Do you believe that music has the power to harm as well as charm? That if a song is darkly intentioned enough, if it invokes  demonic forces and is performed by one of the most popular and influential bands of their time during a concert at which a blood sacrifice was made  several people died, that it would be possible, with all that negative energy funneling into it, for the spirit of the song to manifest itself—to take flesh, so to speak, and possess a living person?

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I do.

 

And if the song in question is Sympathy for the Devil, if the band is the Rolling Stones, if the concert was held at Altamont and the possessed Chosen One was an extraordinarily gifted young boy who just happened to have been in attendance (having been dragged there by his feckless and irresponsible hippie-slash-groupie-slash-junkie-slash-tarot-card-reading-no-good-slut-of-a-mother)? Then I don’t suppose you’d have any trouble guessing my name. But I’ll tell it to you anyway. 

 

My name is Gregg Gilchrist and I’m the Big Bad of the Oberon series. 

 

Oh, I know; they’ll try and tell you otherwise. They’ll say my plans all turned to dust and that I failed in the final battle. 

They’ll claim I didn’t even enter into the series until the penultimate book and expect you to believe them when they tell you that my influence was minimal.

 

Me? Minimal? Ahahahahaha! 

 

They’ll insist that there were multiple villains throughout the course of the series and that I wasn’t even the worst of them. 

 

They’re wrong on every count. 

 

The truth is, it’s ALL down to me. I own this series. Without me, it wouldn’t even exist! 

 

I was the reason Scout Patterson left town; the reason Sinead Quinn left town; the reason Lisa Larson never made it home. If not for me, Marsha Quinn’s psychic abilities might never have emerged. Lucy Cavanaugh might never have met her annoyingly clueless husband or given birth to Seth—her misbegotten ass-wipe of a son. 

 

And Nick Greco would have probably ended up in jail, as he should have done. It would have been no more than he deserved; and it would have suited me right down to the ground. 

 

Because better him than me.

 

Even the so-called author of the series has admitted that once I showed up (unexpectedly, because that’s where all the fun’s to be had!) at the end of book seven I wrested control away from her and twisted the final two books out of shape. 

 

At least, that’s how she sees it. She’s wrong too, of course. And I think she should just say ‘thank you’ and shut up! 

 

One of my biggest achievements, the most important thing I did, and the reason that I’m here, right now, talking to you, is that I picked my own heroine. In fact, you might even say that I created her. Like a silk purse from a sow's ear.

 

As I’m sure you’re aware, most villains don't get a heroine to call their own. But I'm NOT most villains. I'm not most ANYTHING. So, to hell with that!

 

At the end of book seven, on Halloween night, after taking care of business, and doing what I’d come here to do, I stood in the darkness and took a good look around. 

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It had been a while since I’d last been in Oberon. I needed to take its measure, to see what fun there was to be had here. And that’s when I found her: my sweet fallen angel, my little lost lamb, all mine to cherish and corrupt.

 

She was being totally wasted in her assigned role—an unloved minor character; the drug-addicted, cheating ex-girlfriend of the aforementioned ass-wipe. Oh, and, by the way, they’ll also try and tell you that that I’m wrong about Seth. That the poor boy is actually the much beloved, much beleaguered “hero” of books four, five, seven, and nine. But I ask you, does that seem at all likely?

 

In any case, it struck me immediately that, the way things stood, Cara was never going to get the ending that she deserved. She was set to exit the series that very night. Her final scene had already been penned. The “plan” such as it was, was to leave her right where she was when I found her; heartbroken. Alone. No friends, no family, no home, no hope… 

I ask you, where’s the romance in that?

 

Well. I couldn’t let that stand; now, could I?  So, I swept in and rescued her. Because, as the song would have it: “every cop is a criminal, and all the sinners saints” and far be it from me to disagree. 

 

Thanks to me, Cara shortly became the subject of a worrisome little cliff-hanger ending and was henceforth quickly elevated to heroine status. 

 

And yes, OF COURSE, there was pain involved—a lot of it, as it happens. And that was all thanks to me as well. 

 

Oh, don't act shocked. I told you I was the villain. Where did you think this story was going to go?  

 

But every prize has its price, does it not? And I certainly think I deserved to receive SOMETHING for all my efforts on her behalf.

Sadly, you won’t be able to read our story, in its entirety, until the entire Oberon opus is released. Cara makes her first appearance in book four. And I will be working in the shadows, the great and powerful man behind the curtains, until book seven.

BUT…not for YOU all that pointless waiting. No, not for lucky you. Clever you. The you who has somehow managed to score this creepy little Halloween-themed story featuring my very favorite juvenile delinquent, along with a brief, but special, cameo appearance from moi. YOU can start reading immediately.

There’s even a specially curated playlist to add to your enjoyment. You’ll find two links to that on the next page. Or here. Here’s good, too.

https://www.tinyurl.Hungry-Heart-Playlist

And, just in case I have somehow not yet made this abundantly clear: This is Not a Romance. It’s a little bit horror, a little bit suspense. It takes some of the events of Visions Before Midnight and re-tells them in Cara’s unique voice and from Cara’s very, very alternative perspective. And, as you’re no doubt aware, it’s being offered to you potentially free of charge.

Which is to say that, maybe it's free. But I can't know that yet, can I? Since I don't really know you. Yet.

 

For you...there very well might be a price to pay. In sleepless nights. In troubled thoughts.  Especially if you end up falling in love with her as I did and thence find yourself, in the ensuing months, worrying yourself to distraction, wondering what harm she might be coming to at my hands. And you'd be very right to do so. That’s not an empty threat. I promise.

 

But you like being scared,  don't you? And I—noblesse oblige—am happy for the opportunity to serve you in this manner. Be afraid. Be. very. afraid.

You can go now,

Gregg