Today it’s my pleasure to welcome over O.L. Ramos, author of
The Keeper: Revenge, The Keeper Series, Book 2, a Paranormal Romance.
ASIN: B00ERHTOUE
Number of pages: 296
Word Count: 112,930
Cover Artist: Dane Low
GIVEAWAY! Be sure to enter the Rafflecopter after this post
for a chance to win a KINDLE with Crossbody Kindle Tote, $10 Amazon Gift Card and The Keeper:Revenge
Swag Pack.
Book Description
If the world you lived in was someday revealed to be nothing
but a lie, would you really want the truth? Elizabeth McBeth did, and she's
paid the price for it...
After almost 10 years since Liz's mother was taken from her,
Liz finally found her mother, Mary. But Mary has been forever changed,
something that Liz will have to accept. The beginning of happier times, one
would think...
The conspiracy has been exposed; Liz, Vincent, Mary and
Michael had all thought that the vampire plot had been destroyed. They should
have never underestimated Klein.
Klein has reinforced his armies, splitting the entire
vampire species with the question... is Klein the vampiric messiah?
Unfortunately for the heroes and the world itself, Klein has set in motion a
plan that will destroy the world and recreate it in his own image.
Will the group be able to defeat Klein and restore the
balance to nature? Or are they already doomed?
Interview
SKY: What inspired you to write this book?
O.L.: Originality drove me to write this story. I wanted something to be real to the lore, at least as close as possible. I also wanted to avoid the cliche and get as grounded in reality as possible. I also thought it would be kinda cool to make a race of super up, and throw it into the mix.
SKY: How did you come up with the Title ?
O.L.: In this book, Mary gets reborn. Thus, the title. It also represents a rebirth of the way the inhabitants look at their world; it all changes in this book.
SKY: Tell us about our book cover and how it relates to the story?
O.L.: I always try to ensure that the covers tell a story, laden with metaphors. In the cover, there's a blood moon. This is specifically mentioned twice in the story. The green and blue eyes belong to Michael and Vincent, respectively. The goblet has been spilled because of a tragic event that happens to Liz during the book. I could tell you why there's a blood trail, but that defeats the point of reading the book, no? lol
SKY: Are you currently working on another book? If so, we'd love some details.
O.L.: I’m currently writing the third book, “The Keeper: Rebirth”. ”. It picks off right from the final moments of Book Two and plunges deeper into the mounting revolt. A lot of new elements are introduced and there are even a few new characters. I really wanted to make this one open the world up, make the reader get a sense of just how big this is. I hope I accomplished that.
SKY: What sources do you use for research?
O.L.: Ok, so not to sound like a nerd or whatever, but I still use actual books! Heh, I have some really old books I got when I was very young. I also use the normal avenues that I imagine everyone else uses. Like google and wikipedia; the really esoteric stuff though, like when I'm digging up info on kelpies, nixes, all that kind of stuff, I gotta go down to the library at my hometown. The place is just old enough to not have anything new, lol.
SKY: Did you enjoy writing one scene above all the rest? If so, share.
O.L.: I hate to say this because I don't like showing preferential treatment to the characters... But Vincent's scenes, whenever he's drunk, are just a lot of fun. I haven't really had the chance to do that lately because the story hasn't called for it, but I just love those. They're funny and lighthearted; they really take away from the heavy tone of the doom and gloom of the story line.
SKY: Do you prefer to write short stories, novels, or novellas? Why?
O.L.: It depends on my mood. I have a great novella series planned to give the backstory of the characters. I've really been looking forward to writing it, but I have to finish Rebirth first. For me, I guess it just depends on the mood I'm in. And that depends on the story, sometimes a plot is so huge it can be intimidating to write. Sometimes, the book writes itself and it's an easy ride. When
Chapter 1
It had been several months since the uproar at the
Coronam estate. Klein had been deemed an enemy of the state for the entire
vampire nation, the ones that wanted to stay on Vincent’s good side, anyway. In
all honesty, the entire time since then had been both frantic and surreal.
Vincent’s declaration before the Coronam asserting that he was Cain’s enforcer
had caused a massive schism in the entire vampire race.
