Sophie Avett is kind of a nerd. Like not even one of the cute, hip ones everyone brags about nowadays. More like the socially awkward hippie who eats way too much bread and dreams about being a dragon from behind towers of mythology books. Um...yeah. Picture old, tattered paperbacks and comic books--mostly Batman and Wonder Woman--dwarfing a tiny desk, with just barely enough room for the troll who writes there and the 70 pound hell-hound that insists on laying it's wet nose on top of her bare foot.
Granted not the most exciting existence, but she tries to make up for it by writing romances populated with her own peculiar ilk of paranormal beasties. Trolls, wyverns, the obscure Nordic brownie--she likes to keep things interesting. And bloody. (And mostly naked--but, we'll keep that bit between us.)
Sophie Avett loves to hear from her readers. (Hi, mom.) So if there's something on your mind, feel free to leave a message after the scream.
(Mom, you can just call me. Seriously.)
There is havoc and mayhem aplenty in New Gotham, but Sybille L. Prince, for her part, manages to sleep through most of it.
The spindle witch has already tried living in this world, and found it distinctly wanting. When she must be awake, Sybille spends her time working at Briar Alchemy, mixing potions and poisons for some of New Gotham’s leading storymavens, and caring for unfortunate souls. However, it would seem that Enid the Hag has had enough of Sybille’s constant lack of respect for anything but chocolate, sleep, and sharp, pointy objects.
Beware the elderly, for they are crafty…
Suddenly, Sybille finds herself the subject of a monster’s stony gaze. (Oh, gag me—it’s him.)
One of Club Brimstone’s guardians, Nova is a gargoyle and a dreamspinner, a creature with the ability to walk and bend the astral plane. He’s also Sybille’s ex-lover. To date, he’s been the only one with the strength (and patience) to deal with Sybille's madness.
Sybille throws every hellacious vision she’s got at the gargoyle, desperate to keep him from haunting her dreams, but the gargoyle is determined she see reason. Not that it’ll be easy. Of course not. (It is her after all.)
He’s going to have to step into Sybille’s mind, into her world, and onto her turf.
Beware, good sir, for here be dragons…
There’s a wild animal on the loose in the black forests surrounding New Gotham.
Not that anyone cares. Well, Peter doesn't care.
Peter Ume is more interested in finding a way to alleviate the skull-numbing boredom of a citywide shut down. So far his ideas for excitement hover between stealing an unwary idiot’s underwear (soul works, too), setting someone’s eyebrows on fire, or stabbing the next person he meets in the eye with a hot French fry.
It turns out he’ll be able to save theft and assault for a rainy day. As luck would have it, this naughty kitsune is about to meet the big bad wolf.
And man, is the wolf in for a surprise hunt...
Warning: This story can be read as a standalone, but you will want to smack Sophie for it. (Or so the ravens have said.) So, do keep in mind that there is a part two. (And it will be a freebie. Sophie’s Pixies will carrier pigeon everyone more information soon. Just sign-up for her newsletter.)
Owner and operator of Bits and Pieces, and resident expert on charms and glamours, Elsa Karr is a witch with a sour frown and a list of things to do as long as Thor’s hammer. Top of the list is saving her father's shop from ruin. If she isn't trying to claw her way out of debt, she's arguing with her cat, Fenris, or shoveling carts of cake into her gob. She's not interested in romance or the vampire who rents the flat above her shop. All she wants is a little peace and chocolate—fine, all right! All right! The vampire is kind of screw-all cute. (Curse him.)
The disgraced son and heir of the Wingates House vampire clan and a mad-man to boot, Marshall Ansley spends most of his time working and dodging his mother's phone calls. Marshall is beyond family. He's beyond everyone, actually. Don’t be daft, he especially doesn't do…Christmas. But behold, the plague brings an original flavor of annoyance this year when his boss tasks him with acquiring the account of a recluse fey and her upcoming Gothic clothing boutique, Sinister Stitches. That is the ONLY reason he's bothering with his shrewish landlord. No, that's it. No…really. Fine, if you insist, the witch might be a tad bit…all right, she's adorable. (Damn her.)
Scrooge meets Scrooge. Dominant meets Dominant. Tempers…spark. In each other, they may unfold a tale that only comes to pass on the darkest of nights.