We had a chance to chat with Nick Daily, lead investigator with Beyond Paranormal, about all things supernatural. Have a look.
We had a chance to chat with Nick Daily, lead investigator with Beyond Paranormal, about all things supernatural. Have a look.
Today
we are welcoming author Samurai Dan Coglan to Supernatural Central to talk about his book INVASION OF THE UNDEAD. But first a few questions:
SC: Tell me a little bit about your main character of this book.
SDC: Former Force Recon Marine Corporal Chase Brooks is the main character of Invasion of the Undead; book one of the Deathstalker Chronicles. He is tough, as befits a Marine, highly motivated, and while not the smartest kid in class, he is wise and street-smart. His personality is a mix of the old tough detective in stories like Sam Spade or Robert Parker’s Spenser, and Shane “Scarecrow” Schofield, from action author Matthew Reilly. Brooks is experienced enough to have a fully formed view of the world, but is young enough and flexible enough to learn and expand said view. Unfortunately, he is also blunt, bull-headed, and strong-willed enough that he normally gets himself into bad situations first, and learns through the school of hard knocks.
SC: Since we're all about weird stuff around here, tell us ... do you believe in the paranormal and if so, do you have an experience you can share?
SDC: I actually DO believe in the paranormal! I firmly believe that there is so much more out there in the world that we as humans can currently sense or understand. I am not a person that jumps into UFO stories, or watches ghost hunter type shows on TV or online, but am an open agnostic. I don’t reject anything out of hand, because there is so much that I don’t know, I have to treat things as possible.
My wife and I moved to the country just over a year and a half ago. The farmhouse we moved into was built in 1903, I think. It may have been 1904, so don’t quote me on that. One night after Jillian had gone to bed, my dog Kiba, who had been lying at my feet, bolted upright, and stared hard into the dining room. I looked over, and honest to God, saw a figure move through the doorway into the kitchen. I jumped up and went in to see who had broken into my house without me or my Akita noticing, and there was no one there. The next night, the same thing happened. This time there were voices, murmuring, indistinct but human, as well.
It freaked me out enough that I told my parents about it, who had lived in the house the previous 25 years. My dad laughed, and said, “You met George. He’s the old guy that built the house. Died there, too. Used to let the local Quaker group hold meetings in the dining room.”
I never knew my parents believed in ghosts at all.
SC: It's interesting what comes up when you share a story with someone. Thanks for sharing that one with us. What
titles are you working on now that you can tell us about? P.S. Love Akitas.
SDC:: Upcoming titles for the Deathstalker Chronicles, due out in the next year or two, would be DSC2: Pack Problems, where Brooks heads off to Maine to help rescue his deceased best friend’s kid sister and mother, who are trapped in a tiny logging town beset my werewolves.
DSC3: Bloodsuckers, takes place back in Virginia, where Brooks is “hired” by locals to put together a team of ex-Special Forces vets to eliminate a nest of vampires.
DSC4: Hexed, is the book that I’m currently writing. This time Brooks and his surviving friends are pitted against a coven of evil witches that are using blood magic. I have a number of friends involved in the more positive side of witchcraft that are helping me with research and storyline for this, and it’s been intimidating but fun!
SC: Thanks for joining us today. Let's take a look now.
Excerpt
“Get those damn charges set, and let’s get out of here,” I growled into my mic. Shadows moved around me, and a turbaned face appeared out of the murky darkness. I shot the onrushing insurgent twice and looked around for more.
“Come on, come on, come on,” I muttered. “We’re past time for evac. Move your slow asses!” Lt. Rodriquez was suddenly at my side, scowling. “We’re doing the best we can, Corporal. Hold on to your hat.”
“Charges set, Lieutenant,” Stevens called out. “That makes all four; we can blow this popsicle stand!”
“About damn time,” I snapped. “There are hostiles everywhere. What the hell is this place, anyway?”
McGavin scoffed. “It’s a temple, Brooks. Remember? We had a briefing and everything.”
“Screw you,” I told him. “This ain’t like no temple that I’ve ever seen. And it smells like a fucking crypt.”
“No lie,” my buddy, Lance Corporal Jeremy Stevens, chimed in.
“Marines,” Rodriquez barked. “Let’s go.”
I led us back out, the six of us in tight formation. Stevens was on my left flank; Sgt. Bates was on my right, and the Lieutenant was in the middle with the beady-eyed “guide” that the Colonel had stuck us with. McGavin brought up the rear.
