Spotlight - Book Excerpts for The Sanguinarian Id
The Sanguinarian ID
Author L.M. Labat
Title: The Sanguinarian Id
Author: L.M. Labat
Artist: L.M. Labat
Genre: Horror, Historical Fiction, Paranormal, Occult, Gothic Horror
Publisher: Night to Dawn Magazine & Books
She’s been beaten, stabbed, poisoned, and shot, but Hael refuses to die. In her pursuit for vengeance and her origin, the Dhampir Hael hunts down the madman responsible for her fateful transformation. As this half-vampire juggernauts her way through a world at war, Hael battles hordes of Nazi soldiers as she struggles to maintain her sanity. However, while Hael gathers knowledge on how to trap and kill her target, her adversary’s network is expanding at an exponential rate, as his sick obsession with Hael grows deeper. Will she have her revenge? Will she find her origin? Or, will she crumble beneath her own insidious bloodlust?
The leader of the group yelled and charged at Hael with a dagger. He stabbed her in the back. She fell to the ground. Over and over again, he stabbed his blade deep into her torso. Hael roared in fury. She grabbed the severed limb and brained the leader. When the severed arm gave way, Hael buried her claws into his skull, and gouged his head wide open. Brain matter and blood splattered across her face. Her entire body became a walking nightmare of black and red. She heard the horses go wild in the distance. The coach-man desperately tried to mount one of the horses, but the beast was too frightened to stand still. Hael walked over to the coachman. The front horse saw Hael from the corner of its eye, and reared its back legs frantically. The horse’s hoof clocked the coachman in the chest and sent him plummeting to the ground. His flask flew out of his pocket. The coachman held his beaten torso and coughed violently. A twig snapped in front of him. He looked up. Hael looked down upon him. Her body was still, but the red of her iris swirled like hellfire. The coachman sobbed and pleaded for his life. Hael looked at the carriage. “Where were you going to bring me?” she asked him. “Please, don’t kill me,” he cried.
Hael rammed her heel down onto his hand. His bones broke through his skin upon impact. She repeated herself. “Where were you going to bring me?” Her voice was calm and authoritative. “To the docks,” he answered. “Why the docks?” she asked. “We were supposed to bring you and some others to the docks, and place you all on a boat bound for France.” “Why France?” “I don’t know,” he answered. “That’s all Mendelson wrote to us. I swear it!” “Do you have the instructions?” she asked. The coach-man nodded. He reached into his back pocket and handed her an envelope. She read postage marks. The letter came from Germany. “What others?” she asked. The coachman said that there were other women that they collected during the week to bring to the docks. Hael was a surprise adjustment to the original list. He stated that after the delivery was made, they were instructed to burn the letter. She gave the letter back to him. “Thank you.” She walked over to the flask and unscrewed the top. The coachman shuddered. “What are you doing?” “Following instructions.” She poured the liquor over his body. “Stop! I told you what you wanted to know.” “Yes, you did.” Hael picked up a stone from the grass. She held it firmly in her hand. “And, I said, ‘Thank you.’” She struck her nails against the stone. Sparks flew off her claws and ignited the liquor. The coachman screamed as his body writhed within the flames.
ExceptThe majority of the women held captive by Mendelson were between the ages of eighteen to thirty-nine years old, and labeled missing to the general public. The victims’ bodies were found during scattered times of the year. The bodies were either discreetly hidden, or placed directly in the center of the stadt from where they came. All of the women were reported to be sexually assaulted, battered, or starved. The numbers of men who were taken from their families by Mendelson were never seen or heard from again. Hael turned the page. “Abducted children and infants were brought back at separate times, unharmed, to either their families or the nearest local officials. As a whole, the children neither recall where they were held captive, nor can they give details about Mendelson’s appearance. None of the children were sexually assaulted in any matter or form. However, all of the returned children experienced seizures and night terrors at random.” Mendelson’s family once held a highly decorated position in the German military during the early 1800s. After the fire of their family mansion in Frankfurt, the residence was converted to the orphanage Das Männlein Waisenhaus in 1823. Das Männlein Waisenhaus was currently shut down. No photographs or sketches of Mendelson were documented. A few traces of fingerprints, semen, saliva, and skin particles were found on the corpses of eighteen-year-old women and older. The total numbers of people kidnapped by Mendel-son over a seventeen year period were: one hundred and seven women between the ages of eighteen to thirty-nine years old, fifty-eight men above the age of eighteen, twenty-nine female children, and twelve male children.
Hael dropped her lighter. The flame extinguished on the rocky floor. The horrendous sights Hael witnessed were inexhaustible, but the photographs and descriptions of Mendelson’s victims made her vomit. Their bodies were bruised and broken. The women found in the woods had their pelvic bones crushed, and their legs permanently bent. Their necks and wrists were badly discolored from rope burn, and their breasts were purpled with bruises. Their backs were either concaved or arched with their stomachs split open. Hael turned her face to the ground, and retched every-where. From the pictures, she heard the groaning victims. Their bloodshot eyes, broken bones, and gray skin were nothing com-pared to the way their bodies lay open like stockpots holding their mangled organs.
Born in 1993, L. M. Labat stems from New Orleans, Louisiana. From the struggles of a broken family and surviving life-threatening events, Labat found refuge within the arts while delving into the fields of medicine, psychology, and the occult. While combining illustration and literature, L. M. Labat was able to cope with endless nightmares as well as hone in on artistic techniques. From confronting the past to facing new shadows, this author gladly invites audiences into the horror of The Sanguinarian Id.
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