NEW RELEASE!! - Vale's Speed

NEW RELEASE! Vale's Speed DY51v Series Book Three

https://www.amazon.ca/Vales-Speed-DY51v-Book-Three-ebook/dp/B0FJ86HFM1

One man’s power. Another man’s legacy. The deadliest vampire is yet to come.

"The Independents may have thought they had won the war against the mutant vampires, but they were wrong. Avalon city may have enjoyed thirteen years of peace, but that peace is about to be shattered. And one man, Sloan, is about to face the deadliest vampire of all."

When a deer herd is attacked, and missing persons’ reports flood the APF, Commander Mona Ramos and her unit venture into an old growth forest outside District C to uncover the truth. But what they find is beyond their worst nightmares.

Determined to protect the city and rescue his friend, Sloan hunts down every mutant vampire, but his actions have consequences. He soon faces a terrifying enemy—the mutants' progenitors. Then there are sporadic attacks on the island. Those closest to Sloan are picked off one by one. At first, he can’t understand. Until he meets Vale, a vamp with an unprecedented ability.

As his rationality fades and grief swells, Sloan tries to get a handle on the situation. If he doesn’t, he can sense it… the entity lurking in the shadows will destroy him and everything he holds dear.

For fans of action-packed thrillers and paranormal beings "Vale’s Speed: DY51v Series Book Three" is a must-read. Don't wait any longer, get your copy now.

“Fantastic!” - GFWG

EXCERPT:

Niklas Schulze, a thirty-three-year-old with an aptitude for investigative tracking, stood quivering in a small fir grove. He was aiming in opposing directions, and the guns were rattling in his white-knuckled grip. Large beads of perspiration rolled down the sides of his flushed cheeks. His blood-bathed unit littered the ground around him, and some of them lay motionless. And Mona was nowhere to be seen. Sloan cautiously stepped into the lieutenant’s line of sight.

Schulze was instantly misty-eyed, and his forehead peaked, as if he were relieved. “They’re everywhere, General,” he said in a soft stammer. “Don’t make any sudden movements…”

“Everything will be okay, son,” Sloan whispered. He sensed some men were deceased, while others were gravely injured. Great. He rested his spine against a gigantic American basswood and stared at a pair of red eyes, a couple hundred metres directly behind the lieutenant. He slowly turned his head to the right. Two more sets of eyes. And when he peered to the far left, there was an additional set. He did not know if there was anything behind him and the tree, but he had to assume the worst. Shite. Keeping his attention on the enemy, he carefully took a red flare from his pocket and slid it into a chamber. He switched the gun from his left-hand to his right, dug in the opposite pocket and placed a neon blue flare into the secondary chamber. Then he waited, breathing shallow, the scent of decomposition now nauseatingly strong. Sloan figured the moment he shot the flare gun, it was game over, and he’d be in a battle for their lives. The first MV he’d fought years earlier had exhibited agility, strength, and speed, and if he multiplied those capabilities by four, he was in a problematic situation.

He looked at Lieutenant Schulze; it was apparent the guy had been guarding the grove for hours. His entire body was trembling with fatigue, and occasionally, he’d lose strength in his arms and lower his guns. “If my memory serves me correct, you were born in Newberg?”

“Ah… yes, sir,” Niklas said.

“Good agricultural land. Were you raised on a farm?”

The lieutenant nodded, shivering violently. “They’re getting closer, sir.”

“Don’t look at them,” Sloan ordered quietly; he couldn’t let anyone else die. “Focus on me.”

Niklas gulped, nodding again.

“Where’s the colonel?”

The lieutenant’s expression instantly sank to pallid uncertainty. “I-I don’t know. One minute we were fighting beside each other, and the next she was…”

He waited. “Lieutenant,” he said sharply.

“She screamed, and all I saw was blood, sir. She was gone.”

Sloan didn’t care for his explanation, but he stayed calm. “As soon as I shoot the flares, hit the deck and bury yourself with the dead.”

The flares exploded, a far-off pop echoed faintly, and a twisting fusion of red and neon blue streaked the heavens. Peaches and Petrov bolted. Darting through the trees a short span apart, they watched for Sloan and whatever else might be in the woods with him. They were running into the unknown.

“Spread out and take aim!” Stoner barked, then climbed to the highest boulder he could find, drawing both his platinum Glock 19s.

