By Stephen Blackmoore
Necromancer is such an unsightly observe, yet it's a identify Eric Carter is caught with.
He sees ghosts, talks to the useless. He's grew to become it right into a profitable occupation placing problematical spirits to leisure, occasionally taking up much more risky issues. For a rate, of course.
while he left l. a. fifteen years in the past, he concept he'd by no means return. Too many undesirable stories. Too many folks attempting to kill him.
yet now his sister's been brutally murdered and Carter desires to discover why.
used to be it the gangster seeking to settle a ranking? The ghost of a mage he killed the evening he left city? perhaps it's the patrion saint of violent loss of life herself, Santa Muerte, who's taken an strangely prepared curiosity in him.
Carter's going to determine who did it, and he's going to lead them to pay.
so long as they don't kill him first.
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Additional info for Dead Things
Though Prima’s never been to the Old Country, she’s seen enough movies and read enough articles to know that it can transform and unite them, keep them from wandering too far from each other. It’s a school night, but Patrick’s had a big day, so they let him stay up and watch TV in his room and go through his gifts. He’s zonked, though, and Prima’s not surprised when, on the way to the laundry room, she finds him asleep on his bed fully clothed, cards and unwrapped boxes around him. She stands in the doorway a moment, watching his easy breathing, his hand still clutching the remote.
Nostalgia was not honest, their father said; it got you drunk and tired worse than whiskey. It was better to pretend that Italy, and all their memories of it, had sunk into the sea. When Antonio named the Grasso restaurant after the Al Di Là Café in Santa Cecilia, he meant it as a tribute not to his country or his village but to Maddalena. He had brought her to the café late one Saturday night, soon after he and Mario had returned to Santa Cecilia to find wives. He was twenty-six then, Mario twenty-four.
Tony had loved his mother, of course, in the way that all boys do, but what he’d felt for his father was stronger, deeper. There should be a word for that: for the different quality of love a child feels for one parent over the other. What Tony was to Antonio, Frankie became to Maddalena: the first person he’d want to hear one of his stories, the last person he wanted to talk to before he went to bed. When the sixth-grade teacher asked his class to write about their heroes, Frankie chose his mother.
Dead Things by Stephen Blackmoore