Submission Synopsis

Draegan's Redemption

A "Reluctant Christian Vampire" Book

by Michielle DJ Beck and Andrieke K Beck

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Length: Approx. 78,000

Genre: Action/Adventure, General, Gothic, Mainstream/Contemporary, Religious

Series: This is the first book in a planned series which will contain at least 10 novels following the lead character's quest.

Sentence: Turned into a vampire against his will, an assassin-turned-Christian starts out on a quest to redeem his own soul, and he may have to save humanity in the process.

Blurb: When an assassin-turned-Christian-turned-vampire finds out he has the chance to save his soul he knows he must take it, no matter how difficult the journey. Along the way he finds that a lot of humankind needs saving as well, and that the Vampire Council is determined to keep him from completing what has become his ultimate quest.   

Synopsis: Meet Draegan von Richter. Psychologist. Philanthropist. Community activist. All-around nice guy. Vampire.

Born human, Draegan became a well-paid assassin at the age of fifteen. At twenty-nine, he fell in love with a woman...a Christian woman who wanted to save him from himself. Before he could be baptized, repent for his sins, and give his heart over to God, he was hunted down by the vampire husband of a human woman who he had killed during his assassin days. Instead of killing him to seek revenge, he did something far worse--he turned Draegan into a vampire.

When Draegan awoke and came to an understanding of what had been done to him, he believed that he was forever damned. He left with no explanation. In his travels he met an ancient vampire, one who gave him the first hope that he had felt since the night of his turning. His soul could be redeemed. Knowing this atonement could take him hundreds of years Draegan embarked on this quest, determined to clear his soul and present it to God. His goal became not to live, but to earn the chance to die in peace and faith.

The Vampire Council has taken a dim view of this, both in Draegan's native Europe and in America. He wants to be left alone, but they want him to work for them--or be neutralized. He must not only continue his quest but also fight against the Council and the pain that he sees them causing to all of humanity. He hadn't planned to become a crusader for humankind, but is finding that he has little choice. What else is a Christian vampire to do?

Opening:

The man wore a grey trench coat and a matching hat. He stood in the chilly, late-November sunlight just on the edge of the path with tendrils of his light blond hair blowing in the breeze and tickling along his collar. He was watching the figure at the picnic table. It was nestled in the deep shadows of thick foliage and light-blocking oaks towering against the paleness of the sky. He knew the figure was aware of him. Vampires of that age generally didn't miss much, and they could smell humans for miles. This one had to be at least a thousand years old or there was no way it could be out when the sun was up, even if it was well back in the shadows. The man shifted his weight from one foot to the other a couple of times, waiting as patiently as possible to be acknowledged.

He'd been around the vampires enough to know that, even though his presence had been requested at that location, day, and time, you didn't just walk up to a vampire until it asked you to. To do otherwise was bad manners, and most older vampires took a very dim view of humans who had bad manners. It was a clear sign that the human didn't respect them. Lack of respect was often a fatal disease, and people had been known to go missing. He'd decided early on not to be one of those who simply vanished. Thankfully, he didn't have to wait long before a skeletal hand emerged from the black fabric and beckoned him casually toward the deep pool of shade in which the figure sat.

He took a deep breath. It didn't matter how long he'd worked with the vampires, he'd still never gotten used to the silent way they moved and how they could hide from humans, even in plain sight. Most of the people in the park today didn't even see the vampire he was here to meet. They saw only shadows. But he was different. He'd been sensitive from a very early age, and that made him valuable to the vampires. If he would have chosen to become a hunter he would have been dangerous to them, and always looking over his shoulder, but he was paid a great deal of money by those high-up in the inner circles of the undead community to work with the vampires, not against them. So far his conscience hadn't bothered him too much and he usually slept well at night, but there were times when he struggled with the things that he saw, and the things he had to pretend he didn't see. He was human after all, and they weren't. Sometimes the difference was glaringly apparent.

As the man left the path, crossed onto the grass, and stepped into the deep shadows, the vampire carefully adjusted the hood of its cloak, masking its face almost completely from his view. A lot of the Old Ones did that, since they really didn't make much effort to look human anymore. After hundreds of years of existence it had become too much trouble. He sat down at the picnic table across from the vampire, and it stared at him for a full minute, sizing him up before speaking. He couldn't see the vampire's eyes, but he could feel the weight of its gaze. He knew better than to interrupt the silence so he sat passively, his pale grey eyes assessing his surroundings. Staring back would have been rude, and it wasn't a good idea to look a vampire directly in the eyes, anyway. When he was in the undead community he spent a lot of time talking to people's shoulders, and sometimes their hats.

"I am Malakei," The vampire finally said. "Forgive me if I do not shake hands. Most humans find it...unpleasant."

The man in the trench coat nodded. "I'm Kameron. I hear you've got a job for me."

Malakei chuckled, making a strange clucking, gargling sound in the back of his throat. "Perhaps. It has come to my attention that you are a Sensitive. I believe other members of the Council have used your services before, with acceptable results. It has also come to my attention that there is one of...our community...whom we wish to locate, post haste."

Kameron was instantly and intensely curious but he kept a carefully blank expression, giving nothing away. Usually one vampire or a group of them--including the Council--didn't go after another vampire unless he had turned rogue, and he hadn't heard anything about a rebel out there. At least not yet. "Dangerous?" He asked.

Malakei made that odd, clucking, gargling noise again and gave a gentle wave of his hand, as if brushing away a mosquito, but Kameron could hear the tension underlying his casual words.  "A bother, shall we say. A trifle. A nuisance. Still, though..." His voice trailed off, and he appeared to stare out at the picnickers on the other side of the path, soaking up all that sunshine before winter really set in. In reality, Kameron suspected Malakei wasn't seeing any of it. He waited patiently until the vampire switched back on, turning his hooded and shadowed face back in Kameron's direction.

