Description
Whosoever hath collared the devil best not let slip the leash... Cracks are forming. In the Gates of reality. In the seams of a universe abandoned by its author. In the brittle heart of a lonely girl. In the opalescent eyes of the Wytch Wyrd. In the clean clay skin of an old gypsy Listener. In the fragile foundations of the empires of men... In the prisons that hold the greatest and most ancient evil, cracks are forming. Dalli cannot number the bruises or the indignities, the fears or the lies, but there are two things she can count: her enemies, and the thirteen silver bells with thirteen notes soul-searing sweet to call forth an unknown power. Have you a soft spot for the anti-hero? Do you like heroines who'd rather play to win than play nice? Does your heart beat faster when you hear a floorboard creak in an empty house? Want to feel the warm wind of whispered words against the back of a bared neck in a winter-chilled room? What about the ghost touch of a fingertip that glides down your arm just a quarter inch away? if you love adventure, romance, intrigue, mystery, and maybe even a shot at redemption, or if you just enjoy a fantasy world where there's a story behind every brick and tree, then please do come inside. We have cookies, and they have stories, too.
Introductory Author's Note
