BOOK BLURB
Any city is bound to collect restless dead. Armed with the notebook of
Icelandic magic his ex boyfriend, Bone, gave him, Edward Grey has been tasked
with removing troubled spirits or finding ways for the living and the dead to
coexist in harmony. Between planning his wedding with his undead Canadian
fiancé, Kit Ward, and his continued studies as a medical student, Edward didn’t
need another commitment, but he can’t turn away people who are frightened or in
danger.
A particularly
vicious ghost gives Edward an ominous warning—they’re coming—and a few days
later Edward’s notebook is stolen from him. While he’s attempting to find it,
he and his mentor, Mariel, are confronted by a very powerful necromancer and
barely escape with their lives.
On the run,
Edward is pursued everywhere he goes, until the necromancers following him
manage to capture Kit.
Edward’s hunt
for his kidnapped fiancé will take him to the underworld and beyond.
EXCERPT
I was sweating by the time I arrived at
Bone’s apartment. I pressed the buzzer for his unit and waited. I was terrified
that I’d be grabbed at any moment, that Bone wasn’t home, that they’d already
gotten to him and were holding him at gunpoint—it crossed my mind that he’d
probably find that sexy, and I dismissed the thought as quickly as possible—and
were waiting upstairs to capture me. I had almost convinced myself to walk
away, to come up with another plan—though I had no other ideas—when the speaker
crackled to life.
“’lo?” Bone’s voice sounded muffled, like
his mouth was full. Was he gagged? Was he with someone?
“Who is it?” he asked, when I took too
long to answer.
“It’s Ed—ward.” I’d almost called myself
Ed; he’d trained me well.
I definitely heard him swallow. “Ed! Come
on up, I’ve got a surprise for you.”
That couldn’t be good. Maybe he was
trying to talk me into a threesome, with someone who wasn’t Kit—not that Kit
could ever be convinced, for love or money, to sleep with Bone.
The door buzzed and I pulled it open
automatically, no longer sure I wanted to go upstairs, but I needed to find Kit
and I couldn’t do it alone.
The minute I opened the door between the
stairs and Bone’s hallway, something felt…wrong. Usually my intuition isn’t
very good, but my forearms and the back of my neck prickled. I tapped on Bone’s
door, lightly, with one finger. The door swung open; it wasn’t even fully
closed, never mind locked. Not like Bone, not at all. He’s paranoid about
security. He usually doesn’t even let me in without physically seeing me first.
The hall was strangely quiet, too. Bone usually has screaming, throbbing metal
rock music playing. I have no idea why his neighbours haven’t gotten him kicked
out of the building—maybe they’ve met him.
A small, triangular face appeared in the
doorway, the movement—low to the ground and inhuman—startling me, but it was
only one of Bone’s many ‘rescue’ ghost cats.
I clucked to her, and she very cautiously
stalked over to me, most of her going through rather than out the door. I
wondered, briefly, how Bone kept the ghost cats from wandering.
Petting the cat felt like I was stroking fur
submerged in icy water. I was so hot from fear and walking in my unseasonably
warm coat that the coolness was almost a relief.
I’d delayed long enough. I nudged the door open,
wide enough for more than a cat to pass through. The ghost cat escorted me
inside, marching in front of me, kinked tail held high and proud. I couldn’t
see any visible signs of how she’d died, the way I could with some of them, and
I was okay with that.
The apartment was dark—not only were the windows
covered, as usual, in thick blackout curtains, but the lights were all out,
except for one at the end of the hall. The bathroom light. Why was Bone in the
bathroom, with the door open, when he knew I’d be coming up right away?
The clowder of ghostly felines glowed softly in
the darkness, the intensity gently rising and falling to the rhythm of their
purrs. It was both beautiful and eerie at the same time. Kind of like Bone
himself.
“Hello?” I stepped around several ghost cats,
trying not to look at them too carefully so I wouldn’t have to see the gruesome
injuries some of them bore. I also had to make sure I didn’t step on Bone’s
one living cat, a Ukrainian Levkoy named Rasputin.
“I’m in here,” Bone replied, his voice still
oddly muffled. Was he eating in the bathroom?
Learn more about the Undead Canadian Series: http://authortstrange.blogspot.ca/p/the-undead-canadian-series.html
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T. Strange didn't want to learn how to
read, but literacy prevailed and she hasn't stopped reading—or writing—since.
She's been published since 2013, and she writes M/M romance in multiple genres.
T.'s other interests include cross stitching, gardening, watching terrible
horror movies, playing video games, and finding injured pigeons to rescue.
Originally from White Rock, BC, she
lives on the Canadian prairies, where she shares her home with her wife, cats,
guinea pigs, and a small dog. She's very easy to bribe with free food and
drinks—especially wine.
Also by T. Strange
The Undead Canadian
Series
My Zombie Boyfriend
My Zombie Fiancé
My Zombie Wedding
Bits & Bones
(forthcoming)
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