When I began writing the vampire series tentatively titled the Second Species, I wanted to tell a story about a people who, through circumstance and misunderstanding, became the basis for one of humanity's most enduring legends--the vampire. Going back over my collection of vampire novels, videos, and non-fiction by such writers as Montague Summers and Ornella Volta, I noticed that in the '70's, a trend began concerning the vampiric hero. It was around that time that the emphasis upon the vile, unearthly, bloodsucking demon began to give way to a more sympathetic view. Suddenly, the vampire was more to be pitied than censured, a being for whom one could feel an empathy--even if coupled with care. After all, the most well-controlled vampire will still be compelled to feast his inner beast, and though you're his best-friend--you might end up being the entree! A good many of these stories were actually romances, where the heroine actually fell in love with this creature and accepted his way of life rather than help in his destruction!

It was with that thought in mind that I wrote Murder in Old Blood, about a vampire who makes no excuses for who he is, but still manages to retain enough of his humanity to show--on occasion--mercy to those who could have become his victims. Kit Landless was a footpad--a mugger--who chose the wrong victim, and ended up becoming immortal--but eventually paid the price for his continued sympathy for humans.

That was well and good, but for the characters in Second Species, I wanted more--these, I decided weren't going to be the usual types of vampires, beings killed and brought back to life in their attacker's image, to continue to ravage the night, but simply people, just wanting to live out their lives in peace. The aventurieri--Transylvanian for vampire--are a second species of Mankind, evolving on a different path at the time Neanderthal and Cro-Magnon vied for domination of the Earth. Becoming nocturnal hunters, they develop a sensitivity to the sun, as well as certain herbs and spices. Though they eat food like their human half-brothers, they also need to consume blood, to supply what their lack of sunshine depletes, and--they develop wings. Feared because of the superstitions of early Man, persecuted and hated by those who can't understand, they take refuge in the mist-enshrouded cliffs of the Carpathians, raising their children, organizing their government, living out their lives with as little communication with Humans as possible, for whenever the two meet, disaster usually follows.

And then....in 1793, their Prince orders his assassin to punish an aventurieri who has broken the Law...and that single act begins a series of events which will send the assassin's eldest son on a journey of revenge and self-discovery....

Two days ago, I signed a contract for the publication of the first three books in the Second Species series--Shadow Lord, Shadow Play, and Shadow Passion. Written under the pseudonym Antonia Paul, they will be part of the new novels launched by Belle Books at DragonCon, in September, 2008.

(Following is a highly-edited excerpt from the first chapter of the first book from my vampire series in progress, The Second Species. High in the Carpathians lies the Decebral Valley where the aventurieri--the Second Species of Mankind--lives. Avoiding humans as much as possible, because of the fears and myths which have grown up about them, they have their own culture and religion, and their own brand of justice for those who disobey the Domnitor's Law.)

CHAPTER ONE

They felt safer when night fell.

It was only as morning came, and the sunlight cast barred shadows upon the dungeon floor, that they cringed into the safety of what little darkness remained, huddling against the stone walls far away from the bright and deadly light. Fear kept them from succumbing to sleep. Clinging to the damp granite, they watched the image of the crossed metal rods as it moved across the stone floor, becoming fainter until it faded away as the sun set.

It had been a long time now--they weren't certain how much had passed--since Ravagui's winged soldiers attacked their father's castel, killing all who resisted, gardi and servants alike. It was too soon after the sun went down, most were still heavy from slumber, and even the humans who served them were caught so unaware as to be totally helpless.

Their parents were killed with a viciousness that bespoke old grudges and long- nursed vengeance. The children saw their father wielding sword and fangs, and taking several of Ravagiu's minions with him as he went down before their onslaught. Their mother herded them into a bedchamber, thrusting their little sister into one twin's arms before locking them in, then turned to face the soldati who launched himself at her, wings flapping.

What followed was a confusion of images and sounds all drowned in the smell of blood as the door was smashed open and the four dragged out, Vlad hindered by the screaming baby in his arms, little Karoly calling for his mother, his voice rising in a shriek as he saw her bloodied body lying in a twisted heap beside the splintered door.

They hadn't been given any explanation as to why they were spared, nor did they ever see the one who had given the orders. They were simply dropped into the dark hole and left.

For ten days and eleven nights.

Eleven nights of unrelieved fear, and hunger.

On the fifth night, Andreas opened his wrist by scrubbing it against a sharp edge protruding from the dungeon wall and shared his blood with his brothers, holding Ruxanda while the child nursed at his pulse.

By the seventh night, with the hunger pangs taking continuous hold, Karoly began to cry, refusing the twins' efforts to comfort him. As the days passed, he lay on the floor, legs curled, hands fisted, moaning quietly.

When the wineskin appeared, suspended through the grate, Karoly was the first to see it.

Before the others could stop him, he scrambled to his feet, staggering toward the sunshine-filled square. Arms reaching for the wine bag, he stepped into the brightness.

"Karoly! Come back!" Andreas shouted.

A rope appeared through the bars, dropping over the child's body, lifting him off his feet.

Legs kicking, Karoly struggled to escape, while the sun shone mercilessly upon him.

His entire body became a living flame, his shrieks blending with the crackle of roasting skin, flesh along his arms bursting and splitting under the heat, amid a liquid bubbling as the blood in his veins began to boil.

The fire rushed upward, and it was over.

Only a blackened skeleton hung from the rope, twisting slowly around and around and around. Softly, it crumbled, rapidly reduced to dust.

The rope was withdrawn. A small box dropped through the bars, rolling into the shadows where it struck Andreas' foot.

He picked it up.

