Friday, June 2, 2017

Chapter 11 of Book 1 of 3 as a sample read

Demetrio and the girl crossed the bridge. He turned to see La Flaca’, but once again she was gone. It was not until they were well beyond the bridge that their fear was eased.
The two continued because the mist had begun to lift and revealed a stone road. As they proceeded, they noticed the darkness fading away to a bright yellow sky. The road led upward to a lush, green hill. When they reached the top, they saw a beautiful adobe pueblo in the valley below. The road zigzagged down the hill and through a large flowery Jardín.
As they crossed the valley they noticed there were small limestone plazas with stone benches for people to rest on.
The Jardín was much larger than any Demetrio had seen before, and he could see that the girl was yawning. It was strange, he thought. Although he had thought in the afterlife one would not need to rest, he was tiring too. They lay down on two separate benches.
Later, they both woke to music blaring; they heard the trumpets, accordions, and guitars playing. They both stood and gazed as the music played in the Jardín.
There were colorful streamers and banners hanging across the buildings. Each building was a different color, with all the windows and doors trimmed in white.
“Yay! It’s a festival,” shouted the little girl as she ran ahead of him into the crowd.
Demetrio quickly followed, and it seemed that all the people were in the streets celebrating. It reminded him of Old Mexico as the people were dressed in traditional clothes of the 1800’s. Everyone had a happy face, singing with the mariachis and dancing.
He caught up with the girl, and they strolled through the festive streets to the main square.
There was a grand gazebo where ‘La Flaca’ stood waiting for them. The light of the yellow sky captured the burgundy color of her dress. Her floral facial designs were illuminated, but her exposed limbs and parts of her that caught the sunlight were still bones. Her face was protected by her sombrero, but her exposed chest and arms were still a gray pallor. 
Demetrio walked up the steps to the gazebo where she awaited with a pitcher and a glass. She poured him a creamy, white liquid and handed it to him saying, “A fine glass of ‘horchata,’ the drink of the gods!”
He drank as he watched the little girl play with other children. He finished the drink and gave the empty glass back. “That is a fine ‘horchata.’”
“An old recipe; I made it myself.”
“Well done! Listen, about the girl, can you not help her?”
“That issue is none of your concern. Pay heed to your own needs.”
“Very well.” He looked about the square and drew a pleasant smile as everyone was enjoying the festivities and added, “Is this heaven?”
“No. It is the River of Remembrance.”
 “Where is this river?”
“The pueblo is the river… It is a metaphor.”
“What will I find here?”
She smiled and pointed to a light blue house on the corner. “Go and see.”
He nodded, “All right.” He went down the steps and walked across the busy plaza to the white door of the house. He turned to see her, but again she was gone, leaving the pitcher and glass on the steps of the gazebo.
He turned back to the door and wondered whose home it was. Then he noticed on the doorframe, on the upper right side, hung a four inch mezuzah. He smiled and entered without knocking. It was a modest home, and a mature couple was preparing for dinner.
The couple looked up and greeted him, ‘Mijo!’ “You have finally arrived; your mother has been preparing the Shabbat all day for you.”
Demetrio’s eyes welled with tears. “Father! Mother!” He ran to them and wrapped them in his arms, giving them both a hug. The embrace lasted for minutes. “How come you are here?”
“We have always been here, son,” answered his father. Demetrio noticed his mother’s preparations for the Sabbath dinner. “Is it Friday?”
“Every day is Friday; besides, you are here now,” said his father.
Demetrio noticed all the icons around the house, including all of his mother’s ‘tchotchkes,’ the little china figures she had collected. “Did we not convert?”
“That was a need for survival,” replied his father. “Here we can be our real selves. Anyway, what the mouth says, the heart does not need to believe.”
He wanted this moment to last forever, to be with his parents, to be forever in their loving embrace. He was in heaven.
His mother motioned for him to sit down, while she lit the two candles of Shabbat on a mantle nearby and waved her arms over the candles three times as if she were gathering the light to her face. She then covered her eyes and said a silent blessing. When she uncovered them she sang, “Shabbat shalom!”
