Who would have ever thought of a novel with a female law enforcement officer who came from a family of famous magicians? Jessica Blackwood use to be a magician herself after growing up and traveling with her father and grandfather watching them perform magic shows themselves. At some point in her life she decided to become a police officer and is now using what she knows to help the FBI with a case that only her expertise can help expose the tricks.
Jessica is not the only one that knows about magic. He is called the Warlock and has managed crimes that seem impossible to conceive. It starts with the findings of a girl, Chloe McDonald who looks like she crawled from her grave that she has been resting in for two years. There are more unexplainable events that take place all with the Warlock's signature mystery behind them and the FBI needs Jessica's magic knowledge to get to the bottom of it.
ANGEL KILLER by Andrew Mayne and it is amazing. I love how he took what he knows and made a story that kept me wondering until the end. Though even at the end, I am still wondering... Wondering if he will continue the story from here? I even love the way it ended! There is a type of closure that works perfectly and that one will not see coming. I do not like books that keep me hanging, which Andrew Mayne's novel did not do. Instead he left me mystified in the most magical way!
I hope ANGEL KILLER is the start of a new series as Andrew Mayne has a great beginning with such new, fresh characters that keep you engaged throughout the whole novel. The main character, Jessica Blackwood, is a new vibrant law enforcement officer like no other mystery novel has ever had. Another plus is the little bit of magical secrets he gives without spoiling the world of magic to those of us who have always wondered. In a way, Andrew Mayne's novel, ANGEL KILLER is like that too. The mystery is solved in a way, but the magic is still there.
In this self-published bestselling e-book by a real
illusionistโthe first thriller in a sensational seriesโnow
available in paperback, FBI agent Jessica Blackwood
believes
she has successfully left her complicated life as a gifted
magician behind her . . . until a killer with seemingly
supernatural powers puts her talents to the ultimate test.
A mysterious hacker, who identifies himself only as
โWarlock,โ brings down the FBIโs website and posts a code
in
its place. It hides the GPS coordinates of a Michigan
cemetery, where a dead girl is discovered rising from the
ground . . . as if she tried to crawl out of her own grave.
Born into a dynasty of illusionists, Jessica Blackwood is
destined to become its next starโuntil she turns her back
on
her troubled family, and her legacy, to begin a new life in
law enforcement. But FBI consultant Dr. Jeffrey Ailesโs
discovery of an old copy of Magician Magazine will turn
Jessicaโs carefully constructed world upside down. Faced
with a crime that appears beyond explanation, Ailes has
nothing to loseโand everything to gainโby taking a chance
on
an agent raised in a world devoted to seemingly achieving
the impossible.
The body in the cemetery is only the first in the Warlockโs
series of dark miracles. Thrust into the media spotlight,
with time ticking away until the next crime, can Jessica
confront her past to embrace her gifts and stop a depraved
killer?
If she canโt, she may become his next victim.
EXCERPT
Two SUVs are waiting for us at the airfield. Danielle, the
sweet redhead, finds an FBI jacket in an overhead bin and
hands it to me as I exit the plane. On the ride to the
cemetery I answer a few of her polite questions. Nobody is
talking about where weโre going. The driver, a special
agent out of the field office named Shannon, tells us weโre
going to get a briefing at the location.
He looks to be in his late thirties. Heโs got a muscular
build and a shaved head. His eyes occasionally flicker back
at me from the rearview mirror. Heโs asked me twice who
assigned me here. I explain that Iโve been sent as an
adviser, but decline to explain why. I already feel out of
place.
The sun has gone down and the sky is filled with dark,
slate-colored clouds. Drab houses with lawns of yellow
weeds give way to concrete and corrugated-metal buildings
set back in cracked black asphalt and gravel yards. Thereโs
a light rain that makes the roads slick. We pass through a
bend in the road, and the red and blue lights of the
emergency vehicles parked on either side come into view.
Two television news trucks are across the street with their
microwave masts pointed to their towers back near the city.
The cemetery is in an industrial area. There are a few open
fields and lots of neglected warehouses. A sheriffโs deputy
in a yellow raincoat uses his flashlight to direct us to a
parking spot. We get out and I help Danielle and the rest
of the team with their cases. Shannon does the same and we
carry them to the iron gates at the entrance.
Reporters and onlookers are standing behind the ropes
trying to get a glance as we pull up. Cameras flash when
they see our jackets. The FBI is here.
Wet and gloomy, the air has a cold nip to it. Perfect
cemetery weather. Iโm grateful for the jacket Danielle
found me. Besides being warm, with โFBIโ written across the
back in bold yellow letters, itโll let me fit in a little
more than I would in just my hoodie and jeans.
