Amazon Hollywood Cowboys Createspace Category:  Horror Publisher: Createspace / Nightwatch Press ISBN-10:  1453621423 Type: Fiction Pages: 458 Copyright: October 2010 ISBN-13: 9781453621424 Sex,Drugs, Rock 'n Roll and Demonolgy! Vampires, Demons, Werewolves. Oh, my. Rock 'n Roll Will Never Be the Same. In the late 80's Heavy Metal ruled the airwaves and crowned MTV King of  Video. From L.A. to London this musical melee couldn't be stopped. Rising to the top of the scene, the Hollywood Cowboys lived like gods of thunder and rock 'n roll. Behind the music, they saved their fans, and the world, from the forces of darkness lurking beneath the neon glitter of everyday reality. Addiction, sleaze, fast cars, and demonology... Welcome to the jungle and hang onto the saddle. The Hollywood Cowboys are about to take you for a ride.   Excerpt Chapter 6: Some Heads are Gonna Roll The black ’68 Camaro sliced through the night like a dark metal shark. Behind its tinted windows two predators argued above the sound of crunching guitars and screaming lyrics booming from two large speakers in the back seat. The sound of Slayer’s Reign In Blood beat a frenetic escape from the morgue falling away in the rainy distance. As far as the predators were concerned, it was the sound of the only true metal. Fuck that pansy ass Sunset Strip. Call it Thrash, Speed, or Death Metal, only the hardest motherfuckers played this shit and only the hardest could appreciate its brutal beauty. At least, that was the way Kane saw it. His brother wasn’t much into articulating his thoughts quite that deeply. The vampire knew Sabbat felt that primal musical power right down to the core just like he did, but would never find the words to say what it meant to him. Not that it mattered much. Kane had always been the thinker of the two. The brains of the dynamic undead duo. He felt happy to have the job and Sabbat seemed happy to let him lead the way. “Who the fuck was that guy?” Sabbat asked. He looked over his bucket seat and out the back window. “I don’t know. Stop looking so nervous. Nobody saw us. Nobody followed us.” “I’m not nervous, Kane. I’m just being cautious.” Kane glared at his brother, “You’re never cautious, asshole. Ignorant, maybe…” “Fuck you!” Sabbat held tight to the dashboard as the Camaro’s ass-end fishtailed around a tight corner. “I told you not to Turn that kid, Sabbat.” Sabbat answered with a hiss, turning his head to gaze out the passenger window. Kane gripped the linked-chain steering wheel tighter and sighed. He leveled his own gaze at the wet road and pressed down a little harder on the gas pedal. He knew trouble waited for them at their destination. The boss is gonna be pissed. The faster we get there, the sooner we can get this over with. He repeated his thought out loud, “The Man’s gonna have our balls, brother.” “He’ll understand. You know he’s got a thing for orphans.” “Well, the kid wouldn’t be a fucking orphan if you’d killed him along with his parents. He’d just be another dead kid.” “I’m sorry! I fucked up! I lost control and drained the kid without killing him! It’s not like I’m the first vampire that’s ever done that.” The mix tape ended. Tension filled the car with silence as neither vampire spoke for a few blocks. Kane sighed as the tape automatically switched directions. The heavy guitars kicked in again, this time a shredding masterpiece by Venom. He slowed down and turned onto a street that led downtown. He looked grimly at his brother as he stopped at a red light, “What’s done is, I guess.” Sabbat nodded, “Right. I mean, after I drained him we know the kid’s Turned. I couldn’t just kill him after that. That would be fuckin’ sick, right?” “Unwritten law, brother. Never prey on kin.” “Exactly!” Sabbat smiled. Kane thought his brother looked far too confident in their rationalization. He hoped the boss would see it that rationally. Above the sound of the music, Kane heard a muffled scream. He looked at Sabbat. Sabbat looked at the back seat. Another muffled cry came from the trunk. “Kid’s fully Turned,” Kane said, “Looks like he just joined the family.” “Sounds pissed,” Sabbat smirked, “Probably got the blood-hunger real bad.” “Remember your Turning?” “No. Too fuckin’ long ago.” Kane found a poorly lit side street and pulled the car over to the curb. He turned off the engine and let the stereo play. “Let’s get him out of the trunk before he tears up my car.” “Maybe the boss will have someone to feed him,” Sabbat offered. Maybe the Man will just feed us to the kid, Kane thought. He climbed out of the car and looked around. Nothing moved on the street. Somewhere behind them, sirens wailed, but he felt comfortable enough with the distance they’d put between them and the morgue. As long as no passers by saw them take the kid out of the trunk, they should be fine. Kane joined his brother standing at the Camaro’s large trunk. He found the trunk key on his key ring and popped it open. Inside, the kid let out a whimper and scrambled away from the opening. Kane reached in and grabbed the pale boy by his arms. He yanked the boy from the trunk and pushed him at Sabbat, “Get the fuck out of my trunk, you little prick.” Sabbat wrapped an arm around the kid’s waist and held him tight. Kane slammed the trunk shut, “Smells like piss in there!” He turned to the kid and grabbed his face with a huge pale hand, “Did you piss in my car?” The frightened boy shook in Sabbat’s hold and opened his mouth. Another whimper came out. “Shit,” Sabbat laughed, “He’s so scared and confused, he doesn’t know if he pissed himself or not.” Squeezing the boy’s face hard, Kane brought his own within inches of the boy’s tear-filled eyes, “The answer is, no you didn’t. You know why? ‘Cause the undead don’t piss, boy! That’s what makes us such bad-asses!” He slapped the kid on the side of his head, “Let’s go.” They climbed back into the car, Sabbat holding the newly Turned vampire in his lap. Kane fired up the engine. His brother tussled the crying child’s red hair, “You gotta name, you little fuck?” The kid cried harder and gripped at his stomach as if trying to keep something inside from ripping its way out. Kane remembered his first pangs of the blood-hunger. It wouldn’t get any better for the kid from here on out. The pain of hunger and desire always lived in the gut of a vampire, but as far as the kid knew right now, this was the worst pain he’d ever experienced. Even worse than his death. Little did the fucker know, that the pain would last an eternity, always there, always driving you on, never satiated, too much blood never enough. “Doesn’t matter what his name is,” Kane told his brother, “If the old man doesn’t like it, he’ll give him a new one.” Both vampires laughed loudly. Kane reached out and turned up the music. The black shark roared to life once again and sped back into the night.

