By Edward Lee
Across the world released horror novelist Edward Lee unleashes his thirty seventh ebook and his first actual vampire novel! while a brand new couple strikes right into a long island brownstone, they locate their final dream house...until they move into the basement. abruptly, a macabre nun is noticeable lurking approximately, with an entourage of lewd and gibbering homeless ladies who appear to understand what evil mystery lurks within the bowels of the outdated condo. because the couples' desires flip to lust-stained nightmares, and the our bodies of lacking people are discovered impaled, the basement's key's published ultimately: the remnants of Dracula himself...
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Additional resources for Brides of the Impaler
While significantly less violent than either of Theron’s encounters, it was just as secret. A tall Roman legionary with an uncommon mane of shoulder-length blond hair and the raven haired daughter of a middle class Jewish merchant met in the inky darkness between the two buildings. They embraced, and shared the stolen pleasure of a kiss which would be denied them any other time of day. “I missed you, Taras,” the woman said when she finally pulled away. “I missed you, too,” he replied. He reached up with his right hand and twined his fingers through her hair, staring into her olive-skinned face.
Since killing the stranger in his bed might rouse the neighbors, it was not an ideal prospect. The thought of lying helpless in bed while a group of armed Roman soldiers surrounded him didn’t appeal to Theron. As such, he would wait a while and see if the two patrolmen moved along on their own. Twenty minutes later, the first light of day threatened to break over the horizon, and the soldiers still hadn’t moved. Theron could wait no longer. He checked his attire to make sure everything looked fine, even retrieving fresh dirt from the street and smudging it into his face.
His mind raced frantically for a suitable lie. All was not lost; he might still be able to— “Claudius, look at his bag. It’s spotted with blood,” the other soldier said. Claudius and Theron both looked at the bag. It was true. Theron had spent too much time waiting for the soldiers to disperse, and Ephraim’s blood – which, like that of all Bachiyr, didn’t coagulate – soaked through in places. He scrambled to think of a suitable excuse. A sheep, maybe, or something for Passover. But with his very next breath, Claudius ended any chance of avoiding a fight.