Excerpt from Book Two, Blood Magik: The Reigning Dead–
The valiant convoy of zombie Priests and their diehard, human affiliates coasted south along the desolate 405 freeway for what felt like hours with Marty leading the pack, him never once wavering in the quest to recover his sister. Wet blood from the demon mists moistened his dead-eyes and accumulated like tears at their corners; the wind blowing by his face pushed droplets across his temples resembling ritual markings drawn before a battle. The Coach’s Chevy War-Machine and his trailer of undead in-tow followed steadily behind, with Terry (who’d regained the driver’s seat) and his dead-infested surf-racks keeping a close pace. They were about a mile out when the bombs dropped and the hell-wall took to the skies. The flames barreled across the freeway in front of them, cutting them off from their destination and generally shocking the shit out of those who were still capable of surprise.
Getting my edit on, cleaning up the manuscript and trying to get this novel I wrote nearly 6 years ago up to par with what I write today. It ain’t easy… I seriously had no idea what I was doing, but I’m getting her done. Visit Bloodmagik.com to get a signed copy of the first book, A Cold Day in Hell or download the ebook for free on Smashwords.com. Follow my journey as a writer and experience the power of Learning by Sucking Ass Until You Get It That Shit Right 🤘😎🤘 -z/cm
They were fast approaching that place in the sky, and the cracked air ahead showed signs of at least three more black-beaked things threatening to bleed through. They drove passed the jagged, electric vein just in time to look back to see the winged eyesores meet the wind in flight. The sight of the trio of creatures flying freely into their world was just odd enough to distract them from the more truly peculiar site below, as both halves of the dead one bubbled and sifted while re-growing its missing sides and, in effect, became two. It wasn’t long before the reanimating fowls, with their hissing snake-tongues, found their footing and pushed off the city street in search of their first civilized meal.
“Did you smell that?” Mac scrunched his nose at the passing, sulfuric and gaseous odor leaking into their world.
It was a suffocating aroma, even for the undead. Bobby realized he innately knew where the scent had come from. “Hell,” he declared with an uncharacteristically blank stare. “…It’s getting closer.”
Get my editing on for Book Two in the saga, putting in work while on the treadmill at the gym. Get in on Book One now with the limited Pure #Art collector’s edition on Bloodmagik.com 💀☠🧟♂️
New work from my man @lucio_parrillo_art on insta. Same diabolical mastermind who did the cover for my dark fantasy zombie novel, Blood Magik: A Cold Day in Hell. Checkout the work he did for me on -> Bloodmagik.com 🤘😎🤘