Entry Nickname: The Decapitator
Title: The Art of Severance
Word Count: 82,000
Genre: Adult Urban Fantasy
Query:
ATF Special Agent Alexandra MacPherson can’t decide which is worse -- a witness who dies or a suspect who won’t stay dead.
A routine investigation escalates to FUBAR when one of the accused turns up dead, his body untouched, but drained of blood. Within a month, three more have died. The only link among the victims? Wounds mirroring the attacks of creatures that Alex can't believe exist: a vampiric witch, a revenant, and a bogeyman.
It’s the ugliest, messiest case of Alex’s career, but she can more than handle that. Maybe it will keep her from jogging the streets of Philadelphia at two in the morning or drunk-dialing her dead husband’s cell phone number. When her only viable lead is killed, Alex is forced to accept that some myths... aren’t.
Finding the man responsible is easy. Killing him and his spawn won’t be. Alex is fighting time and an enemy that no human can match. If she’s not up to the task, she won’t stay human for long.
A routine investigation escalates to FUBAR when one of the accused turns up dead, his body untouched, but drained of blood. Within a month, three more have died. The only link among the victims? Wounds mirroring the attacks of creatures that Alex can't believe exist: a vampiric witch, a revenant, and a bogeyman.
It’s the ugliest, messiest case of Alex’s career, but she can more than handle that. Maybe it will keep her from jogging the streets of Philadelphia at two in the morning or drunk-dialing her dead husband’s cell phone number. When her only viable lead is killed, Alex is forced to accept that some myths... aren’t.
Finding the man responsible is easy. Killing him and his spawn won’t be. Alex is fighting time and an enemy that no human can match. If she’s not up to the task, she won’t stay human for long.
First 250:
Sometimes it all came down to the gun. SIG Sauer P226 .40 S&W or Rossi .357 Magnum revolver with a six-inch barrel. I’d picked the SIG. I should have gone with the Rossi.
I stole a look at the battered clock on the wall of the loading dock. My dealer was only five minutes late. Not so long I worried he’d had second thoughts, but he needed to show soon. Before my unease fermented into something harder to conceal.
“He’s late,” Mike said.
I shrugged, and played like I hadn’t noticed and didn’t want to hiss at Mike for his observational skills.
“You watch the game last night?” Mike asked.
“What game?”
“The Sox.”
A Sox fan. God help me. I’d kept hundreds of mindless details straight for six months but couldn’t for the life of me remember whether Kate Campbell gave a crap about the national pastime. “I don’t follow baseball.”
“They play the Yankees tomorrow.”
“Well, I do hate the Yankees.”
“Who doesn’t?” Mike dropped the remnant of his cigarette to the floor of the dock and crushed it under his shoe.
Kate Campbell was a vegetarian who sold lattes at an internet cafe and lived in a dump near Temple University. A fugitive from the United Kingdom for alleged involvement in a train derailment in North West England, she fancied herself a modern day Guy Fawkes.
I was done being Kate Campbell, the annoying twit.
“He’s late,” Mike said.
I shrugged, and played like I hadn’t noticed and didn’t want to hiss at Mike for his observational skills.
“You watch the game last night?” Mike asked.
“What game?”
“The Sox.”
A Sox fan. God help me. I’d kept hundreds of mindless details straight for six months but couldn’t for the life of me remember whether Kate Campbell gave a crap about the national pastime. “I don’t follow baseball.”
“They play the Yankees tomorrow.”
“Well, I do hate the Yankees.”
“Who doesn’t?” Mike dropped the remnant of his cigarette to the floor of the dock and crushed it under his shoe.
Kate Campbell was a vegetarian who sold lattes at an internet cafe and lived in a dump near Temple University. A fugitive from the United Kingdom for alleged involvement in a train derailment in North West England, she fancied herself a modern day Guy Fawkes.
I was done being Kate Campbell, the annoying twit.
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