hello i hate war

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HELP ME HELP UKRAINIAN WOMEN AND CHILDREN.

Starting on this International Women’s Day and running through April 8th, you can purchase KHERSON, the spiritual successor of CLEARED AWAY, from my website for $2.99. WHILE THIS EDITION IS AVAILABLE, ALL PROCEEDS WILL BE DONATED TO THE ORGANIZATION “UN WOMEN” to help provide support to Ukrainian women and children struggling to survive the invasion of their country.

The city of Kherson has fallen into devastation with the occupation of Russian forces. Grocery store shelves are bare, money is no good, and women have been urged to stay at home for their own protection. As the war intensifies these conditions are not likely to improve anytime soon, and humanitarian organizations attempting to help the civilians of Ukraine will need as much support as they can receive. KHERSON has been written not just as a piece responding to the controversy around CLEARED AWAY, but as a means of spreading awareness of the very real, very present threat being faced by human beings trapped in their city due to a war they didn’t ask for—especially the threat being faced by female human beings.

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If you do not read the story, please instead consider donating directly to UN WOMEN, Razom, ICRC, Urgent Action For Women’s Human Rights, or Fundacja Ocalenie.

FAQ: Why not Godless?

After the dust-up over CLEARED AWAY, I don’t want to force somebody else to deal with any potential controversy this short book might kick up. Additionally, due to the ongoing nature of the invasion of Ukraine, the more immediately funds can be provided to charities, the more impact they will have. With payments flowing in through Paypal right away, the money can be donated on a weekly basis. Keep tabs on the total on the book’s page on my website! It will be updated daily until the book’s run has ended.

FAQ: Isn’t this like setting up a lemonade stand for cancer?

It’s better than nothing. Since I can’t donate out-of-pocket, a fundraiser is the next best option.

FAQ: Is this exploitative?

War and rape are exploitative. This is a piece of fiction.

FAQ: I’m offended. How can I complain?

By donating to one of the above charities and sending me the receipt.

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hello i hate the milquetoastification of indie fiction

…and you should, too.

Reader, reader. What have we here? A blog post? This must really be something special. Regina rarely posts actual blog entries, and even more rarely starts a post on her site with ‘i hate’ instead of ‘i love.’ Yet, this where we find ourselves. I just need to vent a little: moreover, I need to implore you, reader, to think about what I am writing here, because I mean it sincerely.

I woke up this morning to find another horror author, whose pen name and work shall not be named, had a year-old book blocked an Amazon–an action that most likely occurred because somebody complained about it. A horror book. In the horror category. By a known author of extreme horror.

This is really sticking in my craw because I had a similar situation earlier in the month concerning a book published on the website Godless.com, which is meant specifically for horrific, shocking, boundary-pushing horror fiction that can (or should) not be published anywhere else. Unbeknownst to me, somebody I know–and at that point respected–went behind my back to the site creator to complain the piece, a 4500 word piece of shock horror comparable to many other pieces on the site. Is it the best piece I’ve ever written in my life? Of course not, I wrote it in an afternoon to be shocking and depraved, and to make readers question why they read this sort of fiction. But I stand by the piece, and the emotional reaction it evidently triggered in this person indicates to me that the piece is successful.

That being said, I have been affected for almost a month by this ridiculous scenario. I feel censorious eyes peering over my keyboard and into my mind as I try to think of something to write, and for the past weeks just a bit of my joy has been sapped from me whenever I do make it to the keyboard. This is the real goal the person had by first going to the Godless.com creator, then by sending me a personal message that amounted to a drive-by when they refused to reply. The person was offended and upset by the work, and when someone is upset, they want to upset the person who upset them. The motive for demanding another person remove a piece of art from circulation, whatever the quality, can only be a malicious one.

There are people out there who want writers to suck. I don’t mean just vindictive book bloggers, either. There are writers who want other writers to suck. There are people who have nothing to do with the world of publishing, who haven’t read a book since high school (or maybe haven’t graduated it) who want writers to suck. This latter group is made of people who pile-on to a situation on Twitter or Facebook so they can enjoy criticizing a content creator for a work they know nothing about. As for the rest, the frustrated writers who take pleasure in trashing the works of other writers, this is a truly lowly sort upon whom I’ll waste little time other than to say they are doomed to evolve into vindictive book bloggers, their works unread by the community that has long-since seen them for what they are.

