DYLAN J. MORGAN
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HIGHLAND COVE: Chapter One teaser ...

3/7/2020

1 Comment

 
CHAPTER ONE
 
60 Years Previously

The only thing that mattered was his survival.

Dark hallways resonated with the sounds of suffering. Doors slammed in the abyss, footsteps boomed off the walls, and tortured moans echoed the pain of their lives. Never before had he heard them this clearly or in such numbers; never had he heard them so angry.

Palming off a cold wall, Professor Bukoski rushed forward. He moved through the corridor by memory alone; in the ground-floor hallway, near the tower in the building’s southern wing. This passage would lead to the rear exit, and a short sprint would get him to the water’s edge. A small row boat was moored to the jetty, its oars stashed under the solitary seat. If he could make it there, perhaps he would escape this nightmare. The waters around the isle were treacherous, but this place had become much more dangerous and he’d take his chances with nature.

He didn’t know the fate of his staff, and nor did he care. They were grown men and women, they could look after themselves. For his surviving patients he cared even less—nothing more than the focus of his experiments, he’d never bothered to learn their names. They were numbers on a chart, scribbles in his diary, the insignificant who were here for his amusement and study. His heartless attitude led to where he now found himself: running for his life, pursued by the torment and horror of a world he’d created.

Ahead, a dim light beckoned, hovering at the far end of a corridor he suspected could stretch for miles. That tiny point of luminescence served to quicken his pace. It had to be the exit bulb above the building’s southern entrance, and his heart pumped with hope. None of the patients had access to this area and the door remained unlocked. With the island completely isolated he never worried about break-ins, and escape was futile for the mentally unstable inmates.

A shadow, cast down by the exit sign, fluttered over the wall. At first he thought it was one of his staff: a nurse, perhaps, sneaking outside for an illicit cigarette. The silhouette faded but another replaced it, and more followed. Sounds came to him, mirroring the clamour pushing at his back: shuffling footfalls of the broken and a cacophony of anguished groans. Shadows from the horde ahead of him twisted in a macabre dance over the walls, but they didn’t reveal themselves. They blocked his escape route. Stabbing terror burned thick in his gut. Professor Bukoski glanced over his shoulder, down the hall from where he’d come, eyes searching the deep pool of darkness behind him. He failed to see them, but the sounds of their frantic approach told him they were there.

They closed in on both sides, trapping him.

“Nie!” he exclaimed in his native Polish.

Unable to leave the building and get to the boat, he changed direction and hurried to the tower’s stairwell that climbed to a viewing balcony four floors above. He pushed through the door, complete darkness in the shaft dispersed by emergency lighting on the walls. Incapable of barring the entrance shut, Professor Bukoski surged ahead, taking the steps two at a time. The short climb up the first flight of stairs exhausted him, sapping the strength from muscles already threatening to seize with fear. He’d had it easy these last few years, secluded and far from the mainland. With the exception of lazy walks in the island’s expansive gardens he’d never partaken in much exercise. He only rested a moment, and then creaking hinges in the gloom below forced him to continue upward.

Two doors greeted him on the first-floor landing but he refused to enter either of them. Nothing lay beyond, only the empty beds of the forgotten where not even their tortured memories bothered to visit. There was no escape that way—and none below, either.

The wretched keening of damned souls billowed up the stairwell like rising clouds of thermal air. He wished for a flashlight, if only to briefly examine the steps below to determine how many pursued him, but knew he’d see nothing. Foolish to dally, a panicked breath wheezed from his lips as he turned from the doors and clambered up the next flight of stairs. Were they corralling him, forcing him to take this route? The thought they might be driving him to where they wanted him almost made his bladder release its contents.

He dreaded what they’d do if they caught him.

Stumbling onto the next landing, he hurried towards the only window built into the tower’s staircase. He pressed his face against the chilled glass and gazed over an unkempt lawn. The grounds sloped to the island’s stony shore, the old wooden pier resembling the belly of a dead whale protruding from the sea. Through night’s gloom he watched white stripes of surf breaking upon the rocks. He couldn’t see the boat from this distance but held fast to the hope that it remained where he’d last seen it. Jumping from this height might break a leg—or both—but if he leaped far enough from the wall he might get lucky and land in one of the bushes flanking the gravel path. To his knowledge the window hadn’t been opened in years but he reached for the handle regardless.

