Supernatural Freak
by Louisa Klein
Genre: Urban Fantasy/Paranormal
Release Date: January 30th 2013
When paranormal expert Robyn Wise is offered an outrageous sum of money to cure a boy who is turning into a dead tree, she's very sceptical. A politician ready to pay that much to make his son stop growing branches instead of hair? Come on! She's more likely to be abducted by aliens. This is a trap. Or much worse. And, of course, it's much worse.
The child is turning into a dark portal, created by a powerful entity determined to absorb Fairyland's power. This means that not only queen Titania and her court are in danger, but the very balance of the magic fluxes.
Robyn'd rather stick a pencil in her own eye but, to learn how to destroy the portal, she has to sneak into the Wizardry Council, a place full of wizards who are hiding something—though it’s certainly not their dislike of her.
There, she discovers a terrible secret that could help to overthrow Fairyland's enemies for good, but puts her in the midst of an ancient and deadly war, and not as a bystander, but as the main target.
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The child is turning into a dark portal, created by a powerful entity determined to absorb Fairyland's power. This means that not only queen Titania and her court are in danger, but the very balance of the magic fluxes.
Robyn'd rather stick a pencil in her own eye but, to learn how to destroy the portal, she has to sneak into the Wizardry Council, a place full of wizards who are hiding something—though it’s certainly not their dislike of her.
There, she discovers a terrible secret that could help to overthrow Fairyland's enemies for good, but puts her in the midst of an ancient and deadly war, and not as a bystander, but as the main target.
Add to Goodreads
Buy Links:
Amazon│Barnes & Noble
CHAPTER 1
Stood up by the shaman
Faced with being alone in the middle of nowhere at night, the true Londoner doesn’t lose her head but takes a deep breath, smoothes her jacket, and goes in search of a bobby or a black cab. Only foreigners freak out in such circumstances. Londoners, on the other hand, being the most British of all British people, never ever freak out. Still, when you are a paranormal expert who’s in a deserted area of the Docks and are supposed to heal a werewolf with the aid of a shaman who hasn’t shown up, I’m afraid the only reasonable reaction is to…
“Run!” Mr Wilson growls, getting worryingly hirsute. He has a point. A skinny girl in her twenties is no match for a werewolf, and I don’t think that telling him I’m a dog person would make much of a difference. Trouble is that he’s standing between me and my car, so my only option is to run in the opposite direction. My feet sink into the sand of the Thames’ shore, the river a creepy black ribbon untouched by the full moon’s rays. It takes what looks like ages to cross the sand and reach the building site a hundred yards away. I should have never trusted that damn shaman. How could I have been so stupid? A long howl fills the air. My client has now fully transformed. In a second he will pick up my scent and hunt me down.
Stood up by the shaman
Faced with being alone in the middle of nowhere at night, the true Londoner doesn’t lose her head but takes a deep breath, smoothes her jacket, and goes in search of a bobby or a black cab. Only foreigners freak out in such circumstances. Londoners, on the other hand, being the most British of all British people, never ever freak out. Still, when you are a paranormal expert who’s in a deserted area of the Docks and are supposed to heal a werewolf with the aid of a shaman who hasn’t shown up, I’m afraid the only reasonable reaction is to…
“Run!” Mr Wilson growls, getting worryingly hirsute. He has a point. A skinny girl in her twenties is no match for a werewolf, and I don’t think that telling him I’m a dog person would make much of a difference. Trouble is that he’s standing between me and my car, so my only option is to run in the opposite direction. My feet sink into the sand of the Thames’ shore, the river a creepy black ribbon untouched by the full moon’s rays. It takes what looks like ages to cross the sand and reach the building site a hundred yards away. I should have never trusted that damn shaman. How could I have been so stupid? A long howl fills the air. My client has now fully transformed. In a second he will pick up my scent and hunt me down.
Louisa Klein lives in the UK but was born in Germany and brought up in Southern Europe by a German dad and an Italian and French mum, which made her a little confused at first. She has a degree in Medieval Studies and a postgraduate one in Marketing. She’s been working in publishing on and off since she was 17 and currently is a freelancer and an Urban Fantasy writer. At night she puts on a mask and fights British crime. She gets very little sleep.
Author Links:
Website│Twitter│Facebook│Goodreads
Author Links:
Website│Twitter│Facebook│Goodreads
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