The myths surrounding what we now call “Vampires” has been sanitized by the movie world AND our own need to make them more acceptable. When a creature like Luc moves into our world it dispels ALL those myths; and makes us realize that there ARE monsters…
The copper tang of blood competed with the acrid smell of urine to be the dominant force in the room. Even though he had just fed, his sensitive nose was sending mixed signals to his brain; hunger and desire boiled and churned to make him shudder.
He licked at his hands, the thick deposits of her essence providing a sweet dessert to the main course, his belly full now. The curtains allowed a sliver of light from passing cars to strobe around the room, and he growled quietly in his throat when it illuminated his food on the bed.
Like most of his recent meals she had welcomed him at first; only when the true nature of what she had before her came to light did the fear begin. His red-rimmed lips twitched in a smile; he had a lot to thank the current batch of “Romantic Horror” writers for! It is what had brought him further west than he had ever been, the willingness of an American girl in deepest Afghanistan fuelling the idea of ready prey…and he had not been disappointed so far!
Crossing into the UK had been a lot easier than he imagined, and now he had found a lair from which to roam the Capital he would stay a while.
He stood and stretched, his eyes glancing at the windows to check on the progress of dawn (the only thing in current folklore that was nearly correct) and decided it was time to move. He walked around the bed and recovered the leather bindings used to keep his food still (they were precious to him); the lifeless stare from his victim made him pause in slight regret. She had been young and attractive, perfect for breeding, but his hunger and lust had been too strong after the journey across the Channel. Reaching out, he stroked her cheek almost lovingly before slipping a long nail under one glazed eye and deep into the socket. The eye popped out with a wet slap onto her face; a quick twist and pull to release it and he had his prize.
As he walked out through the quiet apartment block the orb swung from his fingers; something to chew on before he slept.
Arnie Pierce was tired, and even the second cup of coffee this morning had not shaken the bone-deep lethargy that filled him. He hated his life, every aspect of it, and it was eating him slowly into an early grave. The sound of HER moving around upstairs made him mutter and rise to prepare to leave. He hated Dorothy most of all. Which was in fact a lie; he still loved her very deeply but HE was a disappointment to her. She never failed to mention that far younger men had been promoted past him; not directly, but it came out in casual conversation whenever he mentioned work. She blamed him for their lack of children, the “waste” of her youth, and the fact she couldn’t go shopping in the stores the OTHER wives of executives could! She had retreated across their marital bed to stay firmly behind a wall of cold sheets; and god help him if he touched her without permission!
He nearly made it to the front door before her voice once again cut him to the core.
“No need to rush home tonight. I have invited Jane round to watch a movie, and you will just clutter the place up.”
He turned to look up at her as she stood halfway down the staircase. She still had a figure to die for (hours spent mimicking various celebrity trainers in front of the TV) and her looks had if anything improved. It made him ache for her, and he despised her for that. He shrugged and left the house.
He climbed into his “Lower-Middle-Management” car (her words) and pulled out onto the leafy pleasant street. The house was the one thing she didn’t complain about. He had inherited the property from his late father, and given his current salary he would never have been able to afford a place this size. At 45 he felt his life was over.
The usual crawl into work was eased with the tunes of the morning radio DJ; a well-known personality who had an edge of irreverence that never failed to make him smile. The news at 8.30 wasn’t much to cheer about; the recession was cutting deeper, the war against terror was claiming more soldiers, and another gruesome murder to stain the beautiful City of London. He needed a fucking holiday away from everything.
Charlie the Concierge nodded as always as he passed through reception heading for the elevators. On those nights where he “didn’t have to rush home” he and old Charlie had chatted and become quite close. They were both Ex-Military; however Charlie had never really left the service…he had simply grown older and swapped uniforms. They exchanged stories from their past, and sipped at illicit Whisky from a secret stash behind the reception desk. They would talk again tonight.
Escaping from the confines of the elevator was a relief; the overpowering morning aftershave and perfume had nearly made him gag; however he WAS following a delightful smell down the corridor towards his department! Elaine from “Overseas Sales” wiggled and swayed not 2 yards in front of him as she too made her way to her desk, and his stare at her ass must have caused a physical burn. She looked over her shoulder with a sly grin, but on seeing who it was her eyebrows went up.
“Why Mr Pierce! I could almost feel your eyes all over my bum! I never took you for THAT kind of man!”
Arnie shrugged (a habit that was becoming more pronounced with the years) and smiled back at her.
“You should know it’s the quiet ones you have to watch Elaine!”
She wrinkled her face as she digested that image, and he could see she was struggling to come back with a riposte. Failing to find something either cutting or polite she just shook her head and increased her pace. She didn’t fancy him either.
Arnie sighed and eased himself through the heavy doors into his domain; Customer Service & Marketing (UK). He glanced at his watch (0855 so time to grab another coffee) and weaved between the closely packed desks towards the coffee machine in the far corner. It had a crowd of worshipers already in attendance, and all greeted the fellow addict with nods or smiles. All except one.
Russell Bates was his direct superior, and never missed an opportunity to let him know.
“Be quick with that please Pierce, I have dropped some files on your desk that need immediate attention.”
Arnie pretended he didn’t see the sympathetic glances among the others.
Just less than two miles away from Arnie’s office was the start of the West End and its associated bars, restaurants and theatres. Behind the Prince Edward Theatre on Brewer Street there is a narrow service alley, and this runs for around 50 yards before terminating at a set of dumpsters. All of the buildings that fronted the street had their own; but it was the Prince Edward dumpster that was home to Emily Crown. It was very rarely used, and when it was it tended to be old costumes or scenery that was thrown over the high sides; both very useful to a woman living on her wits! Over her current 3-month residence, she had acquired a very useful wardrobe of warm winter clothing AND a couple of posh frocks! The bruise from the fake Doric column had faded somewhat now; its arrival in the early hours of one morning catching her out in the open…and squarely on the forehead! She touched the bruise and winced…stupid fucking time to throw stuff away! She prepared her “Day Bag” before climbing lithely over the side to drop into the alley. Today was going to be a “reconnaissance” day; her activist group had a tip that the Minister for Home Affairs was having a night out at the Palladium tonight, and her job was to check out the security around the old building.
