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Monday, May 3, 2010

#13 PREYERS (revised)

Dear Secret Agent,

Not all souls are worth saving, but one is worth catching.

Matilde Royce is the Soul Catcher. Alive, she was an Edwardian Catholic, wife, and mother; dead, she captures the evil souls lurking among humanity. She is an unearthly creature whose very blood creates protectors and prolongs life. Misled by a trusted advisor about her true nature, Matilde is blind to her greater purpose and filled with self-loathing. She knows only that God condemned her to a hellish, blood-sucking existence for murdering her family.

Her enemies and her allies, however, know her power and they will not stop until they catch her. Matilde may not want her soul, but everyone else does: the vampire queen who believes Matilde's daemonic blood holds the key to immortality; the Roman Catholic priest who believes she will bring him salvation; and the daemon whose friendship and motives are the most suspect of all.

With time, Matilde discovers her wants -- God’s forgiveness and release from eternal damnation -- are far outweighed by her needs. She must harness her unholy power to control her enemies and her allies before she is destroyed or, worse, enslaved. Yet, that's an act of futility when Matilde’s every move is orchestrated by others and she has faith in nothing -- least of all herself.

PREYERS is a complete 121,000-word paranormal novel. I hold a B.A. in English literature from UCLA. Thank you for your time and consideration.




C'est l'Enfer qui m'a créé.
It is Hell that created me.


In all my lonely years haunting Siam’s humid jungles, it never crossed my mind that I was not the loathsome spawn of Hell.
Now I stood in the muddy shallows of the Bang-pa Kong, covered in crocodile blood, astonished to find a man watching me from the riverbank’s evening shadows.  I neither heard nor sensed his approach and, until that moment, no creature had come upon me with the element of surprise in its favor.
I felt an overwhelming desire to destroy him or bend him to my will.  Yet I hesitated, confused by his composure, and my urge to possess him.
He was the epitome of civilization down to his manicured fingernails and polished watch chain.
Gaunt and feral, I wore nothing but crocodile gore.
The stranger eyed me, his left hand casually in his trouser pocket, a cigarette dangling in his right hand, his thumb carelessly flicking ashes into the river.  He periodically took a long, thoughtful drag, held the smoke, then let it slowly curl from his nostrils and mouth.  All the while he watched me with unblinking interest.
For the first time in many years I became aware of my nakedness and I sank into the water to hide my body as he chuckled.