A shadow flickered in the night, passing by the glass. Professor Bukoski drew in a sharp breath, his hand almost touching the frame’s cold handle. Fingernails tapped on the windowpane, scratching over the smooth surface, demanding to be let in.

Dear Lord, they’re outside the walls too!

With his disbelieving stare fixed to the darkness beyond the windowpane, he backed away until his heels caught on the stairs. Losing balance he reached out to steady himself on the wall, almost collapsing in the process. Turning, he lurched up the steps, tears staining his cheeks, face flushed crimson with a combination of effort and fear. His suit jacket slipped from his shoulders, hindering his movement, and he shrugged it off, leaving it to litter the stairwell. As he scrambled higher, he glanced back at deep shadows coiling through the stairwell’s soft emergency lighting. Unseen hands yanked the jacket from the steps and into darkness.

Professor Bukoski whimpered.

The south wing’s third floor had been abandoned almost a decade ago when the last of his patients stored there succumbed to their disease. He’d ordered both doors locked and boarded shut when there were no more subjects to replace those he’d lost. One of the doors shook in its frame as he hauled himself onto the landing.

Are they here too?

Trapped in the ward?

Can they smell me?

Lungs burning, he pushed on up the final flight of stairs, the door behind him rattling with increased intensity.

For so long he’d convinced himself the apparitions were all in his mind, manifested by a guilt he never thought he’d owned. That the voices in night’s darkness were the echoes of nightmares he’d forgotten he had. He’d rationalized the skulking shapes in his peripheral vision were nothing more than fractured light fighting against an approaching storm. He’d ignored it all, had failed to see their wrath escalating from the building’s despair. Not once had he paid them notice as they watched, waiting for their opportunity.

Scrambling into the tower’s main observation room, he staggered across the short space towards the solitary door. Lights on the mainland sparkled in the distance, points in the thick abyss of night taunting him with sanctuary. He pushed at the door and it swung outwards with force, slamming into the tower’s external wall. The chill air seized him, sucked the breath from his lungs. The moisture of storms past made the balcony tiles slick and treacherous, and for a horrifying moment he thought he’d slip under the railing and plummet to the ground. He grabbed the handle and swung the door back into its frame, hoping it would be enough.

Would it hold them?

Could they walk right through it?

Turning from the windows he peered over the balcony’s metal railing. He’d never suffered from vertigo, had been on this platform many times over the years, and when the weather had allowed he’d marvelled at the view out across the ocean. But tonight it seemed so high, the lawn so far below, the depth of night utterly cavernous and unforgiving. Professor Bukoski identified the gravel path following the building’s perimeter, and managed to locate the thin trail that would eventually emerge close to the wooden jetty. Moonlight found a way through the clouds and, for a moment at least, he saw the row boat, faint against the black mass of rippling surf. Yet he could see no way to scale down the tower’s brick wall to reach it.

He smacked his palms against the cold railing and cursed.

Perhaps he could circle around the terrace, find a spot near the roof belonging to the main building and drop down. A fall from this height might lead to injury; a twisted ankle at best, possibly a broken leg, with the distinct possibility his momentum would skip him off the roof tiles and over the guttering. Even if his descent were slowed by intervening objects, a drop from the building’s roof would most likely kill him. Yet what other options did he have from here on the tower at the highest point on the island? Whirling from the view he glanced into the observation area. Nothing moved—a sullen peace had settled over the island, disturbed only briefly by bushes dancing with the wind below. Perhaps they’d halted their chase and turned their attention onto his unfortunate staff who were—in his opinion—as much to blame for their plight as he.
Staring at the door, he considered that maybe he could creep back down the steps and make a quiet escape through the southern lawn.

The door rattled on its hinges. Professor Bukoski lunged forward, intent on holding it closed if he had to. Inside the room the glass crackled and fizzed, windows clouding into an ashen hue of interwoven crystals. Deep grooves scratched through the ice as unseen fingers clawed at the glass. And something else: a spectral mass pressing against the window. Hollow eyes cast a baleful stare from a skeletal face. A rotten jaw yawned wide, and even through the barrier he heard its hungry wail. With a squeal of terror he backed away from the door, his progress only halted when his hips connected with the safety railing.

