Cover Reveal:Komainu (Of Gods and Monsters) by Wulf Francu Godgluck #Excerpt

It's wonderful to have author Wulf Francu Godgluck here sharing the cover of his upcoming book Komainu! It's book three of his Of Gods and Monsters series. With this cover reveal there is the entire prologue to the book and a snippit of chapter one! HUGE TREAT for those who have been dying for this book! ENJOY!

Author: Wulf Francu Godgluck

Book: Komainu

Series: Of God and Monsters #3

Cover Artist: Wulf Francu Godgluck

Coming Soon!

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Synopsis

Hades

His innocence was the fire that blighted the deepest dark, but even he can't save the King from a past stained so black, the devil won't even touch it.

Years creep up on you, like a rotting hand: cold and wet, it will drag you down into your grave.

Life will hand you eternity only to rip it away from you.

Love will slaughter you in the most beautiful way and still manage to nail you in the ass, bareback, when you see him choose the heart of another man.

But Death... He is a patient soul. He waits, and he waits, and he waits.

'Cause the bastard knows he will always have the last laugh when he knocks at the door.

Kemono
Memories were all I had, all I had clung to as my heart turned to stone and finally to dust.

Now he is mine and I will hold him, and I will kiss him. We will dance and we will laugh, and we will cry... We will be human together...

I did not know heaven until I knew him.

There is no greater power that can tear and rip your world apart as when their lips finally kiss yours again.

But being human comes at a fatal price.

Sometimes you have to let go of the hand you hold onto so tightly that it brought pain, because that is the only way you can save them from Death.

Rex
Why did she take them away, hand them back, then force me to choose?

Is love really that cruel, that she would enjoy tormenting you as you watch the two men you love with your whole heart, kill each other...?

And then, my worst fear, my deepest darkest nightmare became a living breathing thing.

Death had come to take from us what we could never replace.  

Of Gods and Monsters: Komainu

Prologue

He spat and snarled, glaring into the eyes of none other than Khaiton.

They had fuckin’ slid a M9 bayonet across his side, one of those serrated fuckers, ripping his flesh to shreds of meat. Now he dangled in front of a circus of fuck-freaks. A naked whore purred on one of the Russian’s lap, her drugged-up eyes glossed over as she grinded herself in her unconscious-high into the fat fuck’s lap.

Khaiton’s hand struck fast and vengeful across his cheek, one of the fucker’s rings cutting Hades’ lip—again. He clenched his jaw, the pain on his side a massacre of death, burning him up from within. Probably infected too. Hades held on to the knowledge these fuckers knew nothing about a beautiful, red-headed boy. That these fuckers would die alongside Hades and join him in Hell.

That night, after dropping Rex at Maxus’ penthouse, he had stopped outside his sister’s ex-scum of a husband, Miguel’s home. The place had been too quiet, only the living room bright. The moment Hades had pushed open the front door, glimpsing the three figures in the living room, the smell of blood thick in the air, he knew he had walked himself into a fuckin’ pit. He’d known it was coming, that phone call he had on his way back to New York had warned him. And still he had come, because Hades wasn’t a fuckin’ coward, dumb fuckin’ stupid maybe, but not a fuckin’ coward.

There was a snake in his club…he just hadn’t expected the serpent to bite this quick. He’d forgotten one simple rule about vipers, they had a tendency to camouflage themselves until the final act, when it was far too late. It had only taken Hades one look at Baby Magpie coloring on the carpet, then at Viper who had been sitting on the couch with Jane on his lap—her face pale, her hair sticking to her damp skin, eyes red-rimmed, while a lost tear tracked its way down her cheek---to know the hands she had been held in, also held a gun to her back.

Viper shoved his chin in the direction of the kitchen, pushing Jane to stand, curling his fingers around her arm, his knuckles white, fingernails leaving marks on her skin as he squeezed more tears from her green eyes. “I wanted thisss to be ssso motherfucking sssweet,” he hissed low, pressing Jane against the marble island.

A shiver racked Jane’s body, her mouth splitting, ready to scream, but Viper’s hand quickly snaked around and clasped her silent. Hades followed Jane’s gaping gaze. He wasn't even shocked to see Miguel laying there on the floor. A motherfuckin’ bullet had eaten Miguel’s craniam clean through, dark blood staining his expensive suit and the tiles he now laid on. Hades swung his attention back to Viper, only to see the man’s deadly glare skate over to Baby Magpie, then back to Hades when Viper deemed that the kid was still engrossed in her coloring book, earbuds in her ears.

Hades knew then—as his knuckles cracked and his jaw popped—it wasn't Miguel that had sent that letter. Viper had probably set the man up to send it, using him to pull Hades into this pit of venom.