“Shabbat shalom,” the two men repeated.
Demetrio looked at his father, aching to say something he had been wanting to say for a long time. He cautiously said, “Father, the last time we spoke…”
“Do not worry about it,” his father cut him off. “That was a long time ago. Let us not speak of it anymore. We are together again, and that is all that matters.”
His mother brought out four Kiddush cups and a wine bottle to the table. “A fourth cup?” Demetrio asked.
“We have a guest coming,” confided his father.
On cue, there was a knock at the door. His mother went and opened it. Demetrio’s big smile disappeared, and he stood in a shock when he saw who it was, “Bekka!”
She smiled as she came in with a straw bread basket with a handle. “Hello, everyone, I’m sorry I’m late.”
Demetrio stood speechless as he saw her. She kissed his mother first and gave her the basket. Then she kissed his father on the cheek. She turned to Demetrio, they locked eyes, and she came straight towards him and kissed him lightly on the lips and gave him a slight embrace saying, “Hello, baby.”
He stood in shock as she sat.
His mother served the ‘challah’ bread that Bekka had brought. “Sit down, ‘mijo.’ Do not be rude.”
He wanted to ask her how she got here; he remembered he died at the hands of Rose. He was at the same time both terrified and glad that she was near him. But then as his father and mother recited blessings as they broke the bread and poured the wine into the special cups, he knew that it was not the time to ask.
After dinner, Demetrio relished the time speaking with his parents. As he did, Bekka inched her chair closer to him so she could rest her head on his shoulder and put her right arm around his back.
Demetrio said to his father, “I enjoyed the meal very much; it reminded me of our time in Spain before the Inquisition. I did not know meals were part of the afterlife.”
“Why not?” answered his father. “Meals are our most memorable and loving moments between love ones. Besides, the food tastes great all the time.” He laughed.
Bekka whispered in his ear, “There are other things besides food.” That was the signal for him and Bekka to excuse themselves.
His father said, “That’s quite all right; you kids take your time.”
The two went outside, and Demetrio was surprised that the evening light was still bright. As they took a stroll, it was time for him to ask, “Bekka… if you are here, that means…”
“I’m dead.”
“No!” He stopped their walk to face her, “Please tell me everything is fine.”
“It’s okay; it was a good death. I died saving some children from Rose. I’m sure Susana and Rebe have done well to stop her. Look – you don’t see them here. But, I’m with you; I can be yours forever. Don’t worry about it.”
They had begun their walk again, and he whispered, “Bueno.”
“Besides, that other thing I whispered to you about…” she reminded him, and he nodded. “Let me show you.”  She led the way to a secluded spot.
The days and nights that followed were filled with such joy and merriment – each one spent with his parents at dinner, with Bekka at his side.
This time, Bekka had walked with him outside town to have a small picnic underneath a red flowering tree. The spot overlooked the town below. The time was spent having sex on the blanket that Bekka had laid out.
“It is strange,” he said with her laying her head on his chest. “You and me, I wondered why and how?”
“Don’t you believe in love at first sight?”
“Is that what it was? I mean with Rose it was the same thing, but….?”
“Demetrio,” she interrupted, “it’s rude to talk about another woman.”
Perdóname, mi amor, of course. It is you I want to be with. I can see that now. It is just hard to fathom how our love flourished so quickly.”
“Soul-mates – it took you hundreds of years to find me, but you did.”
When the time came, they left and began to walk back toward his parent’s house. When they arrived, his parents were preparing another Shabbat dinner.
“Mother, father,” he greeted them. “I’m ready for another dinner.”
“We have a visitor today,” informed his mother.
“Really, who?” Demetrio asked.
“A little girl,” said his father. He pointed to the dinner table where a little girl sat.
He seemed to recognize her, but he was not sure. “I am not quite sure… but, do I know you?”
“Demetrio, it’s me. Wake up,” she said.
“Wake up? What are you talking about?”
“None of this is real.”
Demetrio looked around at his family and Bekka; they all just stood still not saying anything. He asked the girl, “Who are you?”
“Remember, Demetrio? We arrived here together. You asked me to help you cross the three rivers.”
“The three rivers?” He thought for a moment and recalled, “The River of Regret and the Jardín… the town was having a festival.”
