Freaky Friday presents...the very awesome Denise Verrico.
A Different Take on Vampire Mythology
By
Denise Verrico
When I set out to write Cara Mia my first Immortyl
Revolution novel, I read a lot of books on vampire legends. I’ve always been attracted to the figure of
the vampire. The all-powerful vampire
appealed to me as a kind of dark superhero.
Almost every culture has some sort of vampire myth. Like most people, I was familiar with the
Eastern European vampire myths. In these
stories, the vampire is typically thought of as an “undead” demon or
re-animated corpse that feeds on the lifeblood or sometimes the soul or sexual
energy of human victims.
As I dug further into the lore, I found that a lot of
evidence points to these vampire legends first appearing in India. This gave me the basis of the Immortyl
culture of my vampire series. Indian
mythology provides many examples of vampire-like spirits and deities, but one
deity often associated with vampirism is Kali, a fierce form of the mother
goddess (Shakti) and consort of Shiva.
Kali is an intimidating figure, usually depicted as emaciated with
withered dark blue or black skin and three eyes. She even wears the body parts
of her victims as jewelry and has a blood-red tongue that sticks out in
defiance. Her favorite places are battlefields where she and her attendants,
the dakini, become intoxicated on the blood of victims.
Because of this fearsome image and some pop-culture
references to her, Kali is an often-misunderstood figure in the West. However, Kali is the goddess of time, not
death, and only slays evil demons. Symbolically, she annihilates the selfish
impulses and ego that bind us to our material bodies. Her aspect may be
ferocious, but she is called Kali Maa (Mother Kali) and is revered in many
parts of India. Historically, only one
group associated with Kali was known for violence, the Thugees. These devotees
would waylay travelers and use them as blood sacrifices to the goddess. The
Thugees were the inspiration behind the Kali worshipers in Indiana Jones and
the Temple of Doom, hence a lot of the western misconception.
Tantric cults often focus on Kali. Tantra is an older religious tradition than
Hinduism, dating back before the Aryan tribes migrated into India. These groups
center on Shakti (female principle) worship and sometimes use sex and even
blood in their rituals. The idea behind this is to gain control over the body
to capture divine energy and gain blessings.
The more I read, the more I became fascinated with the stories
surrounding Kali and tantric practices. This
led me to imagine the origin of the Immortyl culture in my books.
A little about Denise
Denise Verrico is a New Jersey native who grew up in Western
Pennsylvania. She attended Point Park College and majored in Theatre Arts. For
seven seasons, she was a member of the Oberon Theatre Ensemble in NYC. Denise
has loved vampire stories since childhood, when she became a fan of the Dark
Shadows television series. She is a
member of International Thriller Writers and Broad Universe. Her Immortyl Revolution novels are published
by L&L Dreamspell Publishing and include: Cara Mia, Twilight of the Gods,
My Fearful Symmetry and Servant of the Goddess.
She currently lives in Ohio with her husband, son and her flock of six
spoiled parrots.
Synopsis of Servant of the Goddess
Can an Immortyl Society survive the modern world?
From the ashes of the first battle of the Immortyl
Revolution, vampires Mia Disantini and Kurt Eisen set out to build a new
Immortyl society. Trouble arrives in the person of Cedric MacKinnon, a runaway
adept of the ancient arts, who brings tidings of upheaval at the chief elder’s
court that threatens everything Mia and Kurt have accomplished. Mia finds it
hard to resist when Cedric pledges his service and tempts her with the
legendary skills he learned as an Immortyl courtesan. Facing opposition from
both within and out, Mia begins to doubt Kurt is up to the task of leading
their followers to his vision of an Immortyl Utopia. Torn between her loyalty
to Kurt and Cedric’s insistence that she is the earthly manifestation of the
Goddess Durga and destined to lead, Mia confronts the greatest challenge of her
life.
Excerpt for Servant of the Goddess
Sudden shouts battled against the sound of the wind. I
peered down the block. Teen-formed Immortyls, sewer rats, closed a circle
around a tall male, who held his hands high above his head. From the direction
of the wind, I couldn’t yet ascertain this stranger as mortal or Immortyl. Best
to investigate. I ran toward the disturbance, wrapping my fingers around the
Glock strapped to my hip.
