Author: Tori Von Mayhem
ISBN: 1480129992 / 9781480129993
Page count: 479
Price: $2.99 Kindle, $17.99 Print
Tori Von Mayhem, Part time Pinup, Rocker and full time Ranch Manager. She shares her home with her two dogs A Corgi named Riley and a Jack Russell Terrorist named Bosko.
Darkness of Angels is the first book in the series Realm of Dark Angels, a story with elements of Horror, Erotica, Historical & Dark Humor and comedy.
Paranormal fiction best fits the description of this series. When not writing or working with horses Tori can be found pursuing the finer things in life- Good coffee, jelly doughnuts and Rockabilly music.
Tell us about your book:
Darkness of Angels is actually 2 books in one. Part 1 Takes place in Victorian London, and we meet Colton. A minister with a bit of a problem keeping his um, collar on. He goes to a Victorian Brothel under the guise of converting the Madam, Anne DeCorso and she ends up converting him- to vampirism. We share his turning and his loss of anything remotely resembling his human life, and his life thru the Victorian era. Part 2 is set in Modern Day San Francisco. We Meet Ciara and Dean, a disastrous couple with a penchant for wilder fare. One Night during a storm Ciara inadvertently calls Colton to her. He wants her, no matter what the cost.
*There is quite a bit of Sarcastic humor mixed in with the Erotic elements and Horror.
How long did it take to write the book?
I started in 1998 and then life happened- but I never forgot about it. Last year I had the time to pull it out and really edit and write it. I was able to finish it in October 2012.
What inspired you to write the book?
People, Places and Vampires. The story itself was inspired by Rupert Brookes poem “The Call” I also really loved The Davinci code and the way Dan Brown wove that story- it really makes you step back and wonder if there is reality in it. I’m not a conspiracy theorist but that book makes you question a lot of things.
Talk about the writing process. Did you have a writing routine? Did you do any research, and if so, what did that involve?
I’m a stickler for research. I tried to make my reasoning make sense with our real world and real science. I interviewed a College Professor to discuss Vampire Anatomy & Physiology. As far as process goes I write at night on a yellow legal pad in pencil, and add lots of coffee to that. It isn’t the most professional way to do things and I’m really not that disciplined but it works for me.
What do you hope your readers come away with after reading your book?
Well I would hope they really enjoy the story and want more- DOA is the first in a series of three or four books. I left it open to the reader to decide some smaller scene elements. I can’t stand reading a book where every detail down to the pattern on the drapes is described or the characters have such strong features that it’s hard as a reader to use their own imagination and have their own vision of the characters.
Where can we go to buy your book?
It’s now available thru Amazon in both Print and Kindle format. You can also go to your local bookstore or Library and ask for it.
Any other links or info you’d like to share?
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/Tori-Von-Mayhem/e/B009TPS8BK
Excerpt from book:
The Beginning, London 1858: Colton Manning was caught somewhere between his life in the shadow of a crucifix, and his compulsive need for women.
As a Vicar, a parish priest in the Church of England, Colton was publicly unwavering in his faith, living as a spiritual man; his reward was to be in heaven.
Colton was a good looking man. He stood at six feet tall with distinctive blue eyes, dark blonde hair and a warm smile. Victorian upbringing had made him a man of polished manners, quick wit and charm that most women found tantalizing.
Colton had joined the Seminary instead of attending college at his parents’ insistence. When his parents died in a carriage accident Colton was devastated. They had been on their way to see him graduate. Colton forever felt as if he was responsible, since they were coming to see him. How could God take both parents from him at a time when he and his younger sister still relied on them?
It was he that had to tell his sister Elisabeth. The grief they shared brought them each a small comfort as they made the arrangements. While they were not wealthy, Colton and Elisabeth inherited a small house and were comfortable. He was able to hire a Governess to teach Elisabeth the finer points of Victorian manners. Colton felt that until his sister had married, he had to stay in his position for her and her reputation in society. Elisabeth was just turned twenty. She had officially come out as a young lady the year before. Elisabeth was a late bloomer. She was smart yet shy. She had a few courters but had not chosen a husband.
Colton settled into a life of routine. Until his parents death he was a good and willing student. However, with their demise he lost any and all faith. He deeply resented God and his sister too, though he never showed it outwardly. Colton had wanted to travel when he was younger, to see the world and seek adventure.
Perhaps someday when Elisabeth was safely married he would. For the time being, he accepted his role and wore it as if it were part of his vestments. Colton was a model priest, at least publically.
Colton did not drink, smoke, or gamble. He led his flock with wisdom and devotion and tenderness, praying for those in need and for those who were less fortunate.He encouraged his supporters to give to their church and help in the community as much as they could. He demanded they share the wealth and give themselves to God.
Colton was hypocritical in his asking as he was masquerading as a pious man. A man of the cloth citing words that held no truth for him. He did well in spite of his own feelings. He had a faithful congregation who respected him. They gave themselves freely to God.