Dead bodies were everywhere; our ingress had come with a high body count. I ignored them.
Two tours had made me immune to corpses. I had bigger priorities.
There was a commotion in front of us; heard but not seen. Voices cried out in excitement. We froze.
Our position was suddenly hit with massive spotlights. “We’ve been cut off! Break left!” Rodriquez yelled as gunfire erupted all around us. We returned fire, hot and heavy.
Being in front has its disadvantages. I got hit three times, twice in the chest and once in the leg.My vest took the brunt of the two to the chest, but the leg shot really sucked. I went down but staggered back to my feet and kept fighting.
Stevens took over point; Lt. Rodriquez slid over to his spot and put me in the middle with the guide, who looked scared out of his mind. I didn’t blame him.
We raced through the gloom, moving downhill but not having a choice in the matter. McGavin took a round to the lower back and went down. I shouted, and the unit took up positions around our fallen comrade.
We created a semi-circle facing back the way we’d come, weapons up and ready. There wasn’t long to wait. The horde was on us quickly, the heavy sound of their AK-47s threatening to overwhelm the sharper cracks of our M-4s.
It was over in less than sixty seconds, and to my amazement, we were still standing. There were bodies all around us, and the air was thick with the smell of cordite. Clouds of smoke from the gunfire obscured our lights even further.
It was like being in hell, I thought, sweeping the area with my carbine. Something flashed in my light, and I swung back.There was a figure standing at the edge of the light. It couldn’t be a friendly, so I shot at it. I missed, and it ducked behind a pile of bodies. The Lieutenant motioned, and Stevens and I went out to get whoever it was.
I’d taken maybe three steps when the figure reappeared, much closer. I could tell it was a man, head and neck wrapped in a shemagh. One arm was holding a bundle, and the other was outstretched toward the ceiling.
His eyes were glowing red. I blinked. His eyes really were glowing; it wasn’t goggles or an optical illusion. Glowing or not, I knew what my job was. I put that head with glowing eyes in my sights and prepared to pull the trigger.
Our guide, who’d been useless and paranoid the entire mission, started screaming and babbling in complete gibberish. The only part that I could make out was something about Manziel or manzazu or some such nonsense, but his outburst caught me off guard, and I missed my shot.
Suddenly there was movement all around us. The bodies of the enemy combatants were stirring. Impossibly, they were staggering to their feet. All around us, corpses were rising from the floor, their eyes shining a baleful crimson.“What the fuck?” Stevens shouted. “This ain’t happening, man.”
I put a three-round burst into the chest of the corpse nearest me and blew out his heart. It didn’t seem to affect him at all; he just kept shuffling toward me, his arms reaching out. I shot him again, this time doing the Mozambique technique that had been drilled into all Marines. The two shots to the body didn’t do anything, but the follow-up round to the head dropped it.
I could hear my unit screaming, cursing, and shooting the reanimated dead bodies all around me.They were coming at us from every direction.
We tightened our circle, trying to cover each other as we changed mags and shifted targets. It didn’t matter; they overwhelmed us. There were just too many of them, and we couldn’t put them down fast enough.
I watched in horror as my best friend, Jeremy Stevens, was pulled down by a mob of freaking zombies and torn apart. Behind me, Lt. Rodriquez screamed, and then his voice trailed off into a muffled gurgle, and I knew he was gone, too.
My mag ran dry, and I reached for another, determined to keep fighting. My fingers closed on air. I was out. The undead pressed in, their hands clawing for me. I swung the empty rifle like a club, trying to clear a space.
The undead mob pulled the rifle from my hands, so I drew my Colt 1911 handgun. It was a fine weapon, and I was good with it, but it only held eight rounds. Those eight rounds went quickly.
When the pistol was empty, all sounds of gunfire ceased.
I was the last of the unit standing. The zombies surrounded me. To my right, two of the obscene things were eating my Sergeant. Behind them, more were tearing our guide to pieces.
I spun to my left and saw what was left of Stevens. Hands fastened onto my vest, and I twisted away. More grabbed hold of my legs, and I went down.The zombies crowded around me. Behind them, looking on, was the man with the glowing eyes, triumph on his face. He cackled with glee.
In desperation, I felt around for anything to use as a weapon. My hands reached above my head and found the remains of the Lieutenant. His head had been ripped off. My hands shifted lower and found the detonator on his belt for the explosive packages that we’d set.
I yanked it free and held it up. The zombies were all over me, and their leader was looking down at me, sneering.