A shrill whistle split the air. Two of the sewer rats lunged
for the stranger. He crouched and pirouetted on one leg, letting loose a rapid
succession of kicks that knocked his attackers sprawling onto the sidewalk. A
rat named Tommy growled and launched himself at the stranger. To my amazement,
the stranger leapt high into the air and hovered there for a moment like a
falcon before lashing out with both feet. Tommy’s head snapped backward, and he
flattened against the pavement. The remaining rats hung back.
The slender figure of a boy maybe eighteen or nineteen
touched down and crouched again, poised to strike. No mortal could perform such
maneuvers with this speed and agility, not to mention almost ballet-like grace.
The Immortyl’s face betrayed raw emotion, indicating he was new to the blood,
probably not much older than his form suggested. Eamon, the rat pack leader,
drew and aimed a pistol at him. The stranger raised his hands above his head
once more.
I gave a sharp whistle for Eamon to stand down. “What’s
going on here?”
Eamon lowered the gun and spit on the ground. His
forever-twelve-year-old face scrunched up. “We found this one skulking about,”
he said. Even after a century and half in New York his speech still gave away
his Dublin origins. “Says he’s come from the chief elder’s house.”
The wind kicked up harder. Long, auburn hair whipped about
the newcomer’s face. He shivered, hugging an Indian-styled shirt around him.
Traces of black kohl and sienna rouge clung to his eyes and mouth, as if he’d
scrubbed the paint off in a hurry. The make-up and impractical clothing pointed
to origins more exotic than the russet hair and milky complexion suggested. His
story sounded plausible. However, the odds that this kid had escaped the chief
elder’s compound near Calcutta and made it all the way to New York on his own
were unlikely. No slave had ever left there of his own accord.
Kurt had stood trial at the chief elder’s court for inciting
rebellion. He’d told me that the chief, Kalidasa, employed state-of-the-art
security, as well as vampire-eating tigers. The place was a veritable fortress.
Still, there was always a first time, and this newcomer had held his own
against Eamon’s band.
I had to admire the kid for standing up to Eamon and his
thugs.
The pack leader and I didn’t care much for one another, but
he’d fought for Kurt in our recent war with a rival elder. For political
reasons, I forced myself to take a civil tone with him. “Did you bother to ask
his business before you ordered an attack?” I called to the newcomer,
“You--come here.”
The boy lowered his hands and slinked forward. I’d never
seen a man move quite like this, with delicacy just brushing the feminine, yet
suggesting coiled up, sinewy strength like a jungle cat. Instinct prompted my
hand to reach for the Glock concealed on my hip. The kid had danger scrawled
all over him in big garish letters.
“Is this true?” I asked.
“I ran away from court,” the boy replied, his speech tinged
with a Scottish burr. “I’m seeking refuge here.”
The plaintive tone struck a chord in me. I sized him up
again. His winsome looks didn’t belong to the usual brand of vampire assassin,
but to a household slave chosen for his decorative value. Still, his swift feet
could kill if given the chance. Wouldn’t it be just like Giulietta to send
death in such an appealing guise?
“Kurt’s counselor, Chase Powers, can vouch for me,” he
continued. “Take me to him.”
“You know Chase?”
“We met in India during Kurt’s trial. He said I’d be welcome
here. Please Miss. You have to believe me. I’ve come such a long way and got
nowhere else to go.” Desperation filled the spooky, green eyes. They almost
glowed, more like a cat’s than a man’s. “There’s probably a bounty offered for
my return by now.”
“What did you do?”
“It’s not what I did. It’s what I am.” He held out his
hands. Henna tattoos snaked around the wrists and tops, elaborate whirls and
spirals. “The marks of my order. I’m an adept of the ancient arts.”
He was an adept? I’d always imagined these temple devotees
and de facto courtesans as Indian in origin. I gave the boy a closer look. His
clothing had seen better days, but the sinuous way he moved made them a fashion
statement. You couldn’t deny the perfection of feature and figure required of
his order. He stood out from Eamon’s mangy lot like an emerald in a box of
Cracker Jacks.
SOTG Denise Verrico Links
Cedric
Amazon
Comment for one of two chances to win a download of Annals
of the Immortyls.
Denise, thank you so much for your time. It's been a pleasure.
Freaky Fiday presents...Scorned: A LeKrista Scott, Vampire Hunted Novel by Tyffani Clark Kemp. 
