Like many successful authors before her, Caitlin R. Tiernan has taken on a different pen name to experiment with a different type of story. Having already made quite a mark in her current genre, this pen name gives her some flexibility to experiment with different styles. So, if you are absolutely in love with Caitlin’s previous work, let this be a fair warning that “Blood Oranges” is slightly different from her usual type of work.
This has Vampires (with piranha teeth and shark eyes) werewolves that don’t look like wolves, demons and monster hunters that didn’t go to the “Buffy” school of monster hunting. Most of the success in the monster hunting department is usually due to dumb luck rather than anything close to planning. As Quinn says, “Monster hunting does not come with a manual.” After being bit by the werewolf she was hunting, then rescued and bitten by a vampire, you could say her day has just changed from the usual lousy luck to (maybe) better off dead. The only good part of the whole thing is the double curse gets her off the heroin addiction. She would have preferred to stay addicted. Yes, she is a homeless addict. Not your usual hero material. As Quinn reminds us, she is not a writer and addicts lie.
If you can accept a hero that does not fit into the usual hero mold and that does not even want to be a hero, you might enjoy this. While awkward at times, as befits a story being told by someone that is not a writer (and is an admitted addict and liar) you might enjoy this book. Warning, light sexual scenarios and drug use.
My name’s Quinn. If you buy into my reputation, I’m the most notorious demon hunter in New England. But rumors of my badassery have been slightly exaggerated. Instead of having kung-fu skills and a closet full of medieval weapons, I’m an ex-junkie with a talent for being in the wrong place at the right time. Or the right place at the wrong time. Or…whatever. Wanted for crimes against inhumanity I (mostly) didn’t commit, I was nearly a midnight snack for a werewolf until I was “saved” by a vampire calling itself the Bride of Quiet. Already cursed by a werewolf bite, the vamp took a pint out of me too. So now…now, well, you wouldn’t think it could get worse, but you’d be dead wrong.