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5 Star Review from Midwest Book Review April 13,2009
Usually those behind prostitution and human trafficking business are monsters, but in this case it's literal. "Vampires in Vegas" is a story of modern vampires. The son of Count Dracula has for years been working on a way for his kind to build up resistance and immunity to the burning sun that so often ails them. Their methods are far from morally right, as they set up their own breeding operation to use human DNA for their methods. But they happened to kidnap the wrong girl... "Vampires in Vegas" is a fine blend of fantasy and reality, highly recommended.
EXCERPT FROM PROLOGUE...
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“...And may the good Lord be waiting as the gates of heaven open wide to accept our dear sister. Amen.” The spindly priest’s voice was barely audible amidst the gusts of wind and pelting rain.
Water drizzled off the canopy that had been put up, in anticipation of the rain, to offer protection to the attendees; a futile effort at best.
A small group of mourners gathered around the open grave, bowing their heads in silence as Father Roberts closed his bible and stepped back, indicating that he had completed what he had come to do. His eyes bore into the crowd as if he were searching for something; but what? Although he had never met the deceased, he had been a long time friend of her uncle who had entered his church asking for help after immigrating from China twenty years ago. The priest knew that there was a small population of Catholics in China, but he had never dreamed that one of them would find his way into his small congregation. Curious to learn more about the conditions of Chinese Catholics and duty bound to help those in need, Father Roberts eagerly took the family under his wing and soon developed a genuine affection for them while their population in the neighborhood, as well as in his congregation, slowly increased in number over the years.
The deceased was Li Rong, a Chinese woman of about forty who was to join her husband who had immigrated just three years earlier to join his family; but she had disappeared after leaving China.
There had been rumors about Li Rong had been and why she had vanished; ranging from ‘she met someone while traveling and ran away with him’ to ‘she had become a vampire and was killed by a blonde American’. Father Ralph had heard them all, but the latter raised his curiosity. What would cause such a rumor to start? Did the Chinese really believe in such foolishness?
Father Roberts had made a brief visit to the funeral home to inspect Li Rong’s youthful looking, emaciated body and had noticed ugly scars on her wrists and one at the nape of her neck. Taken aback, he questioned the doctor; who explained them away as scabs from living in an unclean environment for an extended period of time or perhaps she fell asleep in a rat infested alley and was bitten. The doctor did say that her blood seemed tainted, but there was no sign of drugs and so he concluded that it was from eating garbage or rodents. There seemed nothing that would indicate that she had been anything more than a beautiful Chinese woman who had taken a wrong path in life and literally starved to death.
Father Roberts had developed a stronger understanding about Chinese culture over the years and their powerful ties to ancestral tradition. Because of this, he was as surprised as his Chinese comrades at the alarming amount of women from China who seemed to be running away before they would reach their final destination and the arms of their awaiting loved ones. It seemed almost epidemic. Something in his gut told him that there was more to it than simply Western ways reaching and influencing these women; and it had a sinister feel to it. He had prayed for clarity, but received no answer that could shed light on the situation.
The wind seemed fiercely angry as it howled amongst the thick oak trees that afforded a small amount of protection to the sea of ancient headstones. Flowers escaped the confines of their tightly woven arrangements and swirled through the air, riding on the closed casket as it was slowly lowered into the ground. Father Roberts adjusted the collar of his black trench coat in preparation for his drudge across the ancient cemetery to the dry warmth of his rectory. He looked briefly at the figure of a man making his way through the crooked headstones toward them and sighed. Normally he would wait and offer comfort to late arrivals, but he was cold and wet and his head was beginning to pound to the point he felt it would burst. He wanted nothing more than to be dry and warm with a cup of hot Earl Grey tea. With a parting nod to the remaining mourners, he stiffened his body against the pelting rain and steadied his umbrella in preparation for the rapidly increasing wind and then made his leave.
An elderly Chinese woman shifted uncomfortably while the crowd around her slowly dispersed. Strands of long gray hair had managed to escape her tightly wound bun and her rain-soaked, thick legging-like stockings were beginning to sag along her calves, but she seemed not to notice. As if mesmerized, she focused on the slow moving casket until she heard the “thud” that indicated it had reached the bottom of the neatly dug grave before raising her gaze to the late arrival.
Dave walked slowly amongst the century old grave sites as he picked his way toward the dispersing group. His wore a Fedora that was pulled down low over his eyes, completely covering his close cropped dark blonde hair. He had flipped his coat collar upward in a way that would allow him to burrow his chiseled face into it so that it was barely visible; offering him the ability to not only ward of the stinging pelts of rain, but maintain a small amount of anonymity. His strong hands clutched the remnants of a flower bouquet that had suffered the abuse of the wind and pelting rain.
Dave saw no one that might know him amongst the remaining mourners, but he still decided to stop far enough away to keep him from being recognized, just in case; he was in no mood to converse and explain who he was and why he was here.
