RULES
OF THE EARTH
BY
WENDY CARTMELL
Genre: Mystery/Thriller
Release Date: 10th June 2016
Publisher: Costa
Press
Sgt Major Crane is out of the
army, out of a job and definitely out of sorts. So when DCI Anderson throws him
a lifeline, Crane grabs it. A young girl has been found, dazed, bruised and
mute. As Crane and Anderson try to find out what happened to her, another girl
is found. But this time she's dead...
=========================
Extract
Prologue
It was stifling inside the black hood and he was
sure the pointed top was wilting in the heat; just as he was. The smell of the
blood in the chalice was making him feel sick and, if he was honest, the last
thing he wanted to do was to drink it. But the humiliation of not joining in
the ceremony was probably worse than taking a drink. Just.
He and his fellow supplicants formed a
semi-circle around an altar, upon which lay a young child: she was very much
alive but drugged to keep her quiet while the bloodletting took place. Her long
blond hair was in dramatic contrast to the plain black shift that she wore. Her
face was white, lips flesh coloured and only the faintest rising and falling of
her chest indicated that she was breathing. On the back of one hand was a
needle that fitted snugly into her vein. Attached to the needle was a small
plastic tube that allowed her precious blood to drip out into the chalice. She
could have been asleep, instead of unconscious. Around her were placed seven
candles, six black and one white, their flames guttering and smoking in the hot
fetid air.
Normally children were banned from attending
these rituals, the only exception being the Satanic baptism, which was
specifically designed to involve infants, and such a baptism was taking place
in the basement of a remote house in the dead of night. It was a ceremony
deemed to be necessary to override any Christian or other religious ceremonies
that the child may have been subjected to before joining the Satanic Church. He
wasn’t so sure it was necessary himself, but then all the churches had their
rules, didn’t they? He guessed it was no different to a Catholic first
communion or a Jewish Bar Mitzvah and so he’d decided he may as well play
along. Let’s face it he had nothing better to do that night. And as he was
moving soon, he’d thought he’d better make the most of the last meeting he
would be attending.
As the chalice was passed to him he muttered the
rite: Cursed are the lambs of God for they shall be bled whiter than snow.
Taking the tiniest of sips but still gagging on
the foul taste of the blood, he just about managed to swallow it instead of
coughing it out and spraying it all over the child. Thankful that he’d managed
to get through it, he passed the cup to the next in line. To be fair, the group
had tried to adhere as closely to the ritual as they could, using the rules
described in the Satanic rituals, or dramatic performances as they were
sometimes called. They followed the suggestions of the clothing to be worn, the
music to be used and actions to be taken. It was said that the pageantry and
theatricality was intended to engage the participant’s senses on all levels. He
could relate to that, for apart from the blood, the rest of it was definitely
working for him.
All the males wore black robes and hoods but the
young women were encouraged to make themselves attractive to the males present.
As a result he was surrounded by a surfeit of black leather and rubber, long
shiny thigh length boots and even the odd whip or two. Everyone wore the sign of
sulphur around their necks. The intent of the women to stimulate sexual
feelings amongst the men was exciting and he couldn’t wait for the bloody
ceremony to be over, so they could get on with the really interesting part, the
part that started once the ceremony ended.
The Church of Satan smashed all concepts of what
a ‘church’ was supposed to be. It was a temple of indulgence, where one could
openly defy the temples of abstinence that had previously been built. Rather
than an unforgiving, unwelcoming place, as so many of the church’s built by
religions that worshiped God were, theirs was a place where you could go to
have fun. It was a religion based on self-indulgence, of carnality (of the here
and now instead of the there and then), and, most importantly to him, of
pleasure instead of self-denial.
At last the final person drunk from the chalice,
the welcome sound of the bell ringing nine times rang around the room,
signalling the end of the ceremony. The formal part over, it was time for the
only reason he was there. It was time for the fun to start….
=========================
ABOUT WENDY CARTMELL
Wendy Cartmell is the author of
the Amazon #1 Bestseller STEPS TO HEAVEN. She lives on the Costa del Sol with
three mad dogs and her even madder husband. She inherited her love of reading
from her parents and discovered her ability to weave a good story at Reading
University, which she attended at the tender age of 40.
After several failed attempts at writing in various genres, Sgt Major Crane, a military policeman, knocked on her proverbial door and the rest, as they say, is history. All 8 Crane crime thrillers are published by Endeavour Press, as well as the Emma Harrison mystery trilogy, set in Reading Young Offenders Institution.
Facebook:
Twitter:
Goodreads
Author Page:
LinkedIn:
Blog:
Website:
=========================
GIVEAWAY
The book is free during the tour so grab
your copy from AMAZON today!!!
BUY LINKS
No comments:
Post a Comment