Colton followed his own teaching, by giving himself over, frequently, after dark, to many women.
His one vice- pleasures of the flesh. He could never see himself as corrupt or hypocritical. Seeking natural comfort in the arms of one of God’s beautiful and willing creations surely was not wholly damning. Besides, he rationalized; his entire life was controlled by the Church and his sister. He was owed for making the sacrifices he had made.
An evening spent with a woman, exploring inner mysteries, to purge oneself of life’s burdens and let the soul be enlightened.
Even with these indiscretions, which his peers considered minor, Colton was above reproach. For surely any man has just one weakness, a fault. That is what it is to be human. He was proper in public; behind closed doors he was no saint. He was very discreet in his affairs as any rumor of impropriety could destroy his reputation. He hid his secret life so well that even his sister had no idea of his affairs. If his Parrish only knew the inspiring words that Colton spoke came from the lips of a man who led two conflicting lives. That mouth that quoted from the bible elicited moans of unadulterated passion from his mistresses as he explored the holiest of holy places, tipping the velvet. The officiator that demanded parishioners uphold the tenets of God and Marriage secretly coveted the bride. Those strong hands that clasped together in prayer and held babies for baptism, that offered strength to the weak, were the same expert hands that unabashedly roamed over women’s bodies to their most sacred places, his priestly vestments tossed over a chair in the bedchamber as he indulged in sinful repasts. His Altar cloth the same color as the rag with which he wiped those sins away.
Colton’s blue eyes that expressed caring and compassion were those that burned with ardor and need in the hours he spent with his women. Even when preaching, those eyes would search for the most attractive among the people attending worship services. Some of the women felt as if he were speaking directly to them as he ministered from the Altar, especially those that had partaken in those secret evenings with him. Colton’s feelings were anything but puritanical.
The Vicar Manning’s sermons were a mixture of delicate prose and knowledgeable scripture. From behind the pulpit, he entreated pleas for redemption made with the reproach of fire and brimstone with exalted speeches that rose sweat on his brow. Tears fell from the upraised eyes of his enraptured congregation.
His last sermon happened to be his most prophetic.
“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He restores my soul; He leads me in the paths of righteousness. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I will dwell in the house of the Lord Forever.”
Colton let his congregation reflect upon these words a moment before continuing.
“Please turn to Ezekiel twenty five, verse seventeen.” He paused. Colton raised his voice, looking intently at his followers, especially the young beauty that sat next to his sister in the front row. The one he had shared an evening with only the night before.
“And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers, and you will know my name is the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon thee.”
Later that evening as Colton was preparing to lock up the church, a messenger delivered a letter. Colton took the envelope to his private study before opening it. It was an invitation to an exclusive Gentlemen’s club called “The Pearl.” Though Gentlemen’s clubs were common enough in Victorian London, brothels were not. The laws of Britain had made whorehouses illegal. He had heard of this house, through some of his contemporaries, though he had never frequented it. It was a “Dress house” where the Madam kept the ladies in debt to her and the ladies were paid very little. The proprietress of this establishment, Anne Decorso, somehow had enough sway to operate a brothel under the noses of the authorities. It was she who had sent the invitation on heavy expensive paper in a fine calligraphic script. Colton was intrigued and smiled ironically at the invite. He could refuse on the grounds that he was a Vicar. He could accept and try to reason with the woman who ran it. Or perhaps he would find a new secret place to spend his time. Colton accepted the invite and went about his otherwise spiritual duties.
The invitation had recommended evening formal as attire. Colton chose his dress carefully. As he prepared himself, Colton felt a vague sense of foreboding. It twisted his stomach and tightened. He had never felt this type of emotion before and he could not quite understand what it meant. He was tempted to bow out of this obligation all together. Colton was a man of manners and intellect, not instinct. He reasoned that it was just his nerves, dismissing the feeling and continuing getting ready.
At the appointed time a black carriage with a team of black horses, elegantly appointed with expensive harness, arrived. His hostess had arranged that he would enter and exit via a side door at his residence and at her house to avoid any scandal. Colton approached the carriage and his stomach somersaulted. He felt slightly nauseous. This time he really did consider cancelling, but it would be extremely poor manners to decline now. The driver held the door for Colton and closed it behind him.
Her house was large. It had two stories, three parlors and a dining room as well. The downstairs area entertained the men while the upstairs had fifteen bedrooms to service them. She kept a very clean place of business. The bouncers did not tolerate any nonsense and those who were out of line found the curbside quickly.
The place was decorated lavishly in the latest Victorian furnishings. It was equipped with gaslights, indoor plumbing and a staff of maids, chefs and a barkeep. It boasted a grand piano and a gramophone. Champagne and music flowed freely. It was like entering another world. The house was a feast for the senses. Everywhere there was gilded furniture, French tapestry, expensive heavy drapery, carpets, and fine portraits.
While the women serviced the upper class clients, The Madam would personally attend the politicians and wealthier men, including the Clergy.
