Book Blast! Paul DeBlassie III

Hey everyone…introducing “The Unholy” by Paul DeBlassie.  Happy reading!!


The Unholy

Paul DeBlassie III

 PD Book Cover

About The Author

 PD Book BlastPaul DeBlassie III, Ph.D., is a psychologist and writer living in Albuquerque who has treated survivors of the dark side of religion for more than 30 years. His professional consultation practice — SoulCare — is devoted to the tending of the soul. Dr. DeBlassie writes psychological thrillers with an emphasis on the dark side of the human psyche. The mestizo myth of Aztlan, its surreal beauty and natural magic, provides the setting for the dark phantasmagoric narrative in his fiction.  He is a member of the Depth Psychology Alliance, the Transpersonal Psychology Association and the International Association for Relational Psychoanalysis and Psychotherapy.

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Tags/Labels:The Unholy, Paul DeBlassie III, psychological thriller, psychological thriller novels, thriller and suspense, good vs. evil, life and death, destiny, virtual book tour café

Book Genre: Psychological Thriller

Publisher: Sunstone Press

Release Date: August 2013

Buy Link(s):

Book Description:

A young curandera, a medicine woman, intent on uncovering the secrets of her past is forced into a life-and-death battle against an evil Archbishop. Set in the mystic land of Aztlan, “The Unholy” is a novel of destiny as healer and slayer. Native lore of dreams and visions, shape changing, and natural magic work to spin a neo-gothic web in which sadness and mystery lure the unsuspecting into a twilight realm of discovery and decision.


Excerpt One (300-500 or so Words):

At that moment, a howling wind came up. Through the window, Claire saw dust devils swirling outside, their dance frenzied, grit and grime spewing every which way as they crisscrossed an endless expanse of desert. As the window began rattling like a bag of old bones, both women looked up and saw a large black crow perched on the ledge outside. It stared at them, then cawed defiantly, unaffected by the winds.

Elizabeth bolted upright, eyes wide. “I have to go,” she said, fingers trembling as she slipped on her shoes, more frightened than Claire had ever seen her. Claire thought of trying to help her settle down, but held herself back, not wanting to risk upsetting her further.

“What’s wrong?” Claire asked, trying to disguise her own sense of unease. Her words went unanswered.

As Elizabeth reached the door, she glanced back at the window where the crow had been. The wind had died down, and the crow had vanished; yet the dark force of moments past crackled through the atmosphere like sparks of electricity jumping wildly from shorted wires.

The hairs on the back of Claire’s neck stood on end. She clenched her teeth in anticipation of something worse about to happen. A chill swept through the room as if a ghostly presence had made itself known. Involuntarily, Claire shook her head as though waking herself from a bad dream.

“Get out of here while you can, Claire,” Elizabeth stammered. Her eyes were wide as the full moon sitting low across a midnight desert landscape.

“What are you so afraid of, Elizabeth?” Claire asked, moving forward to calm her. “Please, talk to me about what’s going on with you.” Carefully, she placed a hand on her patient’s taut shoulder.

Elizabeth shrugged it away, saying, “Let go of me.” Claire knew that Elizabeth could turn on her, becoming violent. Still, Claire inched a little closer and said, “Elizabeth, I could help if you’d let me.” But the words seemed futile.

“Help me? Help yourself! Face what is yours to face,” Elizabeth hissed. She yanked the door open then forced it to slam behind her.

Claire stood still for a moment, feeling as if a tornado had swept through the room. Elizabeth’s demand had left her shaken. She drew a deep breath, then went to her desk and picked up her tea, noticing her trembling hands.

Turning toward the window, Claire saw a muscular orderly accompanying Elizabeth to the locked ward at the far end of the hospital compound. A flock of crows circled high overhead, seeming to follow the two receding figures. As they arrived at the outer doors of the locked unit, the orderly reached for his keys. The crows circled while the two crossed the threshold of the unit, Elizabeth suddenly pausing, turning, and looking outside, her gaze riveted on the flock of birds.

All but two flew off, disappearing into the piñon-covered hills. The two that remained came to rest on the red brick wall adjacent to the locked unit, their black eyes boring into Elizabeth. She looked panicked then enraged and, shaking a finger at the creatures, yelled something. Her frantic gestures told Claire that she was screeching curses to ward off evil.

Claire took a step back from the window, from the impact of Elizabeth’s rage. The orderly grabbed Elizabeth roughly by the arm and pulled her inside. The crows waited, watched, then flew away.

Excerpt Two (500-800 or so Words):


Lightning streaked across a midnight dark sky, making the neck hairs of a five-year-old girl crouched beneath a cluster of twenty-foot pines in the Turquoise Mountains of Aztlan stand on end. The long wavy strands of her auburn mane floated outward with the static charge. It felt as though the world was about to end.

Seconds later, lightning struck a lone tree nearby and a crash of thunder shook the ground. Her body rocked back and forth, trembling with terror. She lost her footing, sandstone crumbling beneath her feet, and then regained it; still, she did not feel safe. There appeared to be reddish eyes watching from behind scrub oaks and mountain pines, scanning her every movement and watching her quick breaths. Then everything became silent.

The girl leaned against the trunk of the nearest tree. The night air wrapped its frigid arms tightly around her, and she wondered if she would freeze to death or, even worse, stay there through the night and by morning be nothing but the blood and bones left by hungry animals. Her breaths became quicker and were so shallow that no air seemed to reach her lungs. The dusty earth gave up quick bursts of sand from gusts of northerly winds that blew so fiercely into her nostrils that she coughed but tried to stifle the sounds because she didn’t want to be noticed.

