Deadlands

By Raven Corinn Carluk

Vanya, misunderstood and alone, is one of the few necromancers in a world sundered by chaos. Superpowers have crumbled, genetic experiments have gone wild, and people have fallen back on old ways. Few can stand against the wilderness, but she teams with a mercenary group capable of doing just that.

However, members of The Last Hope don't know her darkest secret: Vanya must find a vampire to open her to death or go insane.

Prophetic dreams promise relief, and have lead her to the path of Alexander. He is everything Vanya needs and more, and she finally knows where he makes his lair; the ruins of Louisville.

She just needs to cross the Deadlands to get there; hostile territory east of St Louis overrun by feral animals, genetic monstrosities, and the dreaded neospawn ghouls. Certainly not the kind of place an addicted necro wants to be alone while suffering withdrawals. Meaning she must enlist the aid of the mercenaries who are as wary of her death powers as everyone else.

Can determination and The Last Hope see Vanya to her dream vampire's arms?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Raven Corinn Carluk
• Release date: Apr 20, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458082077

Raven Corinn Carluk

Talking about myself is much harder than writing a book. You'd think a wordmistress wouldn't have such a problem, but I do. Let me rework a flat scene any day. Simple background: I'm married, have lots of pets, still work full time, and grew up in Las Vegas. But there's so much more to a person than that. Writing is more than just words on paper to me. It's a passion, an incessant need, a deep-seated drive to be a storyteller. I knew I wanted to be an author as far back as high school. Writing may have taken a backseat a few times, but I finally made it. My stories have bite because I'm a little different, and like slightly different things. No shock horror here, or cheap gimmicks meant to offend, or pandering to the latest trend. My vampires love human blood, my dragons hunt people, and my elves are magical and arrogant. Romance and darkness will always go together for me. Love really can get you through anything, as I know from personal experience. My characters will always have that glimmer of new love, that bond with a soulmate, and will do anything to be with their one and only. When I'm not busy having things killed. Being deeply romantic doesn't mean I'm not also a violent or twisted writer. Fight scenes, bloodshed, dark magic, and triumphant villains all have their places in my tales. I'll never apologize for who I am. Sometimes abrasive and uncouth, full of contradictions and juxtaposition, I am merely who I am. And what I am is a storyteller wanting to craft new entertainments for you.

Book preview

Deadlands

Raven Corinn Carluk

RCC Tales

Las Vegas MMXI

Smashwords Edition

Books by Raven Corinn Carluk

All Hallows Blood

Saint Valentine’s Clash

stories with bite o,.,o

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person,

please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to

Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright 2011 by Raven Corinn Carluk

All rights reserved

Designed by Raven Corinn Carluk

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Epilogue

Author’s Note

Chapter 1

The cacophony of the market would have driven most people nuts; in my needy state, I found it comforting.

Vanya, my darling. Orleans wrapped arms around me from behind, kissing the back of my neck. I stiffened briefly, hating the surprise, though I’d grown used to his touchy-feely ways. You’re looking well-rested. The man released me, moving into my sight as he stepped into a small alcove. I followed him out of the flow of the crowd.

I was taller than most at five foot eleven, and the skinny trader was no exception. He was tan from being in the sun, eyes crinkled from a perpetual grin. Orleans had no problems dealing with a necro like myself, or any of the more exotic genefreaks in these new times. For a genepure who’d barely been an adult during the genetic wars, he held no prejudices.

He was perfect when trying to find a vampire.

Tossing long auburn hair over my shoulder, I braced my hands on my hips. None of my knives were present, none of them needed in the St Louis markets. Far from the genetic abominations or marauding raiders, there was little to fear in the city. I’ll be better rested if you have good news.

He chuckled, mimicking my pose. Little Miss Necromancer is touchy today.

I speared him with a glare. Everyone knew I was a necro; wan complexion and slightly glazed over eyes were a dead giveaway. Not everyone knew that I was on edge, suffering from a uniquely necromancer problem. Have you seen him or not?