The balcony’s metal balustrade shook violently—not through his contact or any structural malfunction, but because the others were climbing over it.

Hands slammed into his back, propelling him forward. Professor Bukoski spun, swinging a fist blindly to connect with cold air. As if the night had retaliated, hands smacked him again, full in the chest, and he staggered backwards. In a panic, he grasped the railing, shredding his palm on slivers of rust. Someone—no, something—grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked him backwards, punctuating the effort with a hiss. This time his bladder released, only he barely felt the discomfort.

He went down, his dress shoes slipping out from under him as multiple entities swarmed over him. His shirt ripped; invisible nails and teeth tearing into his skin, streaking his flesh red with blood. An unseen boot smashed into his groin, causing sickness to well in his stomach.

The wind roared louder, in chorus with the howls of his attackers.

His gut lurched at the sensation of being lifted. Clothing twisted and bulged as invisible hands hauled him upwards, raising him like an offering to the cold night. The metal railing clipped his back as they passed him over it, out into thin air.

He screamed in Polish and begged forgiveness in English, but even he knew that mercy would not be granted by the dead.

For the shortest of moments he hung suspended, like the subject of some macabre magic trick. Night’s dense chill wrapped him, its breeze licking ice cold into his wounds. Then they released him.

Tumbling forward, arms and legs flailing, he stared at the tower’s empty balcony as he dropped like a stone. And his only thought was what would happen to all his years of research. Professor Bukoski almost mistook the whistling wind for the laughter of their justice.

He screamed his final breath before gravity slammed him into the earth.

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HIGHLAND COVE: Cover Reveal and more ...

2/20/2020

2 Comments

 
My forthcoming novel, HIGHLAND COVE will be available for pre-order next month. It will be on pre-order for two weeks only for the low price of 0.99, before reverting to my traditional pricing of 2.99 once it's officially released. ARC copies have already been sent out to a few review blogs and I'm excited to get feedback on the book. It's been four years since I released my previous work, The Dead City, so there is also a good deal of nervous excitement that comes with a new release, especially one that's been delayed longer than I'd hoped.

To get a feel for what HIGHLAND COVE is all about, check below for the official accompanying blurb.

To get a look at the incredible cover art provided by those super talented people at Deranged Doctor Design, keep scrolling beyond the blurb. To say I'm blown away by the cover is a vast understatement.

Thank you for taking the time to check this out, thank you all for your support, and if you're searching for that light at the end of the tunnel then stop looking--you won't find it here ...

Highland Cove Sanatorium sits abandoned on a desolate island one mile off the Scottish mainland. It’s a dark, foreboding place, filled with nightmares. Even darker are the asylum’s secrets: a history of disease and mental illness, macabre experiments and murder.

The tales of ghostly appearances are said to be more fact than fiction, but no one has ever documented the phenomenon. Codie Jackson aims to change all that. Arriving from London with his small independent film crew, they plan to make a documentary that will forever change their lives.

But when one of the crew disappears, things begin to spiral out of control. A storm closes in to ravage the island, and in the darkness Highland Cove’s true horrors are revealed. Now lost within the institution's labyrinthine corridors, Codie and his team realize that their nightmare is only just beginning.


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Book Review: NITE FIRE: Chain Reaction by C. L. Schneider

11/26/2019

2 Comments

 
Chain Reaction is the second book in the Nite Fire series of novels by C. L. Schneider. It continues the story of Dahlia Nite, a half-dragon shapeshifter from another world who, together with Detective Creed and Officer Casey Evans (her trusty sidekick), sets out to uncover the source of a drug that’s turning the human residents of Sentinel City into monsters. The investigation takes a series of dramatic twists and turns, and plunges Dahlia face-to-face with perhaps her greatest adversary yet.

This book is a thrill ride filled with tension, excitement, and death. Sprinkled expertly throughout are engaging side-plots, light-hearted moments, and some incredible dialogue. Supernatural and mythical elements blend effortlessly with real-life scenarios that create a world—a number of different worlds, in fact—that are breathtakingly detailed and absorbing.