The bloodsuckers had always been a chaotic, selfish
bunch. But at least with a strong government like the Coronam reining them in,
they were fearful of getting tortured … or worse. The idea that mass executions
could be a consequence had never entered their minds, however. Yet now, that’s
all anyone could think about. The united stand made by Vincent and Michael had
finally broken the camel’s back. Some of the more fearful vampires, the ones
prone to paranoia, believed it was an example of what Klein had been warning
about for over a thousand years. They believed Klein to be the true messiah of
Cain, and Vincent to be a mere false prophet sent to lead them astray. This
group of vampires announced themselves as the Hand, a creepy mishmash of
politics and skewed religion.
They droned on and on about how Klein was the voice of
Cain, and they were the ones who would take action on Cain’s behalf. It was all
pretty shady, and there wasn’t a thing that we could do about it.
Unfortunately, the entire world behind the veil was becoming increasingly
unstable. Vincent was forced to allow Algarus to accept the Hand’s request for
freedom of religion, even though everyone suspected the whole thing was just a
front for a terrorist organization. But nothing could be proven.
Even the werewolves had ostracized Michael. Although
he was never truly accepted because of his close association with Vincent,
Michael could at least always request help in the past. Now, he was cut off
from almost all of werewolf society. Almost all of them resented Michael
openly, dismissing his claims that a werewolf was to blame for Klein’s success.
They saw his actions as the beginning for a total civil war amongst all supers.
When dozens of supers were caught acting as willing slaves for openly
rebellious vampires, Michael realized that there might be truth to the charges
imposed against him. This caused him no shortage of pain.
I often found myself staring outside my window
wondering how things had worsened so quickly. But then again, I wasn’t the same
person I’d been before all this started. I was now hardened by the experiences
I’d been made to endure, decisions I’d had to make. Things I truly hoped to
repress.
In the past months, I had witnessed Mom, I mean, Mary,
go through a very thorough and intensive training regimen. The guys had run
through everything from battle concepts and strategies to weaknesses of almost
every super in existence. I have to say it that way because that was another
key point that Michael always stressed to Mary: to be ready for anything and
everything. That it was impossible to know of every super in the world. It was
crazy, considering Michael had an almost encyclopedic knowledge of thousands of
different kinds of supers. But after dealing with the Hela poison, I could
definitely see why he was being so cautious.
I guess that brings me to Bobby. Poor Bobby. His
entire clan was ousted from the slayer community, even the children who had
never known combat. This caused many fights to break out … even one Anvil clan
member’s death. The majority of Bobby’s clan blamed him for siding with a
vampire and a werewolf. I don’t know the specifics of what happened, but I’m
positive that the slayers were just trying to evade the wrath of Klein’s Hand
and the Coronam, too. It was generally agreed that the Hela poison was a threat
to the entire world, both supernatural or otherwise. Still though, an example
had to be made. And so Bobby took his entire clan and relocated all 188 of them
to the only place they could safely go. About thirty or so miles from Angel’s
Retreat.
And I guess that’s why I’m keeping this diary. It’s
cliché as all get out, but for all my big talk … I’m terrified. Everything has
changed. And I’m not even sure it’s for the better either. The reality is—
A loud
knock announces the presence of a visitor. I turn in my chair to look at my
bedroom entrance and see Vincent. He has a curious look to his face as he leans
on my door and waits for me to say something.
“Hey Vincent,” I say with a bit of a sigh. “How’s it
going?”
“Same old, same old,” he answers as he walks into the
room and heads straight to the balcony. He opens it up and sits on the
guardrail. “How about you, Goldilocks? You seem to be brooding on a
Michael-esque scale lately. The hell’s wrong with you anyway?”
“What do
you think is wrong with me?” I reply angrily, the sharp tone in my voice
echoing throughout my room. I give it a chance to linger before I continue.
“You know … it’s just that I really thought we won. Seriously. You guys kicked
some major bad guy ass. I thought that would be that. My mother could come home
and be back with Dad, I could have some semblance of an ordinary life, I don’t
know.”