“Fuck you,” I screamed and pushed the button. There was a distant rumble, a pressure wave, and then the world collapsed on me.
Let's go back and take a look at ITC expert Bill Hauser, as he uses his spirit box at The Fort Pub and Grill in Langley, B.C. What do you hear? Please hit that subscribe button.
Today
we're sitting down with author J.A. CULICAN to look at the novel Heir of Dragons from the series HOW TO KILL A DRAGON. Welcome!
SC: Tell me a little bit about your main character of this book.
JAC: Minx, a royal fae and dragon hunter is our kickass heroine. She is strong, loyal and will do whatever it takes to keep her people safe.
Kaleb, a royal dragon shifter turns out to be our heroines’ partner in protecting her people. He is loyal, smart and strong. He is bound and determined to break through the walls his ancestors have put up between the fae and dragons.
SC: Okay, we have some interesting forms of characters in this book. Do you believe in the paranormal and if so, do you have an experience you can share?
JAC: I do. Its funny because my husband made a joke once to our kids that he was a vampire and now my kids swear he is. They tell everyone he is… I am waiting for the phone call from their schools. My youngest daughter was born on the wolf moon, and she tells everyone she meets she is a werewolf because of it… I live in a house full of paranormal creatures..lol
SC: Ha! That would be an interesting conversation with the Principal for sure. What titles are you working on now that you can tell us about?
JAC: The series I am working on right now is Heir of Dragons, book 1 is How to Kill a Dragon (out NOW), book 2 is How to Save a Fae (May 2021) and book 3 is How to Bond a Mage (June 2021). The series is a ton of dark fun, full of fae, dragons and magical creatures.
SC: Thanks so much for stopping by. Let's look at the book now.
Excerpt
“It sounds like the Fae are going to have a big fight on their hands,” said Kaleb, arms crossed. “We'll find some way to protect the realm—”
“I'll say we will,” interrupted Minx. “I'm going to find myself a dragon's hide and get it to the elders before time runs out. That's the mission. Nothing's changed.”
The dragon shifter sighed, kneading his brow with a few fingers. “We're going to find a way to protect the realm,” he repeated. “Another way.”
“If we don't reset the shields, then—”
Kaleb raised a hand to silence her. “You want to protect your home, your people. I understand that. In fact, I respect it.” He donned a genuine smile, motioning at the chair she'd just abandoned. “You know, that's what I was raised to do, too. To defend my kind at any cost. You only get one homeland, one people. Only a coward wouldn't risk everything to defend their own. But what you're asking for...” He shook his head. “There has to be another way. And together, I think we can find it, Minx.”
***
Watching the movements of the sword very closely, he'd managed to reach out and grab the Fae's thin arm before she could connect with her weapon, and applying his forceful grip, the dragon shifter put pressure on her forearm till she cried out in pain and the sword fell from her grasp. She fell to her knees, tugging and panting but ultimately unable to pull away from him.
He heard the smooth nocking of an arrow, the drawing of a bow. “No!”
Minx had wasted no time. With her opponent disarmed by the dragon shifter, she'd loaded a fresh shot and prepared to deliver a point-blank coup de grace. The arrow had begun to fly, only to meet its terminus in Kaleb's waiting hand. The sharpened tip of the arrow sheared the skin of his palm neatly, but he was able to stop the thing before it reached its intended target, and he cast it away with a wince.
“What are you doing?” demanded Minx, pulling another arrow from her quiver.
At this, he reached out and took Minx by the arm, pulling her close with such unexpected force she dropped her bow. A wide-eyed rag doll in his furious gaze, she found herself nearly nose-to-nose with him, his hot breath streaking across her reddening cheek. “No more. You can't kill her, Minx,” he ordered. “The fight is over. Understand?”
They remained in this way for several beats, the race of her pulse felt clearly against his wounded palm. From this distance—closer than he'd ever been to her before—he couldn't help taking in the faint quiver of her soft lips, the innocence of her wide, watery eyes. Sure, she was a Fae—but he couldn't deny her loveliness. She didn't pull away from him, didn't make an immediate effort to break free, and the quickening of her pulse almost gave him the impression she liked being in his grasp.
Get ahold of yourself, he thought, letting her go gently when he was sure she would no longer lash out. He shook his head, sporting an almost embarrassed grin. There are more important things to worry about. Are you really going to let yourself get carried away with this girl? She's a Fae, after all! What are you thinking?