But why would anyone want another person’s work to suck, Regina? Surely you’re looking at this the wrong way. These good, wholesome, neighborly souls are only concerned. They want to keep readers from reading “bad” books, so they leave informative 1-star reviews everywhere they possibly can. They want to keep writers from publishing (or preferably from writing at all) “bad” books, so they complain to Amazon and other platforms in the name of having the books taken down–thus, also, protecting these poor, helpless readers from the bad, bad fiction that offended the tattle-tale.

These are their stated goals, I will give you that. But, reader, this sort of person who can’t leave well enough alone actually has another goal seated in their heart of hearts. No matter what they tell themselves, the type of person who complains about a book is doing so for self-motivated reasons. If outside of the publishing/reading industry, they tend to be jealous of success in general and simply enjoy the schadenfreude that comes from latching onto a good public witch hunt. If they are a reader, then it is because they were so offended by the book that they want to hurt the author in their turn. And if they proclaim to be a fellow writer, then they can have one goal and one goal only: to rein in their competition until one of them sings a swansong and quits publishing altogether…or at least publishing in their genre.

Some writers believe that, rather than writing to the market, the market should conform to their tastes–and that other writers, for not doing the same, are wrong or in some way lacking in quality. For these authors, the only possibility they have of success, so far as they can see, is proving to readers that their taste is “wrong.” They write long reviews of other authors’ works that belittle the piece as much as possible before ending in snide urgings like, “But hey, if writing is your passion, keep doing it!” They critique in-progress works shared in confidence in such a way as to hamper their final form, rather than helping hone them to success. Most vilely, they report books to the platforms on which they’re published so that even extreme horror fiction properly categorized has no chance to remain for sale. To play it safe, deplatformed writers may end up writing milder things.

And that is exactly what these petty agitators want. They do not want to see boundaries pushed and authors inspired by one another. They do not want to look evil in the face or think that someone may disagree with them. They do not want to see others successful when their own books can’t seem to get past a handful of reviews and a couple of sales a month. They want only their own immediate success, and they just cannot understand why shitting on others won’t make it come any faster.

I am writing this entry today to urge you, reader, to never be like these people. Love fellow writers. Support them. Encourage them even if you don’t personally enjoy their work. Celebrate their successes, because one day they’re going to celebrate yours. Don’t be mediocre, and don’t let anyone tell you that you should be. When people are upset about your art, upset them more.

And if you’re a reader only? As Shirley Jackson once said to a rude critic, “If you don’t like my peaches, don’t shake my tree.” Let extreme horror grow in its profane groves of eyeball bushes and vaginal trees. It’s not doing anyone any real harm, and if you think that you’re worried it is, well…stop and ask yourself if that’s really the problem you have with it.

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Pre-order the complete paperback edition of DOTTIE FOR YOU SEASON ONE!

For the first time ever, get all eight episodes of psychedelic depravity in one incredible paperback collection featuring wild cover art by artist Lauren Kolesinskas! The entire first season of Regina Watts’s horrotica DOTTIE FOR YOU–along with the two previously commercially unavailable episodes of DOTTIE AFTER DARK for the season–are available at $34.99. That’s over one thousand pages of taboo horror romance, including those two secret episodes, for a price cheaper than the season’s digital release available on Kindle. Preorder your copy today and get it in time for its Valentine’s Day 2021 release date!

ORDER DOTTIE FOR YOU SEASON ONE TODAY!

HAROLD LOVES DOTTIE. DOTTIE LOVES HAROLD. HAROLD AND DOTTIE BOTH LOVE DOLCETT.

Indulge in a flavorful billionaire love story that reads like American Psycho meets 50 Shades on a bad acid trip.

Harold Fleetwood is pathetic. Despite being the billionaire CEO of a major Fortune 500 company, he’s a divorcé in his mid-fifties who can hardly look a woman in the eye. His dark compulsions and sick fantasies fill him with shame and leave the Internet as his only outlet, not just for titillation, but for intimacy–until the day he discovers bratty Dottie Shipman, the sexiest secretary in the office, has a dirty little secret she’s been hiding.

Turns out, Dottie is as intrigued by taboo fantasies as Harold is. Not only that, but she’s the artist he’s spent countless hours fantasizing with while wasting time in his filthy-minded chat room for fellow lonely perverts. He’s terrified, and thrilled. After all these years of hiding his intense, twisted desires from everyone except the prostitutes he employs, sharing himself with this almost too-perfect woman seems like a recipe for deadly consequences from which no amount of money can save him. Luckily for Harold, Dottie’s got another secret.

