Urban Fantasy

Bloody Hell

By

This book will launch on Nov 3, 2020. Currently, only those with the link can see it. 🔒
Synopsis

She’s a vampire. She's a witch. And she's heartless... literally.

Mercy died twice. Once when she became a vampire. Again, when her own father had her heart cut out of her chest. But Mercy’s guide in the Craft had other ideas. The essence of her heart, now bound to her brother's soul, revived the vampire witch. But the Order of the Morning Dawn will stop at nothing to eliminate her. An organization devoted to two tasks-burning witches and vanquishing vampires-will literally go to hell and back in an effort to liberate Mercy's brother's soul and end Mercy’s vampiric life. If Mercy wants to live she must go to hell herself and capture her brother’s soul before the Order can get to him. Will Mercy survive, or will the Order finally eliminate one of the most notorious vampires in existence?

Bloody Hell is the first book in Theophilus Monroe's Legacy of a Vampire Witch series. These vampires don’t sparkle. If Anne Rice's Vampire Chronicles ever met the Mayfair witches you might end up with a character like Mercy Brown. She is a ruthless, badass, snarky anti-hero straight out of your worst nightmares. But you will want to root for her nonetheless!

Prologue

Present Day 

It wasn’t the first time I’d been to hell, though on this occasion it was by my own insistence. It was also the first time I’d been here in the flesh. And I went with the girl who would later become the Voodoo Queen. It was a delicate relationship between me and Annabelle Mulledy; we hated each other, but we also needed each other. It was in her interest that I continued to deem her an asset, of more use to me than not. 

They say that hell is all fire and brimstone. I’m sure parts of it are like that, but I never went there. I was more interested in the cold, dark part of hell. The place where cursed spirits roam, including the spirits of presently-staked vampires—and, thanks to a witch, my brother.

“Edwin!” I cried out, hoping my long-dead brother’s spirit might respond. He had been dead for more than a century and the better part of another. But it was his soul, cursed by the remains of my vampiric heart, that kept me alive. 

A wraith darted past my face, the cold chill of the vampire spirit frosting my cheek. This was the part of hell where vampires went when they were staked. I’d sent more than my share here myself. After what had happened to me, I could never bring myself to burn their hearts—the only way to ensure a vampire never comes back. I was the only exception to that rule. More than once, hunters who had heard of my exploits tracked me down and staked my chest. The horror on their faces when I laughed and sank my fangs into their necks after they’d staked me was the real prize. It isn’t the blood itself that we vampires crave—it’s souls, and human souls cohere in their blood. The more terrified the soul is when I feed upon it, the better it tastes. 

A second wraith struck me in the chest. I extended my wand and zapped it with sunlight. You can’t kill the dead, but sunlight on a vampire’s wraith makes hell itself seem like a vacation. He wouldn’t fuck with me again. Annabelle didn’t know I was also a witch—and with her, I was playing my cards close to the chest. I quickly pocketed my wand. Thankfully, she hadn’t seen it. Annabelle was here on an errand of her own, a fool’s errand my sire had effectively blackmailed her to complete. If she knew the full reason I was here, she’d hardly comply. And we needed her. She was the only person we knew who could cut a literal gate into hell. It was the only way I could come here in the flesh.

In my human life they’d given me the name Mercy. Mercy Brown. I still used the name—my first name, anyway. I relished the irony of it. In my human life, before I was turned, I’d been a witch. Only recently did I resume my practice of the Craft. As much as I relished the flavor of human souls, the dark arts gave me a different kind of thrill. Another source of power. And nothing tastes better on my palate than power. Besides blood, of course.

I could hear the wraith I’d burned with sunlight screeching in the distance. That’s right, I thought, tell the others. Let them fear me more than they already do. Hell, half of the vampires here I’d staked myself. It was no wonder they’d attack me. 

There was only one I was seeking, and it wasn’t going to be a pleasant reunion. It might even be the death of me. But I didn’t have a choice. 


About the author

Theophilus Monroe is a Ph.D. in Theology who couldn't get his head out of the clouds long enough to write academic textbooks. So, instead, he took his pen to paper and began crafting magical worlds rooted in the myths and legends of the world's religions. view profile

Published on October 18, 2020

60000 words

Contains explicit content ⚠️

Worked with a Reedsy professional 🏆

Genre: Urban Fantasy

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