It’s A Long Way ‘Til Dawn

I’m very happy to announce that the second Das Vampir story has been released, and is now available in Ebook and paperback at Amazon, Barnes&Noble, and book retailers worldwide.

“A short horror story from the author of Saint Monolith and Judgment, Das Vampir is an exciting tale with a different perspective on vampires. It’s a dark and old school monster story; more akin to Bram Stoker or Nosferatu than the glitzy vampires so common today. It’s told from two perspectives: The vampire’s, with the loneliness of being undead, the fear of the sun, the hiding in nasty places, the uncontrollable need to feed on the living; and that of the victims, as they fall to a bloodthirsty predator.”

“DAS VAMPIR is an excellent and rather retro treatment of the vampire legend that restores the eponymous monster to its horrifying roots. Rich, dark, and invested with a ruthless malevolence from the get go, author Tom Reinhart instills his short story with more horrific charm than any number of longer works.”

There will be six Das Vampir tales in all. The first two are now available. Check them out, and stay inside after dark.

Buy At Amazon


Das Vampir 2 Is Upon Us

“The way you switch from present tense to past tense between the creature and the victims, that’s a brilliant idea. It makes you feel right there living as the monster, in the moment, yet keeps traditional storytelling for the rest. It works amazingly well. It creates just enough separation between the monster’s experience and the victims, while still keeping it all one cohesive story. People are going to study this in some “writing styles” class someday. It’s literary genius.”

Das Vampir 2. Releasing everywhere, any minute now. Sleep tight, and good luck. It’s a long way ’til dawn.


“Death, My Old Friend.”

“Mason refused to move. Not an inch, not a muscle. He held Sue in his arms as the light faded from her eyes. He could feel her heart beat in rhythm with his own, until it gradually slowed and eventually stopped. Her last exhale whispered into his ears, just like her breathing had from her pillow in the middle of the night when he would watch her sleep; a sound he would never forget, especially now.

An hour later, as her skin cooled to his touch, he still hadn’t moved. They huddled there together by the side of the road, the widening gap between life and death trying to pull them apart, but Mason refused to let go. The street lamp above him flickered sporadically as the cold winter breeze bit and clawed at his face, the blood beneath them already frozen. He had vowed to protect her, to keep her safe. At the moment this was all he knew to do; to hold her here, to keep the world away, even in death.

In the dark quiet places of his mind the demons stirred, slowly at first, then more vigorously as they realized the gatekeeper was gone. For months she had kept them in check, pushed them back, keeping them tamed with logic and love. He kissed her cold blue lips, bits of blood slipping into his mouth; pieces of her to remain within him forever. His tears fell, the warm salty stream burning against his frozen cheeks. Like an old friend, this sort of pain and sorrow had followed him all his life, always seeming to manifest itself the same way. Now as his broken heart bled into rage, the demons crept forward. The wall that locked away his secrets, the barrier that held back the unique way he perceived the world, shook and cracked as the monsters pounded from within. Unguarded, unchecked, the floodgates opened, and he surrendered to the madness and rage.”

~ Saint Monolith 2



“We Found Teeth In The Deposit Slot.”

Saint Monolith 2: The Saint of Seven Mile

“Detective, we’ve got him on camera. The bank manager’s got the tape cued up right now.”

“Show me.”

Inside the security room of Detroit First National, the small group of patrolmen and detectives huddle around the black and white monitor. Blurry, grainy, and without color, it’s as surreal a view of the world as the scene they were about to watch. “Wait until you see this, Detective. This guy’s fucking nuts.”

The first view is from the overhead camera of the drive-thru lane. A pale gray Bronco pulls up slowly to the ATM. The camera angle is wide, enough to see the entire vehicle, but not much of the occupants. The window rolls down, and a woman reaches over and begins a transaction.

“Did you run those plates yet?”

“Yeah. New York tags. Comes back to a Sue Peterson. No known address in Detroit, but we’re out looking for the vehicle right now.”

“Can we get a close up? How about the ATM cam? Can we see their faces?”