Dahlia Nite is a great character. She’s half-dragon (which is awesome in itself), she’s bad-ass, and tough. She’s protective, flawed, and vulnerable. Schneider has done an amazing job creating a well-rounded, engaging, and completely loveable character. Dahlia’s interactions with Casey Evans are often funny and always entertaining, and she’s finally beginning to thaw the ice around Detective Creed’s cold persona. Even the minor characters such as Coen and Aidric are not just there to make up the numbers but actually add importance and meaning to the story. They’re believable citizens in a world that breathes.

I’m a grown man so I don’t want to gush like a teenage girl at a boy-band concert, but C. L. Schneider is one of the best authors I’ve ever had the pleasure of reading. I’ve read the Crown of Stones trilogy and the first two books in the Nite Fire series, and each novel is like stepping through the back of a wardrobe similar to that of C. S. Lewis’s, and entering a real and authentic world in which you can truly sense the sights and sounds around you. Nite Fire: Chain Reaction (in fact any book by this author) is highly recommended.
5 Stars
Author Website: http://www.clschneiderauthor.com/
Click the cover below to be taken to the Amazon buy page.
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BOOK REVIEW: The Last Witch: Volume One by M. J. Lawrie

10/21/2019

1 Comment

 
The Last Witch: Volume One, by M.J. Lawrie, is a book that pulls you in from the opening paragraph and keeps you occupied until the final page. Lilly Hooper is the book’s tragically flawed heroine, but it’s her failings and torment that make her keep fighting, keep pushing, and never give up. She’s faced with many adversities throughout the book and it’s great to see her character grow and become the woman she is at the end.

Lilly makes some pretty silly decisions during the middle of the book which annoyed me a little, but these choices bring about conflict and scenes of excitement which serves to push the plot along at a steady pace. The book’s main characters are fleshed out really well and they’re easy to love and hate, which is a credit to the author’s ability to create an entertaining cast. The book’s final couple of chapters has a delightful twist which I did not see coming, and will ensure that I’ll definitely read Volume Two.

Unfortunately The Last Witch isn’t without some minor flaws, most notably a few missing words and a lack of editing in parts. This wasn’t a major distraction, and indeed the quality of the story and its writing pulled me past these small obstacles without any stumbling. I almost never give a first book in a series 5 stars—book two should always have the opportunity to be better. Taking this into account, and the occasional editing issues, The Last Witch: Volume One is a well-deserved 4 star read.

Click on the cover to be taken to Amazon to buy your copy …

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BOOK REVIEW: 4 HOURS by John F Leonard

6/10/2019

3 Comments

 
A pandemic has swept through the city of London and most of the population has been changed, altered: turned into monsters. A handful of immune have holed up inside an underground government bunker, but someone needs to investigate just how bad things above ground really are—enter Carlton Pearcey and Sonny-Jim Gallagher. What starts as a brief excursion to the surface changes when Sonny-Jim needs to find his daughter; and so the two men head out across a city crumbling under the weight of an apocalyptic disease.

4 Hours, by John F Leonard, is a turbo-charged sprint through a forever changed and unforgiving world filled with danger at every turn and a torrent of blood and mangled bodies. The main characters are a pair of likeable dudes, and the tension of their trip is increased with the knowledge of what’s at stake and the constant reminder that the sun is sinking—being stuck out in the city at night with hideous monsters can only end one way: badly. The monsters that London’s population have turned into are horrific (but in a good way), and their threat is as real and identifiable as the two main characters are likeable. There’s no shortage of tense moments and bashed in brains, and John F Leonard does a great job of describing this gore-fest in an artistic way.

The book’s prose is short sharp sentences: one-liners stacked on top of each other like the floors of a flimsy block of flats in London’s east end. While this does serve to pull the reader along at a fast pace, I found it very jarring; just not something I’m used to. There are four characters we meet during this high-octane jaunt—three of them are pretty cool, interesting, and make the story come to life … the other one I seriously wondered what was the point of them being there in such a small amount of pages.

In the end though, 4 Hours was see-sawing between a strong three star rating or a weak four star rating. I ultimately settled on four stars simply because I love post-apocalyptic fiction and stories with drama. Besides, this is 149 pages of violence and gore; man versus monsters … and you can’t go wrong with that.