They were her personal favorite. Some even pursued fancy passions that were intended for blackmail purposes; at least that’s what Anne used them for. The clients paid up to fifty pounds a night at a time when England’s poor industrial class made up most of the population. Men took their liquor straight and the women took whatever they could get a hold of, stealing whatever they could once their patrons passed out from too much alcohol.
A stiffly starched maid escorted Colton to the Madam’s personal parlor. Unprepared, Colton saw a few members of his congregation along the way, including one of his parishioner’s husbands and a visiting Bishop. None of them would ever admit to being there. Neither would Colton.
He removed his overcoat and top hat. He sat in a dimly lit parlor lavish in it is décor. Colton declined the expensive cigar along with the glass of aged Scotch. Those were not vices that he engaged in. Colton felt a strange mixture of anticipation and dread. He was trying to think of a cover story should the place be raided. Anne Decorso, as a Madam, was part mother and part crime boss. She ran her business with an iron hand. She was very good at what she did. She was so much more than a woman running a whorehouse. She was by definition a femme fatale in the truest sense.
Her life had begun sometime in the 15th Century.
She came from Prussia, the daughter of a minor lord of the Prussian court. In those days, a young woman her age was old enough to marry. Anne’s father had brought her with him to meet potential husbands.
Being a strong willed young woman, she hated those affairs. Anne preferred to be at home in the library or in her father’s stables with his horses. She was the youngest and though her father was stern, she was the closest he had to a son. Anne had been punished several times for taking her father’s prized stallion out and letting him run unchecked across the fields. Now, after the introductions were over the feasting began, wine was flowing and the servants were bustling about. After Anne was finished eating, she did not want to sit and listen to the palace gossip. She snuck outside to a balcony to have a quiet moment in the cool night air.
Anne had a creeping feeling of someone watching her. She turned to go back to the party; there he stood. He was very tall, over six feet. He wore all black and was dressed impeccably. Anne assumed he was a dignitary. He was quite attractive as well, and when he looked at her, she could feel his seduction. His name was John Decorso. He was a vampire.
John abducted her then. He wrapped her in his black, leathery wings. She was mesmerized by him and could not protest. He jumped off the balcony, unseen and unheard as he flew off with Anne He had amassed great wealth and influence during his centuries of being a vampire, and so had a ship waiting, secreted in the harbor, ready for his bidding. He boarded the ship with Anne and sailed to France. Thus began Anne’s life of servitude to the vampire John Decorso.
In her new life, He forced her to wear tight fitting corsets, posture collars, and ballet boots. Each day that passed the punishments grew more and more restrictive. He did feed from her often. He took great pleasure in tying her tightly and verbally abusing her for hours on end, then when he was done he was as gentle as a lamb, and showered Anne with all sorts of lavish things. To John, she was a lover and slave – a toy he enjoyed playing with. He not only wanted to break her, but to rebuild her into his perfect lover and slave.
John had taught Anne to walk and talk. He also taught her how to please a man.
He would take great pleasure in giving his other slaves to other vampires for their use, but never Anne. But he demanded more and he took her past the point of no return. He had invested years in watching her bloom into womanhood, waiting for just the right moment for her to blossom fully. He insisted upon perfection; he felt she had achieved it.
One night, he sent for her, as was his usual evening habit. He did not say a word or try to give any guidance of what was to happen. She thought he was finally done with her and wept tears of pain. She loved him, needed him she would die for him. Suddenly he slashed open his chest and pressed her lips to the wound She greedily sucked the blood, knowing that she would belong to him forever. Her eyes closed and she slept the vampires sleep. When she awoke for the first time, ready to hunt by his side, John did the unthinkable.
As soon as Anne had become a vampire, her creator, her Master turned her out. He wanted nothing more to do with her. She pleaded and begged for him to keep her. But his sadistic game was over. She had to rely on her instincts and make her first kill alone. Anne, confused and heartbroken, turned to a life of prostitution as a means of survival.
She gradually learned how to use her abilities to obtain anything she wanted. Though Anne did not enjoy sex, for it held nothing for her, she did use it to her advantage. She traveled, finding suitable consorts to help her build her wealth, eventually becoming a Madame. John had taught her well and she was cruel and cunning and beautiful. Anne had made discreet invitations to all of the upper class and wealthy men about London. She knew that the cream of the crop, the crotch dogs and infidels would answer.
Temptation and corruption led to more than just money. Anne had played this game many times in many places throughout the years. One of her other clients, a rather ugly Deacon, had given her this knowledge and much more after an evening plied with French champagne and flattery. Anne prided herself on being able to act as if the most unattractive were somehow striking.
In each city, she pursued a new surrender. Colton Manning was her chosen disciple this time. However outwardly pious, Colton was addicted to passion only a woman could stir. Anne would use his weakness against him. It would be nice to have yet another plaything. Colton was not her first conquest and the handsome Vicar would not be her last.