Walking around to the back of the boat, Jack knelt next to the motor again, soaking the legs of his jeans. Reaching into the water, he felt around the blades. Nothing was blocking it, so he unsnapped the motors housing. Lifting it, he looked over the motor. Everything seemed okay as he checked the wires to the spark plugs.
Then he smelled it. Not the gasoline from back at the dock, or oil from the motor. But a burnt, wet, sludge-like smell that hung in the air around the back half of the boat.
Jack looked at the water. No dead fish or animals floated by nor were any trees rotting. Then he saw a black slimy strip hanging off of the edge of the deck near the foot board where the short ladder hung into the water for swimmers access. From that, Jack saw foot prints leading from the ladder, across the open deck, and into the kitchen area, heading toward the small bedroom. Traces of river bottom, moss and what looked to Jack to be soggy, blackened, strips of flesh.
Standing, Jack followed the prints into the kitchen. He stopped at the entrance and looked at the slightly open door to the bedroom.
“Kelly?” Jack said, knowing that the door had been closed before.
No response came, nor did he expect one. She was dead. Burned to cinders at the cabin. From behind he heard the splash of water and a scrape as one of his fishing poles was picked up. Frozen in place, Jack felt a small cold hand wrap in his. Then the fishing pole with the missing hook was put in the other.
Slowly the door to the bedroom opened and the smell of wet, burnt flesh flowed out, hitting him hard. A smile crossed his face as he realized that he was getting to fish with his family after all.
Author Bio
Discovering books at an early age, Shawn grew to love the written word. Every genre was a new take on life. The realms of fantasy with its strong heroes and magical dragons called to him, while suspense and horror with its intriguing heroes and villains showed all of twists and turns that life held. Then again, late Saturday nights watching Creature Feature on Channel 18 with his dad, left memories that would help him turn into the writer that he is today.
In 2010, Shawn published his first novel, Sense of Honor, and its sequel, Dragon’s Chest. Turning what was originally to be a standalone novel into a series, The Tides of War. Also in 2010, Shawn co-authored Ripper’s Row, with Donnie Light.
2011 brought the third installment in The Tides of War series, The Dark Caravan, and the second novel in the Ripper Trilogy, Ripper’s Revenge which he again co-authored with Donnie Light.
In 2012 Shawn stepped alone into the world of horror with Little Valley and Wolves in Springfield.
2013 will see the third installment in the Ripper Trilogy, Ripper’s Wrath, again co-authored with Donnie Light. As well as all three novels in one complete edition, The Ripper Trilogy. Welcome to Plainfield, a paranormal suspense story based off of evidence recovered by Shawn’s paranormal research team, Ghost Hunt America on an investigation on the murderer - Ed Gein, And the fourth installment in the Tides of War series, Rose Marie.
2014 will see a February release of Chicago Undead, followed by his first children’s novel, Brooklyn and the Magic Ring. While the fifth novel in the Tides of War series, Honored Son, marks a fall release.
For extended excerpts of all of Shawn’s novels please go to www.shawnweaverauthor.com
Please enjoy these free first chapter previews:
Ripper’s Row
Chapter One
Burning with a dim yellow glow, the gas lights barely cut the dark as they shined down on the cobblestone roads that crossed the lower end of London. Horses clacked along as drivers shuffled their customers between various inns and taverns. Those seeking more intimate company swept the side streets of Bucks Row, looking for a chance to meet and few pence to cross hands. An embrace in the dark goes largely unnoticed by the strolling passerby. Others are more than willing to ignore what happens in the wee hours between buildings, where the loveless encounters flourish.
A gasp, a gurgle and blood splatters across the walls as Mary Ann Nichols drops to the ground. She had no time to scream as the passion that had been paid for turned ugly as she stood against the side of a tavern. Her skirt and petticoats pulled upward in anticipation of her customer’s desire.
The gentleman’s desire was not what it seemed.
With silent intent, he bends down, taking the liberty of a few more slashes at his already dead victim. He then wipes the shining edge of the steel blade free of blood and gore. Looking to the side, he sees the way is clear for his getaway. Calm and collected, he drifts into the night, whistling a happy tune as part of his cover. Tonight’s work is done and he is once again free to do as he pleases. He then hears the whistle of a bobby who just happened around the corner. Its shrill pitch cuts through the night as the lawman registers the horror that has befallen the lady at his feet. All the while, the dark figure known as “The Ripper” doesn’t hurry his pace, but keeps on walking, certain that he won’t be caught. He has much to do in the nights ahead.
* * *
Standing on the roof of the tavern two stories above, the smell of blood reaches his nostrils making his body quiver. William Carpenter watches the chaos that unfolds below him. A mental surge had brought him here, driving him to aid of one of his own. But he was too late. Her plea for help was cut short. Deep inside, William felt the blade as it pierced her flesh, the sharp edge sweeping the life right out of her.
Another bobby ran into the alleyway skidding to a slippery stop on the blood that seeped through the cracks in the cobblestones. Angered voices rise up the two stories to Williams sensitive ears. The police were imbeciles. They had no ability to track the killer, and their professionalism matched the amount of rotgut whiskey they had drunk before coming on duty.
