Happy Hump Day everyone and welcome to my blog. Today I have Tony-Paul de Vissage visiting with an excerpt from his book, The Andrieson Clan. Welcome, Tony-Paul, what can you share with us today?
When I learned of the subject for this blog, I sat down and strained my brain trying to think of something amusing that had happened to me.
At last, I came to the conclusion that I’m a very dull person for I couldn’t think of a single thing. Frankly, I’ve never done much of anything that was notable, and certainly nothing that could be incorporated into a novel. I’ve always been a solitary soul, spending my time pursuing solitary projects…reading…writing…walking along the beach…
Wait! Walking along the beach? That brings to mind an incident, happening so long ago now I’d nearly forgot…that time I met those rather odd tourists at Savannah Beach. At least they said they were tourists, and I did incorporate that incident into the prologue to my novel The Clan Andriescu…and I just happen to have an excerpt from that incident with me…
Vampires can have as much trouble with love as anyone else. Take the members of the Clan Andriescu, for example…
MARIUS – older brother and leader of the Clan. He can’t understand why the one woman he truly loves doesn’t want to renew their affair. What does it matter if fifty years have passed since their last meeting. Isn’t love eternal?
VALERIUS – running away from an arranged marriage and straight into the arms of a woman he could really love, but she’s human, so marrying her is a no-no. What’s a vampire to do?
TIMON – Being husband to the author of the world’s most famous vampire tales can be fun, until she write a novel proving the Undead exist. Now Tim and Laura have a big problem…
Join the Clan Andriescu as they find love and struggle to keep it.
LOL, Okay, I got it. That would certainly be an interesting meeting! Can you share an excerpt from the story?
He looked down the beach into the gathering darkness. Just back from the tideline, something was moving. At first, it seemed a large bulky shadow. Abruptly, it separated, becoming three figures trudging through the sand toward him. One hung back, seeming to play Chicken with the tide. He’d dash in, wait until it was surging toward him, then just before it touched his feet, he’d dart out of splashing range, again and again.
They were almost to him now, looked up, and stopped. For a moment, strangers and boy stared at each other.
All were tall, all dressed in dark coats. Like Neo’s in The Matrix, long-skirted with that odd little stand-up collar. The wind came up, blowing inland, whipping straight dark hair about broad shoulders. The one who’d been teasing the surf put up a hand to tuck several strands behind an ear. TP allowed himself a small smile. In the twilight, the ear looked slightly pointed.
“Good evening, young sir,” the tallest of the three said.
“Hey. What you dudes doin’ out heah this time o’ night?”
“We’re tourists,” the man went on. Behind him the other two nodded. “Are you a native of this town?”
“Oui?” The surf-teaser’s head came up, interest in his eyes. They seemed to sparkle in the moonlight. “Vouz parlez francaise? How can that be if you’re from this Sa-van-nah Beach?”
The last word came out more like bitch and TP snickered.
The second man glared. TP was startled to see what looked like a flash of red sweep through his dark eyes. “Say, did your eyes just turn red?”
“No.” The man shook his head. “It was the light of the setting sun. Reflecting.”
Sure it was. The sun had set a half-hour before. Besides, human eyes didn’t reflect light. Right. Tony-Paul decided he’d better keep his distance until he found out more about these guys.
“Pardon my cousin,” The third man spoke up, stepping forward. “He gets a little…uh…cranky when he’s tired. He needs a nap.” He shot his cousin a glare which was returned. “We should introduce ourselves. Val Andriescu.”
He held out a very slender, very pale hand. After the slightest hesitation, Tony-Paul reached out and shook it. It was ice cold, but so were his own. The water was chill tonight and he’d gotten his hands wet picking up shells.
“Tony-Paul de Vissage.”
“This is my brother, Marius.” Val indicated the first man who’d spoken. Marius didn’t offer to shake hands but simply nodded. “And our Cousin Timon.”
That one nodded also, then said, abruptly, “Hi,” and smiled.
It was a brilliant smile, friendly, warm…if a bit pointy. Were his eyeteeth just a little too elongated? Before TP had a chance to make sure he’d seen what he thought he saw, Timon looked away, mouth clamped shut.
“We were wondering if you could give us directions to a specific tourist attraction,” the third man went on.
“Sure. Glad to help.” So all they wanted were directions? “What are you looking for? The Davenport House? The Savannah History Museum?”
“None of those. The historic place we wish to see is Bloody Marsh.”
“Bloody Marsh!” This time, TP didn’t mean to laugh. It just happened.