An unbelievable secret.

A secret that’s destined to change everything.

Check out more about Regina at her website! And a big shout-out to editor M.F. Sullivan for her contributions to the series.

hello i love collaborating with puppet combo: BABYSITTER BLOODBATH comes out 10/9

Picture R.L. Stine’s FEAR STREET series but with a splatterpunk twist: that, my friends, is BABYSITTER BLOODBATH. Don’t miss this bloody treat produced in collaboration with Puppet Combo, the genius developer behind such horror classics as POWER DRILL MASSACRE, NUN MASSACRE, and FEED ME, BILLY. BABYSITTER BLOODBATH is their first novelization and my first collaboration, so please support us both by buying a copy when it comes out on 10/9…and don’t forget to check out the rest of my work, too. There’s a new Sabine short coming out tonight or tomorrow, it just so happens, and if you like evil nuns, well…this’ll be the short for you. Of course, keep in mind–this is my first YA-style novel. Usually my work is a bit saucier than that, as regular readers know…new readers are advised to proceed with the utmost caution. But don’t worry, Regina Watts fans–YA-style doesn’t mean that it’s for kids.

I had a hell of a time working on this one–it was an absolute blast. Here’s to hoping I’ll get to do another one!

READ BABYSITTER BLOODBATH ON 10/9/20

You’ve played the game, now read the book! The first novelization in Puppet Combo’s VHS Terrors Series: Babysitter Bloodbath, puts you right in the middle of a classic 80s SLASHER!

Sarah has been feeling happy in her quiet Washington suburb and tonight is a big chance for her: A lengthy babysitting gig and a chance to be alone with her new hunky guy Jack. With any luck this’ll shape up to be a great night for her— unfortunately that luck has already run out.

A brutal atrocity happened 22 years ago in the very same neighborhood, completely forgotten by this small town, but not forgotten by the monster who committed it. Neokalus Burr will be violently released from his long stay in Monroe State Hospital… and Sarah will finally get to meet the long-forgotten horror of her town’s past.

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hello i love spooktober, bad witches, bizarre transformations oh and uh apparently hucow

Celebrate a month of Halloween fun by ensuring you’re all caught up with the adventures of SEXY SABINE! Sure, they’re standalone, but so are Looney Tunes…and if you enjoy one Bugs Bunny misadventure, odds are good you’ll love the rest. Grab THE WITCH’S GARDEN HOE for $4.99 and join wicked witch Sabine as she spies on her annoying and corruptible neighbor, Clarinda the Good Witch…then watch sparks fly as Clarinda gets what’s coming to her for being a busybody. From Satan-on-futa-on-male threesomes (featuring, of course, demonic tentacles and some really horrible sadomasochism that made me scream out loud to write and edit), to witch-on-witch spanking, to outrageously hot lesbian orgies and generally blasphemous magickal mischief, THE WITCH’S GARDEN HOE is a novella-length entry that’s sure to please.

But if you’re looking for something a little more, shall we say, niche, then enjoy a quicker read with THE WITCH’S MILK JUGS for $2.99. How can you eat Satan in the form of a bowl of cereal if you’re out of milk? Luckily, if you’re a witch with a cute, innocent, in-denial neighbor, it’s easy enough to make some of your own…this wet and messy short is especially for all the dairy lovers out there, but it’s weird, hot, and funny enough that anybody who’s enjoyed previous Sabine stories will love this one, too. Read THE WITCH’S MILK JUGS and learn a valuable lesson in Karma with your favorite bad witch!

Oh, and while I’m at it…be sure you’re signed up to my mailing list, because you get a free (and exclusive) Sabine short when you do! Fill out the form below and check your spam box if you don’t hear from me right away.

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hello i love procrastinating by doing unnecessary blog posts and updating covers

yes it’s true there are other things i could or should be doing right now but looooooooook aren’t these new DOTTIE covers even better than the old ones? my kindleunlimited reads sure seem to indicate that they are. the cover changes are still flowing through on the Amazon page but why not use this exciting day as an excuse to make sure you’re up to date with this hot series of taboo bdsm erotica that makes 50 Shades of Grey look like Dr. Seuss. we’ve got cannibalism, femdom, findom, foot worship, snuff, guro, extreme consensual torture, a man with a nuclear cock, a cute immortal girl with psychedelic girlmeat, and lots of super inappropriate ddlg ageplay. and that barely even scratches the surface of what these first five episodes contain, baby–all that, and a real plot, too. READ DOTTIE TODAY BY CLICKING HERE OR ON THE AD BELOW!

