It was totally quiet inside the
truck as Semris regained consciousness.
Where am
I? Why am I in this cage?
Abruptly,
he remembered--the camp, the strange, gray beast, and the strangers, one of
them with the odd war club that spat poisoned darts--and he was certain the
dart had been poisoned, else why would he have lost his soul to darkness so
quickly?
He was
groggy and disoriented. His face hurt
where the stranger had struck him with the club. He could feel movement, but knew he was lying
inside a small cramped space. How can
I be moving when I'm lying down?
He couldn’t
stand upright, was barely able to get to his knees. Because of the net entrapping them, he wasn't
even able to retract his wings to give himself more room.
Slowly, he
turned his head. In the shadows, he saw
a seated, sleeping figure holding the war club.
One of the men who had thrown the net over him, the tall one with the
hair holding the color of the noonday sun.
Was this some child of Ah Kinchil, come at last to punish Nikte-Uaxac
for abandoning its worship of the Sun to follow the Children of Cizin-Yum
Cimil-Ah Puch? Did they plan to kill
him and thus send the city into chaos?
That is Tucker Upchurch's introduction to Semris, Emperor of
Nikte Uaxac, a still-existing Mayan city in the Yucatan jungle. Before the story is over, Tuck will find both
his life and Semris' changed forever.
Dark God Descending is tentatively considered a
vampire story but it's one, I hope, with an enjoyable twist. It's also a story of friendship--between two
men, separated by thousands of years:
Tucker Upchurch, an archaeology student from the University of Georgia,
and Semris, a Mayan god-king who is several thousand years old.
Tuck and Semris meet when the student accompanies his
professor to Yucatan, on the trail of an ancient bat god. Instead of finding a stone statue, however,
they find a living being in an extant Mayan city in the middle of the jungle,
and as usual when modern civilisation intrudes into the past, disaster
results. Tuck's professor is without
scruples if it will enhance his own reputation, and this is an opportunity he
can't turn down. He and his men steal
the city's most prize possession—its Emperor, Semris.
Drugged and caged, Semris is guarded by Tuck who soon develops
an emotional bond with his captive charge.
The two men communicate through an archaic form of Spanish, and Tuck
learns that Semris is the son of Yum Cimil, the Mayan god of death, and is, in
the eyes of the civilised world, a vampire.
Tuck gives his blood to keep his friend alive, and when the opportunity
arises, he helps the emperor-god escape.
Before he manages to once again return to the city in the
jungle, Semris will learn of human love and human sacrifice, and will suffer an
all too-human grief. Tuck will lose the
one person he's loved all his life but will gain something more precious in
Semris' friendship, and be blessed with near-immortality. Everyone they touch on the journey back to
Yucatan will be changed forever…and the punishment to the villain is both
fitting as well as ironic.
Damn, I write a good story!
Blurb:
Two
men…separated by thousands of years, cultures, and customs…and in love with the
same woman…
All
grad student James Tucker Upchurch wanted was to earn summer credit on an archaeological
dig to Central America…and to marry his fiancée, Shannon. All Semris
wanted was to escape the monotony of a millennia-old life, and the burdens
being a demon king, and the son of the Mayan God of Death, have placed upon
him.
For
five thousand years, the misplaced Dark Lords of Hell have
been trapped in this world, ruling the Mayan city of
Nikte-Uaxac. While elsewhere civilizations rise and fall, they and
their subjects remain unchanged, until Twenty-first Century intruders appear,
stealing from them their most precious possession, the Emperor himself…
Tuck
never expected to lose his girl to a demon nor to be given immortality, and
Semris never thought he’d experience mortal love, but when the current world
meets a more ancient one, everything and everyone they know will be
changed. Forever.
Excerpt:
Tuck walked
over to the cage.
Oh, God, did
that last shot kill him? As far as he could tell, Semris hadn’t moved.
When he saw
the slow rise and fall of the bare chest, he felt abrupt relief. He also saw
the golden amulet, recognizing it as the twin of the one that had started all
this unpleasantness in the first place.
The fruit
hadn’t been touched, was rapidly darkening, the sweet, overripe smell
permeating the cellar, attracting flies. How the
Hell did they get in here, anyway?Several big bluebottles
were buzzing around inside the cell, hovering over the peaches, a couple
crawling along the edges of the plate. One was floating in the water glass,
wings fluttering and making little splashes.