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OCTOBER HALLOWEEN HORROR DISCOUNT

9/30/2017

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For the entire month of October, SIX of my horror titles will be discounted to 0.99. That's a total of 6 books for less than 6 bucks! All are exclussive to Amazon Kindle: just click on the book cover below to be taken directly to the buy page in your region.

6 BOOKS for 0.99 EACH! BUY NOW!
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Motionless against the wind, she stared at the water, at the place where Raymond Harris had been murdered, and her mind displayed his body on the grass: legs splayed wide, hands in the water, face submerged in black sludge. And her father’s last callous act: standing from their still warm child, turning his back, and walking away, muttering that if she cared so much she should bury him herself.


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After sawing through the pubic bone, she cut each of his internal organs from the back wall of his torso and pulled out his intestines, discarding them into plastic bags.

Cutting internally, she removed his diaphragm, and then sawed the breastbone clear of his collarbone. His lungs, larynx and trachea all came out easily; maybe the wine was speeding up her progress. She had even started whistling. Red disguised the true color of his black heart. She spat on it, dumped it into the bag, and tied a knot in the plastic.


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Curled against the side of the train, the young girl looked at him with eyes sunken by death.
- The Passenger

She reached out to me with a decayed hand, its moldy flesh broken by protruding bone
- Melissa

He cracked the skull open on a nearby trunk, splitting bark with bone.
- Mind Creatures

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It came from the darkness like a demon rising from hell through the gaps of London’s cobbles. Markus had no time to react. The werewolf issued a deep roar as its palm smashed into his cheek and claws ripped cold flesh from his face.


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They hunted in pairs yet with a combined effort.

Six vampires pressed down from the north, moving swiftly across the park’s width. Four others waited at the south-western perimeter, ensuring their prey couldn’t escape. Ten vampires tracking two mortals seemed a little overkill, but Markus’s orders had been clear and Anton had never been one to disobey the command of such an honored Elder.


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The nun’s blood tasted good: rich and unpolluted. From that, Trace deduced the slaughtered woman before him wasn’t a hybrid. He lifted his head from her torn corpse—a slab of the woman’s flesh wedged between his teeth—and sniffed the air. The sweet aroma of blood rode the night breeze, telling him his pack had already made a number of kills. A fetid smell tainted the air however, a stench that flushed hatred through his veins. Hybrids remained alive within the monastery walls, and Trace hoped the commanding officer was one of them—he wanted that kill for himself.



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FEBRUARY GIVEAWAY!

2/2/2017

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Another month and another outstanding giveaway from TOTALLY ADDICTED TO BOOKS!

ONE (1) lucky winner will recieve a $25 Amazon Amazon gift card, a signed paperback copy of The Ghoul Archipelago by Stephen Kozeniewski, a paperback copy of horror anthology At Hell’s Gates: Origins of Evil, and four eBooks!

The eBooks on offer are
The Sickness by yours truly
Medieval Minds by R. Holland
Repressed Carnage by Justin Bienvenue
My Abigail by David Kummar

Simply click HERE or on the image below, to be taken to the giveaway webpage where you can enter to win a bundle of great horror books. If you haven't signed up for the chance to win, then don't waste another moment!
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Subscribe to the mailing list; get Bloodlines FREE

9/18/2016

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Click on the book cover to BLOODLINES, subscribe to Dylan J. Morgan's mailing list, and receive your free copy of the first novella in his Blood War Trilogy. Please note, your email address will not receive spam, and will only be used to alert you to future releases or offers.
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BLOODLINES
Werewolves—savage and brutal. Vampires—ruthless and deadly.  For almost six hundred years the immortal clans have been sworn blood enemies, locked in vicious battle within the darkness of the mortal world. But a new threat has arisen, one with the potential to eradicate both species from existence: hybrids, offspring of forbidden unions between werewolf and vampire.
 
From violent beginnings in the fields of Romania, the conflict remains hidden by shadow in the ancient cities of London, Paris, and Rome. Hanging in the balance, the supernatural war is poised to explode as each species searches for a way to sever the bloodline of the other. In a world filled with honor and nobility, treachery and betrayal, six centuries of hatred and bloodlust has consumed all.
 
The war will not end until one side claims victory—yet none are willing to yield. Here, there will be no winners or losers, only victims and survivors. Do you believe in monsters?
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