Viper yanked Jane against him, her back arched, chest pressed out due to the gun the fucker had biting into her. Viper’s blue eyes glowed dark as he whispered into Jane’s ear, her breath snagging in her throat at the poisonous words dripping from his lips. The fuckin’ snake then fisted Jane’s hair, sniffed and licked along her neck, before he shoved his tongue into Jane’s mouth. The clever bitch fought back, biting the bastard’s lip, but the fuck kept kissing her—blood and all.

He released her with a pat on the ass, sending her into the direction of Baby Magpie. Hades watched Jane, ashen and shaken, grab her kid and retreat further back in the house, heard one of the bedroom doors open and then close and lock.

“Ssshe’ll be fine. Ssshe played her part, jussst like I needed. Ssshe knowsss how to get out of here befor—”

“Why?” Hades growled.

Viper’s eyes slowly glazed over. “My ssssisssiter…” His face flushed with blood, making the scaly ink on his skin appear darker, neck taut with anger as his frame tensed. “You fucking ruined her! Ruined ussss! The only perssson in my life that ever gave sssshit about me. The sssstrongessst perssson I ever knew, and you ripped ussss apart. It’ss your fucking fault!”

Hades frowned, his mind warped between anger, confusion, and trying to figure out a plan to save his own ass. His piece burned his flesh where it was tucked behind his back, under his cut.

“You,” Viper’s black voice snapped Hades’ attention to him. “You, fucking dumb ssshit, you ssstill don’t get it. Sssonet Coleman.”

Hades gaped, heart drumming fuckin’ murder while he sucked in painful breaths. He stared at Viper, recalling the looks of the man before all the tattoos.

Hades swallowed.

It had been so fuckin’ long ago… He couldn’t picture the young girl he had grown up with as a full-fleshed woman. What she would look like today? The last time he’d seen Sonet was when they were sixteen, when Hades had still been involved with the gangs, before Devil Eyes had offered Hades a chance in his club as prospect. Sonet had mostly been living on the streets, like Hades and Mike. Her parents a couple of addicts who hadn’t cared much for their children. After Hades had been approached by Old Devil Eyes, he saw her less and less, and eventually she had vanished off the streets and out of his life… And Mike hadn’t ever spoken about her either. He vaguely recalled she had a younger brother… Kristopher...  Kriss. Viper’d said his name was Kriss.

“I’m ssstill trying to find her after all these yearsss...” Jesus, there was a fuck-load of pain in Viper’s voice, and Hades wasn't shocked at seeing the wetness licking Viper’s lashes through fire glowered in his eyes. “When the fossster sssysstem ripped usss apart, found out a lot about what happened to her after you jussst left. Ssshe ended up in a ssslave ring, sssold off to sssome fuck ssshit called Adeler Mosssterd.”

What the fuck! When the fuck ever had it become Hades’ responsibility to look the fuck after Viper’s older sister. But… Mosterd… goddamn it, a shiver flowed though Hades. There was no way Sonet could have survived that son of a bitch…

“That titwit isss gonna pay too, jussst like you…” Viper’s face cut with dark hard shadows, his pupils blown as he licked his bloody lip. “Khaiton promisssed me, he knowsss where ssshe isss. All I had to do wasss help him get you.”

Hades flared his nostrils. Liquid anger slithered in his gut, like vengeful fire, swelling in his blood and leaving the bitter ash of sadness in his mouth. Viper could have asked Hades for motherfuckin’ help instead of turning to a piece of piss who would shoot him in the back.

“You’re fuckin’ stupid,” he snapped, slamming his fists down on the counter. Hades glared at the fuckin’ prick. “Do you even know the monster Adeler is?” Hades shook his head.

“Viper, I’m sorry, there’s no way she could have survi—”

“You don’t get to sssay ssshit!” Viper’s voice came as icy as a witch’s tongue. “Ssshe isss alive. I’m not that motherfuckin’ dumb, unlike you… Couldn’t even sssee the ssswine had your right ballnut with Ssscar and your left one with me… You expect men to follow you, to trussst a fucking wormhead that can’t even sssee the sssnakes ssslithering around in his own pit. Dumb fucker.” Viper held out his hand. “Give me your piece, Daddy H!”

The moment Hades reached behind him, the front door burst open, and two gorillas rushed in. Hades tensed, not at them, but at the gun pressed to his ribs by Viper, his low whisper licking at Hades’ ear, sending a suffocating force of dread upon Hades’ heart. “No tricksss, bosss, or I’ll ssslice your little redhead nissse and fine, like I did with Ssscar’s lover.” The fucker snatched Hades’ piece while the two goons in black suits grabbed Hades and cuffed him, before spinning him around.

