There is a dragon living under Mount Auburn Cemetery in Boston. Her name is Prudence Alturas and she is an exile. Suspected of murdering her husband, the dragon council banished her to live out her days among the dead. The council has vowed to look into Ashton’s murder, but Pru knows they won’t find anything.
Because Ashton Kane, her husband, is not dead.
When a vampire is set loose in Boston, Pru goes on the hunt. But her power has been hobbled by the exile runes etched into her skin, and she finds she must seek the help of other creatures before this vampire eats its way through the heart of Boston.
This novel is being edited. It is the third novel I began editing for November 2021 and it should be completed before January 1st.
The graveyard was a mix of buds and blooms, with bright splashes of pink interrupting an otherwise dreary day. Beneath an old willow, standing with her bare feet half buried in muddy grass, Prudence Alturas reviewed her prison with a marked sense of unease. A patch of old headstones to her right had partially given up their vigil; they canted toward the ground at odd angles, looking like jagged, discolored teeth. Pru stared at their pitted, mossy surfaces for long moments and listened to the rush of water against stones and grass and leaves.
As far as prisons went, she supposed this wasn’t intolerable. The soil was fertile, and many of the trees had been imported from distant places, tenderly coaxed into living far from home by intelligent hands. Earth’s magic bubbled beneath her feet, vibrant with life and long memory, and she tried telling herself this would be enough to sustain her.
“I know that look,” said a man behind her.
She turned as her husband shimmered into view, his ghostly form warping with the misty rain. Pru took a breath. “Do you now?”
“That’s the look that says you want to blast through every car in Watertown,” Ashton said, flashing a wide smile. His image was paper thin but clear and she could see his Roman ancestry in the strong jaw and slightly bent nose.
The not-so distant blare of horns beyond the cemetery filtered into her awareness and she wrinkled her nose. “I was trying to ignore them, really.”
“An impossible feat, dearest. There are too many humans living on top of each other here. They’re going to be noisome.”
“It’s almost enough to make one miss the black plague,” she said.