New Blood


New Blood final covNew Blood is a short story sequel to the story, An Accidental Vampire. It is the second story of a series following the undead life of the beautiful Simone Gireaux, the 360 year old French vampire first met in the contemporary novel Blood Justice. This is a revised and expanded (12,300 words)edition.

In 1650 France a few weeks after Simone Gireaux  accidently becomes a vampire she is headed for the bright town on the other side of a lake. There, she hopes to learn how to survive among mortals. But screams in the forest lead her to a small settlement taken captive by a vampire and his mortal minions.

A marauding band of vampires destroyed her village, murdered her family and friends, and left her for dead. So she has no love for her fellow creatures. She will save the captive mortals, or die the true death trying. And she learns an important lesson of survival while doing so.

Here’s a nice little review of New Blood

I also finished New Blood. All I can say is, I loved, loved, loved it! Exciting, scary, touching, amazing! Did I mention that I loved it? Simone is one tough chick, with a heart of gold. I love how she is so tough, but has such a tender heart towards those in need. I have an all new respect for her. 

I think you are my favorite writer! (Aw, gee) Thank you for Blood on the Water, I can’t wait to get started on it! Thank you again, Raina

New Blood is available from :



Barnes and Noble



First pages –                                     New Blood

France, 1648

Late afternoon sun streamed through the dense swath of Pine forest that covered the Vosge Mountains in Western France when Simone Gireaux heard the screams. Marauders! The rampaging pack of vampires who destroyed her town and left her for dead. She quickened her pace through the gloom.

She’d heard those same screams when the Marauders overran her village and she lost everything, even her life.

If the Marauders were attacking a village, their leader, Stephan Sinakov, would be there. Revenge fueled her passage through the trees. He had killed her family and accidentally made her a vampire. Now an accidental vampire, revenge gnawed at her gut stronger and more consistently than Blood Hunger.

Simone ran through the forest, leaping downed trees and boulders, dodging low branches, sometimes airborne for several meters downhill. She wore man’s working class clothing – boots, breeches, a rough coat and shirt. She kept her only intact dress in a worn leather pack.

Simone hoped to find the Marauders before they vanished. She had been changed barely a month ago and was no match for Sinakov and his band if she attempted to track them through the coming night. She was not foolish enough to try. But to catch him unaware, there might be a chance for vengeance.

Coming to the forest edge atop a low rise she peered through heavy brush at a small settlement of ten rough built structures. Stacks of wood, a large kiln and the smell were easy clues these were woodcutters and charcoal burners. North of the buildings, about two hectares of fields stretched out through a narrow vale. Farmers, too.

Nothing moved except an ancient dog who walked in a circle before lowering itself to the dusty ground for a nap. Even two tired draft horses under a makeshift lean-to stood still as statues.

From thirty meters away Simone inspected each building. She looked for movement or sounds from inside each one. Wisps of smoke rose from two dwellings, barely a step up from huts. Nothing. Nothing from the barn or the open-sided kiln building.

Only the one true house, a two-story wood box with three wide steps to the front door and an open sided storage shed against the rear, showed any activity behind drawn curtains. Keeping just inside the tree line, Simone moved carefully to get close to the house.

She felt it then, a faint, unfriendly, oppressive feeling, both dangerous and attractive. Only once since her death had she felt it. And only for a few seconds before she ripped that bitch’s head off, thus saving the life of Etienne’s fellow soldier. Just one in the house, she thought, though there could be ten and she might not know it. Blood scent permeated the thin mountain air.

A lantern inside put a soft glow in the bottom windows. Night comes quickly in the mountains, the vale was already in shadow.

Simone planned to wait for dark before moving closer to the big house. Kneeling among thick bushes, she practiced focusing her hearing. It took some effort to sort out house sounds from the sough of wind through the pine trees, the chitter of squirrels, the evening bird songs… and approaching voices.

On the dirt road, really a rough track, that ran through the settlement along the vale floor, two draft horses pulled a sturdy cart loaded with logs. Two men sat on the stacked logs, both brawny, middle-aged men, wearing high boots, plain shirts and vests. They laughed over some witticism and drew up by the kiln building.

Once dismounted, they noticed that there was nobody about. They spoke, looked around. One of the men, with long blond hair pulled into a loose ponytail, walked away while the driver tended to the team. Getting no response from the nearest hut, he moved across the track, scanning the settlement all the way to the big house.

Simone didn’t know what to do. Shout “Don’t go in there,” or “Run!” Watch and see what happened? Turn away? It was not her business. She was a vampire, the people in the tiny settlement were strangers, and mortals. Why should she care about them? All the stories she’d heard since childhood painted creatures like her as vicious, cruel, bloodsucking monsters. Shouldn’t she join the monster in the big house, ripping mortal flesh, gorging on blood, or playing cruel games like making a thirty-two year old mother choose which one of her family lives and which one dies a horrible death?

2 thoughts on “New Blood”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: