Recently I was reading Night After Night, by one of my favorite authors, Phil Rickman, who wrote a couple of amazing horror novels back in the day, but who’s now probably best known for the Merrily Watkins series of (somewhat) paranormal mystery novels. This one is not a Merrily Watkins novel, but it is a—wait for it!—paranormal mystery. Of sorts.
This week I’m reading Where the Dead Walk, by John Bowen, in which the crew of one of those ubiquitous paranormal investigation shows unexpectedly runs up against the real thing. Hilarity does not ensue.
It’s time for another Teaser Tuesday! I’m still in the middle of the Merrily Watkins mystery The Secrets of Pain. (I didn’t get a lot of reading done this week). Here, Merrily is visiting a bed and breakfast looking for clues to a mysterious death, as one does when one is the first female exorcist in England …
Liz took Merrily upstairs, where there were five bedrooms off the landing, the doors of all of them hanging open. A scent of fresh linen and a light musk from a dish of potpourri on a window sill.
At least it’s fresh linen rather than a face of crumpled linen this time.
And, of course, here’s todays bonus teaser from The War of the Ravels:
It was about the width of her hand, and taller than she was, with three horizontal openings at various spots along its length. If she could make herself thin enough, she could sidle through it, drop to the courtyard on the other side, and find her way out from there.
Like Wallis Simpson said, you can never be too rich or too thin. Especially when you’re trying to escape though an arrow slit.
This week’s Teaser Tuesday is–wonder of wonders!–NOT from 1Q84, which I finally finished. (Huzzah!) It is, instead, from The Secrets of Pain, the 11th book in the Merrily Watkins series of subtly paranormal mysteries from Phil Rickman:
Her face was flushed, but only by the sun through the firework blaze of extreme stained glass. The new Thomas Traherne windows, four of them, were small and ferocious, with individual dominant colours: the almighty white, the crucifixion red, the pagan green.
And as always, this comes with a side helping of a couple of lines from the page I’m currently working on in The War of the Ravels.
When that faded, it grew very dark, then gradually lighter again, the illumination divided into separate pale pools. It took her a moment to spot cobwebbed arrow-slits in the left-hand wall, between the buttresses, high above her head.