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hello i love hot fictional girls getting roasted alive for real or for pretend

Happy DOTTIE Day! Get your fill of depraved cannibal erotica with the first novel-length entry of DOTTIE FOR YOU…and stick around after the episode for special instructions about how to acquire DOTTIE AFTER DARK Secret Episode 2, a scene from Episode 6 that was just too inappropriate for me to put in Amazon’s erotica category. That’s almost 60,000 total words of DOTTIE that are now available for you to enjoy. Included in that you’ll find a super-hot Dolcett scene (think DelishMedia or Muki’s Kitchen if you’re a person of culture like myself and are familiar with either of those), tons of Jane and Tarzan-style primal sex, a whisper of mmf, voyeurism, reverse cuckolding, the usual taboo ageplay and consumption of psychedelic girlmeat, and much, much more…there’s even a crazy metaphysical plot in there to enlighten your consciousness while you’re getting off, so you can thank me later. Oh! And I almost forgot…this one has a novel-in-a-novel featuring the disgracefully erotic story of Herod and Salome. pseudo-incest is okay when it’s a Bible story fictionalized as a fictional character’s fictional novel, right? Right.

READ DOTTIE FOR YOU EPISODE 6: “DULCET LITTLE DOT”

Harold Fleetwood’s got to step his game up. He may be a billionaire, but it occurs to him now that there are many other billionaires on the planet. Some of them–for instance, Harold’s former business partner and lifelong friend, cunning and charismatic Leo Byron–might even be better-suited for Dottie. At least, more able to captivate her attention. Dottie tells Harold it’s all in his head, but he’s not so sure. And now that he knows Byron’s own superhuman secret, well, Harold can’t help but think he needs to find more ways to relate to DULCET LITTLE DOT than through consensual cannibalism and financial domination) alone.

Especially because, as the board meeting looms and Harold braces himself for backlash on recent changes to certain employees’ salaries, it occurs to Harold just how much he needs Dottie. For instance, during the two-week period of healing in which their favorite form of bonding is verboten, Dottie finds other ways to turn up the heat in their exotic romance: he might not be able to cook her alive the way she wants for a few more days, but they can at least pretend. And there’s so much more than that. After all, he and Byron are used to sharing everything: even if activities are restricted between them, there’s still plenty of fun to be had with three people; more fun still as, inspired by Dottie, Harold unfurls his own twisted work of erotic fiction for the pleasure of his immortal nymphet.

When a girl trusts you enough to let you play these sorts of games–sorts of games other men might kill for the chance to play–the least you can do is come up with a grand gesture to show her what she means to you.

What better gesture than an erotic retelling of the taboo Bible story of Herod and Salome?

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hello i love debut novels: INDUSTRIAL DIVINITY is available today

that’s right: with my library of titles available on Amazon as huge as it is, INDUSTRIAL DIVINITY is still my first standalone novel of transgessive fiction. this perverse fairy tale of alienation is a must-read for fans of dottie for you and anyone who enjoys the darker fiction brought to us during the 1980s and 1990s. when a woman discovers she’s immortal but not invulnerable, she begins a career as the sadomasochistic camgirl and performance artist known as the degenetrix. i wouldn’t go so far as to say this novel of extreme horror is an erotica, but it does have some very sexual elements…especially if you’re the sort of person who likes to see a woman smash her hand with a hammer, submit to having acid poured into her brain, publicly degrade herself in a series of performances critical of shakespeare, and way way more. oh–and it’s free on kindle unlimited.

READ INDUSTRIAL DIVINITY TODAY!

A female FIGHT CLUB for a pandemic world, an ATROCITY EXHIBITION for an embittered generation of Internet addicts, a response to THE ROOM that would make even Hubert Selby Jr. cringe–INDUSTRIAL DIVINITY is a transgressive love story by 2020 breakout author REGINA WATTS.

Once upon a time lived a woman who was immortal but not invulnerable. This is the story of everything that happened after she discovered that fact. This is the story of a virus. It is the story of a country that is afraid of change. This is the story of a woman who becomes a sadomasochistic performance artist called “The Degenetrix” during a time when the human race is more isolated than ever before.