“Why be ordinary, though?” he asks with a brief turn
to me before he returns to browsing the outside scenery. “You were special
before, you were special during. You’re special now. Why all the teenage angst?
So everything didn’t end up roses … it sucks. We’re working on it, though.
Besides, is this the way you treat me after not seeing me for two days? That’s
hurtful.”
He pretends
to get stabbed in the back, does a horrible silent death scene and then throws
himself off the balcony. I merely shake my head.
“Wow, tough crowd,” Vincent says as he floats up and
hovers in the air a little above my balcony. Such a strange sight, but I’m
completely desensitized to it. “You really are on a bummer aren’t you? What
really gives?”
“Oh, I don’t even know …” I admit reluctantly with a
deep sigh. “I decided to keep this stupid diary. I thought it would make me
feel better if I could just write out my thoughts. Maybe keep them here, and
the negativity would only be here. In secret. Then I could go and live my life
as if nothing ever happened. But it didn’t work out like that at all. I wrote
everything down and it just upset me more. What good have we done? Everything
is just so much worse now. And this stupid diary is just a reminder of how much
we’ve failed.”
“If it’s so bad, why not just throw it out?” He asks,
as if the issue was a simple one. “Besides, you know that things have to get
worse before they can truly get better.”
“If it exists, someone can find it,” I explain,
already defeated. I know there is little sense in what I am saying. But it’s
the way I feel. “Maybe someone can know the truth about what we really tried to
do. If the world ends, I mean.”
“What?” Vincent straggles his question with a chuckle.
He stops his silly flying and lands on the balcony. “Seriously, what happened
in the two days I was gone? This is the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever said
to me. And lady, you’ve had your fill.”
I shake my head slowly. I know he’s right. But what a
person thinks and feels aren’t always on the same page. I know I’m not helping
things. But I can’t just press a switch and change the way I feel.
“While you were gone, Bobby had to make an example
again,” I explain as I inhale deeply, hoping to forget about the trauma. “Three
slayers came in and tried to kidnap me, or kill me. I don’t know what they were
going to do. Before they even had a chance to touch me, Michael was on top of
all three of them and was carrying them out like a bunch of … I don’t know,
rabbits or something.”
He looks at me in disbelief. He’s clearly angry, but
my strangely odd word choice has him a little off balance.
“Michael manhandled them, Vincent,” I say, irritated.
“It just looked weird. They were kicking and screaming and they just never
stood a chance.”
“And how are you?” Vincent asks as he walks around the
room examining it. “The place seems to be all right, so I guess Mikey didn’t
wreck the place too badly. By your kinda crazy word choice I’m guessing he
didn’t hurt them at all, huh? Knowing him, he probably just dragged them back
to Bobby by the nape of their necks. Oh, I get it now; rabbits. Heh, pretty
good.”
“Yeah, it was still mildly terrifying, though,” I
answer as I start to feel myself chuckle as well. The image in my head about
the incident is pretty funny, if you can get past the three guys trying to hurt
me part.
“I’m sure it was,” Vincent says as he switches his
attention and walks towards me slowly with a warm smile on his face. “But you
do know that between Mary, Michael and I, there’s really no chance anyone can
harm you, right? I mean come on sweetheart, you’re stacked.”
I laugh a
little more before shrugging my shoulders.
“So what kind of example did Bobby make?”
“He killed the one who made the plan. Skyles was his
name,” I report, once again feeling the burden of the tragedy. “Did you know
him? He expelled the other two.”
“Skyles … never heard of him. Did they at least find
out why or what they were trying to do?”
“More or less,” I say as I look down at the ground and
inhale deeply again. “They were trying to take me to the slayer leadership and
barter for their family to live within their community again. Bobby came by and
apologized … he explained that no matter what, what happened had to happen. He
said that almost all of the slayer leaders know it had to be done. This was
just—”
“Damage control,” Vincent says, finishing my sentence.
“Yeah, politics will kill you every time. I knew that something must have
rained on your parade, though. Want to go downstairs and get a drink?”
I chuckle. I don’t know if Vincent remembers it, but
he drank the entire house dry before he left.