One of the slime felt under Hades’ cut and pulled his black-bladed machete from its sheath. The other drove his boot into the back of Hades’ knee. A fist smashed into his kidney, making pain ripple over his lower back, sending him crashing to his knees on the hard tiled floor. Angry jolts sliced up his thighs upon contact. A finger tapped him under the chin, and as Hades looked up, his jaws locked tight, yet, he couldn't help the smile forming as he glared into steel gray eyes.

Khaiton’s face had the consistency of Hannibal Lector’s mask burned onto his skin...after he face-fucked a wood chipper spawned from Hell. The right side was covered in a leather mask: two strips lined his jaw, holding onto the patch hooking over his chin. Another branched out from the right side mask to cover the bridge of his nose. A thin strip over his left cheek disappeared behind his ear and into his anemic black hair. Another thicker strap sat across his large forehead and helped hold the half-face leather piece in place. His puffy skin hugged the mask and straps’ edges, a well known sign that the Russian wore the contraption for long periods at a time.

Hades had to admit that any man who didn't know how Khaiton got those pretty scars he hid behind that mask, would be pissing shit meeting this Russian-Hannibal-wannabe. Those marks, however, left a foul taste in Hades’ mouth, ‘cause he was the one responsible for them, and he would be the one to pay for them. He was so fucked, and he knew it.

“Hello, old friend.” Hades laughed. “You still able to eat pussy with that muzzle covering half your fucked-up face?”

Khaiton’s left hand tightened to white knuckles on his cane, his lips peeling back, wrinkles spreading like a disease over the left side of his face. The back handed slap came hard and fast, exploding across Hades’ jaw; one of the fucker’s rings caught Hades’ lips, cutting it.

Hades spat the blood that had pooled in his mouth, then bared his red-stained teeth at the fucker. “Guess not. Hell, who would if they were touched by the same fire that’d roasted your wife and kids to crispy black toast.” Fuckin’ car had taken flame the moment Khaiton had pulled the handle of the tinted-windowed, black BMW—if it hadn’t blown so fast, the swine would have known his wife and kids hadn't been in that car.

Khaiton crouched, bringing his bony frame to Hades’ level, beady gray-eyes in thin slits as he smiled and licked his lips. He cupped Hades’ cheek, tenderly running his thumb along the scar on Hades’ left.

“A scar for a scar,” the fuck babbled before vengeance barreled through Hades’ skull and darkness embraced him.

He’d woken screaming as cold hard steel ripped fire through his side. Khaiton, the piss, even held the knife before Hades’ eyes, pieces of his own flesh stuck between the teeth of the black blade, wobbling like slivers of jelly.

Now naked before these swine, his fingers and palms stained with his own blood, he struggled against the cuffs holding his hands behind his back, abrading already raw wrists. Tacky and slimy plasma mixed with sweat each time he clenched his fists when his head was shoved into a water-filled barrel. Held there till he was forced to breath in liquid, it burned his lungs and seared his nasal cavities, forcing him to choke out hard painful coughs. The water tinted pink from the blood pussing from his nose.

And who was doing the oh-so pleasant deed… Motherfuckin’ Viper.

“But first,” Khaiton’s crow caw bellowed through the warehouse, “on with the shows.”

“No,” Hades breathed, throat raw from pleading and screaming, his head held up to watch ‘the show.’

He would take his place, would fuckin’ give anything to take Witch’s place in that glass tank filled with water. Only two inches at the top away from overflowing, leaving enough space for Witch to twist his head to the side and gulp down air.

But no, the Russians didn’t top the tank off. Watching Witch drown would have been Heaven in comparison to what happened next.

He had lived through Bat being cut, feet by calves by thighs by… Jesus; with a fuckin’ bone saw machine, the grinding noise drowned out by the brother’s screams. GD and Smokey had been used as piñata pincushions for a fuckin’ nail gun.

Chief, the Russians thought was merely entertaining to watch as the bound brother was being shredded by a pack of aggressive and rabid dogs; they might even have had rabies. Hades wouldn’t put it past the Russians.

And Blaine, that fucker got it easy, choked to death with a plastic bag while one of the Russian bodyguard bashed the brother’s head in with a baseball bat.

So, watching Witch drown to death would have be Heaven in Hades’ eyes

Until the water started to fuckin’ bubble at the bottom.

Hades’ gut clenched, twisted and screamed, as he was forced to watch his brother being boiled alive.

He’d passed out during it all, not from pain, but fear for his brother, from hearing Witch’s screams, those haunting howls of a tied up man being cooked alive.

Wendigo, thank God… The pup was in Canada to pick up his son. Some shit had gone down between the mother and her new boyfriend. Hades hoped the drama kept Wendigo away long enough till the Russians and he were long fucked dead.

