Blood Mother: The Analyst vol. 2 (Volume 2)
Book Details
Author(s)Brian Geoffrey Wood
ISBN / ASIN1482371316
ISBN-139781482371314
MarketplaceFrance 🇫🇷
Description
Praise for Brian G. Wood's THE ANALYST:
"There are no vampires here, no werewolves rampaging over misty moors; these are monsters of grunge and filth. Monsters of true and real terror."
"Wood balances the graphic with the human with a delicate touch."
"This novel is hauntingly beautiful, with all the daring and originality of a young author starting his career and the considered, meticulously plotted scope of a seasoned middle-aged professional."
Another botched encounter gets Tom on the bad side of the Dry Ones, a coven of blood-drinking near-humans. Tom heads to their colony in New Orleans to plead his case before their barbaric court, and becomes embroiled in a brutal power struggle between the colony's two leaders: pragmatic Judge Berenger, and bloodthirsty Archbishop Hatcher. Hosting the ancient demon known as Aki is taking its toll on Tom's new friend Keda, making the young medium increasingly unstable.
The deranged paranormal broker Harold Saldana still wants Aki back, and his influence still looms far from his base in Tokyo. All Tom wants is to get out of Louisiana in one recognizable piece, before he's turned into a Dry One himself.
The nightmares are back, showing Tom a terrible power that grows deep in the swamp...
EXCERPT:
He tried in vain to find a point of navigation-- the North Star, or similar-- but the sky here was alien, and the stars followed no recognizable pattern. Even had he found something, dark clouds were coming in on a high wind. They shrouded the yellow eye of the moon, but did nothing to obscure its sick glow.
Another pound of thunder shook the trees. There was something lying on the ground in the distance. It was a skinless body, contorted and mutilated. It had to be George, he thought. He'd found his killer. No, that wasn't right-- the killer had found him.
There was a heavy shuffling up ahead. Tom ducked down behind a tree and did his best to hide in the grass. Sweat ran into his eyes, and coated his palms. He made sure he still had a good grip on his gun. When he saw what lumbered out of the yellow fog, his training kept him from dropping the firearm and running for his life, but he still wanted to.
It was like a massive, featherless bird. It took pendulous steps on muscular legs, having muddy human hands in place of feet. Atop its pot-bellied body, at the end of a swan-like neck, there was a person's head.
"There are no vampires here, no werewolves rampaging over misty moors; these are monsters of grunge and filth. Monsters of true and real terror."
"Wood balances the graphic with the human with a delicate touch."
"This novel is hauntingly beautiful, with all the daring and originality of a young author starting his career and the considered, meticulously plotted scope of a seasoned middle-aged professional."
Another botched encounter gets Tom on the bad side of the Dry Ones, a coven of blood-drinking near-humans. Tom heads to their colony in New Orleans to plead his case before their barbaric court, and becomes embroiled in a brutal power struggle between the colony's two leaders: pragmatic Judge Berenger, and bloodthirsty Archbishop Hatcher. Hosting the ancient demon known as Aki is taking its toll on Tom's new friend Keda, making the young medium increasingly unstable.
The deranged paranormal broker Harold Saldana still wants Aki back, and his influence still looms far from his base in Tokyo. All Tom wants is to get out of Louisiana in one recognizable piece, before he's turned into a Dry One himself.
The nightmares are back, showing Tom a terrible power that grows deep in the swamp...
EXCERPT:
He tried in vain to find a point of navigation-- the North Star, or similar-- but the sky here was alien, and the stars followed no recognizable pattern. Even had he found something, dark clouds were coming in on a high wind. They shrouded the yellow eye of the moon, but did nothing to obscure its sick glow.
Another pound of thunder shook the trees. There was something lying on the ground in the distance. It was a skinless body, contorted and mutilated. It had to be George, he thought. He'd found his killer. No, that wasn't right-- the killer had found him.
There was a heavy shuffling up ahead. Tom ducked down behind a tree and did his best to hide in the grass. Sweat ran into his eyes, and coated his palms. He made sure he still had a good grip on his gun. When he saw what lumbered out of the yellow fog, his training kept him from dropping the firearm and running for his life, but he still wanted to.
It was like a massive, featherless bird. It took pendulous steps on muscular legs, having muddy human hands in place of feet. Atop its pot-bellied body, at the end of a swan-like neck, there was a person's head.