At the gate, a detective named Gimbal wearing a drenched
suit and tie introduces himself to Shannon. He fumbles with
his umbrella to shake hands. โThese your D.C. folks?โ
Shannon nods. โPretty much.โ
Iโm not sure if that was directed at me or not. I just keep
to the back and focus on helping. When Grandfather was in a
rage, or Father in a manic mood, I just did what Uncle
Darius did, move a piece of equipment or clean something.
The detective glances at our faces, then nods. A thick
black mustache almost covers his mouth. He looks like a
charter boat captain. โAll right. Hurry up. Gladys canโt
wait to get the girl on the table.โ
As we enter the cemetery, he explains that Gladys is the
county medical examiner, well respected and often brought
in for outside opinions. He walks us past the stone markers
toward what looks like a large catering tent. Itโs actually
a wall of white fabric to block the crime scene from the
front road and the press.
โWeโve cleared the area, but please donโt pick anything up
or touch anything you donโt have to.โ He knows heโs talking
to professionals, but he has to say it. โWhen we got the
GPS coordinates we had someone call the caretaker. He was
the first one on the scene this morning and didnโt let
anyone else in the cemetery.โ
I look around at the grave markers. Most of them are small.
Thereโs none of the really fancy sculpture or stonework
youโll see in big city cemeteries. Like the houses we
passed on the way in, this feels working class. Clean,
utilitarian, but nothing more. The dates are all over the
place. Some are recent. Some are a half-century old. The
recent ones tell me itโs the kind of place that could get
visitors on a Saturday morning.
Shannon turns around and gives us the field report. โWe
called in local police to verify, then I came out here.
County did a preliminary forensic examination on-site and
drew blood samples before we contacted the parents of the
girl and showed them a photograph. They confirmed her as
their daughter. And there begins one of several mysteries.โ
Shannon looks at the grass and realizes heโs resting his
foot on a grave marker. He pulls it away. โChloe McDonald
was declared dead almost two years ago. Her body was found
in the bay three miles from here. Sheโd died from multiple
stab wounds. Killer still unknown. An autopsy had been
performed. There was no doubt about her identity, cause of
death and, well, the fact that she was dead.โ
I notice the way Special Agent Shannon says the last words.
Thereโs a moment of hesitation there. He meant them to
sound forceful, but they werenโt. He has a sense of doubt
about everything. This canโt be the same girl, but itโs
gnawing away at him.
Obviously this is just some sick game the killer is
playing. However, I get the feeling that something about it
unsettles Shannon more than usual. Guys like Shannon tend
to like straight-up, predictable crimes. Bank robberies,
kidnapping for money, a murder of passion. Itโs the kind
where the motives are the most alien that give them stress.
I suspect because itโs easier to think about things when
you can imagine yourself doing them. We can all fantasize
about the perfect caper, like how weโd pull off the perfect
bank robbery. But to try to understand the motivations of
someone who is just plain disturbed is much more difficult
and stressful. Thereโs no predictability there. We donโt
want to see any part of ourselves in people capable of
that.
We want to hunt monsters, not be them.
Danielle speaks up. โWhat kind of forensic evidence do we
have that itโs the same girl?โ
Shannon walks us over to the edge of the white screen.
โBlood tests. Weโre trying to do a hair sample too. As I
mentioned, the parents confirmed it was her. There are even
scars in the same spots where Chloe was stabbed. They had
no doubt.โ
โWhat about fingerprints?โ asks Danielle.
โWell, thatโs a little complicated. Youโll see in a
second.โ He nods to a deputy who waves us through a gap.
โWhen we found her, the first thing the examiner did was
take a core temperature and measure elasticity and other
signs of necrosis. This girl died less than twenty-four
hours ago.โ
A field technician is taking photographs of the scene. I
blink from the light of the flash. As my pupils dilate, the
body of Chloe McDonald comes into focus.
Danielle gasps. Iโm sure I do as well. Itโs not the dead
body that unsettles us, itโs the look on her face. Mouth
open, eyes wide. Itโs a look of sheer terror frozen in
time.
This is the gut reaction Ailes wanted me to have. I think
of him as a sadist for not warning me. He had to have
known. Iโm sure on his desk or on his computer screen was a
photograph of the crime scene. But he didnโt show it to me.
He didnโt prepare me for this.
He wanted me to see what the Warlock wanted us to see. This
wasnโt watching from the wings, this was sitting in the
front row. The reaction is visceral.
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