Minx's face had taken on an uncharacteristic flush. She drew away from him, lowering her gaze and slowly picking up her weapon. Running a hand through her dark, tousled locks, she couldn't seem to find her voice and stood silently beside the cage where Mau watched in silence.
He had to force himself to look away from Minx, to distract himself and quiet the thumping of his own heart. A Dragon and a Fae? You're really losing it, aren't you? But then, maybe...
***
Kaleb, having regained his breath, struggled to his feet. “You're not taking her anywhere, you understand me?” He stood upright with a pained grunt, arms hanging at his sides.
Torrent pointed at the dragon and shot Alla a sharp glance. “I'd love to leave them out of it, but they insist on butting in. I suppose I have no choice.” He thrust out an open palm, fingers arrayed rigidly like claws, and turned toward Kaleb. “You should have stayed down the first time.”
There was, in the next instant, a flash of blinding light.
The sound of splitting metal and splintering trees sounded, and Minx felt a powerful burst of wind wash past her. It came so intensely that she fell onto her back, unable to remain seated on the ground, while Kaleb was hurried off his feet entirely and thrust against the nearest tree.
When the dust had settled and her eyes had adjusted after the brilliant flash, Minx turned to Kaleb and began crawling toward him.
And then she halted, heart seizing and guts churning.
Slack-jawed and moaning, Kaleb had been pinned to the massive trunk of the tree—not by any invisible force or psychical trick, but by arrows. Three stone-colored arrows, conjured by Torrent, had penetrated Kaleb's dense armor and impaled him at various points through the chest and stomach. The tips of said arrows had passed straight through him, and were buried in the trunk of the ancient tree, which had rattled and creaked as though a mere sapling.
It was impossible. Everything she'd witnessed was impossible. No normal arrow could hope to pierce Kaleb's thick plate armor. But Torrent had stuck the dragon shifter with three at once, summoning them from thin air. He remained pinned to the tree, bleeding profusely. His end was very near. No one could sustain that kind of damage and hope to recover.
***I've not only disgraced my father, but my entire people. I'm not worthy of the title of Dragon Hunter—or Royal Fae, even. I feel like I've betrayed them all...
“What are you talking about?” blurted Minx. “He very nearly killed you, Kaleb! We need to be careful around him.”
“You're right,” he conceded, “but he faced me this way, man-to-man. Let's see how he fares man-to-dragon.”
Minx had been waiting for this day. The wait had seemed to her an eternity. Journeying across the land with Kaleb and Mau, finding herself in one mess after another, she had begun to wonder whether the fateful clash would ever arrive. Now, as Kaleb lumbered on with her on his back, the wait was over. She squinted into the distance, spying untold hordes bearing down on her precious homeland. There were more marchers flooding in from the horizon than she could hope to slay with a hundred full quivers, and she felt almost dizzy at the immensity of their ranks. It's like a dream, she thought absently, clinging to the dragon shifter's scales. Minx knew what it meant to fight in a battle; this, however, was a war.
***
About the Author:
J.A. Culican is a USA Today Bestselling author of the middle grade fantasy
series Keeper of Dragons. Her first novel in the fictional series catapulted a
trajectory of titles and awards, including top selling author on the USA Today
bestsellers list and Amazon, and a rightfully earned spot as an international
best seller. Additional accolades include Best Fantasy Book of 2016, Runner-up
in Reality Bites Book Awards, and 1st place for Best Coming of Age Book from
the Indie book Awards.
J.A. Culican holds a Master's degree in Special Education from Niagara
University, in which she has been teaching special education for over 13 years.
She is also the president of the autism awareness non-profit Puzzle Peace
United. J.A. Culican resides in Southern New Jersey with her husband and four
young children.
For more information about J.A. Culican visit
Website: www.jaculican.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/jaculican
Instagram: www.instagram.com/jaculican
Twitter: www.twitter.com/jaculican
Pinterest: www.pinterest.com/jaculican
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/J-A-Culican/e/B01GG7GLYE
Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/j-a-culican
Newsletter: https://www.jaculican.com/contact/
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15287808.J_A_Culican
Lots
of fun this week here at Supernatural Central. Today we're chatting with W. T. Watson, author of HUNTING the BEAST. Welcome!
SC: Tell me a little bit about your main character of this book.