“How are we going to do that, smart guy?” I ask
playfully. It was good to see him. Every time anyone leaves the house, I feel
vulnerable and lonely … and it was only getting worse. “You drank everything in
the house before you left on your little excursion.”
“A, it was not an excursion,” Vincent says with a
mischievous smile. “It was a fact-finding mission. Unfortunately, not much of
said facts were to be found. I’m kinda in a mood myself, now that I think of
it. I did find out that some of the smaller islands of the Dodecanese was
hosting a Klein party … the jerk. He’s even got Greek critters siding with
him.”
“But why would he be doing that?” I ask, puzzled.
“Not done yet,” Vincent says as he raises a finger to
hush me. “And B, you should know better than to think I wouldn’t be prepared. I
stocked everything back up and even ordered an underground cellar to be
constructed to house our reserves.”
It takes me a moment to understand what he means.
“You’re talking about the booze?!” I say in shock.
“Why wouldn’t you just gloss over that and continue talking about what you
found in Greece?”
“Far be it for me to allow my reputation to be
sullied,” Vincent answers sarcastically before stifling a laugh. “Besides,
Greece has been there forever; it’s not going anywhere. Booze has to be
maintained and regulated around here. It’s like an endangered species. And
besides again, it’s a part of Greece, but if you want to be technical it’s
really a series of islands off the coast of Greece. So I didn’t find it in
Greece, I found it near Greece.”
I grunt in frustration before slapping him. I examine
him to see his reaction but he just turns his gaze up to me and smiles.
“Feeling better, are you?” He asks knowingly. How I hate him and his sneakiness. “That’s more like it. To thy own self be true. Silly, down on her luck Izzy. That isn’t Izzy at all. Wow, say that five times fast. Anyhoo, stop being such a hard luck case and focus on the task ahead.”
I continue analyzing his smile before I sit down
again. He’s right. I shake my head because I know that telling him that he’s
right is about as painful as a root canal. But not telling him he’s right
becomes much, much worse.
“I know,” I say as I admit my lack of options. “You’re
right. I’m sorry. It’s been hard. This last month we haven’t sat down as a
family, or whatever you want to call our group. Not even one Sunday dinner.
We’re not running this like a home. We’re running this like a prison.”
“Well, this is the first I’ve heard of it,” Vincent
says as he straightens out his dress shirt. “But have you told the furry boy
scout anything about how you feel?”
“No, I haven’t,” I answer with yet another sigh. I
suppose it’s not fair to be bothered if I haven’t even given the guys a chance
to fix things. But I just felt restricted.
I shrug those feelings off before continuing. “I know you both have your
reasons to do what you do. Klein needs to be found. The supers are all scared
and getting desperate. Everyone is afraid that the humans will find out the
truth of the world because the vampires all seem to be getting ready for a
civil war. Mary needs to be in fighting shape, my father needs to be watched
and guarded, and I need to be protected.”
“All while keeping the balance,” Vincent points out in
a matter-of-fact tone. “As you can see, it’s more than a day’s work. You gotta
have more faith. This guy had a ton of failsafe tools, people, and secrets to
work on. It’s a thousand years of this guy thinking that I was coming to kill
him and take his seat of power in the Coronam. He was ready before we ever even
thought about going. As much as I hate to say it, the guy’s smart. He was
prepared.”
Vincent leans back and stretches his arms; he lets out
a yawn. It’s the worst fake yawn in the history of fake yawns. I suppose when
you haven’t slept or felt exhaustion in 1600 years, you forget these things.
“Man, this is boring,” he finally says as he snaps to
attention. “I feel like I should be asleep. I guess it’s been too damn long …
Anyhoo, where was I? Oh yeah, the Dodecanese. Thing about Greece is that it’s
relatively close to Romania and it holds a very important position in Europe.
It’s a brilliant strategic choice. If Klein wants to hit the Coronam, he can, rather
easily. On top of that, there are so many islands out there, not many are gonna
find him. I found him because I figure he has vastly underestimated my
information network.” Vincent smiles proudly before poking me softly in my
right upper arm.