Tuck knelt and
opened the little flap, reaching inside to remove the glass. As he reached back
in for the plate, it happened. so fast he didn’t even realize Semris had moved
until he felt the iron grip upon his wrist, saw the fangs drop and the dark
head covering his hand.
He screamed as
twin razor slashes struck through his wrist...knowing no one could hear,
struggled desperately to get away. Frantic, disbelieving thoughts whirling
through his mind. Oh, God, this is why he didn’t eat the
fruit. He’s a vampire! Sweet Jesus, he’s going to kill me! Help
someone, help me! Why should they? I didn’t help him.
The pain went
away, his arm numb from wrist to fingertips.
He knelt there
on the floor, watching the pale body crouched so near he could have reached out
and touched his shoulder...his bare, wingless shoulder.Where
did his wings go? What happened to them? All he could do was
watch those shoulders heave with the strength of each deep swallow, feeling his
life ebb away, and a vague surprise that it didn’t hurt at all.
Eyes rolling
up, Tuck gave a little sigh and collapsed against the bars. He was barely
conscious as he saw Semris raise his head and release his arm. In spite of
being only slightly aware, he felt a stab of surprise as the quiet voice
whispered, “Gracias. Gracias por su sangre.”
He’s thanking
me? Thanking me for letting him kill me? With an effort, he made himself
withdraw his wounded arm, cradling it against his chest with his other hand.
Forcing his eyes open, he stared at his wrist, fighting the wave of blackness
floating before his eyes.
There was no
bloody ripped-away flesh as he’d imagined, only four deep punctures. Two of the
five little veins had been pierced, but the wounds were clean and already
clotting. Tuck forced himself to take a deep breath, then let it out, and
repeated the procedure. Keep breathing! Don’t pass out. He
might decide to have a second helping.
“I took too
much. I am sorry. I was too hungry.”
There was such
concern in Semris’ voice that Tuck found himself replying, “That’s all right.
I-if I’d known, I… Oh, God, what am I saying?” He fell silent,
feeling a bout of hysteria galloping toward him.
Something was
thrust into his hand. One of the peaches. Semris’ hand, between the bars,
holding it out to him. “Aqui. Come. Pronto.”
So he took the
peach and bit into it, choking slightly as the rich, sweet juice slid down his
throat, but forced himself to keep chewing and swallowing. As the fruit sugar
hit his stomach, he began to feel better.
“That was
good.” With a sigh, he tossed the peach pit aside.
Through the bars, hands helped him to his feet. He
leaned against the door, hanging onto it to keep his balance as dizziness
flooded back.
“Again,
I am sorry. He looked up, meeting Semris’ eyes, startled at the concern in
them. “It has been so long since I have had the living wine.”
Living
wine…what a beautiful way to describe it. Tuck still
felt a little groggy, wondered if he was now under the vampire thrall. He
decided to find out. “Am I your minion now?”
“Why would you
think that?” Semris sounded genuinely puzzled.
“Well, you’ve
taken my blood. Generally, when a vampire--”
“Vampiro! Donde?”
Semris looked around quickly, arms crossing over his throat in a protective
gesture.
“You.” Tuck
answered, feeling he’d made a mistake. “Aren’t you a vampire?”
“Of course
not!” The answer was disdainful that Tuck might mistake him for such a vile
creature. “I am a Dark Lord. Un demonio.” The pale chin lifted
proudly. “Los vampiros are creatures accursed.”
Tuck thought
that over. “And you’re not.”
“No.” Semris
shook his head, the dark hair swinging. “I am not.”
Tuck realized he must be feeling
better, to be able to marvel at the absurdity of this conversation.
Tony-Paul de Vissage
A writer of French Huguenot extraction, one of Tony-Paul de Vissage's
first movie memories is of being six years old, viewing the old Universal
horror flick, Dracula's Daughter on television, and being scared
sleepless—and he’s now paying back his very permissive parents by writing about
the Undead.
Find out more about Tony-Paul at:
Twitter: @tpvissage
Buy Links:
Old Rowley sired many a bastard but never an heir to the throne. Now famous for its rows of pastel houses and
the famous homes facing the Atlantic on the Battery, Charles Towne once was the
essence of its founder. I set one novel
in Charleston, and this charming city always seems to infiltrate every one
since in some way.
