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Vintage Blood and the Sacred Scepters [MultiFormat]
eBook by A.B. Wallace

eBook Category: Horror/Fantasy
eBook Description: Brit Chambers, a gutsy Werecreature Consultant, has taken on the job of discovering the means by which to destroy the Sacred Scepters before a werecreature assassin finds them and uses them to rid the world of magic. But she has another problem to rid herself of as well--she has become Lord Daison's personal blood bank thanks to her best friend, a weretiger.

eBook Publisher: Lachesis Publishing/LBF Books
Fictionwise Release Date: March 2009

8 Reader Ratings:
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Vintage Blood and the Sacred Scepters, the first book in the Werecreature Series by A.B. Wallace, is not a book that fits into any one genre, into any particular niche. It's horror, science fiction and fantasy all rolled into one, with a hint of P.I./crime thrown in for good measure. In a world in which magic, shapeshifters, witches, vampires and enchanting fauna all are commonplace, Brit Chambers, an entrepreneur and human, finds herself in the middle of a diabolical scheme to rid the world of magic. A.B. Wallace weaves an intricate tale with colorful characters and creative settings, from Lord Daison's beautiful palace to Brit's very own small apartment in the aptly named Box City. As a bonus, dark and sensual renditions of the characters, done by T. Kelly, are sprinkled throughout the book. Wallace's writing is crisp and imaginative, leaving the reader with no choice but to keep turning the pages. At times frightening and suspenseful, this book is also laugh out loud funny in places, erotic and emotionally engaging as well. A fast-paced, exciting novel, Vintage Blood and the Sacred Scepters is also just plain fun. I look forward to the next book in the series. Reviewed by: Elizabeth Blue--Pretty-Scary

Chapter One

Magnificent. It was spectacular, a throne laden with the most exotic of gems. And then there was the tapestry covering the wall behind the throne. Not an ordinary tapestry, I knew. It was Shayla's bloodline, a colorful depiction of every form of weretiger in existence.

I was human, the only human attending Shayla's coming of age gala. As all tigers do sooner or later, Shayla had contracted the mating bug. I would have preferred it to be later--selfish, I knew. But she's family, sort of a sister. My father and Gunther, Shayla's father, were the closest of friends, so, we practically grew up together. My father's dead now. My mother had left us years ago. She hadn't accepted shapeshifters. Then again, she hadn't accepted much of anything.

I couldn't bear the thought of losing Shayla to the clan. If mated, she'd be one of the elite, and since few humans were tolerated in their social hierarchy, seeing her would become quite difficult.

Of course, I had tried to talk her out of attending this spectacle but it didn't work. Instead, she convinced me to stand by her side as one of her maidens. Magda was her second maiden. I liked Magda.

She's a childhood friend that I've been able to count on whenever I've been in need. She's also an enchantress, although, on occasion "witch" suited her better. Tonight she was the enchantress. A power web glowed about her like a lacy glove. Charm.

Breathe slowly, I told myself. I could barely take a breath thanks to the wiring beneath my crimson gown that was obviously designed to tuck, lift, and keep me together in a way that distorted my natural build.

Still, from the look of it, I wasn't the only one suffering, 'torture' seemed to be the theme for this evening's attire--for females that is. The males, however, weren't constrained to any particular attire. Well, those who weren't in their natural state. Fur doesn't need any covering.

Filled with excitement, I looked about the Great Hall. The walls were white with five archways to my left and right. On the other side of the archways large colorful plants glistened in the moonlight. Above me, I could see the full moon through the glass dome roof. Luckily, its glow showered light throughout the Great Hall making it easy for me to see.

Then my eyes fixed on a sculpture. Every single strand of fur was delicately carved within pure white marble. And his muscle formations ... my, they were so defined ... and further down so explicit--heat rushed into my face.

I touched Magda's arm. "Is that an Astof original?"

Excited, she bubbled. "He is here tonight."

He was a famous weretiger sculptor whose pieces were worth their weight in gems. I couldn't afford any of them. Not many could, except for a Lord.


She turned about, her neck gracefully gliding from left to right. "I cannot." She grabbed my arm. "Oh, there he is." She pointed. I looked.

Mmmm. Oh, my. He was large, paws twice the normal size of a weretiger. Seemed impossible for him to be able to carve such delicate details until I saw his finely shaped claws. They weren't thick and clumsy, but thin and sharp.

She pulled me toward him, then stopped abruptly. She stomped her foot. "I have lost him." That was fine by me. We were standing in front of a table covered with delectable goodies. When she noticed my distraction, she huffed, turned from me, and went in search of Astof once more.

I couldn't resist the tantalizing aromas. I'd only eaten a nutritionally balanced bar this morning. A weresparrow chirped excitedly as she slipped a small circular yellow piece of fruit within her beak. Something I should try.

Delicious. Hard on the outside, soft on the inside, and bursting with flavor. I ate a few more, then I ventured over to the next table. There was a lot of satisfied grunting going on. Several weretigers were indulging themselves. I passed them by, repulsed at the smell of fresh, bloody meat.

I continued to the next table. A few more weretigers were indulging themselves as well. How I enjoyed their woodsy scent. I took a deep breath only to choke a moment later. Not all werecreature scents appealed to me. Wererats tend to disturb my stomach. The sight of them in their natural state, matted fur and all, didn't help matters.

Two passed by, one actually bumping into me. His nose twitched. He jumped back, coughed, and turned his back to me. I heard an ailing, "excuse me." Then he was gone. My human odor, it seems, has the same effect on them.

My hand reached out only to fall short of a delectable piece of dried meat when two muzzles strayed toward my arm. I held still.

Their whiskers lightly brushed against my skin, and my arm twitched, not from fear but from the tickling sensation the fine whiskers caused. They sniffed, then, a purr coursed through their throat. Two seconds later they were back at their feast and I was long forgotten.

I'd just gotten a tasty piece of meat in my mouth, chewing it with my eyes tightly shut, when I heard Shayla whisper, "it is time."

Slowly, my eyes opened and a sigh of pure satisfaction left my lips.

"I'm ready," I said.

Shayla and I went in search of Magda. We found her charming Astof. Even if I wanted to meet him, now wasn't the time. When Magda uses her charm, the recipient of it is oblivious to anything or anyone else. Shayla, naturally, interrupted by grabbing Magda's arm and pulling her away. And so, we found ourselves waiting for the main event.

We didn't have long to wait.

Within seconds the room grew silent. Daison, Lord of the Weretigers, was suddenly standing in front of the throne, his body covered by an exquisite black and red silk robe. In the next moment, he was seated. His robe flapped open and I noticed the sleek black clad body beneath.

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