“Come on,” he suggests with a nod of his head. “Let’s
have a drink, you could use one. I’ll tell you all about it. We also have to
talk about what we’re going to do to liven this personality of yours
permanently. I can’t have you slapping me every time you feel down in the
dumps.”
I stand up slowly and look at his incredible, deep
blue eyes.
“I don’t know why you say that,” I say slowly. “I have
no problem slapping you all day long if that’s what needs to happen. You gotta
do what you gotta do, right?”
“I suppose so,” Vincent agrees with several short nods
of his head. “Of course, you’re just going to end up breaking your hand.”
I laugh a little before I end up pushing Vincent’s
chest. We walk out of my bedroom and take the obscenely long journey to the common
area of Angel’s Retreat. The place is still as beautiful as ever. The décor is
a very classy blending of old European castle with modern Hollywood flair, but
all of it seems gray and blurred to me. It has become my prison over these last
few months. And I am really sick of it. When we finally make it to the bar,
Vincent urges me to sit. A change, and a rather drastic one, from me playing
bartender to Vincent’s regular drunk roles.
“Wow ... What a treat!” I exclaim as I sit on the
barstool, something I had become increasingly familiar with in times of stress.
“I can’t believe we’re having a drink and I’m on this side of the counter.
Feels pretty different. It’s nice. If I get Vincent-drunk, will you help me
make it to my bed like I always help you?”
Vincent clears his throat before raising his finger
again. Oh geez, here he goes again.
“Two things
I have to point out again. Apparently I’m gonna be doing this all day here,” he
says as he puts down the bottle of vodka he was opening. “A, again, is that you
should never make suggestive statements like that to me unless you want sarcasm
as a reply. You should know better than that. I.e. you want me to help you to
bed, don’t you?”
I slap him in midsentence just for the sake of
slapping him. I have to admit, it’s a strange relationship we share.
“And B, again,” Vincent says as he shakes the strike
away from his face and continues his rant. “Saying that someone is
Vincent-drunk implies that I’m nothing but a no-good drunk. That’s also very
hurtful. Besides, you’re the minor here. You should just be glad I’m even
allowing you to drink.”
“You? Allowing me? That’s hysterical,” I say as I pick
up the vodka cocktail Vincent has slid over to me. “Admit it Vincent, you just
love the company. Michael doesn’t drink much anymore and you just want a
drinking buddy.”
“Yeah, well, it’s all a part of my nefariously genius
plan to get into your barstool,” Vincent says as he raises his own cocktail to
me. “And before you think about it, I’m not gonna let you slap me again. You’ve
used up your limit for today. Now, as is customary we will follow the beautiful
tradition of—”
“Yeah, I know,” I say as I raise my glass and tap his
with it. I answer his smile with one of my own. “The beautiful tradition of
blessing our drink. It is a beautiful tradition. Salud, Vincent.”
“And to you, Izzy,” he says as he brings his glass to
his mouth. “Cent’anni.”
“One hundred years to you,” I say. Knowing him, this
is probably a test.
“Very good, you’ve been keeping to your studies.”
“No,” I point out a little sharply. “You just say it
so often it’s hard to forget.”
Vincent scratches his head and chugs down his drink.
He grabs the vodka bottle and drags it along the counter until it’s in between
the two of us. He looks at me longingly, licking his lips suggestively. It was
good to see at least one of us behaving normally.
“So, I was thinking about this anyway, before you even
brought it up; so was Michael,” he says as he opens the bottle and begins to
pour himself another round. “We both feel that a lot has happened in such a
short amount of time, we should probably reopen the discussion about what you
should be doing with your life in the meantime. I’m not going to say that
what’s been happening lately is normal for us, but it has happened several dozens
of times in our lives. But we can’t expect you, in your short nineteen years,
to be dealing with it anywhere near as easily as we have been. I’m surprised
you haven’t snapped like you just did before.”
“Well thanks a lot,” I say before chugging down my own
drink and snatching the bottle from Vincent’s hands. He only looks at me and
shakes his head. “If you knew I wouldn’t react well, why keep me here?”
