Title: Stone the Crows by TA Moore

Publisher: Dreamspinner Press

Release: May 29, 2018

Cover Artist: Bree Archer – http://breearcher.com/

Dreamspinner : Stone the Crows

Amazon

Blurb:

Stone the Crows – When the Winter comes, the Wolves will come down over the walls and eat little boys in their beds.

Doctor Nicholas Blake might still be afraid of the dark, but the monsters his grandmother tormented him with as a child aren’t real.

Or so he thought… until the sea froze, the country ground to a halt under the snow, and he found a half-dead man bleeding out while a dead woman watched. Now his nightmares impinge on his waking life, and the only one who knows what’s going on is his unexpected patient.

For Gregor it’s simple. The treacherous Prophets mutilated him and stole his brother Jack, and he’s going to kill them for it. Without his wolf, it might be difficult, but he’ll be damned if anyone else gets to kill Jack—even if he has to enlist the help of his distractingly attractive, but very human, doctor.

Except maybe the Prophets want something worse than death, and maybe Nick is less human than Gregor believes. As the dead gather and the old stories come true, the two men will need each other if they’re going to rescue Jack and stop the Prophets’ plan to loose something more terrible than the Wolf Winter.

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31 May – Dreamspinner Blog

 

When Dr Nicholas Blake was a little boy he lived with his Granny in a little grey house in a long grey street in Glasgow. His granny wasn’t like other grannies. Other grannies taught their grandkids to look both ways crossing the street. His Granny taught to look for monsters in glass.

Once upon a time, she said as she peeled the shell from the hard-boiled egg, the world was Wild. Great beasts walked through the forests and swam through the streams, the gods came to fuck and fight as mortals until it didn’t suit them any more and they could be gods again. Monsters, things that could live where the Wild braced their bones or breathed for them,

Then the first human—call him Ask, call her Eve, whatever—made their first list. They pinned down the world one observed phenomena at a time. Little darts of logic that sewed up this world in a winding sheet of the mundane. The gods were stitched out first, reduced to dependency on a butterfly’s wing or a misturned corner to play out their games. Then the great beasts, harried to death or exile.

The monsters lasted longer. Like the bastard fox that raids the bins instead of the nest box, they adapted and found rills and shallows of the wild to lie in. High places, old places. Anywhere the winding sheet has worn thin against stone and time until the stitches popped.

In reflections, where the truth is never entirely what you let yourself see.Every polished, silver disc on a slapper’s necklace, every oily puddle, every window hit just right by the sun was a window into the Wild. Poets lingered until they could smell the dank rot of primordial forest, women peered under the Moon’s blind eye for a lover the Moon wouldn’t steal.

Except every window goes two ways. When you look in, something else looks out.

Beautiful boys died in riverbanks, in love with a face that finally looked like they wanted it too. Women drowned as they clutched the kelpies seaweed mane and tried to flee their problems into the other world.

So if you look in the mirror and see something wink at you, don’t look back. Look away. Walk away. Don’t let it know you’ve seen it. Once they know that you can see them, they’ll pick at you and pull at you until they have the bit.

They’ve been gone for a long, long time and they know what is to come.They want to rub their spoor on this world, to glut themselves on fat men and soft women while they still have the chance. Before it’s too late, for them and for us.

So if something taps at your window in the night, from the dark, never pull the curtains back. Like now. Just ignore it and go to sleep.

TA Moore

TA Moore genuinely believed that she was a Cabbage Patch Kid when she was a small child. This was the start of a lifelong attachment to the weird and fantastic. These days she lives in a market town on the Northern Irish coast and her friends have a rule that she can only send them three weird and disturbing links a month (although she still holds that a DIY penis bifurcation guide is interesting, not disturbing). She believes that adding ‘in space!’ to anything makes it at least 40% cooler, will try to pet pretty much any animal she meets (this includes snakes, excludes bugs), and once lied to her friend that she had climbed all the way up to Tintagel Castle in Cornwall, when actually she’d only gotten to the beach, realized it was really high, and chickened out.

 

She aspires to being a cynical misanthrope, but is unfortunately held back by a sunny disposition and an inability to be mean to strangers. If TA Moore is mean to you, that means you’re friends now.

 

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