold at Newgate as he would ever be.
Being very particular about who he robbed-and where-was why he?d survived so long, and if he hadn?t owed a large gambling debt to a certain gentleman who played cards in the backroom of the Bell and Coachman, a disreputable little tavern on the wrong side of the Bridge, he wouldn?t even have given the lone woman a second glance, but takings had been slim for a fortnight, and the gentleman was getting impatient for Kit to honor his markers, threatening to send certain others who definitely were not gentlemen to take the owed amount out of his hide if he didn?t.
That was why he was reluctantly lurking in a darkened alley off a little side street at the edge of town, face hidden behind a kerchief, with the night mist clinging to his hair and its damp seeping into his bones. His cambric shirt and black broadcloth waistcoat were cold and clammy on his skin, moisture beading on his boots, and occasionally, he had to move about to stifle a shiver.
When the woman appeared in the fog-closed street, he was more than ready to pounce.
His first thought on seeing her was that she was some tart hurrying back to her street corner after a tumble, his second that she was a fool for being out this late without her pander and also that her folly would be his gain.
As she passed under the flickering glow of the single street lamp, he quickly changed his initial assumption.
She wasn?t scurrying furtively along with a clutching of shawl or threadbare cloak as he would have expected a trull to be doing, but strode purposefully on the cobbles, head held high inside its deep hood, heels making a rhythmic staccato upon the stones as the tail of her cape sent the fog scattering in little swirls.
No matter-Lady or whore, the gems glittering in her ears and glimpsed under the throat of the velvet cape would soon be his, and bring his creditors to heel.
He simply waited until she walked past the alley where he was hiding, then reached out and pulled her backward into the shadows, one hand going over her mouth.
He didn?t even draw his pistol.
This was too easy.... After all, he was nearly a foot taller than she, outweighed her by at least seven stone, and being a man, was much stronger. The wench didn?t have a chance!
As she started to struggle, he whispered, "Be still and you won?t be hurt. I just want your jewels!" This usually halted any resistance, but instead of subsiding, her movements frantically increased.
She began to fight, one elbow driving backward toward his belly, and Kit dodged in surprise, just as the knot in the kerchief loosened and the cloth slid from his face to the cobbles. He was even more astonished when the woman wrenched herself free, but instead of running out of the alley, simply whirled to back away a few feet-and stopped.
For an instant, she stood there, wavering in the shadows, seeming to melt into them so that Kit had to squint to see her. Slowly, she straightened, and stepped through the faint beam of light that struck the far wall.
Her eyes, dark green and flecked with gold, met Kit’s, holding them, widening slightly. For an instant, she stood still, staring at him.
He misunderstood her look.
Damn, does she knows me?
If she did, then he?d have to kill her. For all his crimes, no one could identify him. He couldn?t afford a witness now.
She took two steps toward him, moving directly into the shaft of light, hands going to the hood to push it away.
God, she was beautiful! Even the alley’s dimness couldn?t hide it.
The struggle had disarranged her hair, dark curls tangled over one shoulder, little wisps floating about her face, a face most would have called exquisite-one men would commit wicked deeds to possess. The cloak had been jerked open, revealing a dark crimson gown cut low over a full, pale bosom that was heaving deeply, but not, as he had expected, with fear.
...with anger....
She was furious.
"You bastard! How dare you touch me!"
Deep within, he felt a response to that beautiful rage. An internal trembling that began to spread throughout his body...and a regret that he had to kill her.
Damnation, her flesh was pale! It gleamed in the dark as cool as marble. He wondered how it would taste, if it would be heated or cold against his tongue.
Abruptly, he wanted her.
His mind was frantically attempting to plot a way to get the jewelry without harming her. Kit had never killed any one and didn?t want to start now-especially not with a woman-and he?d rather have this one alive and warm under him, rather than dead and cold in a damp, dark alley.
"I?ll do more than touch you, my Lady, if you don?t hand over your trinkets."
She hesitated slightly, as if uncertain what to do, then smiled-ever so faintly-teeth catching her lower lip, a full red lip, biting it gently.
He wanted to do the same.
Kit took a step forward, pulling his pistol out of his waistband and pointing it at the full breasts. Hell, he wanted to kiss those tits, press his face against them, not fill them full of shot!
Her scream of rage swept all coherent thought from him.
He never really saw her move, just felt the blow as her hand caught him under the chin, his teeth cracking loudly against each other as he was rocked off his heels and sent flying against the wall.
Kit’s shoulders struck the building with a resounding thump, his body sliding to land in a huddle at its base.
For a moment, he was stunned as his head struck a protruding brick, sending a stream of bright flashes before his eyes.
The slut had struck him! He lay there in dazed disbelief. She?d-
Suddenly, the alley seemed darker. The fog was rolling in, filling it, but-?twas black...like dark clouds. He could barely see the woman....
He shook his head, trying to clear his vision, his eyes sensing rather than seeing movement within the fog.
She was running toward him, but slowly-oh so slowly-as if time itself were waning and all movement become unnatural; no sound to her footfalls, pale arms raised above her head, hands clenched into fists. The cloak was tangled around them, flapping like....
...wings....
Kit struggled to sit up, a coil of panic trapped inside his guts as all power fled from limbs suddenly numb. All he could do was lie there....
...and wait....
She passed through a shadow...emerged changing...head thrown back, eyes glowing, mouth a scarlet rim of enraged snarl encircling gleaming white teeth....
Sweet Jesus, protect my soul! He didn?t know if he cried the words or simply thought them and the wonder passed through his mind if the Blessed Saviour would bother with a sinner such as he.
Then the teeth were at his throat and the shadows closed in, became blood-red and began to spread, smothering his mind....
