Joleene Naylor is the author of the glitter-less Amaranthine vampire universe, a world where vampires aren't for children. Comprised of a main series, a standalone prequel, and several short story collections, she has plans to continue expanding with a trilogy and standalone novels. 
In her spare time, Joleene is a freelance book cover designer and for-fun photographer. She maintains several blogs, full of odd ramblings, and occasionally updates her website at JoleeneNaylor.com. In what little time is left, she watches anime, plays PokemonGo, and works on her crooked Victorian house in Villisca, Iowa. Between her husband, family, and pets, she is never lonely, in fact, quite the opposite. Should she disappear, one might look for her on a beach in Tahiti, sipping a tropical drink and wearing a disguise. 

Twenty-nine short stories of love, death, heartbreak, and blood.
Meet the Executioners, elite enforcers of the vampires’ laws. Walk with them through origin stories, follow them across the sea to the colonies, and run with them through the wilds, as they try to bring civilization to a land ruled by “day sleeper” clans. Fifteen interwoven stories tell the beginning of The Guild, set under the watchful - and sometimes malevolent - gaze of the ancient Malick, whose heavy shadow stretches even across the sea. Meet his favorite son, his willful daughter, his child-like pet, and many more whose jealousies, hatreds, and loves twist together to create consequences they can’t foresee. 


Tales of the Executioners

This story takes place in October, during the novel Shades of Gray [in the Amaranthine Saga], two years after Bren's story. It opens in The Guild's citadel in Iowa.


Franklin cautiously opened one eye, trying to feign sleep. Since he was a sun walker, Migina should know he'd woken some time ago, but maybe she wasn't thinking about it.


He watched as she stood in front of the full length mirror, brushing her waist length hair. The ebony strands were a pleasing contrast with her caramel skin  a complexion paled by immortality. He would have liked to see her before she was turned; racing over the plains, wearing buckskin and feathers. Of course, she'd told him that it wasn't really like that. Not that he didn't already know. He'd run into what they now termed Native Americans before, when he was a fledgling. Still, he liked to think of her in the Hollywood costumes.


Chapter 145: Franklin - The Promise, Part 1