Geist

Начало книги

No book arises in the dark, so thanks must go out to the following people: To my agent, Laurie McLean, who is my backbone. To Gabrielle Harbowy, who helped me begin the process of shaping this novel. To my parents and brother, who nurtured the dream and made me whole. To all the friends on all my social media networks, who gave me encouragement and listened to my gripes. To all my podcast listeners, who made me a better writer and have been waiting for this moment.

It was good weather for a riot.

Or perhaps that was only wishful thinking. Deacon Sorcha Faris breathed out the last smoke from her cigar, twisted the remains against the stone parapet and sighed in boredom. A riot was almost as unlikely as an unliving attack. But it was her duty to remain alert for both, so she closed her eyes and let her Center fall away.

Under the gray and altered veil of her geist-Sight, the gathering of humans below her at the Vermillion Palace’s gate smelled of nothing more than desperation and dull resignation. However, there was certainly a good crowd of them; perhaps five hundred dispossessed milled about in the snow-covered square.

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