This is the story of the Degenetrix and the career she built by mutilating herself on the Internet for the pleasure of strangers, of stalkers, and of a mysterious benefactor who showers her with wealth but refuses to reveal his identity. This is the story of love during pandemic, of alienation in an alienated world. This is the story of pain and of lust and of the human mind.

But don’t worry. This is a happy story, and you are permitted to feel happy while you read it. Empathy is the greatest of all human virtues and the human race has been put on this planet called “Earth” so as to learn it.

Such is the will of spider-mother.

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hello i love free previews – two short chapters from INDUSTRIAL DIVINITY

Buy my debut standalone novel for $9.99 and get it the day it comes out on July 31st, 2020! If that command doesn’t convince you, then maybe these samples will.

5

By the next evening, the stranger had established her page on the video site. White, unadorned, empty of anything but her account name. Plain as her early set. After careful furniture rearrangement, she’d produced enough space to prop her budget photography screen against the kitchen/not-kitchen partition. There was even space for the lights. More adjustment made room for the camera. The barstool normally at the partition became her seat before the background. They were missing just one thing: after discussion, she took her seat with a hammer in her hand.


“Hello,” she began on his mark, but he immediately stopped the camera.


“You need more energy than that.”


“Do I?”


“Yeah. Think about those videos I showed you! These people were all super excited. You need to understand that you’re crafting a character.”


She pondered the head of the hammer. Rust lined the metal edge: the result of a leaky pipe in the last kitchen sink under which it had been stored. Time’s victim. “I’m so detached from myself. How could I come up with a character?”


“Oh, please, you’re the craziest girl I’ve ever met. You mean to say you’re not a character already?” He waved his hand at her. “Tell me what you feel about your situation. Do you like it more or dislike it more?”


“I guess I like it more. I like it a lot more than I dislike it.”


“And what do you like about it?”


“Well…” Her thumb pressed to the jagged texture of rust buildup, almost cuttingly sharp. “I guess it’s an opportunity to feel things. Things nobody else can ever feel.”


“So, you want to enjoy it—I mean, your condition. Your life.” Obviously uncomfortable with the true degree of her sadomasochism, he scratched his cheek before turning back to the camera. “Then I think that’s what you should tap into. If you want people to watch you, be excited about something. People love artists who are passionate about their art… Nobody likes a singer who’s too blasé, not for long.”


“Do people really want to see my passion for self-mutilation?”


“Just roll with it,” he said, adjusting the focus of the camera. “In three, two—”

6

The most-discussed viral phenomenon over the next few days was not the disease sweeping the globe but a surreal video of a lovely young woman in front of a white screen.


“Hi, everybody!” The woman giggled as if at herself and continued, “I’m the Degenetrix!” She introduced herself as a performance artist living in the city. Fairly close to true, or was about to be. It occurred to the woman only in the first few seconds of filming that this was a whole new medium for her. A massive shift: from making art to becoming art. The assumption of a new identity, “the Degenetrix,” a title suggested by the stranger and immediately embraced like the answer to some riddle.


This realization of new emergence was not apparent in the video’s final cut, where her image was superimposed with the familiar clip of her body smashing against a windshield. “You probably know me from the hit-and-run video that’s been making the rounds! A lot of people have wanted to know about me: Was she in shock? Is she on drugs? Is it a publicity stunt? No! I’m a real person. And what you’re about to see is real, too.”


Once the camera panned to reveal the hammer in her hand, the woman known as the Degenetrix stood up, crossed behind the stool, laid her left hand upon it, and attempted to bring the hammer down with her right.

“Ah!”


The first blow made her cry out but was not hard enough to achieve anything stupendous. The second got a knuckle and a “Fuck!” but yielded no satisfying break. “Help me,” she hissed through clenched teeth. “Help me, help me, damn you—”


After the shake of the camera upon its tripod resolved to a still frame, the cameraman appeared in the scene to help her. Face obscured by the low angle so all that could be seen was his arm, the man took the hammer and repeatedly brought it to bear upon her fingers.

“Oh, God!” Her screaming pierced the apartment, and she realized at once that this would never fly—they had to get sound-dampening equipment to line her not-kitchen. This was one of a flurry of out-of-place practical thoughts—strange, spontaneous expansions of imagery the way people thought of chores during sex. In the video, she didn’t appear to be thinking about anything: only screaming, profaning, gripping her abused left hand by the wrist to keep it in place while the hammer smashed away.

