Tell us a bit about yourself.
I’m a huge mystery fan, and I love weaving the paranormal into my books. That extra oomph of paranormal amps up the mystery/suspense factor, I think.
My final book in the Riga Hayworth series of urban fantasies, The Hermetic Detective, is coming out on Halloween, and I’ve got a steampunk suspense series which also includes magic. My first cozy mystery, The Perfectly Proper Paranormal Museum, will be available in March, 2016. As you might have guessed from the title, it’s also got paranormal elements.
What makes vampires compelling?
The vampire personifies an important theme – evil can be seductive.
I’m trying to think of other monsters that combine evil with seduction, and I can’t think of a single one. Lately werewolves have become sexy, but they’re not inherently evil, just out of control. Dark fairies can be evil and seductive, but there’s a school of thought that the vampire actually derives from the fairy mythos, so they’re kind of the same thing.
The vampire may have cornered the sexy/evil market. Authors can play with that continuum of badness and seductiveness, creating unique vampiric experiences in each story.
Do you prefer vampires as magical creatures or as a different species?
I’m not much of a scientist, so I go for the magic!
What is your favorite vampire book or short story?
The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova. The story takes the reader back in time to Soviet Eastern Europe. I spent a lot of time working and living in the former Soviet Union, so I have a special attachment to the story. The Historian also paints a very evil Dracula. As much as I enjoy the “chaotic good” vampires of the Sookie Stackhouse series, I appreciate the original concept of the vampire as a creature of darkness.
Would you tell us about your latest vampire story?
In The Hoodoo Detective, metaphysical detective, Riga Hayworth, stumbles across a corpse in New Orleans and becomes a police consultant on a series of occult murders. During the course of the investigation, she and her husband encounter vampires.
I know – after Anne Rice, there’s not a lot of point to writing about vampires in New Orleans. But to give my story a twist, I went with the Dion Fortune version of the vampire – the soul of a dead sorcerer, who manifests a physical body and requires the energy of others to survive. (Dion Fortune was a 20th century occultist).
Why did you decide to write a vampire story (or series)?
I was actually trying to avoid writing about vampires – there are so many terrific books and stories about vampires on the market, I didn’t think I could or should add to the genre. But once I brought Riga Hayworth to New Orleans for her reality TV show, I couldn’t resist.
About the Book:
Hoodoo, Haunts, and Horror.
Riga Hayworth just wants to wrap up her supernatural TV series exploring the magic of New Orleans. But when she stumbles across a corpse, she becomes a police consultant on a series of occult murders, murders that become all too personal.
The Hoodoo Detective is book six in the Riga Hayworth series of paranormal mystery novels.
Excerpt:
I’m going to do a little scene setting here – Riga Hayworth is walking through New Orleans with her bodyguard, Ash, and her film crew, when she has a surprise encounter with her two elderly aunts and their mysterious friend…
“Riga!” A dark silhouette, short and squat, waved from across the street.
Riga frowned, her brows drawing together.
“Keep moving,” Ash said.
“No, I know that voice.”
Two figures, one short and round, one tall and narrow, walked across the narrow street. A third, masculine figure, separated itself from the crowd and followed. They paused for a horse-drawn carriage then hurried toward Riga.
“Riga!” A short, older woman with gray pin curls and thick spectacles peered up at her and clasped her shoulders. She beamed at her sister. “I knew she’d make it, Peregrine. Didn’t I tell you?”
“Mm,” Riga’s other aunt, Peregrine said. She looked down her hooked nose at Riga. “You might have been right.”
“Aunt Peregrine, Dot… What are you doing here?”
“We’re here for your aunt Livinia’s memorial service,” Dot said. “And so are you.”
Riga shook her head to clear it. Her aunt Livinia had died last winter. She thought of Livinia’s flesh crumbling to dust, her odd, gypsy clothing sagging to the ground, and shuddered at the memory. “I didn’t know—”
Dot wagged a thick finger at her. “But you did, my dear, or you wouldn’t be here.”
“Manners, Dot,” Peregrine said.
“Oh! How rude of me.” Dot took a step back and turned, her baggy gray skirt flaring about her ankles. “And this is Livinia’s dear friend, Marek Loyola.”
A severe, dark-haired man stepped forward. He took Riga’s hand and bowed over it, pressing cool lips to her flesh. Still bent, he looked up and met her gaze. One of his fingers brushed her pulse.
Her gut lurched unpleasantly.
“And you must be Riga.” His voice was a honeyed southern drawl. Straightening, he released his grasp.
“Marek’s been kind enough to help us with the arrangements,” Dot said. “This city was such an important part of Livinia’s life, and we wanted to do it right.”
“Which is why the arrangements took so long,” Peregrine growled.
Dot clapped her hands together. “Now. Who are your friends?” She touched Ash on the elbow. “You, I know, young man. Has life treated you well since last we met?”
His lips quirked. “Good enough.”
“Sorry.” Riga motioned to the women. “My aunts Peregrine and Dot. This is Sam Waters, the field producer for Supernatural Encounters. John Wolfe, our cameraman. And Angus McDugan, our sound crew. Man. Person.”
Wolfe lowered the camera, and everyone shook hands.
“A memorial service?” Sam asked.
“I wanted it in a church,” Dot said, “but of course we couldn’t do that.”
“Why not?” Angus asked.
More beads of sweat broke out on Riga’s forehead. “Aunt Livinia was an atheist.” She shot her aunts a look, willed them to keep their mouths shut.
