The Disciples of the Night

The Distant Heart

 

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ABOUT THE BOOK

Like a craftsman weaving the finest of Persian carpets, Etienne de Mendes propels the reader on an unparalleled adventure of Gothic horror and romance. Isidore de Chagny, world-renowned Noble prizewinning geneticist, has sent humankind on a disastrous evolutionary leap. The financially taxed governments of the world injected their common populace with his timed-death serum. People start dying unpredictably at younger and younger ages. Onto this intense stage walk Isidore’s creations: Christine, Erik, and Torossian. Three kindred spirits brought through time by the scientific process of replication. Each grapples with forming an identity and a number of profound human needs. Rich political insights and cultural observations grace the daily reality of the trio. Our heroine endures imprisonment at the hands of militants desperate for a cure. Unaware of her peril, Erik and Torossian hunt for a vast stolen treasure and in the process manage to unearth an ominous ancient creature.

Colorful, intricately detailed, and mesmerizing, this fourth novel in a series about the life of the Phantom of the Opera was penned solely to entertain. The curious mature adult who enjoys a perplexity along with explicit passion will not be disappointed. Erik recuperates his relationship with Christine, gives her an astounding gift, and unites his modern psyche with his constant internal companion – the infamous Opera Ghost who stalked an 1800's Paris Theater.

See the fire of all that I desire, the blaze lights up the night…”

 

EXCERPT FROM THE BOOK

(from chapter 20)

Nearing the bottom of the tower, Torossian gave a directive. “Wait here on the steps. I strongly recommend you avoid the central black puddle where the oil steeped in.” He moved around the perimeter of the inner wall lighting a series of mounted cressets still filled with illuminating oil. Above each metal basket a tree-shaped area of heavy creosote, the accumulation of years long past, told a tale of greedy use.

They stood side-by-side, enjoying the mutual revelation of an almost spiritual moment.

“Khusrowshah’s treasure,” Erik took in the display with the greatest satisfaction. “He navigated these passages and employed a structure already present. And you, my shrewd brother, discovered the chamber.”

Torossian swelled with pride. “Among my many talents, burrowing is one of my specialties.”

Erik’s eyes scanned a marvelous and morbid scene. “This is so much more than we anticipated.” The simplicity of the Dokhma bordered on brilliance. The curved walkway, spiraling upward into blackness added a chilling touch to the silent eerie setting. It was as if some furtive spaceship landed, and Nature condescendingly built a labyrinth of caverns to conceal the craft from an unsuspecting populace. The internal base of the Dokhma was an immense room. All around, in every direction, piles of skulls and bones were stacked haphazardly. Interspersed among the bones lay dozens and dozens of treasure chests. Dusty gold statues of animals and warriors, gold chairs inlaid with medallions of jade, copper, and silver, and stacks upon stacks of wooden boxes filled with yet unidentified wealth.

Stepping down to ground level, Erik spun in a slow circle. “Look what they did to the eye sockets of the skulls.” Strange green phosphorescent balls, the size of figs, were affixed inside the craniums. The hodgepodge of skulls, ribcages, long bones, hands and feet all compressed together was a bizarre and unnerving scene to equal any found in the catacombs beneath Rome or Paris.

“A genuine horror, yes? Probably done to spook those making deliveries.” Erik started counting boxes and chests, “Do you think they’re all full?”

“Full to the brim! Packed! Let’s select a few and open them up!”


Etienne welcomes your questions about "The Disciples of the Night".

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