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Mar 31, 20225 min read

New Release | A Hybrid's Tale by Bestseller @WestonAndrew #darkfantasy #horror #giveaway



Title: A Hybrid’s Tale

Author: Andrew P. Weston

Genre: Dark Fantasy/Horror

Publisher: Raven Tale Publishing


Book Blurb:


Born a Cambion – a half-demon, half-human hybrid – and cursed by a terrible hunger he can barely control, Augustus Thorne spends his long and lonely life hunting and exterminating any Incubi and Succubae he can find. But no matter how many he destroys, he can always make room for one more. Especially if it’s the foul scum who raped his mother; Augustus’ own spawn-father, Fanon.


Guided by his mother’s diaries, Augustus pursues Fanon down through the centuries and around the world, until fate seems to point him toward his heart’s desire. Yet, things are not as they appear, and the revelations Augustus uncovers are mind boggling. For if he wishes to face his father, he must first learn more about his own unique heritage, and the awful circumstances that led to his creation.


The trouble is, doing so might just cost him his humanity.


Excerpt: When she was young—and when I say young, I mean sixteen—my mother, Rosemary, was the most sought after girl in her village and had the world at her feet. It was 17** and as you can imagine, things were very different then. She grew up in the tiny hamlet of Bearwood, in the midlands of rural England. An only child, Rosemary was raised in a protective environment by her father, Frederick—the village blacksmith—and his wife, Lilly.


They had ensured Rosemary was always chaperoned wherever she went and because they were considered affluent, had paid a considerable sum of money to guarantee an education of the highest standards. That, together with her natural beauty and wonderfully long golden hair, had meant Rosemary caught the eye of Reginald, the son of the local squire, Robert Archer.


Unfortunately, it also resulted in her catching the eye of a monster; a devil in the truest sense of the word.


My mother was engaged to be married when Fanon began visiting her in her dreams. Even now, centuries later, it still enrages me to think about how her life was destroyed. After all, my grandparents had been so careful. Who would have thought she’d need someone to stand guard over her in the privacy and isolation of her own bedchamber?


Needless to say, Fanon groomed her very carefully over the following months: leading her on; making her feel special; arousing then perverting her desires; feeding and warping and twisting them further so he could dine from the tainted tincture of her spirit again and again.


Some might say she was lucky he’d spared her life.


Me? I think she’d have been better off dead. A pregnant woman in those days was either married or a whore. My mother was neither, but it didn’t stop my grandparents from accusing her, taking her name and ostracizing her. Neither did it prevent the surrounding townships from casting her out in shame.


I was born the following year in17**. Alone, unsupported, Rosemary was left without a family or a home. Somehow she survived. And so did I, despite the fact I came into the world without a heartbeat.


Had anyone else been there that day, I’ve no doubt they would have killed me on the spot. A child that wasn’t breathing but still wriggling like an eel would have been instantly branded a demon and burnt or drowned… Not that they’d have been far wrong in my case.


Fortunately, my mother was possessed of sterling moral fiber and a backbone of steel. Not only had she consoled herself to the circumstances of my birth, but she extended me the mercy of innocence. I was the only thing precious to her and as such, she ensured I was well hidden and protected during those early years until I came to resemble a normal human child, by the age of seven.


Rosemary never discussed my differences when I was small, and the long years of eking out a living and endless travelling from parish to parish helped me put such things to the back of my mind. Sure, life was hard, but we survived. My mother changed her surname to Thorne, eventually became known as a good worker and obtained employment at a number of reputable inns and ale-houses.


For some reason, people always seemed to like me and I discovered I was gifted at persuading folk to help us. That skill became very handy as the seasons came and went, especially when seeking lodgings at short notice.


Then, just as we achieved some degree of normalcy, puberty kicked in and my heritage began to dominate, bringing with it urges I didn’t understand and cravings that scared me half to death.


That’s when I began to unearth the truth about my father.


Rosemary tried to explain, of course, and I did my best to listen. But what she said didn’t make sense, not even when all the strange things that were happening to me, my body and my sensibilities went some way to backing up her assertions. They were just too farfetched.


So, my mother came to a decision to reveal something that would forever after direct my life’s course.


Among her scant possessions, Rosemary had a travel pack that she always secreted away wherever we stayed. In that pack were her few precious and intimate belongings, and although I had always wondered what she kept in there, I’d never peeked. Not even once. How could I? She’d been through so much; she didn’t need someone else disrespecting her privacy. Therefore, on that cold winters evening of 1773, I was particularly eager to discover just what it was she had to show me.


I remember watching intently as Rosemary reached inside to remove several items of jewelry, an expensive looking felt bag—which she quickly replaced—and a soft hessian sack, secured with a drawstring. Untying the knot to that sack, she removed a number of leather-bound books.


I’d always known my mother kept a diary, but I’d never realized how extensive her musings were. Secured by a red satin bow, each completed journal contained the pressed remains of my mother’s favorite flower, her namesake, the rose.


Sorting through them, she handed me a particularly old and battered volume and simply said, “Read this, Augustus. It will explain everything.”


On the inner cover, the dates May 1759 - December 1759 were inscribed in beautiful handwriting. My mother left the room so I could deliberate in private. I can’t begin to describe how my heart skipped as I turned to the first page marked by a scarlet ribbon:


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Special Giveaway:

The first reader who is able to work out Augustus Thorne’s exact age (verifying the page number of A Hybrid’s Tale from which they gleaned that information) and publish it on the Cambion Journals blog or Facebook page, will receive the following: A gift ebook of Call of the Cambion (The second book in the Cambion Journal’s series) along with a triquetra tote bag and pendant, and official Cambion Journals bumper stickers to share among your friends.


The runner-up will receive a gift ebook of Call of the Cambion.





Author Biography:


Andrew P. Weston is a Royal Marine and Police veteran from the UK who now lives on the beautiful Greek island of Kos with his wife, Annette, and their growing family of rescue cats.

As creator of the critically acclaimed IX Series, the Cambion Journals, along with Hell Bound, Hell Hounds, and Hell Gate, (novels forming part of the Heroes in Hell universe), Andrew has the privilege of being a member of the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America, the British Fantasy Society, and the International Association of Media Tie-in Writers.

When not working, he also devotes some of his spare time to assisting NASA with one of their remote research projects, and writes educational articles for Astronaut.com and Amazing Stories.


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