Excerpt from VAMPIRE AUTHOR, Steven Montano's BLOOD SKIES

BLACK SCARS
Blurb
Something ancient has awoken. Primordial and wholly evil, a living shadow emerges from a prison made weak by the magical cataclysm called The Black. Now the Sleeper stalks the land in search of its old enemies, leaving a trail of madness and destruction in its wake.
Eric Cross, a Southern Claw warlock, has been sent to find the Woman in the Ice, the only known means to stopping this evil. Aided by a grizzled ranger and a band of wardens and inmates from a sadistic prison, Cross’ mission will bring him into conflict with an array of foes: the barbaric Gorgoloth, vampire shock troops out of the Ebon Cities, and a cadre of mercenary nihilists called the Black Circle.
On a mission that will take him from a lost temple once ruled by insidious wolf sorcerers to the vicious gladiator games of the vampire city-state of Krul to the deadly ruins of an ice city, Cross will play a pivotal role in an ancient conflict whose outcome will determine the future of the world.
Return to the world of Blood Skies in this exciting military fantasy adventure!

Excerpt from Chapter 2: Dreadnaught
They rode quietly across the ghostly ice plains. They stepped carefully to avoid sharp stones, patches of ice, and areas too brittle to support their weight.
Hours passed in near silence. Cross would have liked to sleep in the saddle, but it wasn’t going to happen. His nerves were alight, thanks in no small part to the nagging paranoia of his spirit. But that wasn’t entirely it: Cross disliked the notion of being directed by a prophecy. The fact that Sajai seemed to have known there was going to be something there in the Reach that Cross needed to follow unnerved him. It was like a trap had been laid by the universe, and he was walking straight into it.
The plains sloped down near a cluster of bone white trees rimed with dark frost. The skeletal remains of a tall humanoid creature sat near the trees; one of its hands was frozen so that it looked like it pointed back the way Cross and Dillon had ridden from.
Cross tried not to take it as a sign.
At the bottom of the slope was a thin canyon that was maybe twenty feet across. The only apparent means to cross to the other side was to use a thin log that traversed the distance like a crude bridge. Frozen pools of blood waited at the bottom of the slope, next to the log.
A cluster of thick trees and rocks waited at the far end of the gap, and beyond the tress waited the unseen source of the streaming smoke.
“You smell that?” Cross asked. He smelled fire and fuel. “It’s an airship.” They couldn’t see any wreckage from where they were, but the smell made him certain.
“Could it be one of ours?” Dillon asked.
“I can’t think of a reason why a Southern Claw airship would be this far north,” Cross said. The Ebon Cities’ vessels used hexed organic fuel that smelled entirely different than that used by Southern Claw airships, so it was unlikely that the vessel was of vampiric origins. Cross deduced that it was probably a stolen or reconstructed vessel, like those used by smugglers and raiders.
Cross’ spirit moved ahead on her own. Thin lines of spectral essence connected them, which gave Cross an awareness of the area ahead. He felt the heat of fires and he smelled burning skin. He heard voices, and saw auras of pain. Lost and dead spirits roamed the air like predators in blood waters, but Cross’ spirit had become expert at protecting herself, and she eluded those wailing souls before they could do her harm.
Cross felt multiple living presences ahead, moving on the other side of the trees and stones. There were voids there, as well, unspaces where beings should have stood, but didn’t.
“We’ve got vampires ahead,” Cross said, and he and Dillon dismounted.
They readied their weapons.
“How many?” Dillon asked.
“I’m not sure. Two, maybe three.”
“That could be rough for just the two of us.”
His spirit bristled at that. She didn’t like Dillon not counting her as part of the group. She’d developed quite the temper.
I need to be careful of that. If she flares out of control and catches me off guard, we’ll all be in trouble.
“There’s more,” Cross said. He had his HK45 in one hand; he molded his spirit in the other, his gauntleted hand. He didn’t latch onto her form too tightly, but held her ethereal tendrils like a rein, firm enough to let her know she’d be needed back soon. She extended her form to the other side of the open canyon, but at his command she moved, smoke-like, back to him, and she surrounded his body and filled his lungs with a burning sensation. Warmth filled him, vaguely erotic and invigorating, but at the same time painful and poisonous. She was like some dread hashish.
“There are a half-dozen other life forms over there, too. Maybe more…it’s hard to say.”
Dillon chewed on that for a moment. His dark beard was cut close to his angular face, which always looked grim.
“Human?” he asked.
“Can’t say.”
“Damn.” Dillon spat. “Is there anything you are sure about?”
“I’m sure I don’t want to go over there,” Cross nodded.


About the author: Steven Montano started writing at the age of 18 and never really stopped. A graduate with distinction from the University of Colorado at Boulder, Steven took his Creative Writing degree and became an accountant, instead. He still hasn’t figured out why.

Now, Steven writes the Blood Skies series. His wife runs a popular online yarn shop, and his kids just drive him crazy. They all live in a rain shelter in Washington State.

Visit Steven’s official website, bloodskies.com

Teaser....Wolfgang...Coming October 2011!

