My plan was to blog about The Ninth Circle and where it came from before now, but I’ve recently been hit with Covid for the third time so that’s completely floored me (and I’m pretty sure writing this will do the same as soon as I finish) and put me way behind schedule in terms of promo. Not a great start when you have a new book out.
Anyway. A fair number of my ideas are actually a couple of ideas that have seemingly nothing in common but then come together to form a whole. In this case, it was imagining a couple on holiday somewhere when something huge happens back home. I had no clue where they were, who they were or what the huge was, but I liked the merging of putting people in an unknown location while their home is. . .something.
I’ve also always loved getting to the finer details of a situation – especially if we’re talking a big situation. Years ago, an agent rejected one of my books because he felt it was too small scale. I’d written about two women trying to survive the aftermath of the apocalypse; one looking for her daughter, and the other attempting to avoid a constant and mostly unseen threat. Things came to a head as they do and both women were forced to face some ugly truths. That was exactly the story I wanted to tell, so when the agent said it was small scale, I thought something along the lines of no shit and wrote another book.
Same thing with Ninth Circle. When I put my initial ideas of a couple on holiday alongside a threat to their home, it changed slightly to a couple having a day out in the man’s childhood village when a nuclear strike hits Britain. The village isn’t a target but it is close enough to airforce bases to feel the blast. And then it transpires there’s something in the flames and smoke. Something that likes to burn.
I knew I wanted a fast-paced action type horror. I’ve written them before and have a lot of fun with them. They’re my equivalent of a film you’d watch on a Friday night with a few beers. Something over the top, violent, scary and entertaining – mainly because it’s not a reality you have to live. So The Ninth Circle gets going almost right from the start. It’s a kind of jump on board the train situation. The driver doesn’t know where it’s going; the track’s melting; the world is on fire and there are things chasing the train, so you better jump on board right now.
THE NINTH CIRCLE
Sam passed through the church doors, treading on the soft earth, shoes sinking slightly. It was only after looking straight down that he realised narrow channels running red flowed below the crosses, each tiny stream carrying the blood of all the bodies out to the far end of this place. He stepped over the streams, mud sucking at his feet. Silent lightning flashed high overhead; an instant of white against the sky where huge patches of gloom answered the lightning in a movement that was deliberate and horribly alive. Steam and mist rose from the ground and the streams, bringing the stink of decay and spoiled meat along with the salty tang of the blood flowing from the crucified bodies. Through the earth, the mud and the splits and holes, the living gloom swam, entwining, parting, flowing into one before darting into separate forms. It was almost like a dance under his feet as he crossed the Plains, as he inhaled the smell of the bodies and the hot wind blew against his face. The world outside this place was another man’s dream. All he had was this land encased by the walls of the church and the horizon where something gigantic grew from ground to sky. A swirling form comprised of the red light brightening his surroundings. Sam tried to focus on it and to name the shape. His eyes wouldn’t rest on it and the thing beyond the light shifted every time he blinked. Its form changed with each passing second and took the memory of what it had been. He had time to think of it in a recognisable way before the naming was meaningless and he was left with the dancing light and what might have been a living flame at the centre of the Plains of the Crucified.
And still no thoughts in his void of a mind as he passed the endless circles of the dead on their crosses. All he had were his few working senses allowing him to witness this place that had stolen St Michael’s and stolen a tiny fraction of his childhood to mock him with this. . .with this. . .
This obscenity.
A hand landed on his shoulder.
Rachel stared at him. A skeletal Rachel with her rotting body exposed to this place. Rachel bent over by the weight of the cross she was nailed to except for the hand she’d placed on his shoulder to bleed on him and dig the nail that jutted through her palm into his arm. Even with the agony, he couldn’t close his eyes. He saw what the capering red beyond the crosses had done to her.
Nothing good here, Sam. This is all the way inside us. This is where we all belong.
She smiled. It split her face in two. Her eyes, bleached white, rolled back into her head, and the lines cut deep into her face widened to become pits.
This is where we come from and where we’re going. Welcome home.
https://books2read.com/The-Ninth-Circle
Pre-orders of either the ebook or the paperback would be a massive help, so if the sneak peek above gets you going, there’s more fun to be had via the link. Or even simply sharing any promo you see from me will help. Thankee sai.
Talk soon when I’m hopefully back to 100%.
Luke Walker - Writer 