The old woman stared in his direction. although Dave did not know her, he felt a slight comradeship with her that he could not place. Was she related to Li Rong? He took a moment to study her face. Although old with deep set wrinkles, her face still had the remnants of the beauty she once was and he thought he could see a resemblance to Li Rong. Or, was she more than just a mourning relative? Why was she staring at him so boldly? He felt as if she was boring into his very soul, making him feel naked and vulnerable. Did this old woman know who he was? He searched her hooded eyes for answers but they, like her face, were an unreadable stone image.
Two workmen strode rapidly through the rain with their cart of tools and started to shovel dirt onto the coffin, seemingly oblivious to the fact that there were still mourners mingling around it. When Dave moved closer, the lead worker tapped the other on his shoulder and motioned for him to stop and leave the grave site. The co-worker reluctantly put his shovel down and backed away with a dark scowl covering his face. The lead worker opened an umbrella and tipped it forward to offer the disgruntled grave digger some shelter from the rain.
“Don’t these folks know that it’s raining? You would think that they would want to get out of this shit and into a warm house. I know I do.” The disgruntled worker’s voice carried clearly through the thick and steady rain to the straggling attendees and, with a look of disdain, they slowly made their way toward their cars; leaving the old Asian woman and Dave as the sole attendees.
“Hush now and have some respect for the dead, will ya? We’ll be done soon enough.” The lead worker pulled his hooded coat over his hat in an effort to provide greater protection from the pelting rain. A native of Phoenix, with its arid climate, he was still trying to adjust to the New York’s ever changing cold and wet weather. He could not remember every seeing a storm of this nature. It was as if God had unzipped the clouds and turned on a water hose. He now understood what the term ‘buckets of rain’ meant. The fact that it was fall and getting colder did not help matters. His bones felt almost frozen from the damp and cold.
Trying to perform a funeral service in such an unpredictable climate was something he had not experienced prior to coming to the east coast and he sympathized with his co-worker, for he too would like nothing more than to finish up and go somewhere warm and dry, but death was not something that could be scheduled for a warm and sunny day. It was always a crap shoot with the weatherman. They knew this when they took the job. And besides, they got paid extra for inclement weather.
Dave moved past the huddled grave diggers and stood at the opening of Li Rong’s grave. Looking down at the casket through teary eyes, he fell to his knees and gently dropped the bouquet of flowers on top of it; ignoring the sensation of the old woman’s eyes that were boring into his back.
Forgetting about his desire for anonymity, Dave pulled his hat from his head and wiped a stray tear from his cheek as he whispered softly, “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. If only I had been.... if only... Oh God, why...”
“She is safe now.” The old Chinese woman’s voice was just as emotionless as her face.
Dave looked up through red rimmed eyes just as the old woman turned and silently picked her way through the ancient headstones that leaned precariously in the older part of the cemetery. He watched her, mesmerized by her strong and steady cadence, until she had made her way over the small mound in the distance and disappeared.
Water drizzled off the canopy that had been put up, in anticipation of the rain, to offer protection to the attendees; a futile effort at best.
A small group of mourners gathered around the open grave, bowing their heads in silence as Father Roberts closed his bible and stepped back, indicating that he had completed what he had come to do. His eyes bore into the crowd as if he were searching for something; but what? Although he had never met the deceased, he had been a long time friend of her uncle who had entered his church asking for help after immigrating from China twenty years ago. The priest knew that there was a small population of Catholics in China, but he had never dreamed that one of them would find his way into his small congregation. Curious to learn more about the conditions of Chinese Catholics and duty bound to help those in need, Father Roberts eagerly took the family under his wing and soon developed a genuine affection for them while their population in the neighborhood, as well as in his congregation, slowly increased in number over the years.
The deceased was Li Rong, a Chinese woman of about forty who was to join her husband who had immigrated just three years earlier to join his family; but she had disappeared after leaving China.
There had been rumors about Li Rong had been and why she had vanished; ranging from ‘she met someone while traveling and ran away with him’ to ‘she had become a vampire and was killed by a blonde American’. Father Ralph had heard them all, but the latter raised his curiosity. What would cause such a rumor to start? Did the Chinese really believe in such foolishness?
Father Roberts had made a brief visit to the funeral home to inspect Li Rong’s youthful looking, emaciated body and had noticed ugly scars on her wrists and one at the nape of her neck. Taken aback, he questioned the doctor; who explained them away as scabs from living in an unclean environment for an extended period of time or perhaps she fell asleep in a rat infested alley and was bitten. The doctor did say that her blood seemed tainted, but there was no sign of drugs and so he concluded that it was from eating garbage or rodents. There seemed nothing that would indicate that she had been anything more than a beautiful Chinese woman who had taken a wrong path in life and literally starved to death.
Father Roberts had developed a stronger understanding about Chinese culture over the years and their powerful ties to ancestral tradition. Because of this, he was as surprised as his Chinese comrades at the alarming amount of women from China who seemed to be running away before they would reach their final destination and the arms of their awaiting loved ones. It seemed almost epidemic. Something in his gut told him that there was more to it than simply Western ways reaching and influencing these women; and it had a sinister feel to it. He had prayed for clarity, but received no answer that could shed light on the situation.