Thank you to all my fans in the UK who have made me a best seller! Circle City is now #46 in the UK at Amazon! Wow! I appreciate and love all your fan mail! Soon to release in August is Deadly R&R and my young adult novel, Tusk. Stay tuned for Tusk's upcoming cover art!

Here's a teaser from Wolfgang, a tale of religion and vampirism! Happy Reading!

“I ate half the dust those last hundred miles.” Wolfgang Stone stepped off his shiny black Harley. “I’m getting a beer, want one?”
“Hell, yes.” Rage Stone had talked his brother into riding cross country on a whim. “God, this place is out in the middle of no man’s land.”
“I’ll pay for the gas. You get it next time.”
“Okay.”
Wolfgang wiped his sunglasses clean with the tail of his tailored Armani shirt. He kicked the beat up screen door open with the steel toe of his boot. The place looked like it was stuck in a time warp. The ancient gas station was smack dab in the heart of the 70’s. The scent of bacon and country eggs wafted through the dusty service station. Wolfgang noticed a bell on the counter. How many years had it been since he’d rang one of those? He scratched his jaw and frowned. Movement caught his eye. He saw a woman dressed in a short silk nightie. She hadn’t noticed him and he didn’t want to startle her by calling out. He glanced at his watch. No wonder. It was a quarter to eight. The brothers had driven through the night. They’d have stopped earlier but the oncoming storm provided sufficient cloud coverage for travel without injury. They could continue onward if the rains came.
“Darla! Where are my fucking eggs?”
Wolfgang removed his sunglasses and peered down the hallway. The gas station was connected to a home. The woman walked past again. He watched her fumbling in the cabinets. She cried out when the bacon grease spat her on the arm.
“Make sure you burn them to a crisp.”
The woman looked up when Wolfgang placed two bottles of beer on the counter. He nodded in her direction and she gasped, rushing down another hall. He thought he heard her mumble something to the man. There was no mistaking what the man said next.
“You let him see you dressed like that? You fucking slut! Go get some god damned clothes on and then get me my fucking eggs.”
“I have to cook the bacon first,” she hollered from the hallway.
Both of them had been out of his line of vision but within seconds, the woman was airborne. Without even realizing it, he was entering this couple’s private Sunday morning routine. He stormed down the hall, just in time to see her land against the gas stove. The impact knocked over the pan of sizzling bacon. It splashed onto her backside and she screamed in agony. Wolfgang kneeled over her and placed his palm on her back. The burns disappeared. The damaged skin was left looking pink and new. She raised her head to speak but the man spoke instead.
“Who the fuck are you?”
Wolfgang stood and met the bald man, eye to eye. He smiled, showing off his fangs. The man’s eyes bulged.
“I’m your worst fucking nightmare.” He grabbed him by the shoulders and tossed him into the sky like wedding day rice. Baldy landed on the antlers of a large buck.
The woman screamed, scrambled to her feet and ran to the back door. Wolfgang moved like lightning and landed in front of the door, facing her. She screamed again, pushing against his chest but this time he took her face in his hands and forced her to look at him.


Their eyes locked and her arms fell to her side. She took one shuddering breath, closed her eyes and fell into his arms. He tucked her honey colored hair behind one ear and sniffed her long neck. His crotch tightened. A groan escaped his throat. His fangs grew as he picked her up. He would enjoy her more lying down and right now he couldn’t decide if he wanted to fuck her or suck her.
“Wolfgang! Put her down!”
The elder vamp hissed at his brother. Rage was at his side in a flash, his fangs withdrawn.
“I will not. Let’s share her.”
“Fuck that. You promised not to kill. That’s why we’re on this trip.”
Wolfgang’s blue eyes dilated to tiny pin points. His fangs shortened a bit. “She smells so good.” He sniffed her again. “Isn’t she beautiful?”
“Gorgeous. But she’s not ours.”
One last grunt came from the hanging corpse. Rage turned to see. “Holy shit! What have you done?”
“He threw her across the room. She’s abused.”
Rage dug his fingertips into his eye sockets. “You can’t just kill him.”
“I just did.”
“So I see. Put her down.”
“I will. When I’m finished.”
“I won’t let you kill her.”
“Then I’ll just be her maker. She’ll make for good company on the road. I just saved her from a lifetime of abuse.”
“Are you insane?”
“I’m sure of it.”
The girl moaned. Her eyelashes fluttered.
“Let’s get out of here. She’s waking up.”
“I’m in no hurry.”
A car door slammed. Rage peered down the hall. “Fuck, it’s a state trooper!”
“Shit!”
“Shit is right! We have a dead man hanging on the wall.”
There was a knock at the back door. Rage peered through the peep hole. “It’s him. Let’s get out of here.”
“I’m not leaving her here to take the fall for this.”
“How many women can throw their husbands onto a pair of antlers? Leave her.”
Wolfgang ran down the hall and busted through the screen door. Rage flashed himself outside but his brother was gone. He heard footsteps coming from the side of the house.
"Damn! I’ll come back for the bike."
A bolt of lightning shot across the dusty parking lot. A tumble weed rolled over his boot. Rain slammed into the hot asphalt as Rage disappeared like the wind.