Marek’s lips quirked. “So you’re here for one of those so-called reality shows?” His nostrils flared. “You smell of death and old fear.”
Sam tilted his head. “Smell—?”
“I’m also working as a consultant to the police on a case.” Riga laid her hand on one of the horse-head shaped hitching posts, rubbed between the horse’s ears. “A necromanctic sacrifice.”
Peregrine’s brows rose. “A necromancer here? In New Orleans? That seems rather unlikely.”
A man in shorts and a tank walked past, wearing a sandwich board advertising beer.
“It is hard to believe,” Dot said. “The only thing more dangerous to a necromancer than another necromancer is a vampire.”
And Dot would know, Riga thought. She and Peregrine were both necromancers, and though Riga carefully avoided asking, she knew they wouldn’t have lived to be senior citizens if they hadn’t killed their share. Dread pooled in the pit of her stomach. Why were they really here?
“And of course this city is simply packed with vampires,” Dot said.
“Of course,” Sam said faintly.
Wolfe raised the camera to his shoulder.
Riga put her hand on the lens and pushed it down. “No filming family.”
“Oh, we don’t mind.” Dot’s lips pinched together. “Why, Marek here—”
“Finds this fascinating,” Marek interrupted. “Necromancers in New Orleans? This is a tale I’d like to hear.”
“So would I.” Sam crossed his arms over his chest.
“Well,” Dot said, “of course you know the first New Orleans vampire legends began with the Ursuline convent, right here in the French Quarter. In the city’s early days, women of the rougher classes were shipped from Spain to the new world. Spending months below decks, lips stained with blood from tuberculosis, the women were taken straight to the convent upon arrival. With their pale complexions and bloody mouths, the rumor circulated they were vampires.”
“I’m disappointed, Dot,” Marek said. “Repeating such ridiculous fables. Of course they were vampires. Tuberculosis indeed.”
“Just like poor Uncle Arnold.” Dot shook her head.
Marek quirked a brow. “Your Uncle Arnold was a vampire?”
“Certainly not.” Dot sniffed. “He died of tuberculosis.”
Peregrine snorted. “He did not. He died of hemorrhagic fever. Nasty business.”
“What? I was certain he had TB.”
“Cousin Percy died of TB. Don’t you remember? They had him in that awful institution—”
Dot shook a gnarled finger. “Now I know that just isn’t true. Aunt Anabelle was institutionalized. Percy died at home.”
Riga gripped the base of the horse head, throttling it. “Can we forget about Percy?”
“The point,” Peregrine said, “is that since necromancers work death magic, we have a certain degree of authority over vampires. And since New Orleans is vampire central, it’s not a healthy place for people like us. There are simply too many to manage safely.”
Riga stared in horror. The last time they’d met, her aunts had been annoyingly secretive. Now they were spilling everything to her film crew.
“‘People like us’?” Sam asked.
“Visiting New Orleans is one thing,” Peregrine continued. “Living here would be madness.”
Dot shook her head. “Which unfortunately, our kind is prone to. Could Riga be right?”
“‘Our kind’?” Sam asked.
Riga laughed weakly. “You two have been drinking the Hurricanes without me. Why don’t we get you back to your hotel?”
“Oh, pish.” Dot waved aside her concerns. “We’re not drunk, as you well know. Don’t worry about your friends. They won’t even remember we’ve had this conversation, and if what you say is true, it’s important we have it. Marek, would you mind?”
He gave a short bow. “Not at all.” His gaze deepened, and a wave of delicious cold rippled through the air. “Forget.”
“For Pete’s sake…” Riga turned to Ash. His face was slack, his eyes blank. “Ash?” She looked around. The film crew wore similar sheeplike expressions. She grasped Sam’s arm, shook it. “Sam? Snap out of it.”
“I wouldn’t do that. Marek’s not finished,” Peregrine said.
“What?” Riga whirled on Marek. “Stop that.”
The heat flooded back.
Sam blinked. “Wha… Oh. Hello. Who are you?”
Riga crossed her arms over her chest and scowled at Marek. “That wasn’t funny. Don’t ever do it around me again.”
“I don’t see the harm,” Dot said.
“It’s unethical!”
“I’m not sure what ethics have to do with it,” Dot said, her chins quivering.
? effect: Fashion
Author Bio:
Kirsten Weiss is the author of the Riga Hayworth paranormal mystery series and the Sensibility Grey series of steampunk suspense.
Kirsten worked overseas for nearly fourteen years, in the fringes of the former USSR and deep in the Afghan war zone. Her experiences abroad not only gave her glimpses into the darker side of human nature, but also sparked an interest in the effects of mysticism and mythology, and how both are woven into our daily lives.
Now based in San Mateo, CA, she writes paranormal mysteries, blending her experiences and imagination to create a vivid world of magic and mayhem.
Kirsten has never met a dessert she didn’t like, and her guilty pleasures are watching Ghost Whisperer reruns and drinking good wine.
You can connect with Kirsten through the social media sites below, and if the mood strikes you, send her an e-mail at kweiss2001@gmail.com
Kirsten’s Website: http://kirstenweiss.com
Author Blog: http://parayournormal.wordpress.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/metaphysicaldetective
Twitter: https://twitter.com/KirstenWeiss
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5346143.Kirsten_Weiss
Amazon Page: http://www.amazon.com/Kirsten-Weiss/e/B007EG2ZD8/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1414603145&sr=8-1
Thanks for interviewing me for Vampire Week! It was tons of fun!