The wind seemed fiercely angry as it howled amongst the thick oak trees that afforded a small amount of protection to the sea of ancient headstones. Flowers escaped the confines of their tightly woven arrangements and swirled through the air, riding on the closed casket as it was slowly lowered into the ground. Father Roberts adjusted the collar of his black trench coat in preparation for his drudge across the ancient cemetery to the dry warmth of his rectory. He looked briefly at the figure of a man making his way through the crooked headstones toward them and sighed. Normally he would wait and offer comfort to late arrivals, but he was cold and wet and his head was beginning to pound to the point he felt it would burst. He wanted nothing more than to be dry and warm with a cup of hot Earl Grey tea. With a parting nod to the remaining mourners, he stiffened his body against the pelting rain and steadied his umbrella in preparation for the rapidly increasing wind and then made his leave.
An elderly Chinese woman shifted uncomfortably while the crowd around her slowly dispersed. Strands of long gray hair had managed to escape her tightly wound bun and her rain-soaked, thick legging-like stockings were beginning to sag along her calves, but she seemed not to notice. As if mesmerized, she focused on the slow moving casket until she heard the “thud” that indicated it had reached the bottom of the neatly dug grave before raising her gaze to the late arrival.
Dave walked slowly amongst the century old grave sites as he picked his way toward the dispersing group. His wore a Fedora that was pulled down low over his eyes, completely covering his close cropped dark blonde hair. He had flipped his coat collar upward in a way that would allow him to burrow his chiseled face into it so that it was barely visible; offering him the ability to not only ward of the stinging pelts of rain, but maintain a small amount of anonymity. His strong hands clutched the remnants of a flower bouquet that had suffered the abuse of the wind and pelting rain.
Dave saw no one that might know him amongst the remaining mourners, but he still decided to stop far enough away to keep him from being recognized, just in case; he was in no mood to converse and explain who he was and why he was here.
The old woman stared in his direction. although Dave did not know her, he felt a slight comradeship with her that he could not place. Was she related to Li Rong? He took a moment to study her face. Although old with deep set wrinkles, her face still had the remnants of the beauty she once was and he thought he could see a resemblance to Li Rong. Or, was she more than just a mourning relative? Why was she staring at him so boldly? He felt as if she was boring into his very soul, making him feel naked and vulnerable. Did this old woman know who he was? He searched her hooded eyes for answers but they, like her face, were an unreadable stone image.
Two workmen strode rapidly through the rain with their cart of tools and started to shovel dirt onto the coffin, seemingly oblivious to the fact that there were still mourners mingling around it. When Dave moved closer, the lead worker tapped the other on his shoulder and motioned for him to stop and leave the grave site. The co-worker reluctantly put his shovel down and backed away with a dark scowl covering his face. The lead worker opened an umbrella and tipped it forward to offer the disgruntled grave digger some shelter from the rain.
“Don’t these folks know that it’s raining? You would think that they would want to get out of this shit and into a warm house. I know I do.” The disgruntled worker’s voice carried clearly through the thick and steady rain to the straggling attendees and, with a look of disdain, they slowly made their way toward their cars; leaving the old Asian woman and Dave as the sole attendees.
“Hush now and have some respect for the dead, will ya? We’ll be done soon enough.” The lead worker pulled his hooded coat over his hat in an effort to provide greater protection from the pelting rain. A native of Phoenix, with its arid climate, he was still trying to adjust to the New York’s ever changing cold and wet weather. He could not remember every seeing a storm of this nature. It was as if God had unzipped the clouds and turned on a water hose. He now understood what the term ‘buckets of rain’ meant. The fact that it was fall and getting colder did not help matters. His bones felt almost frozen from the damp and cold.
Trying to perform a funeral service in such an unpredictable climate was something he had not experienced prior to coming to the east coast and he sympathized with his co-worker, for he too would like nothing more than to finish up and go somewhere warm and dry, but death was not something that could be scheduled for a warm and sunny day. It was always a crap shoot with the weatherman. They knew this when they took the job. And besides, they got paid extra for inclement weather.
Dave moved past the huddled grave diggers and stood at the opening of Li Rong’s grave. Looking down at the casket through teary eyes, he fell to his knees and gently dropped the bouquet of flowers on top of it; ignoring the sensation of the old woman’s eyes that were boring into his back.
Forgetting about his desire for anonymity, Dave pulled his hat from his head and wiped a stray tear from his cheek as he whispered softly, “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. If only I had been.... if only... Oh God, why...”
“She is safe now.” The old Chinese woman’s voice was just as emotionless as her face.
Dave looked up through red rimmed eyes just as the old woman turned and silently picked her way through the ancient headstones that leaned precariously in the older part of the cemetery. He watched her, mesmerized by her strong and steady cadence, until she had made her way over the small mound in the distance and disappeared.
Copyright . LENA. All rights reserved.