Hollywood Cowboys Review By Adam Copeland
Mike Chinakos has written a diabolically fun ride in Hollywood Cowboys, an adventure that follows the exploits of an 80's metal band of the same name that combats the forces of evil.

It's the 80's and the Cowboys are at the top of their game in the music scene, touring the world and rubbing shoulders with heavy metal royalty. Still, even among the parties, booze and girls they find time for their other calling as profesional monster hunters. With silver bullets, stakes, enchanted samaurai swords and holy water filled hollow point .357 rounds, they make it their mission to dispatch vampires, werewolves and anything else that goes bump in the night.

A tip leads the band back to their home town of Portland, Oregon where they pick up the trail of a serious bad guy that has tragic history with the drummer and has eluded them for years. Not only is J.J. Jezreel a world class dusche bag record promoter of death metal and goth bands, he's a supernatural creature of ancient origins whose wicked designs are far more consequentual than just polluting the airwaves with lame music and polluting the blood streams of naive groupies with a vampire connected drug called "D".

With the aid of their roadies, a doctor with a past, and a rock'n roll journalist they track down Jezreel and his menagerie of freaks for a confrontation of Biblical proportions. Emphasis on Biblical, because if the Cowboys can't stop the bad guys the world is going to end up looking like the cover of a Slayer album.

This may all sound very tongue-in-cheek, and author Mike Chinakos has said as much, but the novel is very dark and gritty, with enough detail that readers don't need to entirely suspend belief to enjoy the supernatural element. The writing flows vividly and the character dialogue is snappy, reminescent of our younger days when we were hanging around the boom-box with our own crew, passing the bottle around.

Lovers of metal, especially 80's metal, will wax nastalgic over the cameo apearances of both rock icons and their tunes playing in the background (the chapter titles read like a Headbanger's Ball playlist).

Lovers of horror will enjoy the suspense and admire Chinakos' diverse knowledge of the supernatural in history: Everything from Golgotha, to Pictish druids, to Japanese folklore to even vampires roaming the trenches of WWI.

Residents of Portland will see that the music scene and local landmarks were faithfully represented, and it's refreshing to see that a rock 'n roll horror doesn't need to take place in LA or New York. Portland's dark, rainy streets and rich history offers a more than appropriate stage.

The only remote drawback to this rock 'n roll horror is that you want to see more rock 'n roll...specifically from the protagonists. You want to see them in action, laying down some riffs and rockin' the house. Plus, only half of them are featured in this adventure. Aside from the drummer and bassist, the other Cowboys are MIA for most of the novel. Also, when we meet the Hollywood Cowboys for the first time they've already been monster hunters, leaving us curious how that came about.

Well, despite Chinakos needing to do some 'splainin, you know a book is good when you can't put it down. You're torn between rushing to the finish to find how it ends, and wanting it to never end. That's the dilemna Hollywood Cowbys puts you in. Fortunately, the end sets you up for a sequel that promises answers and more adventure.

If Metallica is the "Thinking Man's" metal band, then Hollywood Cowboys is the Thinking Man's metal horror novel.