He waited in the shadows, a dark and deadly presence. He was no novice at this terrible trade--he had struck before and he would strike again. And with each new killing he became less human...and more vicious. He stood patiently, a wire garrote in his strong hands, ready to claim yet another victim. Soon he would have one more to add to his growing list unless they could stop him. But how could they when they didn't know who he was? What he was? To a terrified city he was known only as the Wireman. Set in the 1970s, two brothers return from the Vietnam war with blood on their hands. Learning to kill the enemy wasn't something that would go away when they returned home to Houston, Texas. Could one of them be the serial killer, Wireman? Could the other stop him? Loosely based on true crimes which occurred in Houston, Texas in 1978-80. A suspense thriller by Edgar-Nominated author, Billie Sue Mosiman.

    waiting for just one drop of blood to restore it to life. But when Nick Regan discovered the skull on a construction site, he and his archeologist wife Chrissie were more puzzled than alarmed. It was too large to be human, but looked like no animal skull they had ever seen. Their curiosity soon turned to fear when the bones grew a thin covering of gray flesh... and then to frantic terror when they discovered that it had come alive...

    Learn how he struggled with Satan and how he terrorized in blood and evil for five centuries ... and up to the present day.Told over a series of long winter nights to master horror author C. Dean Andersson, this is the shocking, mesmerizing account of Dracula's history that renders all other versions anemic by comparison. Now is the time of revelation. I AM DRACULA. I bid you welcome to my world...

    Then the shadows, with their dark, inhuman eyes, are everywhere, surrounding her as she sobs silently, realizing with horror that they have taken her daughter once again. And now they have come bcak for- for her!

    Then John realizes Audrey is the high school girlfriend he murdered many years before--the girlfriend who has returned for blood!

    But from the moment of his arrival at the secluded country mansion strange and inexplicable events begin to transpire. Soon he is drawn into an impenetrable maze of horror, and by the time he discovers the role he is intended to play in a diabolical design, it will already be too late. For the seeds of evil have been sown, and the time to reap their wicked harvest is nigh!

    But there he discovers a terrifying secret that turns his life upside-down. Newton's adventure begins when Claude Lavigne, a power company employee, sees something monumentally strange in the forests of the gore -- a tiny swatch of unclaimed land created by a surveyor's mistake. The uncanny sight so upsets him, so rattles his sense of what's real, that it leads to his suicide. Lavigne's son, his best friend, and an ancient black man risk an expedition into the gore to discover what Mr. Lavigne saw. In his attempt to stop them, Newton upsets a centuries- old balance that threatens to loose a long-buried nightmare upon the people of Vermont.

    Tourists and New Agers all talk about the strange energy coming from Eternity’s greatest attraction: a mountain called Icehouse. But the locals talk about something else.The seemingly quiet town has been haunted by strange deaths, grisly murders, unspeakable mutilations, all the work of a serial killer who some say is the same serial killer for over a century. Now as the first snow starts to fall, terror grips Eternity as an undying evil begins its hunt once again…

    . . but Lucien’s secret is inescapable. A living thing that has followed him across the world, from the horrors of Southeast Asia to the penthouse suites of the rich and famous. Everyone craves money, power, and sex . . . but Lucien can satisfy his every urge, every decadent impulse, every erotic whim—for a price. Everyone has private demons . . . but Lucien’s demon is all too real. All too powerful. All too hungry . . . for human souls.

    Sixty years ago the house was an asylum, home to crazed psychopaths. One night all of them disappeared, never to be seen again.Jack Reed, the owner of The Oaks, has no idea about the building's terrible history. It is only when Jack's son is dragged into the walls of the mansion that he realizes what happened sixty years ago – and just where the inmates have been living all this time...

    The boy seems to have a psychic connection to something in the dark forest, something unseen... and evil. The old-timers in the region know the truth of the legendary creature that stalks the Pine Barrens. And they know the savagery it's capable of

    Ferguson did to him when he was a boy. The pain, the blood and the snip-snip of those glinting scissors will live in his nightmares for the rest of his life. But now Dr. Ferguson is back and not just in Stuart's dreams. He's very real. He's determined to perform that same horrible procedure on Stuart's young son. And his scissors are nice and sharp.

    He's got a terrific project, and he's met the woman of his dreams -- literally, his dreams (though they're rather odd ones). But then, one night, he falls asleep and awakes . . . to the beginning of a nightmare he just can't seem to wake up from. . . .

    Hell. Two great tastes that taste great together. Long before Elvis gyrated on the Sullivan Show or the Beatles toiled the smoky red-light bars of Hamburg, music has been sowing the seeds of liberation. Or damnation. With each new generation the edge of rebellion pushed farther. Rhythms quickened. Volume increased. Lyrics coarsened. The rules continued to be broken, until it seemed that there were no rules at all. And as waves of teens cranked it up and poured it on, parents built walls of accusation to explain their offspring's seeming corruption. Sex and drugs, demon worship and violence are the effects. Music is the cause. Or so the self-styled guardians of morality would have us believe. Meet The Scream. Just your average everyday mega-cult band. Their music is otherworldly. Their words are disturbing. Their message is unholy. Their fans are legion. And they're not kidding. They're killing. Themselves. Each other. Everyone. Their gospel screams from the lips of babes. Their backbeat has a body count. And their encore is just the warm-up act to madness beyond belief. It emerged from a war-torn jungle, where insanity was just another word for survival. It arrived in America with an insatiable lust for power and the means to fulfill it. In the amplified roar of arena applause there beats the heart of absolute darkness.