Showing results by narrator "LaMont Ridgell" in All Categories

Seven months have passed since Barnaby, the Undead patriarch, fell to his death. The war appears to be over. Brian Koltz has assumed rule in Haven and sets about dismantling all of Barnaby’s dark work in order to prevent future tyrants. However, Barnaby is alive and well. With help from newfound allies, he plans to reignite the war and reclaim his throne. And, as their paths intertwine anew, the true Undead patriarch is forced to reveal his identity...and the secrets he’s harbored since the dawn of time.

Squatting on the forest floor, hidden behind and under the tall, thick ferns, Jamison watches as a red macaw flies and dodges trees, scrambling away from two other macaws chasing him. When the red bird miscalculates his turn, and flies head on into a tree, the other two birds squawk and fly away. Jamison lumbers over to where the injured bird lays. Seeing that the bird may be injured, he carefully picks it up with his huge, thick hands and cradles it into his massive chest. He brings it to his home to care of it until it heals.

Jamal Weathers is a Black FBI agent and one of the bureau’s top behavioral experts. He has followed the suspect across three states, trying to stop the assassin’s next attack. When Jamal discovers that all of the slain cops bear the names of Black victims of police shootings, it is clear that the killer is a vigilante dedicated to revenge. And in the inner cities, the killer’s sigil appears with his name “Kifo”, the Swahili word for death.

Grayson has always been different. From the time he started truly understanding what emotions were, he knew that something about him was special. It wasn’t until he turned eighteen that he realized what he was. An empath. Being an empath hasn’t come without cost. While Grayson is always told it’s a gift, the overwhelming wave of emotions is starting to ruin his life.

Tired of the same old vampire story? In the Human-Undead War world, toss out your crosses, holy water, and fire. Don’t bother bolting your door, or lining entrances to your home with garlic or salt—vampires don’t need an invitation, and none of that will deter them. They don’t sparkle. They don’t sleep in coffins. And they are no longer in hiding.