The feedback reaching crescendo, Nothing screamed.
Microphone cord wrapped tightly around his forearm, he sank to his knees. At first his screams were atonal wailing, but gradually he formed a sentence. Thrashing wildly, he shrieked the words that haunted his every waking moment for the past week. He didn’t understand what they meant, only they held some deeper meaning not readily apparent. “This is the end of everything,” he cried one final time before he collapsed to the stage.
Lying on his back, Nothing watched the pink and white confetti swirl through the air. Tilting his head to the side, he saw Wraith kick one of the hundreds of black balloons bouncing across the stage. The normally surefooted bassist slipped and crashed to the ground.
Nothing crawled towards Aiden.
Rising to his knees, he stared up at his guitarist.
Head down, Aiden coaxed demonic washes of feedback from his instrument. When he noticed Nothing knelt in front of him, a devilish smile flashed across his cherubic face.
Snatching handfuls of hair, Aiden pulled Nothing’s face towards his crotch and thrust his hips. As Aiden pantomimed fucking his mouth, Nothing grabbed Aiden’s ass. Squeezing tightly, Nothing heard hundreds of excited squeals in the crowd.
When Aiden let his hair go, Nothing theatrically wiped his mouth and staggered to his feet.
Aiden leaned forward, and embraced Nothing. Arching his feet, Nothing found Aiden’s lips. Even though the kiss was now only part of their act, Nothing couldn’t help but remember feelings long forgotten. There was a time when he loved Aiden and Aiden loved him in turn. As their lips parted, Nothing wondered why either of them ever stopped.
Turning away from Nothing, Aiden smashed his guitar against the stage.
Hair in messy tangles, skin lacquered with sweat, eyeliner streaking his face, dress torn and barely clinging to his body and stockings hopelessly shredded, Nothing staggered to the front of the stage. The Red Rock Casino Amphitheatre was sold out. 10,000 kids, all deathly pale and dressed in black raised their hands to the star-filled Las Vegas sky as they chanted the band’s name—his name. Looking at the crowd, Nothing Zero felt alive.
Unfortunately the feeling was fleeting.
The afterglow from his performance starting to slip, Nothing tore the tattered remains of his dress off. With thousands of videos posted to YouTube of him performing the act, he knew everyone in the crowd had already seen him stripped down to his underwear and garters, but that didn’t matter. Without fail, each time he did the striptease, he received a wave of excited squeals as reward. It was enough to make his high last a precious few seconds longer.
When he was alive, Nothing would have done anything to hear those screams. He dreamed of performing with a band for thousands of adoring fans, selling millions of records, posing for magazine covers and filming music videos. But living in rural Ohio, far from the shimmering glamor of New York or Hollywood, he feared his dreams would never come true. He dreaded the thought of being trapped in his small town life, all of his hopes and dreams unfulfilled and his life unnoticed by anyone but the bullies and assholes who lived to abuse him.
But then Nothing died.
Death awoke something dark and terrible inside him. Nothing was reborn as a creature of great power and endless hunger. But most of all, Nothing found himself with everything he dared dream of when he was alive. It was the final night of a sold out tour promoting his third chart-topping album, Nothing should have been elated. He should have felt like a conquering hero as he surveyed the crowd. But staring out at the thousands of adoring kids with their Nothing Zero shirts and screaming for him to throw them his dress, Nothing felt nothing at all.
On February 11th Nothing Zero will finally be released. Its publication marks the end of a very long and difficult road. It also signals an end to this cycle of the Undead Chronicles. I do have other stories in this world to tell, but I want to step away and explore other creative avenues for a while. With that said, here is the synopsis for Nothing Zero:
The third installment of the Undead Chronicles.
Infamous. Rock Star. Vampire.
Everyone knows his name. Nothing Zero is the world’s biggest rock star. He tours the country, bringing his brand of Goth Glam to sold out arenas and amphitheaters. He’s sold millions of records and his latest album may be his biggest commercial success yet.
But what the world doesn’t know is that he’s falling apart.
Nothing’s band hates him, his personal life is a mess and the bloodshed and drug abuse that fills his nights is beginning to consume him. As Nothing struggles to regain control over his life, a forgotten figure from his past returns.
Emilie was among the first vampires created by Nothing, and she hates him for it. She stalks the Hollywood night feeding on her fellow undead. With each successive night, she grows stronger and more powerful. Soon she’ll be able to set her sights on Nothing Zero himself. But killing the rock star isn’t enough. Emilie wants to make sure Nothing Zero will never forget her name again.
NOTHING ZERO contains depictions of explicit sex, gruesome horror and graphic violence. Reader discretion is advised.
Here’s the cover art for Nothing Zero, the next full length installment of the Undead Chronicles. The art was provided by Rosaria Battiloro and I couldn’t be happier with the piece. She’s an amazing artist and I’m lucky that she’s been willing to handle the covers for my books. Nothing Zero will be available via Amazon on February 11.
Going into Nothing Zero, I knew I had to create some new characters. Since Nothing is now a rock star, I thought it would be interesting to create a character that sort of mirrored his story from Live Undead. So I created Fray. The following excerpt is his introduction. Just like the last excerpt, this piece hasn’t been properly edited, and is presented exactly as it appears in my current draft. I hope you enjoy it.
From Chapter 3 “We Hunger”
Nothing Zero was his favorite band. Fray paid for their music, watched their videos, attended their concerts and bought their merchandise. He owned every shirt they put out, every poster they appeared on and even multiple copies of their albums—the standard and deluxe double CD editions, vinyl version and digital download.