"Still...he is making waves. Small waves now, but you are certainly aware of how quickly a small rock thrown into a big pond can make significant ripples, yes? This man is that rock. The Council has an offer for him. He may be persuaded to stop making waves. He may agree to make only the waves we ask him to. He may resist these options and be neutralized. That will be up to him. First, I must find him. Or, more appropriately, you must find him."

Kameron opened his mouth to speak, but Malakei held up a heavily draped hand, stopping him. "This is a...special case, shall we say. I know your usual fee. It will be doubled. You will be shown what we have already seen. You will be told what we already know. I have spoken to the other Old Ones. We are all in agreement." Without giving Kameron any more information or waiting for him to render an opinion, Malakei stood in one fluid motion. If Kameron hadn't been paying attention he would have missed it. The vampire was just suddenly standing. "Come. I have something to show you. You will drive."

They walked to Kameron's car, parked only half a block down, with Malakei keeping to the shadows as much as possible. When he had to walk in the bright sunshine he moved quickly, gracefully, to reach the next patch of shade. Even though Kameron had been involved with the vampires for over fifteen years he would never get used to seeing them outside and, well, 'alive' in daylight. As a boy he had always believed that no vampire could move about during the day. Daylight was safe and belonged only to humanity. As he got older he learned very quickly that vampire abilities varied widely. Some of the undead had a breathtaking amount of power. A few of them took pride in showing it, but others wouldn't even hint at what they could do until they needed to use it to their advantage. By then it might be far too late to salvage whoever had provoked them.

They reached Kameron's car--a large, gas-guzzling behemoth with its windows tinted almost limousine black. He often ferried vampires around...most of the older ones never learned how to drive, although many of the younger ones could. They rode in silence, broken only by Malakei's occasional directions, until they reached a part of the inner-most city and their destination. Kameron looked at it, not really seeing it. It was a simple, average apartment building, cinder-block, with balconies jutting out above the sidewalk. These kinds of places were a dime a dozen and Charlotte, North Carolina might as well have been famous for them once people got past the suburbs, just like most other big cities. It wasn't Kameron's favorite city, but it wasn't as bad as it could have been. He'd been in places a lot worse. He went where he was needed--and where the money was.

They left the car and entered the building, ascending in a rickety elevator that had clearly seen better days. The elevator let them out on the seventh floor where they took a short walk down a narrow and dingy hallway smelling vaguely of urine. There were few windows, and even in the light of day the single hanging bulb did little to alleviate the gloom. They stopped in front of apartment 7B, its door still standing partway open. A few scraps of paper and some packing peanuts were the only visible occupants. Kameron glanced at Malakei, who gestured toward the door. "Enter. Look. See."

He pushed the door open and they both went inside. Kameron examined everything thoroughly. He knew how to see leads and find clues, even when everyone else said that there weren't any to be seen or found. After an hour he shrugged, getting up off the floor near the back of the closet and dusting off his hands. The interior of the apartment was clean. Whoever had left in a seemingly big hurry took the time to cover his tracks. He walked back to Malakei, who had moved just to the right of the open door when they had first entered the apartment, so as to put his back to the wall. He was avoiding the sun streaming in from the sliding glass doors leading to the balcony. As far as Kameron could tell, the vampire had not moved since their arrival. He was as still as a statue and gave the impression of being nearly as lifeless. He seemed to awaken as Kameron approached. "Yes?"

"Nothing here. I want to check the balcony."

He walked out onto the little balcony and stood looking at the view, which was actually quite nice for the inner city. Window box gardens on some of the balconies of the building across the alley brought some semblance of nature and beauty to the concrete jungle. He examined the glass door and its frame, the floor, the bottom of the balcony on the floor above him, the fake potted plant, the railing. It was there he found it. A single, overlooked drop of blood. Protected from the wind and in the shade, it was not yet completely dry. Near the far end of the balcony, away from the doors, on the underside of the rusting metal rail. As if sensing it, the vampire elder suddenly appeared behind him, adjusting the cloth of his thick garments to better protect his face from the sunlight.

"What is your opinion?" He asked.

Kameron shrugged again, fingering the single drop of blood he had plucked from the railing. He rubbed it lightly between thumb and forefinger, staining his fingerprint scarlet. "I think he's moved on."

Bio: Michielle "Michi" DJ Beck has worked as a freelance writer and editor since 1994 and has been published extensively in newspapers. Since 2000, she has served on the Editorial Board of Your Information Center and has authored E-books for that company, as well. She has also provided academic research and writing help for hundreds of clients, and her personal "storm story" about Hurricane Ivan appears on About.com. She has also written content articles for many different companies and individuals.

Her book about her personal struggle with relationship addiction, Sorry, I Thought I Loved You, is also represented by the Swetky agency and is awaiting placement with a publisher. Beck's personal Website, which deals with writing as well as life, and also provides her resume and offers her writing services, can be found at http://michiellebeck.com.

Andrieke "Andey" K Beck, Michielle's daughter, graduated from a private Christian high school at fifteen years old and has gone on to work with her mother in her writing business. She is also a talented artist and a gifted musician. The Becks live in Florida.

Film: This novel and the other novels to follow in the series have everything needed for a very successful film. There is plenty of action and adventure. There is humor and some sadness, as well. Most of all, there is humanity and how some people fight to hang on to that, long past when most people would have given up. It is these people (whether human or vampire) that make wonderful characters who are admired, applauded, and remembered.

NOTE: All material is copyright protected.  No portion of this material may be copied or reproduced, either electronically,  mechanically, or by any other means, for resale or distribution without the written consent of the author.  All copy has been dated and registered with the American Society of Authors and Writers.  Copyright 2008 by The Swetky Agency