“Yes, I went to play with some children, but after a while, they were gone and other children came. I asked the people around me where the children had gone, but they didn’t answer. They just wanted to have fun. That’s when I noticed they were celebrating the same thing over and over again. You must wake up.”
“Well, isn’t this paradise?” he asked. “We are all happy.”
The little girl, with a sad look on her face, said, “Demetrio, your parents – her,” she pointed to Bekka. “They are not real. This is a dream, an illusion.”
Demetrio’s mind pondered her words, and he thought of the meals, times spent with his parents and Bekka. “No, that cannot be true.”
“Wake up!” She shouted, and the house shook and trembled. “Think about it, Demetrio. Every day is the same thing, the same routine. When have you had a different dinner? These are just your memories replaying over and over again.”
“It has been a Shabbat every night,” he realized, and he asked his father, “Is this true? Am I in a dream?”
“What is Heaven but what dreams are made of?” his father answered.
The ground shook again. This time the home cracked. The little girl, realizing it was her last chance, implored more strongly, “Has there been a sunset or a sunrise? Do they know anything beyond your own memory of them?”
“What do you mean?”
“Ask Bekka… what date is her birthday?”
Bekka looked surprised, “Of course I know my birthday. It’s… It is on…”
“You see – she doesn’t know because you don’t know it.” When the girl finished, it seemed like a great cloud overshadowed them and darkened the house. The little girl knew she was hurting her friend, but she pointed at Bekka. “She’s not real, Demetrio.”
When he turned to look at Bekka, she was lifted into the air like a floating spirit. Her face turned gray, and her body cracked, disintegrating into ashes flying into the shadows of the house.
“Bekka, no!” he screamed.
The house shook, and a tremendous crack appeared in the floor and sucked his parents down into the abyss. Pieces of the ceiling fell, breaking all the lovely icons his parents had laid out, and the bottle of wine rolled off the table and spilled onto the floor.
“Wake up, wake up, please wake up!” Demetrio heard the voice, no longer coming from the girl in the room, but beyond the dwelling, calling like a god from outside his surroundings.
He looked again at his parents, fading away like a cloud. “Father! Mother!” he shouted at them like a lost child.
“Go, son, wake up from this nightmare. We will wait for you,” said his father. They faded away into nothing as the house crumbled away into nothingness. 
Demetrio saw his mother’s ‘tchotchkes’ falling onto the floor shattering upon impact. The trauma caused him to sit up, tearing at the vines and greenery that had encased him.
The little girl was helping to tear the vines off him, “Wake up, Demetrio!”
“I am awake, child. Help me remove these vines.” He saw how the Jardín had engulfed him in its flowering vines. When he finished removing the last of his bonds, he stood and grabbed the girl to run.
They fled the plaza, running down the stone path away from the town that was now gone. The yellow sky was replaced by a gray twilight. He reached the edge of the great Jardín where a large field of sunflowers bloomed. There, standing near a babbling brook with a small wooden bridge over it, was ‘La Flaca.’
Demetrio was angry and yelled, “You are no woman!” He turned to her again. “You are the Devil’s spawn. How dare you torture me with memories of my parents and Bekka?”
“All right! Bekka was my idea. I wanted to test you. But the rest was your own doing. I only took you to The River of Remembrance where you relived all your lost loves. They will remain forever lost in my Jardín. That is why it the most difficult to leave.” She pointed to the sunflowers, their yellow petals surrounding the brown bones of human faces. “Here they all lie. When they travel through here they fall asleep, and the vines feed on their souls until they are consumed.”
“It is hell!”
“You enjoyed your time, did you not?”
Demetrio did not answer, still trying to calm his anger.
“Relax – you have only one more river to cross over – the easiest. It is only a stream; you will only have to wade across it, as it has no bridge.”
“No more tricks or illusions?”
“I promise that you are almost done. Just cross over the bridge and down the other side. There is a black road. Follow it until it is gone. Then you will have to find it yourself.”
“Then how will I know it?”
She laughed, “Because it will be the only thing there.”
“Oblivion,” the word came as she faded away.