Cut into the underside were the words Strigoi Karoly. Below them in elegant script had been written Dormit in Infern. Rest in Hell.

Slamming the box against the wall, he began to scream, rushing toward the bright square. Vlad's grasp stopped him from dashing directly into the sunshine.

"Murderers! He was just a baby! Why did you do it? Why?"

Later, when the sun went down, Andreas gathered all that remained of his little brother, the dust and the fragments of bone and the little malachite knuckle stones, and placed them in the chest, sobbing quietly the entire time. Holding it against his heart, he crept away to huddle beside Vlad.

...then, it was over.

They heard shouts, the rapid beating of wings, the sound of swords clashing, a repeat of the nightmare that brought them to this place.

A soldati fell across the grate. There was the muffled sound of metal striking flesh and his head rolled away, the severed neck dripping into the pit.

The body was kicked away and someone knelt to peer into the darkness before rising and disappearing.

With a creaking so sharp it was almost a scream, the dungeon door swung open. An armored figure stood there, silhouetted against the torchlight, his wings casting a shadow like those of a giant raptor upon the floor.

In his right hand was a sword wet with blood. His head was unhelmed, black hair coming loose from its club, a patch covering one eye.

"Frate?" Peering into the darkness, he held out his free hand to Andreas. "Brother?"

"Marek!" Seizing the box, Andreas launched himself at his older brother, was enveloped in a hug that also included Vlad as he stumbled toward them, Vlad as he stumbled toward them clutching Ruxanda in his arms.

"Where's Karoly?" Marek turned his head, his one eye searching the dungeon's shadows.

Andreas pulled away from his brother's embrace to hold up the little box.

"Here."

He'd never seen such a look on any one's face.

"Ravagiu will die the slowest death possible when I find him!" Marek pushed the twins
toward the dungeon steps and freedom.

(The Shadow Lord is the first in the series The Second Species, following titles are Shadow Play, Shadow Passion, and Shadow Law. Shadow Law is a work in progress, Shadow Lord currently being submitted to publishers.)

They say the first paragraph of any story is the most important. In that case, the first sentence is even more important. Does it hook the reader? Make him want to read more? Following are the beginnings of some of my novels, both published and unpublished, which I hope prove this point. You be the judge.

If the electronic sensors hadn’t opened the doors as Katie rushed toward them, she would've crashed head-first into the plated plexiglass, probably fracturing her skull, possibly killing herself, and thereby saving the two gunmen behind her the trouble.

--Three Moon Station (Icy Snow Blackstone novel) Unpublished.

As Eli Nighthorse carried his mother's delicately-made floral wreaths into the choir room, he realized he should be heartbroken. After all, today the woman he loved was marrying another man. Not just heartbroken, but the object of pity by everyone attending the ceremony, for not only was she marrying someone else, but Eli had been asked to be the best man! And, like a fool, he'd agreed!

--Sinbad's Wife (The Adventures of Sinbad, Book Two) Due for Publication April/May, 2008 by Double Dragon Publications.

And last (but, as they say, not least):

Marek Strigoi, ex-assassin, restauranteur, vampire, walked among his human clientele.

--Shadow Passion (Second Species, book Two) Unpublished.

When the red raw mists cleared, he was alone. That was how the Mortuaries found him--face down in the bloody slush where his body-heat had melted the snow--the black war-horse standing guard above him. They had to blindfold the animal to lead it away, for it bared its teeth and struck at them, determined to protect its master, even at the cost of his life rather than let the men touch him.

--Bloodseek (The Chronicles of Riven the Heretic, Book One) Published by Double Dragon Publications.

The night Kit Landless chose to rob Honoria Neville was a momentous one, for it marked the ending of his life--as well as its beginning. Forever afterward, when looking back through the corridor of centuries, he would call it the worse mistake he ever made, as well as the best, since it lost him his soul while gaining him Immortality. At the time however, he had no idea what was going to happen and so was totally unprepared when it did.

--Murder in Old Blood. Published by Double Dragon Publications.

They felt safer when night fell. It was only as morning came, and the sunlight cast barred shadows upon the dungeon floor, that they cringed into the safety of what little darkness remained, huddling against the stone walls far away from the bright and deadly light. Fear kept them from succumbing to sleep. Clinging to the damp granite, they watched the image of the crossed metal rods as it moved across the stone floor, becoming fainter until it faded away as the sun set. Only then were they safe from harm.

--Shadow Lord.(Second Species, Book One) Unpublished.

About two o’clock that afternoon, Melissa realized she was being followed.

--Serpent's Tooth. Unpublished.

Time...something a vampire has in abundance...time to enjoy the pleasures of Immortality...time to contemplate his sins...and his mistakes. I learned that the hard way....

--Night Man. Unpublished.

"Tell me, Miss Wilson," said Dominic Andrus, looking at the young woman sitting across from him, "why do you wish to work for me? Do you crave excitement, adventure, danger?"

--The Rose and the Dragon. Published by PublishAmerica.

Hell had come to Nikte-Uaxac. For two days and two nights, Hum Uitzal Chac--the gods’ favored mountain-- belched forth smoke and ashes, filling the air with its noxious breath. Birds fell from the sky, animals fled the jungles, the Black River boiled scarlet, and the ground trembled, felling trees, crumbling buildings, and making pottery fall from shelves and statues creep across the floor of the temple.

--Dark God Descending. Unpublished.

And last (but certainly, not least):

Marek Strigoi, ex-assassin, restauranteur, vampire, walked among his human clientele.

Shadow Passion (Second Species, Book Two) Unpublished.

Well, how'd I do? Tell me truthfully--and I may regret that!--would you want to read more of any of these? (I hope the answer is yes!)