Seething, William turned and left Mary Ann’s body to the city. There was nothing he could do for her now. Let her be buried in the pauper’s graveyard in the shadow of Big Ben. He would find another to take her place. But now he needed to feed. He would warn the other four to watch their backs while they plied their trade in the dark recesses of this so-called capital of the United Kingdom.
With ease, William ran from roof top to roof top, leaping the gaping streets as easily as jumping a puddle. Dropping to the streets of Whitechaple, he landed with the grace of a master vampire. William heard the drunken voices of two men who turned onto the dark street. He could smell the whiskey and tooth decay that emanated from them. Nose curling he tipped his top hat towards them and crossed the street to get further away from the disgusting smell. That’s when he caught it, the sweet scent of jasmine. How she had the money to buy such a luxury item he did not know or care. The smell was enticing and it led him down the street swifter than any hound.
He heard gentle breathing before he saw her. Her clothes were dirty and the color of her skirts had faded with time. But her skin glowed beneath the grime that encased everything and everyone in the soot of the working class of Whitechaple.
Quick steps brought him up from behind her. She turns, jumps slightly with surprise, and says, “Sorry gov’ner you gave me a fright,” as she brings a hand to her mouth.
A smile crosses her lips and her eyes twinkle in the dim gaslight. William smiled in return, the tip of his tongue tracing the growing canines in his mouth.
“What can I do for you?” she cooed. She swayed slightly, tempting William with thoughts of what lay beneath her skirts, but he did not need that right now.
Reaching with a gloved hand, William caressed her chin. Willingly, she lifted her head up looking deep into William’s eyes. He could see the vein of life pulsing strongly beneath the grime on her neck. Smiling down at her, William let her know that she had made the sale.
Taking his hand, the woman pulled William to her right. With her free hand, she curled a finger in his direction and blew him a kiss. William followed, allowing himself to be led into the darkness of another alley.
As William followed her in the darkness, she stumbled on some raised cobblestones. Willi
am, however, could see perfectly well. He took the woman by the shoulder and spun her around to face him. He did not have much time and needed something from this woman.
She gave a small gasp at being seized, but held still as William looked deeply into her eyes. William knew within seconds that this woman would serve him; that this woman was ready to be taken by him and would watch over him with due vigilance. William had chosen enough servants over the centuries to be able to tell with relative ease who could be converted easily.
“What is your name, m’lady?” William asked as he held her chin in his hand.
“The name is Annie, sir... Annie Chapman.”
“Hello, Annie, my name is William,” he whispered, “and I need your help.”
William looked deeply into her eyes again, which were now locked on his. This is exactly what William wanted.
“Annie, will you help me?” William asked. The force of his stare sent a powerful message directly to her mind, mingling William’s essence with Annie’s very soul.
Annie was already under his spell. She had never felt like this before. If asked, Annie would have done anything William wanted at that very moment, including giving her life for his. It was as if she had known him her entire life, and would protect him with the ferocity of a protective mother. Yet, at the same time, she knew she had already fallen in love with him. It was strange that some portion of Annie’s mind knew that this seemed impossible, yet the emotions she felt for William were overpowering.
“Of course I’ll help you, my love,” Annie answered. She raised her hand and softly stroked the side of William’s clean-shaven face. Annie felt as if she were having a dream and could not quite awaken from it. “I’ll do anything for you, my dear William. Just tell what it is you desire of me.”
William put his hand behind her neck and forcefully kissed her on the lips. He ended the kiss and again gazed deeply into Annie’s eyes. He liked what he saw. The bond had been made. Annie was now his faithful servant and he would take her to his lair.
Taking Annie by the hand, he gently tugged her in the direction of the street. Annie snuggled close to William’s side and wrapped one arm around his slim waist.
“Where are we going, William?” Annie asked, still wondering if she would ever wake from this dream.
“To your new home, m’ love,” he answered. “Where you will be safe and well cared for. You will also meet your sisters.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Annie said, “I’ve always wanted sisters.” She then leaned over and kissed William’s cheek.
William smiled as the couple walked the dark streets, Annie’s head leaning affectionately on his shoulder.
After returning to his lair, William’s mind wandered back to the grisly death of Mary Ann. True, she was only human, and was only needed to keep watch over his home while he slept. But still Mary Ann was his, and his to do with as he pleased. No one else had the right to take her life.
But this was the second time someone had struck down one of his own. Lisa Marie, a beautiful and vivacious woman when alive, and even more so after joining the undead, was the first. Only a week ago, William had sensed the moment of her demise. He had mentally shared the pain and anguish when a madman separated her head from her body. William had lain helplessly, just before the sun rose over the grimy streets that he called home these past many years.
As the sun rose, Lisa Marie’s body fell to dust as the rays ripped through her. William fondly remembered her as being special and very different from the others. The other women were mere animals to feed upon and to bring in the money they earned each night. But Lisa Marie had found a place near William’s heart, which was now broken with her demise.
While William would surely miss Lisa Marie, he now realized he had a much bigger problem. It would seem he had been found again by those who hunted his kind. Lisa Marie was a true vampire, strong and powerful. With the falling of Ann Marie, it was now obvious he was being stalked. But William was now aware and soon he would become the hunter.
