Alex Craft is a grave witch. She has the special ability to
summon shades -- not ghosts, but lingering memories still
present in dead bodies. Oh, and she can see and talk to
Death, who just happens to be a jeans-wearing, dark-haired
hottie. Alex's gifts help her make a decent living as a PI
and an occasional police consultant. But when she uses her
grave-sight on Theodore Coleman, the state's recently
assassinated governor, she doesn't get the feelings that
are so familiar in her work, and she can see no decay in
the two-week-old corpse; what she can see is more
disturbing: tattoo-like patterns, or glyphs, all over the
body that hint at dark magic, a power far beyond her own.
Alex is interrupted before she can finish her work, but she
now suspects that "Coleman" was something other than human,
and this thing has possibly taken over another body. She
decides she must be onto something when someone tries to
kill her as she leaves the building, and, ironically, Death
saves her life.
To make matters worse, a deadly virus is spreading through
the magical community, attacking body and soul. Could there
be some connection here? Alex needs to find out fast --
because she's been infected.
Just when I thought there was nowhere new for urban fantasy
to take me, this book came along. I was intrigued by Alex's
process, which is described in fascinating detail, and
Nekros City is a convincing portrait of magical and mundane
living side-by-side. With characters including Roy, a
helpful ghost; PC, Alex's Chinese crested (non-magical)
dog; a fae landlord; a gargoyle named Fred; and Falin
Andrews, a tough and sexy police detective who may have his
own dark secrets, the story never slows down. Thrills,
chills, some snarky humor, and a little romance cast a
spell that will keep readers entertained from beginning to
end.
Grave witch Alex Craft can speak to the dead, but that
doesn’t mean she likes what they have to say . . .
As a private investigator and consultant for the police,
Alex Craft has seen a lot of dark magic. But even though
she’s on good terms with Death himself—who happens to look
fantastic in a pair of jeans—nothing has prepared her for
her latest case. Alex is investigating a high profile murder
when she’s attacked by the ‘shade’ she’s raising, which
should be impossible. To top off her day, someone makes a
serious attempt on her life, but Death saves her. Guess he
likes having her around . . .
To solve this case Alex will have to team up with tough
homicide detective Falin Andrews. Falin seems to be hiding
something—though it’s certainly not his dislike of Alex—but
Alex knows she needs his help to navigate the tangled webs
of mortal and paranormal politics, and to track down a
killer wielding a magic so malevolent, it may cost Alex her
life . . . and her soul.
Excerpt
The first time I encountered Death, I hurled my mother's
medical chart at him. As far as impressions went, I blew it,
but I was five at the time, so he eventually forgave me.
Some days I wished he hadn't—particularly when we crossed
paths on the job.
"Ms. Craft, this is beyond unacceptable." Henry Baker
accented the statement with a plump fist slicing the air
before his face. Behind him loomed Death.
Eighteen years of practice kept my gaze off the jean-clad
soul collector and on my client, whose face darkened from
cherry red to bruised purple. I fingered the spray of
funeral lilies at my side, dreading the direction this
conversation was taking.
"Our contract stipulated I raise the shade. I did."
Baker swatted aside my protest. "You promised me results."
"I said you could ask your questions." I leaned against his
father’s coffin. It wasn't exactly respectful, but I'd just
shoved the senior Baker’s shade back into his body two hours
before his funeral. Respect had nothing to do with this job.
But hey, a paycheck is a paycheck.
Baker turned on his heel and stomped across the aisle. I
waited. I knew what was coming. Baker was a fortune hunter,
a failed one at that, and I'd worked with his like before.
Death followed in Baker's wake. He exaggerated each heavy
step, mocking the chubby man's jerky movements. All the
while, a grin clung to his lips, his dark eyes never leaving me.
This had better be a social visit. I met his gaze, pleading,
warning—I didn't care which—him to leave my client alone. He
flashed a row of perfectly straight teeth, which didn't tell
me anything.
Baker continued to pace.
Well, best get this part over quickly. "According to our
contract, you can pay by cash, check, or money order. Will
you need a receipt?"
Baker jerked to a stop. His eyes bulged, the skin hanging
from his cheeks shaking. "I refuse to pay for this."
Here we go. I shoved away from the casket. "Listen, mister,
you wanted a shade raised. I raised a shade. If dear old dad
didn't say what you wanted, well, that's your problem, not
mine. We have a binding agreement and if—"
He dropped his fist, and his eyes flew wide, startled.
That was simpler than expected. I let out a breath to purge
the rant from my tongue and pasted on my professional smile.
"Now, will you need a receipt?"
Baker gripped his chest and wheezed. Once. Twice. Then, in
slow motion, his neck twisted, his gaze moving over his
shoulder. The amusement melted from Death's face.
Oh crap.
Angel of Death, Soul Collector, Grim Reaper—whatever you
called him, most people only saw him once. He strolled
forward, and Baker stumbled back a step.
Crap. I jumped from the casket platform. "Don't."
Too late.
Thanks for checking out this early sneak-peek excerpt! I
will be releasing the full first chapter closer to the
release date, so check back.
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