With her usual confident stride she joined the pedestrians flowing through the area, aware some gave her sideward glances, but fuck them…she liked the way she looked! At 28 she looked ten years older, her hair a mass of purple dreadlocks, no make-up and clad from head to toe in surplus Army gear she looked exactly what she was…a woman on a mission! Emily Crown NEEDED a cause, ANY cause, that would fuel her dislike of society. Her current group were somewhat confused Anarchists with undertones of Earth Mother and Eco-warriors…all women who wanted to make a “difference”. Emily didn’t know if she had EVER made a “difference”, but if SHE didn’t do something then who the fuck would? All she knew was the world was going to be fucked in around 50 years if society kept shitting on it the way they do now; but not if she could do something about that! The guy they were targeting tonight was an arrogant prick who at their last meeting called her a “Filthy Dyke” (she liked women but not in THAT way) so it would be brilliant to spoil his little junket tonight! The fact that he knew her meant she wouldn’t be part of the “Assault Group” (and she was pissed about that) but she had an important part to play; find a gap for them to sneak through! The Ministers agreement to allow drilling for oil in the Snowdonia National Park had outraged many, but it was HER group that were going to make him sorry. That thought added a spring to her step on this fine morning.
Detective Constable Eddy Palmer swore loudly at his superior.
“Don’t drive like a twat Sarge, I’ve just spilled my fucking tea all over my leg!”
Detective Sergeant Paul Brewer laughed and tugged at the steering wheel again to just miss a cycle courier. He wound down the window to shout a curse at the offending rider before looking down at the mess in the passenger seat.
“I told you not to take the plastic lid off! Why do you think they give them to you with a fucking top on you daft bastard?”
Eddy Palmer looked at the older man with disdain.
“When Mr Styrofoam Cup invented the fucking thing, he didn’t envisage it having to deal with a demented old fart like you driving a fucking car!!”
His Sergeant frowned and looked hurt.
“I may be a few years older than you sonny, but I’m not demented!”
He swerved again to miss a bus AND a mother with a baby, before mounting the sidewalk to stop near a newspaper vendor. He held out his hand for his daily copy, the vendor shaking his head as the car screeched back onto the road and continued it’s mad dash across the city. Eddy covered his eyes and hoped to god no one would get killed.
“What’s the rush Sarge? I know you always drive at warp speed, but today you seem to be trying to break some kind of fucking record!”
Paul Brewer threw the newspaper at him.
“Read the fucking headline.”
It screamed out from the tabloid.
“Another corpse found in the city! Reports are coming in about another victim found raped and partially eaten in Soho! The Police are still clueless as to who may be committing these terrible crimes…”
You can continue reading more at
Watch the Food Chain Trailer on you tube Food Chain
After slipping away from London, Luc thought he had found the perfect hunting ground in the New World. San Francisco offered him everything; a vast warren of hiding places and a plentiful supply of food and pleasure! Bill Hudson was a cop with an attitude, and that attitude landed him a desk and the routine task of missing persons. Despite himself, Bill found that there was a pattern in the files he casually filed…and that started him looking a lot closer. Against the backdrop of one of the great city’s on earth, he finds that someone or something is preying on young women; and that takes him into the realms of his worst nightmares!
This book is a real change in genre and style for Dark Scribe and the first horror book of a new series. I have to admit I was sceptical about the book, BUT after watching the you tube trailers and reading the excerpt I became very eager to get hold of it!
The plot revolves around Luc who is not your sparkly vegetarian vampire at all, and right from the first page and my first ‘Ewwww’ moment I was very intrigued about him. The blood thirsty and sexually overcharged vampire makes his new nest in the middle of London and stalks the rooftops for his meals and entertainment. This is where Dark Scribes wild and descriptive words come into play, setting the scenes and aftermath so well I can remember them now,I was literary holding my breath in some places!
The author develops all the characters very well and I felt I got to know them quickly, the characters all interlinked perfectly. The plot was well thought out and flowed well and the story was compelling to the end. I did have to find the meaning of a few words like ‘stygian’ but sure thats me being me 😉
Food chain is another strong addition to Dark Scribes books, and considering this was his first horror I thought it was a fast paced thrill ride of a book and a real must for all horror, Vampire, and erotica readers….America next ….and I need book 2!
You will just love the authors vivid imagination so grab a copy of this book right now, sit back and enjoy
A self-proclaimed lover of vodka, cigars and all things naughty DarkScribe stumbled into writing just over three years ago! After many years in the Security Industry, an enforced life change made him sit and ponder what to do next; and the Scribe was born! Starting with the dark and mysterious world of the Alternative Lifestyle, he wrote about the people and experiences encountered along the way, all of it culminating in the DarkSide Saga that has proved popular and controversial! In 2013 he moved into the horror genre, creating a character called Luc that captured the imagination of those lovers of raw and edgy fantasy. His latest release has combined the gore side of horror with a large sprinkling of humour; something his followers have experienced many times in his ramblings on Twitter!
Now aged 53 and growing old disgracefully, the DarkScribe will continue to find ways to make you wriggle and laugh so be prepared!
Food Chain ~ http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00GFQBTHQ
The Darkside Trilogy ~ http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00ECISM9C
Past Imperfect ~ http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00DPOEXLU
Future Desires ~ http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00F6M05WK
on you tube: DarkScibeMedia