“Yeah, hang on.” A click of a mouse and the screen changes to a fish-eye view from the ATM itself. The woman is beautiful, even behind large and dark sunglasses. As she leans forward to insert her bank card, the passenger becomes visible over her shoulder.

“That’s our guy, in the passenger seat.”

Suddenly the calmness of the scene becomes something else entirely.


“Yeah, this is where it starts.”

A third figure runs up between the woman and the ATM, putting a gun in her face and pointing at the ATM. For a few brief seconds he waves his arms around frantically, then suddenly he hits the woman in the mouth with the gun.

“He hit her, right? Did he just hit her right there?”

“Yeah. Watch the passenger.”

The man in the passenger seat shifts towards the driver as he grabs the steering wheel and turns it sharply towards the ATM. The car abruptly lunges forward, pinning the robber between the wall and the car. The detective watches intently, chewing gum with loud smacks. “That was slick.” The rhythm of the gum suddenly changes as the passenger exits the car. “What’s he doing now?”

“Go back to the overhead camera.”

“Damn…that’s a big dude.”

At the ATM the robber is still clutching his gun with one hand, and his crushed hip with the other. As the male passenger walks around the rear of the car, the injured thug raises the weapon and points it directly at him. “Look at him. He’s walking right up on the gun like he doesn’t care.”

Then the retribution begins.

“Whoa..damn.” As the detectives watch, the passenger walks up to the robber, grabs the hand with the gun, and violently forces the thug to hit himself in his own face with it. Once, twice, and on the third time the gun goes off. There is no sound from the monitor, but the bright flash of the muzzle is clear as the gun fires straight up into the ceiling of the drive-thru.

“Make sure we get that bullet. Do we have the gun?”

“No. He tosses it into the… right there…”

The man pulls the gun from the thug’s hand and tosses it through the window into the Bronco. The robber is now holding his face with both hands, seemingly trying to cower back, leaning away from the passenger as far as he can. The intended victim, now the aggressor, grabs the thug by the throat with both hands. Looking over his shoulder to the woman driver, they exchange a few words, and the Bronco suddenly backs up, releasing its prisoner from the wall.

“What the hell is this guy doing? Can we go back to the ATM camera?”

“Yeah, but you won’t see much.”


“You’ll see.”

Another click of a button and the fish-eye cam comes into view again. At first all that can be seen is the back of the robber until he is suddenly spun around to face the camera and thrust forward into it, making his face appear to slam into the monitor. The detective’s gum falls from his open mouth.


Again and again the thug’s face is thrust forward into the TV screen. Each time the camera becomes a little more fogged with blood and snot, but each impact makes a clear and visceral impression on those watching. The camera shifts violently with every blow, the entire ATM moving from the force. After several moments the monitor screen is nothing but a smear of DNA.

“Fuckin’ A.”

“Yeah. We found teeth in the deposit slot.”

“You what?

“We found teeth in the deposit slot.”

The detective stared blankly at the officer for a moment, trying to chew gum that was no longer there, before sighing deeply and turning back to the screen. “Go back to the overhead.”

From above, the officers watch the man drop the thug to the ground, then step away towards the Bronco; but he doesn’t leave. “What’s he doing?”

“Watch. He’s asking her for the ATM card.”

As they watch the woman hands the man her card through the car window. He pauses there for a moment, reaching out to caress the woman’s face. He kisses her, then walks back to the ATM, casually inserting the card while standing over the crumpled body as if it wasn’t there. He makes his withdrawal, and then begins walking back to the Bronco. As he crosses the drive lane, he looks directly up at the camera.

“Freeze that, right there. Can you zoom in on that?”


Seconds later the screen is filled with the face of Mason Stone. His steel gaze meets the detective’s eyes; his face expressionless, emotionless, unaffected by the brutal events that occurred just moments ago.

“That’s a cold son of a bitch right there. Let’s make sure we get this guy.”

Saint Monolith 2
The Saint of Seven Mile

Coming Soon