Cracker… Hades could only assume the Russians hadn’t bothered with the brother because he was already dying a painful death.

But what had awoken Hades from his blackout was the sharp pain of someone pulling on his PA, deliberately slow, tearing skin. He rattled as he tried to pull away but mid pull stopped as the realisation came—he would only be ripping his own dick open. As his sore and exhausted body dangled from the rusted cuffs biting into this raw wrist, from where the manacles were attached to a support beam in the roof, he slowly opened a swollen lid. Fire roared up his side from his dislocated hip—courtesy of a baseball bat connecting with it a few days prior—to bring to life the cuts on his back and the flesh wound Khaiton had carved on his side along with his bruised body in a cooking fever of pain.

Khaiton had been dragging this shit out for twenty-eight days now, and it seemed had finally gotten bored enough to end Hades.

The only sad part, Hades had hoped he would be taking Khaiton and his Chihuahua freak show with him. But as it stood, Hades was too exhausted to even care in that moment, so deprived for relief from pain and torture he wanted it to end. Sí, his brothers would spit on him right about now, and he did feel sorry for the way they went out of this life, but when you’re on your last breath, you spend your final thoughts on the one thing you didn’t want to leave behind or say goodbye to yet. His familia. And Rex, that sweet, brave, little lion was part of his familia.

“I love you, my little one,” a mutilation of mumbled word fell from Hades’ raw lips, angry and hating himself for never saying it to the kid. The only hope Hades had left was that the fuck-face Jap found Rex. That he’d protect him and love the kid the way Hades now never would.

“What’s that?” Khaiton stepped back, letting go of Hades’ PA, his cock burning where the skin had torn, fuckin’ bleeding too. The Russian’s face a blurred shadow in front of Hades’ vision. Hades didn’t care to answer the fuck. He mustered up enough strength to spit at the pig instead.

He heard the snarl from Khaiton, but also the loud blare as a symphony of gunfire burst around them. It was the sound of angels fuckin’ pissing liquid fire through the warehouse. Hades hopped one of those piss drips would eat a whole through his skull too, like the one that had just eaten Khaiton’s fuckin’ face away.

 

CHAPTER ONE

“Fuck.”—Hades Breno el Oscuro.

Two months later

A pitch-black pit lay before him, reaching through the darkness to pull him down into its depths. Gears ticked softly in the eerie silence as the casket was lowered instead. Nature decided she should piss on them right then and there, spitting a mist of summer rain over the graveyard. Hades shifted his stance and cringed as a painful bolt zapped down his left hamstring. Like a ping-pong match, the torture skewered, slicing down the back of his left thigh then straight up again, sharp enough to make him gasp for breath.

It should have been him being lowered down into that grave. Not fuckin’ Cracker.

One broken man. What the fuck was he worth? Right eye cooked to a bubbling crisp, all new pretty stab wounds and beautiful new scars, cock violated to shit, and one motherfuckin’ heart massacre later, Hades was still fuckin’ standing...barely. It had taken him thirty minutes to walk up the hill, ’cause he was too goddamn arrogant and too fuckin’ stubborn to let Maxus push him in a wheelchair.

God was having one sick fuckin’ laugh at Hades right now.

About the Author

They come to me in the night, creeping into my head. Their voices are all different, their stories all dissimilar, but they keep saying the same thing...

“Show us, tell us to the world. Bring us into yours, and make us known.”

Then I sit and they take over. They tell their tales of love, loss and sinister misfortune, not all of them get a happy ending, but they are pleased when their part is written.

I sometimes find myself lost in my own mind; a world very similar to our own yet so different. Things don't go bump in the night—they squeal, and crawl under your skin, making you grind your teeth, and your stomach turn over and put your nerves on edge. Then there's the drama. Oh, the drama!

I write because I must! There is so much inside of me that needs to get out. So many stories to tell, characters that want to be heard, and hearts lost and won. Words and art are my way of bringing my world to others. I enjoy telling tales of the human condition but working in elements of the supernatural. Werewolves, Vampires, Zombies, Witches and the unexplainable all set against the human world or worlds of their own.

Wulf Francú Godgluck hails from South Africa. His work is not for the faint-hearted! In his books, you'll find... all the beasties with their nasty claws and teeth, and some you didn't even know existed. But the monsters aren't all real. Some live inside us. Who knows what he will make you discover about yourself, lurking in your heart, behind the closed walls of the deep, black recesses where no light penetrates? Wulf will steal your heart and never give it back. More than likely, he'll pin it to the wall with a bobby pin and sit there sipping his tea while you writhe and squeal on the floor... STILL sure you want to read a Wulf Godgluck book?

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