“I don’t really know what you expected us to do,”
Vincent admits almost in frustration. “You yourself said you were never much of
a social butterfly.”
“More like a social spider.”
“Yeah, no kidding,” Vincent agrees before taking the
bottle away from me as I was helping myself to another drink. “Everything in
moderation there, drunko. What I was getting at was that we didn’t really have
a lot of choices here. We could have sent you back to the campus, and you could
have kept working, but for what? You never really mentioned liking it there.
Besides, everyone in town doesn’t even know you exist anymore. I could try to
screw around with their heads again and give them back their memories of you,
but that’s a real loose option. I don’t wanna do that if I can help it. It’s
too dangerous, even with my newfound powers.”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” I answer in more evident
frustration. The whole thing sucks. He’s right and I know it. But that doesn’t
really matter. It was different when I was still searching for my mother. I had
a plan and a goal. We had achieved that goal and my mother was back and safe.
Now all I did was take alternating courses of education by the guys … that was
losing its fun, to say the least. “It was easy for me to not appreciate
everything in my old life while I had it, but it’s all I think about now. I
even miss the shrink visits. Don’t misunderstand me, I know what you’re saying,
but there has to be something better to do with my life. I love you guys, I
always will. You both have saved my life, you saved my mother’s, I mean …
there’s no repaying any of that. But when are we going to get off of terror
alert red here?”
“I was just getting to that,” he continues as he pours
himself another drink. Wow, I never noticed he drank the one he had. Lush.
“Michael and I have been thinking about what we could do to make your time pass
by a little easier. Michael wants you to be protected and watched over at all
times. I disagree with that because you do need some level of freedom, or else
you’ll end up resenting the both of us.”
“I would never,” I argue in almost a scream. “I just
want some fun. I’ve watched everything I can on TV; I’m caught up on all my
reading. I would go back to studying all the supers that you guys know about,
but what’s the point? Michael is a rolodex of information on the subject. Maybe
if I could get my job back at Jack’s Place? Go back to the university, have a
normal life? I’m not going to do anything crazy.”
“You say that, but you don’t know what you’ll do,” he
contends firmly. “I don’t have you on a leash. None of us do. But what I’m
saying is don’t take this temporary phase of you being down in the dumps for
more than what it is. It’ll pass. Deep down you know what the right thing to do
is. You can’t really risk too much crazy behavior right now. I bet Klein thinks
we aren’t anywhere near here, especially with all the false information and
dead ends we’ve been leading him on with. But we can’t risk lives with that
type of hunch. Jack’s wouldn’t be so bad, because why would you have a job if
you were with us? But on the other hand, there’s nothing to do around here but
visit Jack’s. Same deal with the university. We gotta take this slow.”
“How slow?”
“Not very,” he assures me before pouring me a little
more vodka. “But reasonably slow. So why don’t you start thinking about what
you want to do when you grow up, huh? The choice is still yours, eventually. If
you wanna walk away from all of this when Klein’s dead, then you have that
option open. It’s just not open to you right now because we can’t in good
conscience let you get yourself killed.”
“So what are you saying, Vincent? Stop with the
theatre and spit it out.”
He grasps his glass and stares me in the eyes before
presenting his glass to mine again. “What I’m saying is, give us some ideas,”
Vincent says with a smile as he raises his glass. “And you’re free to go do
whatever you want. Just don’t skip town, huh?”
I smile back at him and I can’t help hugging him over
the counter. He was obviously not expecting this as I sense him almost jerk in
place.
Now what should I do?
About the Author
From what I understand, the first line of this thing is
where I say something really interesting that wins you over. After all, they
say that you know within seconds of meeting a person whether you like them or
not.
So...yeah... I got nothing. But if there is one thing I
know, it's that through stories we discover the world, learn about history and
traditions; and in doing that, we become who we are as an individual.
Since I was a very young child, my only dream was to become
an author one day. I wanted to reach people with my words, maybe even entertain
them. I wanted to touch their lives and give them something to think about.
After all, I am a loveable blowhard kinda guy... that's gotta be entertaining,
right?
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