Thursday, October 8, 2015

Book 1 & 2 of the 3 book series.

Our cover painting for book 1 of 3 was made by E.c. Bell. You can see his work on his facebook page with same name. Judith Jenya will do a photograph of it for the book cover designer and then we will auction the painting off for a woman's charity in San Miguel de Allende at our book signing. You can see Judith's work also on her faceook page of the same name.

There is another chapter in this blog with a sample read of Chapter 8 - Book 1.
 Our book summary of book 1:

On a visit to Mexico a mature American woman, Bekka, meets a mysterious silver-haired Mexican man at a nightclub in Puerto Vallarta. After an intense one-night liaison he vanishes and Bekka vows to find him again. In her search she discovers that he met two other women that night, Rebe and Susana. The three women become very quick friends and decide to track down this mysterious man. Bekka felt an emotional and spiritual connection to him, he belonged to her, and she wanted to be with him. She couldn't explain why she felt that way, and Rebe and Susana couldn't figure out why they felt so close to Bekka. The three ladies begin to experience strange dreams and feelings toward each other, a drawing of souls toward one another. They hatch a plot to meet him again, unknowingly throwing themselves into a new beautiful but dark world, a world that few know exists. - the complex and inflexible world of the vampire, or vampiro. Demetrio, as they discovered, was different than other vampires. He could walk in the day, and he could age. He was “A Child of the Light” - a White Vampire whose only weakness was the full moon and only protection was the beautiful pendant he wore. Bekka had hoped to be with him, but as much as he wanted to explore that possibility, he told her the truth - his heart belonged to another and that other had returned to Mexico. He was anxious to reunite with her and had to leave the three women in San Miguel de Allende under the protection of his faithful friend Sister Helga. The Sister would help the three discover their emerging powers and advise them about many future dangers that converged around one name, the one name that would toss their lives into a deeper dark hole - Rose

You can now buy our book as a paper back via this link on Amazon.

A video interview about our book.

A video of a book signing in 2015

Videos made at our book signing March 20, 2016

Interview of Rebecca Fass

Videos of the first book signing in San Miguel de Allende for book1:

Book 2 of 3 is done now & you can buy it as a kindle or hard copy at this link -----

Book signing of Book 2 of 3 in Ajijic October 2017

Tres Vampiras is a series of 3 books. A historical fiction, travelogue and gourmet expedition set in the Corazon de Mexico (the heart of Mexico), San Miguel de Allende, Guanajuato. In book 1 we met Bekka, Susanna and Rebe, three women who are bitten by a White Vampiro named Demetrio.
A White Vampiro has the ability to roam during the day, and only needs a cupful of blood each month. His only weakness was the full moon. He was able to withstand death during the full moon because of the necklace he wore. As the story unfolds, the necklace was taken from him by Rose when she took his heart out in a ritual sacrifice.
In book 1 the three women were left alone to deal with Rose and her evil lover, the night vampire Queen Itza. With the help of Demetrio’s servants, Sister Helga, Eduardo, and friend Julia, the three learned what it meant to be White Vampiras and to use their powers.
Their adventures continue in Book 2. Bekka, Susana and Rebe visit San Diego, La Jolla, Fresno, Rosarito, and Juarez. They use their powers to gain revenge on old adversaries. While in their quest for vengeance they encounter many mysterious figures that are in a war between good and evil and the church’s involvement.
On their journey they meet Johnny, a brujo who kills cats and young women, Anna, another White Vampire Demetrio had bitten, Mr. Dark, the Vampire King of North America, and finally Rose.
The women also come to grips with feelings and urges toward each other; while Susanna and Eduardo deal with their feelings toward each other.

Read Tres Vampiras book 2 and find out what they learn about Bekka’s shocking condition, and the book’s surprising ending. Book 2 contains everything you want in a book; sex, violence and great cooking recipes!

Tres Vampiras
 Book II of III
Rebecca Fass
 Demetrio Aldana

We would like to thank our families and friends who have encouraged us to write this trilogy. We would also like to thank our friends who asked us to use their names, personalities or businesses in our narrative. Sharon Griffin, who did the final  proof reading and co-authored chapter 13, Susana Cox a character in our book who has gone out of her way with helping our book signings.

(Book 1 Kathleen Carroll was our proof reader.)