Orleans sighed, rolling his eyes. Yes, I’ve seen him. Spoke to him a week ago.

My heart leapt, face flushing. I couldn’t speak as I stared at my contact. My vampire was in St Louis, and Orleans knew him. There was no description for my elation and relief. Where is he now? What’s his name? The market sounds faded away as I waited for his answers.

He arched an eyebrow, smirking. Pay me first.

I ground my teeth, suppressing the need to slap him. Expecting free information was a rookie mistake. Even in the above-board New Republic markets, like this converted mall, nothing came for free. My need for the vampire was affecting me all the time now, clouding my interactions.

Handing over the bag of silver, I had to calm myself. Staring at the passing crowd, I counted my breaths.

Over a year since the last vampire had touched me, taken my blood, opened me to death. Tristan had never fully relieved my addiction, but he’d been better than nothing. Fighting neospawn and using my powers weren’t helping either. I needed a proper fix, and Orleans held the key to my relief.

His name’s Alexander. He’s been somewhat of a regular in the markets over the last few years. Big blond like that is going to get noticed, but almost no one knows what he is. I still couldn’t look at the trader, but I listened intently. Biting my lip, I watched scavengers haggling, fighters regearing, and people making livings as best they could. Once a place of senseless excess, the mall had become a proper place of commerce after the wars. He doesn’t live in St Louis.

My gut plunged, and I suffered a wave of vertigo. So close! "Where does he live?" I squeaked out, not caring if Orleans saw my moment of weakness.

Louisville.

I glared at the trader. Of course it would be Louisville. The one city I would be happy to never see again.

Nobody lived in the Deadlands if they could help it. Failed genetic experiments ruled the eastern country, decimating whatever they came across. New York City was one of several cities rendered radioactive in tactical strikes. Modern conveniences were unheard of, feral animals reclaimed unused land, and nature was covering over the human landscape. Stragglers were holed up in some smaller communities, but most survivors had made it across the Mississippi or down to Atlanta.

Vampires weren’t normal people, but there were so few in North America, and the Deadlands were so dangerous, that I hadn’t imagined him living anywhere uncivilized. He should be where the people were, not the monsters.

Orleans looked pleased with himself, his smarmy expression egging me on. I know you’re going to want to go after him, so I’ve even arranged a little job for you. At no additional cost. He winked conspiratorially. As if I’d have paid him for work. I was part of Devon’s Last Hope, and had regular work with the mercenary group.

But getting a contract that pointed us to Louisville was a great bonus. Everybody could get paid while I found Alexander.

I need the details. Crossing my arms under my breasts, I stared at the trader. My legs shook from the emotional wild ride, and my insides clenched. A hot meal and a nap might put me to rights, but I wasn’t getting that until I concluded business with Orleans.

She’s a labcoat, down from Minneapolis. She needs-

I cut him off with a snarl. Not the job! The vampire’s details. Alexander. The memory of my dream rose when I spoke his name, the flush of love filling me. My frustration had clouded the fact that I finally had a name to go with the captivating visions.

One of my few prophetic dreams, I’d seen a tall blond that was the answer to my problems. Very male, with knowing blue eyes, the vampire in my dreams was perfect. The vision had also shown me the Last Hope and Orleans, giving me the keys to my hunt. I’d joined the mercenary group six weeks ago, and spent every minute of downtime in St Louis looking for the trader. Three months after the dream, I was finally on the trail of the vampire.

What kind of details?

He made no mention of cost, and I grew wary. His specific location. How I can contact him. If he’s expected back.

Orleans laughed, tossing his head back. I don’t know that, my dear. No one does. He comes to trade when he feels like it, and leaves when he’s done. You’re just lucky I know what a vampire is.

He was right, but that didn’t make me feel any better. If I could get close enough to Alexander, I could find him with