As she squeezed her arms around the trunk of the pine tree, the scent of sap was soothing. Finally, the wind died down and sand stopped blowing into her face. She slowly opened her eyes, hoping she would be in another place, but she was not; in fact, the reality of her waking nightmare was more obvious than ever.

Wide-eyed with fear at the nightmarish scene playing out before her, she clung to the tree. In the distance, she saw her mother raising a staff with both hands, her arm muscles bulging underneath her soaked blouse. Directed straight ahead, her mother’s gaze was like that of an eagle, her power as mighty as the winds and the lightning. The girl loved her mother and, through her mind, sent her strength so that she would win this battle and the two of them could safely go away from this scary place.

The girl turned to follow as her mother’s gaze shifted to an area farther away and so dark that only shadows seemed to abide there. To and fro her mother’s eyes darted before fixing on a black-cloaked figure who emerged from behind a huge boulder surrounded by tall trees whose branches crisscrossed the sky. He was much bigger than her mother, at least by a foot, and his cloak flapped wildly as winds once again ripped through the mountains.

Swinging a long, hooked pole, the man bounded toward her mother like a hungry beast toward its prey. His black cloak looked like the wings of a huge bat as they reflected the eerie light of the full moon. As his pole caught the moonlight and a golden glow bounced back onto the figure, the girl saw his face with its cold blue eyes that pierced the nighttime chill. He seemed to grow bigger with each step, and the girl’s heart pounded so loudly that she was sure he would be able to hear it.

The stranger stopped a short distance from the girl. Crouched low between rows of trees, trying to make herself disappear, she saw him clearly as he threw his head back and let out a high-pitched cry like a rabid coyote. The air crackled. Thunder struck. Lightning flashed. She was blinded and then could see again.

Quick as a crazed coyote jumps and bites, the man struck her mother, his black cape flapping wildly in the wind.

The girl leapt to her feet, her legs trembling, her knees buckling.  Straining to see through the branches, she was terrified.  The moon vanished behind dark clouds rolling overhead. Then came a scream of terror that cut to the bone. Now the night was lit up again by lightning flashing across the mountain range, and the girl could see the blackhooded man hit her mother again and again.

Her mother crumpled to the ground and stopped moving.  The girl’s hand flew to her open mouth, stifling a scream.  The man stood over her mother, his long pole poised in the air, ready to strike again.

A twig snapped in the forest, and the girl spun toward the sound, holding her breath. Then she saw three gray forms slowly creeping toward her through the darkness and recognized them as wolves. She was not afraid as they encircled her, their warm fur brushing her skin. One after another, the wolves lifted their snouts and looked into her eyes, each silently communicating that she would be protected.

Her mother cried out again. The girl turned and saw her rising to her feet, then striking the man’s chest with her staff.  As he batted his pole against her shoulders, her staff flew out of her hands, landing yards away in a thicket of scrub oak.  Her mother screamed and blindly groped for it.

The girl jumped up, then stopped when the black-hooded figure looked her way. Tears clouded her vision, and all she saw was darkness. Tears rolled down her cheeks, dropping into the tiny stream of water running beneath the tree she was clutching. She looked down and saw the dim reflection of her frightened self.

As she peered through the trees to catch sight of her mother, a wailing wind blew the man’s cloak into the air, making him again look like a monstrous bat. Once more he swung his rod high and smashed it against the back of her mother’s head. She saw and heard her mother’s body thump against the hollowed trunk of the lightning-struck tree and slump to the ground. The evil man bent over her mother’s limp body and howled.

Suddenly, the girl felt arms encircle her waist, and she was swept away, deeper into the forest. She sobbed and at first let herself be taken because she had no strength. But then she became angry and started pushing against the arms carrying her, trying to escape and run back to her mother. She wanted to make her mother well, and then this nightmare would stop and they could go away.

“Hush now, child,” said a voice she recognized as that of her mother’s closest friend. “The man cannot harm you, mijita, as long as you are with us.  We will make him think you are dead. But you must be very quiet. Ya no llores,” the woman warned, raising a finger to her lips.

The woman then carried her into a dark cave illuminated by the light of a single candle. The cave was frightening, with shadows of what appeared to be goblins and demons dancing on the red sandstone walls. “I will return for you soon. You will be safe here,” the woman said. The girl watched the woman walk away, shivering as a breeze blew through the cave’s narrow passages.

Closing her eyes, she rocked back and forth—imagining herself safe in her mother’s arms—then opened her eyes to the light of the full moon shining through the mouth of the cave. The shadows on the walls were just shadows now, no longer goblins and demons. As she slipped into a trance, images flickered in her mind. She saw the woman who had brought her to this place scattering pieces of raw meat around the open mesa where her mother had struggled, helped by two other women the girl could not identify.

Suddenly, the scene shifted to a stone ledge jutting over the mesa, and she heard the pounding footsteps of a man running toward the women. The girl felt her heart race and her breathing quicken, afraid that the bad man would spot them and kill them. Then the image shifted again, and she now saw on the mesa three gray wolves circling the raw meat and the man walking away from the granite ledge. As he left, she heard his thought: The child is dead.



~ by Adrianna Morgan on December 9, 2013.

2 Responses to “Book Blast! Paul DeBlassie III”

  1. Thank you for hosting today:)

  2. Thank your for hosting The Unholy!

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