The man stumbled off frame again. Viewers commented that the sound at time stamp 3:14 was likely the sound of the hammer being dropped. For about thirty seconds, the footage showed only the woman, gasping, weeping, her forehead against the edge of the barstool while she stared through tear-matted eyelashes at the pulp of her hand. Gradually, her crying calmed. The camera shook as it was removed from its tripod and the cameraman’s arc swung wide to reveal bits and pieces of an apartment, lighting equipment—no substantial wires or special effects equipment immediately visible. Only the woman, who, still collapsed against the stool, lifted her head at the camera’s approach and managed a shaky inhalation.

“This is real,” she wetly emphasized, reaching off-screen for a paper towel she used to blot blood from her bruised hand. “This is a magic trick. I’m a performance artist. But this is real.”

The camera zoomed in on her cleaned hand. Crumpled fingers snapped back into place as if the woman were a blow-up doll expanding into shape. By the time ninety seconds had passed, the woman’s hand was healed. The camera panned over the breadth of her grin, eyes bright and cheeks flushed as if by postcoital ecstasy.

“If you want to see more, be sure to like this video, leave a comment, and subscribe to the channel. See you next time!”

One last shot of her waving her broken hand: an auto-suggestion from the website’s algorithm that viewers might also enjoy this clip of a man falling from a ladder and smashing his head on his driveway.

-END OF SAMPLE-

IF YOU ENJOYED THIS, YOU MIGHT ALSO ENJOY…

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hello i love the marquis de sade: read FAMILIARITY on april 30th, 2021

i’m pleased to reveal the digital-exclusive cover of familiarity, due april 30th, 2021: that’s next walpurgisnacht for you non-occult normies out there. out of all the covers m. f. sullivan has produced for me, this one might be my favorite yet. remind you of anything? only my favorite cover for my favorite book of all time. oh and what do you know sullivan also wrote the forward too that’s very nice of her. i think it’s safe to say that if you like nabokov, libertine fiction, and my own personal sugardaddy in sin, the dark lord satan (HAIL SATAN), i guarantee you will lap up every one of the over 300,000 words in this depraved novel of transgressive fiction. pre-order your digital copy now to get it on april 30th, 2021!

oh, uh, also, if u r a sensitive sally about abortion, amputation, the long-term ramifications of child abuse, satanic rituals, CIA mind control and harassment techniques, and more, then maybe steer clear.

PRE-ORDER YOUR DIGITAL COPY OF FAMILIARITY

Coming APRIL 30th, 2021: A horrific and salacious transgressive novel from the author of INDUSTRIAL DIVINITY and DOTTIE FOR YOU, this modern mash-up of LOLITA and DANGEROUS LIAISONS is for any reader with a strong stomach who’s looking for a fresh take on the Marquis de Sade.

Libertine abortionist Dr. Hammond Harteveldt bears a charmed life, though most might not feel that way. After all, his former brother-in-law was recently found dead in his prison cell while awaiting charges related to some very sordid sex crimes, and the retired widower has subsequently come into custody of his deeply troubled goddaughter, Theresa. Most affluent men of recreation would surely see sudden custody of a dependent as a chore, but not Hammond.

Far from it: Theresa’s presence in the uncanny Harteveldt home is an opportunity. He has not seen the girl in years–not since a falling out with her father–and the truth is that although the circumstances of her arrival were less than fortunate, she’s already brought so many good things into his life. There’s the alluring and naive Grace Primrose, young Theresa’s fetching high school librarian caught in a dead-end, humdrum marriage from which her Catholic values will not permit her to extricate herself despite her sensual dreams of a more exciting life. Then there’s poor Isaac Redfern, the normally skeptical FBI agent responsible for Theresa’s case who seems as if he’s hovering on the verge of a nervous breakdownincreasingly paranoid about nonsense like ‘gangstalking’ and other purportedly CIA tactics of psychological terrorism. Comes to think Hammond’s at the head of some kind of cult something-or-other, poor old dog.

But then, of course, there is Theresa herself. Theresa, ah, Theresa–Theresa, who will be eighteen on Walpurgisnacht, and who even before then proves an eager student in her godfather’s libertine designs. She’s fascinated with Primrose and Redfern, both.

And by Satan, Dr. Harteveldt is smitten with all three of them.