WTW: Zachary Collins, or Zach, for short, is a character derived from folklore. I love to read old and new stories about ‘monsters’ and other strange phenomena. If you study the lore of Phantom Black Dogs, you find that some stories state that Black Dogs are shapeshifters and there is at least one account of a Dog turning into a human being (though not a very nice one).
Once I had the idea of a shape-shifting Black Dog in my mind, I began to consider such a character and Zachary sprang into my head almost fully formed.
In his human form, Zach is tall and dark, but he has to watch his temper since the red flare of his eyes can give away his actual nature. In my world, the supernatural beings who live in the human realm must comply with the rules of the Charter. Zach’s people, the Black Dogs, enforce the Charter on the werewolf packs. Zach believes in the spirit of the law and not the letter of it, as you discover in the first chapters of the book, but, once he goes on the hunt for a rogue wolf, he is going to bring that wolf in.
In his true form, Zach is a massive jet back hound with self-illuminating red eyes.
In both forms, Zach is an adept magician using both the necromantic talents native to his People and rune magic that he has learned from other sources.
SC: Sounds like this book is right up our supernatural alley. Do you believe in the paranormal and if so, do you have an experience you can share?
WTW: I’m an animist so I do not feel that anything is really ‘beyond’ the normal. I live in a world full of spirits and accept that what I can see with my eyes is the tip of the iceberg of what is actually there. Therefore, what most people consider to be paranormal is natural and quite normal to me, if a little unsettling at times.
My experiences tend to fall into the realm that some would call synchronicities. For example, my spouse and I recently moved to Canada. They are a Canadian citizen and had taken a job here and, as I am American by birth, I am in the immigration process. As such, I cannot work in Canada so I was asking my Higher Powers what I should be doing with myself. A week later, out of the blue, I got an email from Beyond the Fray Publishing regarding this book. It had been quite some time since I made my initial inquiry and I had assumed that they weren’t interested.
A few months later, “Hunting the Beast” was in print, I had been asked to do a non-fiction follow-up, my spouse dreamed the beginning to a book that we are collaborating on and I am the busiest unemployed person I know!
SC: That's great. Welcome to Canada. What titles are you working on now that you can tell us about?
WTW: I am working on a nonfiction follow-up to “Hunting the Beast”. I don’t have a title yet, but it will deal with the Phantom Black Dog phenomenon that inspired the novel and some of the theories surrounding that phenomenon.
Book 2 of Zach’s adventures, tentatively titled “Missing Time” is complete but has not been accepted for publication yet.
SC: Well thanks again for stopping by. Let's take a look at your book now.
Excerpt
Stakeouts are not the most interesting part of my jobs but, on this night, the surveillance duty was alright. It was warm for an October night in Buffalo and Chippewa street was alive with a number of interesting characters. I took a sip of the hot Jamaican Blue I had picked up from the local coffee shop and scanned the street again, trying to parse a werewolf out of the crowd of students and young professionals moving up and down the street.
I’d been told by one of the local witches, a frequent information source, that she had seen a wolf that she did not recognize from the local pack at The Palmero, the local metal bar. Now, it was possible that Alonso Martinez, the Buffalo Pack Alpha, had inducted a new member but, if so, I should have been informed. I am, after all, the Buffalo Region’s Black Dog and I am responsible for enforcing the Charter, the laws of the Otherworld, on the werewolf population.
Whether Alonso was holding out on me or we had a rogue wolf in our midst, I needed to know about it so I had been watching the Palermo for several evenings, hoping to encounter the mysterious werewolf.
I had finished my third cup of coffee and was beginning to think that this night was a wash when I spotted the wolf. He had come around the corner from Delaware slowly. He was a young man of average height incongruously wearing aviator shades in the dark night. It was not the silliness of the sunglasses at night that cued me; it was the fact that as soon as he got close to the human crowds people formed an unconscious ring around him.
Humans have worked hard to become rational beings, to ignore the things that go bump in the night, but they have not evolved so far that they do not recognize a predator in their midst. The boy did not even have enough control to damp his inner carnivore so that he could mix with human society. That made him a rogue and my job now was to bring him in.
I exited the car slowly, conscious that sudden movement might alert the werewolf and moved across the street. Even an untrained wolf had uncannily sharp senses so I checked to make certain the wind was blowing in my face before moving closer to my target. I had dressed in black so I blended with the Goth crowd outside the Palermo until I was directly behind my subject. Speaking softly enough that nonhuman ears could not hear me, I murmured, “ Listen carefully and do not move. I know what you are. Stand quietly and I promise you that no harm will come to you . . .