Overview

The year is 1902 — the twilight of the Gilded Age. A ship, its crew decimated, docks in New York City carrying a strange cargo: a long, heavy box held bounds with chains and padlocks. An ancient vampyre has arrived seeking the source of an unlimited power. When young society belle Madison Blanchford becomes the vampyre's next target, her suitor Doctor Jordan Moore joins with renegade Anglican priest Alfred James Montague and Percy Masters, a former soldier, to save her. In the process, they discover that only Madison, heir to an ancient secret, may possess the key to stop the vampyre and ultimately save the world. Suspense, history and the occult combine in an unforgettable Gothic tale beautifully illustrated in the style of Victorian artist Sidney Paget. (107,000 words)

Reviews

The most unsuspecting people have the power to save the world. "The Undead: First of the Deposyni Chronicles" follows young Madison Blanchford, just starting her life in high society at the turn of the twentieth century. A powerful vampyre has arrived in New York City, and has chosen Madison as his target. In order to save her life and whoever he'd choose after her, Madison must somehow put a stop to an evil that has plagued the world for centuries. "The Undead" is a riveting adventure tale, highly recommended. (Midwest Book Review)

 

 

Plot

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Excerpt

Chapter One

The Coming

The English three-master slid effortlessly into port despite the dense mists pirouetting along the irregular piers and wharves of the East River. Even with lofty masts and long yards interwoven against the star-filled sky, her arrival was hardly noticed in the midst of a naval menagerie of grain-laden canal boats from the West; swift Norfolk schooners; huge, full-rigged Indian ships; Nova Scotia fruit brigs; and sooty steam-barges laden with Pennsylvania coal.

Within moments of docking, the ship disgorged her grim-faced captain followed by four of his stoutest men employed in a singular labor: upon their shoulders they heaved a long wooden box sealed by thick steel bands and ancient padlocks that clanged with every step. They were met by two curious figures: one was taller by a foot than the tallest man on the waterfront, and was dressed, without exception, entirely in black. His companion, a brutish fellow, was short and hairy and hunched over; his long arms nearly trailed the ground like an ape's. He rocked continuously beside his tall companion, intermittently spewing obscenities in staccato outbursts. And behind them stood a covered wagon tethered to two splendid Arabians whose black coats reflected the full moon's luster. The beasts stood perfectly still, snorting gently.

" Mr. Grimpole?" the captain asked the tall man, who failed to articulate any word or gesture in response. The captain glanced lengthwise at the imposing figure, then at his beastly companion, and swiped the grimy cotton cap off his head to wipe his sweaty face.

" Good riddance t'it," the captain spat. "Now far be't from me to think of devils an' the like, but I lost near 'arf the crew after loadin' this 'ere blasted box. First mornin' found three of me boys dead in their bunks—their faces white as sails. Not a one could sleep after that, or git below. Wy, they wanted to throw the box o'erboard. Almost had meself a bloody mutiny. Ye 'eard me, sir? A mutiny!"

Grimpole shifted his head slightly, his black bowler hat moving just enough for the moonlight to reveal his face. A shiver ran through the sturdy seamen at the sight of the cruelly-set features and hooked nose imperfectly hung on a long pale face spotted by large black flies that jumped to flitter around his head. The captain decided right then and there not to press the issue, reassuring himself the men had caught some tropical ailment while stopping in Cuba for cane, agaves and of course, the box; the fact that the strange deaths occurred with its arrival was purely coincidental. It was a simple thing to become ensnared in the superstitions of his mostly foreign crew.

Grimpole handed him a thick envelope. The captain snatched it briskly while the men behind him groaned under the weight of the box.

"Come on, boys, yer work's not done yet!" the captain growled at the sailors, one of whom was a young Greek who moved his lips in silent prayer. They conveyed the box to the wagon and loaded it by the brute strength of their sea-hardened arms. The force of movement rustled its contents, causing the odor of old earth and decay to seep from under the edges of the lid. The sailors, already subscribers to sundry superstitions, and having endured the mysterious deaths of many shipmates, looked at one another in confirmation of their worst fears. Even the captain, assailed alike by the foul smell, brusquely clutched the tall man's arm and exclaimed: "By Jove, what's in that?" Grimpole delivered a cold look and snapped back his arm so powerfully, yet with so little effort, that the captain, no small man himself, drew back in surprise.

"Our business here is done," said Grimpole, his voice thin and low, like the long hiss of a snake. The hunchback at his side emitted a chortle and scrambled up the wagon with uncommon speed. As Grimpole took a seat beside him, he snapped the reigns and sped the wagon away, melting away into the darkness.

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