Vessels (The Vessels Series Book 1)

Even Death Couldn’t Separate Them

When music producer David wakes six months after a fatal attack, he returns with an impossible ability: control over sound—and no memory of what lies beyond death. Pulled into a covert government program that monitors others like him, he’s told his missing memories might be the only thing keeping him sane. But the truth they’re hiding is far more dangerous.

Izzy, his wife, couldn’t survive the grief. After taking her own life, she briefly crosses into the afterlife, only to be sent back with the power to command plant life—and a target on her back. Branded a threat by the same organization controlling David, she is hunted in a world that no longer feels like her own.

As David uncovers the deception that kept them apart, his grief turns into fury. What begins as a search for answers becomes a relentless pursuit of justice—and reunion. But beyond the veil, something far greater is unfolding. Gods tied to every force, emotion, and element manipulate human lives for their own purposes, and David and Izzy are now caught in their game.

C.M. Bruno’s Vessels blends dark fantasy with emotional depth, exploring love, loss, and the cost of power in a world where death is only the beginning.

Discover Vessels today and step into a story where love defies death—and destiny is anything but human.

Excerpt from the book

David didn’t really hate his job. Sometimes it wasn’t even work to him, but some days were definitely worse than others. He worked for a small production company as an audio engineer, and that meant that he occasionally got to work on some really interesting projects. Sometimes a large-budget movie or television show would hire his studio, and he would get to work on sweeping symphonies for beautiful landscape shots or high-energy sound effects for epic battles. Most of the time, though, he worked on projects he hated, like tonight. The director of an indie film called him out on location, which was not something the engineers typically did. This particular director, however, insisted David come on set to “understand the vision.”

The movie was a cheap slasher flick, basically gore porn, and it was being filmed in the middle of nowhere. David hated these kinds of movies—not because of the gore or the one-note characters, but because the music was so boring. They consisted of long atonal buildups or discordant hits that gave a sense of terror or dread, and that was about it. David barely considered it music; it was just mind-numbing. And now, after driving to the middle of nowhere, spending several hours on set, and listening to this awful man yell about his vision, David’s own vision for the sound of the movie remained unchanged. He didn’t need to be out here; it was a waste of everyone’s time, but he was finally done. Just a couple more hours of driving and he’d be back at home.

Cool desert air rushed in through the car windows as he raced down the highway. It smelled like dust and far-off rain. As he approached a gas station, he glanced down at his fuel gauge and saw he had a little less than half a tank left. He could technically make it home, but it was just enough to justify stopping, even though he knew he shouldn’t. He was trying to quit smoking, and he had been mostly successful the past couple of weeks, but the lines on the highway were starting to get blurry and the cravings were kicking in.

The night was calm, the sky was clear, and when David stepped out of the car, he was greeted with the buzzing of bright fluorescent lights and the pungent smell of a farm somewhere nearby. He had made it just before the station closed down for the night, and the girl at the counter—young, maybe twenty at the oldest, with copper hair and glasses—greeted him.

“Hello,” she said. “You made it just in time. You’re my last customer, I think.”

“Let me just get your cheapest pack of smokes.”

These weren’t the usual cigarettes David smoked; this was just another small way to punish himself because he knew he shouldn’t even be here right now. He picked up the nearest pack of gum off the counter.