The Order of Deacons protects the living from geist
possession. The Order works in pairs, a sensitive who
perceives the threat and an active who does the fighting.
After an injury to her husband and partner, Sorcha Faris,
one of the Order's most powerful actives, is partnered— at
least temporarily— to a young novice named Merrick
Chambers. Sorcha and Merrick travel to the small outlying
village of Ulrich to help the local Priory with an unusual
level of geist activity. On the way, they meet Raed
Rossin, the Pretender to the throne, and vow to protect
him after Rossin and his crew have saved their lives.
Rossin is burdened by a curse that has run in his family
for generations.
Ulrich has more problems than geists. Something far more
ominous pervades the town, infecting villagers and Priory
alike. Sorcha and Merrick have to figure out what it is
before they will have a chance at destroying it, and even
if they can, all of their beliefs will have already been
turned on their heads.
Philippa Ballantine has crafted a unique and engrossing
tale with GEIST. Memorable characters, multiple subplots,
and spot-on dialogue combined with some dramatic action
scenes create a vivid and satisfying read. Unlike
many strong heroines, Sorcha can only succeed in her
duties with her partner; alone she can't see what she's
fighting. This dependence on one another adds another
layer to these characters. Sorcha is a powerful fighter,
but she doesn't do well in social situations, although her
humanity begins to show through as the story progresses.
Merrick, on his first assignment for the Order, learns to
rely on his own strengths. Ballantine has created 3-
dimensional characters that ring true; they have flaws like
the rest of us, and she throws in a bit of romance for
fun. This novel is a promising start to a unique series,
and I'm eagerly awaiting the next installment in 2011.
Between the living and the dead is the Order of the Deacons,
protectors of the Empire, guardians against possession,
sentinels enlisted to ward off the malevolent haunting of
the geists...
Among the most powerful of the Order is Sorcha, now thrust
into partnership with the novice Deacon, Merrick Chambers.
They have been dispatched to the isolated village of Ulrich
to aide the Priory with a surge of violent geist activity.
With them is Raed Rossin, Pretender to the throne that
Sorcha is sworn to protect, and bearer of a terrible curse.
But what greets them in the strange settlement is something
far more predatory and more horrifying than any mere
haunting. And as she uncovers a tradition of twisted rituals
passed down through the dark reaches of history, Sorcha will
be forced to reconsider everything she thinks she knows.
And if she makes it out of Ulrich alive, what in Hell is
she returning to?
Excerpt
Chapter One
The Quiet Before Matins
It was good weather for a riot.
Deacon Sorcha Faris breathed out the last smoke from her
cigar, twisted the remains against the stone parapet and
sighed. Perhaps that was only her wishful thinking; a riot
was almost as unlikely as an unliving attack. But it was her
duty to check, so she closed her eyes and let her Center
fall away.
Under the gray and altered veil of her geist-Sight, the
gathering of humans below her at the Vermillion Palace’s
gate smelled of nothing more than desperation and dull
resignation. However, there was certainly a good crowd of
them; perhaps five hundred dispossessed milled about in the
snow covered square.
Straining her preternatural senses as far as she could,
Sorcha still found no tang of the unliving amongst them.
Falling sleet was cooling their anger and they huddled
against the southern wall because they had nowhere else to
go. Their protest at her Emperor’s presence was subdued;
they knew full well he’d been invited by the princes to rule
Arkaym, their continent, but they needed someone to blame
for their own misery. The majority of the citizens of the
City of Vermillion loved the Emperor,
but these people had filtered in from the outlying towns for
one reason—they were hungry.
There was, however, nothing supernatural about them.
Pamphleteers had been spreading discontent since autumn, and
now their efforts were bearing fruit. Not all of the princes
agreed—they seldom ever did on much, and there were still a
couple that disapproved of her Emperor. This likely would
not come to much. Still, guarding against the signs of
uprising was her job; more than that, her calling.
When she reeled back her Center, the feeling of
disorientation passed quickly. For a novice it would have
been a strain, but Sorcha had been eighteen years a Deacon.
This minor use of her powers was now as simple as breathing.
Sorcha might not be a Sensitive, but she had enough rank to
sign this one off.
The recent spate of possessions in Brickmaker’s Lane on the
very edge of Vermillion had made everyone nervous, but
another team of Deacons had dealt with those last week. It
was as she suspected: there was nothing to Sergeant Gent’s
worries. The palace was built far out in a shallow lagoon.
Surrounded on all sides by water, the royal residence was
almost impossible for the unliving to enter; excellent
planning by the previous owners.
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