Available US:
http://www.amazon.com/Rippers-Row-ebook/dp/B0049B2CDE/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1355511979&sr=8-2&keywords=rippers+row
Available UK:
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Rippers-Row-ebook/dp/B0049B2CDE/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1355512538&sr=8-1
Ripper’s Revenge
Chapter One
A large sailing ship rocked gently on the waves as it left the Port of London. The crew scrambled to make ready for the three-week voyage to the Americas. Unknown to the deckhands below, an unholy beast clung to the aft mast, watching the activity and waiting to make a move.
The beast was dark and hid amongst the rigging and furled sails. Blood dripped from the beast’s haunches. In severe pain, the creature took long, ragged breaths while struggling to maintain its precarious perch.
Only moments before, the beast had engaged in a battle with its most hated foe. It had fought well, but its enemy was an expert with blades, and managed to do major damage to the beast’s lower body before the beast dropped him far from shore.
A light rain began to fall, and the beast shivered as the cold rain coated its leathery wings. It heard the deckhand’s voices and the captain shouting orders while he maneuvered the ship toward the North Sea.
When a harsh wind began to blow, the beast wrapped its wings around itself and closed its eyes against the freezing, stinging rain. Even with an extremely weak and damaged body, its mind was sharp. Hatred filled its thoughts, and it took a moment to relish in it. It drew power from that hatred. A few moments passed and the beast realized it no longer heard voices. Evil, red eyes slowly opened and gazed upon the deck.
The captain, dressed in a heavy coat and hat, stood at the helm, attempting to shield himself from the rain. Nearby, his First Mate watched several other deckhands busy themselves on the foredeck, ready to hoist sails.
The beast desperately wanted to climb down from where it hid, but it could not afford to be observed by the human crew. They would surely attack, and in its weakened state, it could not defend itself.
The beast decided to wait, and during that time, it reached out with its mind, searching for its consorts. It detected their presence, and knew they were frantic with worry. Above all, it sensed Jenny, her fevered thoughts coming to him strongly. It also sensed two others, yet there should have been a third, rendering one missing. Had its foe killed more than the lovely Mary Jane on this night?
The beast silently cursed the human known to him as “Jack the Ripper,” and it hoped the countless, nasty creatures dwelling on the bottom of the Thames River was now devouring him. It served him right; the Ripper was truly the foulest, most heartless human the beast had ever encountered.
For now, the beast had to ensure his own survival, so he moved down toward the private berth. He scanned the decks again and realized the captain had left the helm to the First Mate. The captain had likely retired to his quarters for the night. The beast knew that could be a problem, for his berth was adjacent to the captain’s quarters, and he could not risk being seen. Too weak to continue waiting, it decided to take a chance.
It silently crept down the mast, using its sensitive hearing to follow the human’s whereabouts. It heard voices on the foredeck, but not a footstep could be heard any closer. The beast dropped to the quarterdeck and quickly moved into the shadows near the stairs that lead down to its berth. Cautiously, it moved down the stairs and ducked behind a crate that was secured to the deck. From this vantage point, the beast had a clear look at the lighted hallway leading to the captain’s quarters. It stopped for just a few seconds, and again reached out to Jenny with its mind. It sensed she was near and needed her aid.
* * *
Across the hall from the captain’s quarters, Jenny sat with her two close friends, Agnes and Deborah. The three huddled around the coal-fired stove, which kept the berth reasonably warm. There were two beds, as well as a kitchen table, four chairs and a small private room with a chamber pot. Large
windows at the rear offered a view of the ocean, but now there was darkness beyond the glass. On the port side, lay an ornate casket. Jenny told the captain she was transporting the remains of her dead uncle back to the land he loved–the Americas. But in truth, the casket lay empty, awaiting her love, William Carpenter.
Suddenly, Jenny sprang from her seat and put her hands to her temples. Agnes and Deborah looked at her in fright, thinking she had a sudden pain.
“Jenny, are you all right, dear?” Agnes asked.
Jenny shushed her and held a finger to her lips.
“He’s here,” she said. “I told you he would…” Abruptly, she fell silent and held her fingers to her temples in deep concentration. She walked to the double-doors leading into the hall. Jenny opened them wide and peered out.
The other girls watched Jenny back away from the door. A dark shadow fell over the hallway as something moved past the oil-lamp sconce. The beast entered the room, and the ladies gasped in fright as he closed the door.
Blood dripped on the worn floorboards, leaving a mark that quickly turned to ash.
Seeing this frightening visage, Agnes crumpled to the floor with a swooning gasp. Lucky for her, William’s monstrous form was too much for her to bear.
Blinded by an insatiable hunger, William leapt upon Deborah as she cowered near the rear window. The beast bared his fangs and plunged them deeply into her flesh. He ripped his way into her veins, letting loose her lifeblood. He felt Deborah’s body tense and then go limp. Her sudden shock sounded in a short cry of pain, followed by a sigh mixed with fear and pleasure.
Mississippi DEAD Page 3