“You find that amusing?” Timon’s tone was just short of insulted. He had a right, TP supposed. It wasn’t polite to laugh at strangers, though his current persona would naturally do so.
“Man, you’re ’way off-course. Bloody Marsh is on St. Simon’s Island, near Ft. Federica. Not at Savannah.”
“Ah.” Marius looked thoughtful. Val looked perturbed. Timon simply looked. “That will be a little far for us to travel tonight. Could you perhaps answer a couple of questions about it for us?”
“Certainment.” At the same time, TP decided to satisfy his own curiosity about something. “Say, where are you folks from, anyway?”
“We’re from…Transylvania.” Marius looked around at the others. Val and Timon nodded and he turned back to TP.
“Transylvania? You mean the one in Kentucky?”
“Un…yes, that’s right.” He appeared surprised TP might know of it. “ Transylvania… University…in…uh, Lexington, Kentucky.”
“So you’re college professors?”
“That is correct.”
Right and if that’s so, I’m an astronaut. TP couldn’t envision any of the three lecturing to a roomful of somnolent students. With accents like that, they’re more apt to be spies than teachers. Russian Mafia, maybe? Aloud, the boy asked, “What would you like to know?”
“The guidebook says…” Here Timon reached inside his coat and produced a well-worn paperback, from the back pocket of his leather jeans. Leather? He consulted a page. “…the marshes ran red with blood.”“Probably did,” TP agreed. “So what’s your question?”
“Where did the blood go?” The words came out in an eager rush. “Did they use buckets to take it away? Did it soak in? Does it float to the surface on warm nights?”
TP began to laugh. Again. Timon stiffened. Even Marius and Val looked a little angry now. The boy thought he heard a triple chorus of hisses. “I’m sorry…it’s just that…Man, there’s no blood. It’s called Bloody Marsh because so many people got killed there. Nearly five hundred English and Spanish, I think. As for any blood that was spilled…”
“Yes?” The word came out a little too eagerly.
“I imagine it was washed out to sea. It certainly isn’t there now. Why, that was almost three hundred years ago.”
“A mere flick in Time, my young friend,” Marius snapped his fingers.
“You mean there’s nothing there?” Timon appeared disappointed. More than disappointed. Distraught. “Nothing?”
“Nothing but sand and marsh grass. Sorry.”
“Damn it!” Timon struck a fist in the air. He turned on his cousin. “I told you it was too good to be true. What are we going to do now?”
“Tim, calm down.”
“Calm down?” Those quiet words seemed to infuriate him. “All right for you to say. You’ve got better fortitude than I. Damn it, I’m thirsty!”
“Hey, Mister, don’t get your knickers in a twist. It’s nothing to get so upset about.”
“Ahhh.” Timon seemed to inhale forever. He whirled away, muttering something under his breath. It sounded like, “Humans, give them opposable thumbs and they think they own the world,” but TP couldn’t be certain.
“If you’re so darned thirsty,” he went on, helpfully. “There’a Coke machine at the Information Station near the beach entrance.”
“I don’t think so.” Suddenly, Timon was standing in front of him. How’d he gotten so close so fast? “I’ve some other liquid in mind.”
“They also have Sprite and Fanta Orange…” Tony-Paul went on. His voice trailed away as Timon put a hand on his shoulder.
He was standing very close now, the dark eyes glowing…yes, they were glowing.
For the first time since they’d appeared, Tony-Paul felt a chill of fear. Stupidly belated but there it was.
“You know…” He took a step backward, sliding from under the hand tightening on his shoulder. “My Maman told me never to talk to strangers and I think I’d better do just that. Right now.”
Paperback from the publisher’s website: http://www.classactbooks.com/cat-romance/cat-romance-paranormal/the-clan-andriescu-pod-print-detail
e-Book/Kindle from Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Clan-Andriescu-Tony-Paul-Vissage-ebook/dp/B00G829Z0A/
Uh oh. Now I'm left to wonder, did Tony-Paul get away? The story has me sitting on pins and needles and now I'll have to read the book to find out more. Let's see what we can find out about Tony-Paul de Vissage.
Tony-Paul de Vissage is a Southerner of French Huguenot heritage, whose first movie memory is of being a six-year-old viewing the old Universal horror flick, Dracula’s Daughter, on television. He was subsequently scared sleepless—and that may explain a lifelong interest in vampires.
He is now paying back his very permissive parents by writing about vampires.
TP currently has twenty-four novels published, twenty-two under the Class Act Books imprint.
Learn More about TP at:
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