The deafening screeches went straight through Niklas as he scrambled to get underneath the bodies. He wanted to help the general, but his nerves were shot, and as a soldier’s partially missing arm fell and bumped his face, he retched. The stomach-churning scent of death had permeated everywhere. He lacked the courage, and he couldn’t believe it when the general took on all four of the MVs that bullets wouldn’t stop. In those hazy moments, pinioned under the soldier, he realized the APF was nothing more than a glorified clean-up crew. They were meant to fight other humans, not genetic freaks. They were solely reliant on the Independents.

Drawing his Irish longsword, Sloan sprang high in the air. He caught a mutant vampire’s neck. Blood, black and slick as oil, spewed, and its head flew, disintegrating into a cloud of ash. The body detonated, blanketing the unit in dust. Niklas hacked, covering his nose and mouth.

Sloan landed with a thud near the unit, his eyes gleaming. “Come on!” He held out his arms as the other three mutant vampires crept closer, screeching and growling. “What? Are you scared?” He couldn’t seem to ignore the urge. The thirst drove him, feeding his rage, and vice versa; he wanted a damned good fight. Besides, he refused to let anyone under his command get eaten. He sheathed the sword and dashed, hollering, “Catch me if you can!”

Each mutant turned and took off, a racehorse from the starting gate. On all fours, they galloped after him, manoeuvring the uneven terrain and vegetation with ease.

Sloan flew without looking back. He covered metres per second. A branch nicked his cheek. He blinked. Another scraped his leather sleeve with a whiplash snap. Then, from the right, he noticed one gaining on him. The mutant vampire leaped around clusters of saplings. Suddenly, the forest thinned. Sloan glanced down. The ground was spongy and his boots squishing. Only two locations near Avalon’s borders retained their water level in the summer, even when other areas didn’t; the Avalon River, a fast-moving tributary north of the city that emptied into the Atlantic and a bog. The bog was thick with vegetation, a turbid maze filled with insects, amphibians, and reptiles—everything that made Sloan’s skin crawl. He sprinted in a huge curve to avoid the vast area.

Breathing hard, he examined the terrain ahead. He trusted Mona was still alive and not anywhere near the fecking bog. He just needed a breadcrumb. Anything. Come on, doll, give me a sign.

The sun’s sweltering heat beat down. Mona sucked in the stifling air, holding out her makeshift spear, her clammy chest heaving. Gripping the steel pipe with an old bayonet shoved in the end, she gradually turned. She was surrounded. Five mutant vampires, the likes of which she’d never seen, were waiting for her to cross the invisible line. The only thing between her and death was the length of her spear. She’d killed one, but it had taken every ounce of her strength, and now it was sheer will that kept her fighting. At least we know where the deer went. She smirked, then her chin quivered slightly. What am I thinking? If I die out here, no one will ever know. Her eyes welled up, and she lifted her arm, brushing her damp, grimy cheek against it. She wished Petrov or Sloan or even Snickers were with her.

Coming to an immediate stop, Petrov was relieved to find Mona’s stranded unit, and a shaken Lieutenant Schulze helping the wounded. But his best friend and girlfriend weren’t in sight. Peaches slowed down and walked in on the other side of the fir grove.

Schulze noticed both of them and he stood at attention with a salute. “Colonel…”

“At ease, Lieutenant.” Peaches patted the air, gesturing for him to relax. “We saw the flares, and we’re here to help. What happened?”

Petrov scanned the outlying forest and helped a soldier to his feet. The man shambled away to lean against a tree. But he also noted how many were deceased; a third of the unit would have to be shipped for cremation. The situation wasn’t good no matter how they sliced it. He checked another man’s injuries.

“We were searching the area with Colonel Mona Lisa, and instead of finding the deer herd, we crossed paths with these things. They attacked us without warning, and during the frenzy, the colonel went missing. Then sometime later, the general appeared. He told me to stay here, and he set off the flares.” Niklas wiped his hand on a pant leg. “After that, he killed one of those things and led the rest of them away, deeper into the forest.”

“What direction did he take?” Petrov asked.

“That way.” Niklas pointed northwest.

“How many creatures followed him?”

“Three, that I saw.”

Petrov looked at Leona. “Can you handle this?”

Peaches had dumped the contents of her knapsack and was bandaging a man’s leg. She glanced at the Russian. “Of course. Just be careful. We don’t need any more casualties.”

“I am always careful, comrade.”

A high-pitched scream in the far distance frightened everyone in the grove. Petrov’s gut lurched, and he vanished, running at top speed.

Sloan heard his friend’s cries, and he took a sharp left. The mutant vampires, crashing into one another, switched direction, tearing the ground, giving chase.