Before he discovered Nothing Zero, Fray looked normal. Brooding eyes hidden behind curly tufts of brown hair and a large nose dominating his oval-shaped face, there was nothing remarkable about him. But after seeing the “Bleed for Me” video, he decided to grow his hair long. By the time the album came out he started wearing black clothing and calling himself Fray. Not long after Nothing Zero released Until The Light, he was wearing make-up and sexually experimenting with boys. Just one month before The Third Kind came out, he broke up with his boyfriend and the album’s songs helped him get over the heartbreak. The music of Nothing Zero helped Fray understand there was nothing normal about him. Thanks to Nothing Zero, Fray looked beautiful.
The band changed his life, and Fray was excited he had a chance to tell them.
“Are you nervous?” Krista smiled.
“A little, I guess.” Even though every inch of his body tingled with anticipation, Fray tried not to show it. But as the elevator floors ticked away, he realized his hands were shaking. Steadying himself, he offered Krista a nervous little smile before turning his eyes back to the floor numbers.
The whole experience had been surreal.
Even though Fray had been to several shows already, he decided to follow Nothing Zero for the final week of their Dead and Glamorous tour. When they took the stage at the Shoreline Ampitheatre in Mountain View, he was down in the front row. He screamed the words to “Sweet Division” right back to Nothing when they played the Hollywood Bowl. As the band tore through “I Am Zero” at the Honda Center in Anaheim, he had been banging his head in perfect time. The endeavor was ridiculously expensive, but worth every dime.
As he drove to Chula Vista, Fray received a direct message from the band’s official Twitter account. Krista had been following his Tweets and Facebook postings about the shows, and wanted to talk to him. Over the phone, she told him the band hoped to make Las Vegas a night he’d never forget. She arranged to meet with him.
Two hours before the ampitheatre’s doors opened, Fray arrived at Red Rock Casino. Entering the casino, Fray feared he had been the brunt of a cruel practical joke. With his pale skin, teased hair and Nothing Zero t-shirt, he felt hopelessly out of place among all the overweight and middle-aged vacationers. When he saw Krista waiting for him in the food court, he had never been happier.
Big dark eyes, tiny nose and bobbed black hair framing her porcelain face, Krista spent thirty minutes with Fray. Treating him to pizza, she politely listened to Fray pour his heart out. He explained what Nothing Zero meant to him. He told her about how awkward and ugly he used to feel. He told her about his favorite songs, and what their words meant to him. When Fray finished, Krista asked if he wanted to meet Wraith.
Fray felt the breath leave his body.
After getting into Nothing Zero, Fray checked out Live Undead and Resurrection Cult. While the bands were radically different, he could hear echoes of Nothing Zero in their albums. Having recognized familiar guitar riffs and melodies, he knew Wraith authored the band’s best songs. With his dark androgynous beauty and edgy sex appeal, Nothing drew Fray to the band, but Wraith made him love their music.
Now he was going to meet him.
The elevator doors opened.
“Here we are,” Krista smiled.
Taking a deep breath, Fray stepped into the hallway. They were on the seventh floor. Fray wasn’t surprised Wraith hadn’t stayed on one of the upper floors. The ridiculously expensive suites wouldn’t have been his style. While Nothing was the focal point of the band’s marketing, Wraith barely appeared in their publicity. Even when they payed live, the towering bass player sank comfortably into the background, ceding the spotlight to his diminutive, gender bending singer.
Leading Fray to the last suite to the left, Krista glanced back at him. “He’s been looking forward to seeing you.”
Another stunner, this one buckling Fray’s knees. The idea Wraith was looking forward to seeing him made his heart race. He had barely started breathing again by the time Krista opened the door.
Stepping aside, Krista smiled. “Go on. He’s waiting inside.”
Fray steadied himself and stepped into the suite.
With the lights out, the large picture windows bathed the parlor in moonlight. Fray took a moment to pluck the details out of the mellow blue darkness—the 50 inch plasma, the L-shaped sofa and dining table for four. While luxurious, Fray was certain the room paled in comparison to the opulent upper floor suites. Fray then noticed a light.
“Hello?” he whispered.
Following the light, Fray found himself in the bedroom. It took him a moment to realize he wasn’t alone. Occupying one of the twin club chairs immediately in front of the bedroom’s large windows, Wraith’s dark eyes were fixed on Fray. Washed in the gentle golden glow of the desk lamp, and framed by the desert night, Wraith was everything Fray had hoped.
Rising to his feet, the bassist slunk towards him.
“Wraith,” Fray uttered.
Wraith smiled, allowing just a glimpse of his fangs. “I’ve been looking forward to this, Fray.”
His heart thundering in his chest, Fray’s whole body quivered. “Me too,” he whispered.
Gently Wraith traced his long, spidery fingers across Fray’s face. The bassist leaning in close to him, Fray caught Wraith’s gaze. “Don’t be scared.”
Staring into Wraith’s almond shaped black eyes, Fray felt the world slipping away. His heart falling to an easy rhythm, a gentle calm came over him. As Wraith squeezed Fray’s ass, and pulled him close, Fray knew what was coming next. Understanding death was near, he should have been terrified. Instead, Fray found peace and comfort greater than any he had known before.
Closing his eyes, Fray arched his neck and leaned into Wraith. He barely felt the bassist’s teeth as they sank into the supple flesh of his throat. The warmth of his own blood spilling down his chest, Fray moaned gently and pressed against the coldness of Wraith’s body until he became one with it.