Where Angels Fear to Tread
Read Where Angels Fear to Tread Online
Authors: Thomas E. Sniegoski
Tags: #Fiction, #Fantasy, #General
Table of Contents
Praise for the Remy Chandler Novels
Dancing on the Head of a Pin
"A powerful urban fantasy."
—Genre Go Round Reviews
A Kiss Before the Apocalypse
"The most inventive novel you'll buy this year . . . a hard-boiled noir fantasy by turns funny, unsettling, and heartbreaking. This is the story Sniegoski was born to write, and a character I can't wait to see again."
—Christopher Golden, bestselling author of The Lost Ones
"Tightly focused and deftly handled, [
A Kiss Before the Apocalypse
] covers familiar ground in entertaining new ways. . . . Fans of urban fantasy and classic detective stories will enjoy this smart and playful story."
—Publishers Weekly
"This reviewer prays there will be more novels starring Remy. . . . The audience will believe he is on Earth for a reason as he does great things for humanity. This heart-wrenching, beautiful urban fantasy will grip readers with its potent emotional fervor."
—Midwest Book Review
"It's kind of refreshing to see the holy side represented. . . . Fans of urban fantasy with a new twist are likely to enjoy Sniegoski's latest venture into that realm between humanity and angels."
—SFRevu
"Blurring the lines between good and evil,
A Kiss Before the Apocalypse
will keep readers riveted until the very end. This is an emotional journey that's sometimes filled with sadness, but once it begins, you won't want to walk away. Mr. Sniegoski defines the hero in a way that makes him very real and thoroughly human. . . . Fast moving, well written, and wonderfully enchanting, this is one that fantasy readers won't want to miss."
—Darque Reviews
"A fascinating look at religion and humanity from a different point of view. Mr. Sniegoski has written a compelling story of what emotion can do to even the most divine creatures.
A Kiss Before the Apocalypse
is not a book that one can pick up and put down easily. Once you start, you will not want to put it down until you are finished."
—Fresh Fiction
"An exciting, page-turning mystery with the bonus of the popular paranormal aspects as well. This author has created a compelling central character with both human and angelic features, which allows the reader to become completely immersed in the story and the tension as it builds. The suspense alone leaves the reader anxious to come back for more. The story builds to a thrilling, edge-of-your-seat, nail-biting conclusion and will leave you wanting to read more of this character and certainly more of this author."
—Affaire de Coeur
"An intriguing, amazing story about a person torn between trying to live as a human while hiding his angel side as well. Remy was a very interesting, complex main character. . . . A funny yet sometimes heartbreaking story, and I had a wonderful time reading it."
—Night Owl Romance
ALSO BY THOMAS E . SNIEGOSKI
A Kiss Before the Apocalypse
Dancing on the Head of a Pin
ROC
Published by New American Library, a division of
Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street,
New York, New York 10014, USA
Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto,
Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)
Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
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Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices:
80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
First published by Roc, an imprint of New American Library,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
First Printing, March 2010
Copyright Š Thomas E. Sniegoski, 2010
All rights reserved
REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA:
Sniegoski, Tom.
Where angels fear to tread : a Remy Chandler novel / by Thomas E. Sniegoski.
p. cm.
eISBN : 978-1-101-18585-8
1. Private investigators—Fiction. 2. Angels—Fiction. 3. Boston (Mass.)—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3619.N537W47 2010
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
PUBLISHER'S NOTE
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.
[http://us.penguingroup.com] http://us.penguingroup.com
For Rusty, Kenn, and Remy—
old friends and the new
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Love and so much more to LeeAnne, and to Mulder for helping me through another one.
Many thanks also to Ginjer Buchanan, Cameron Dufty, Christopher Golden, Sheila Walker, Dave Kraus, Mike Mignola, Christine Mignola, Katie Mignola, Lisa Clancy, Pete Donaldson, Mom and Dad Sniegoski, Mom and Dad Fogg, David Carroll, Ken Curtis, Kim and Abby, Jon and Flo, Pat and Bob, Timothy Cole, and the followers of Delilah down at Cole's Comics in Lynn.
And a very special thanks to James and Liesa Mignogna.
PROLOGUE
Vietnam, 2004
Everybody loved her.
And when they didn't, she made them.
D
elilah sat in the passenger seat of the old Jeep in a central Vietnam valley—the Cat's Tooth Mountain barely visible through the thick canopy of lush vegetation—and waited for a sign.
Large, buzzing insects flew about her head, but only for as long as she allowed them. A single thought to cease the annoying behavior was enough to send the simple life-forms back into the emerald green forest, although many chose to linger about the bullet-riddled corpses of the holy men lying on the ground at the entrance to the ancient vine-covered temple.
She closed her eyes and breathed in the smells of this primordial location, the heady aroma of humid earth mingling with the thick scent of nearby coffee plantations. But it did little to calm her excitement.
The waiting was always the most excruciating part.
How many other faraway locations had she and her followers visited in their search for the prize? Delilah had lost count many years before, but she never gave up hope that the next unexplored cave system, forgotten temple, long-buried city, or forsaken church would offer what she so desperately sought.
The sound of gunshots from within the temple had stopped only moments before; the rapid-fire barks of death had temporarily silenced the voice of the jungle. But now, regaining its courage, it started to speak again in its primitive language of buzzing, howling, shrieking, and squawking.
And she continued to wait, watching for a sign from her followers, her eyes focused on the darkness of the temple's entrance.
Finally bored with just sitting, Delilah got out of the Jeep, her high-heeled black leather boots—inappropriate for any sort of jungle excursion—sinking into the damp, spongy earth, which was made even moister by the copious amounts of blood seeping from the bullet-riddled corpses.
It had been quite some time since one of their expeditions had been met with such adversity. She still remembered an Inuit village in the Canadian Arctic where their attempt at locating the object of her obsession had left a bloodbath in its wake, with little to show for their troubles except some lovely fox pelts that she'd had a Paris seamstress make into a coat.
She loved that coat but seldom had a chance to wear it.
Pity.
The way those villagers had fought, she'd thought for sure she had at long last been successful, but that wasn't the case. The Inuit tribesmen had fought with such fervor, and for what? It was as if they somehow sensed the ruthlessness of her search and how she would let nothing stand in the way of finding her prize.
It was an item she would kill again, and again, to find.
And she had killed many times more since that doomed Inuit village, but she was still no closer to finding it.
Until now, perhaps.
There was movement inside the entrance to the temple, the thick obsidian dark churning like black smoke billowing from a wet fire, as a lone figure emerged.
The man's name was Seldon Blondelle, and he was an excellent Hound, a person gifted with an extraordinary sensitivity to objects of preternatural origins. It was his job to help her find what she so desperately sought.
"Yes, Mr. Blondelle?" she prompted, holding her breath.
Blondelle was thin—horribly emaciated—but that was to be expected, as he hadn't eaten in weeks. The man took his job as her personal Hound very seriously, although as an extra incentive she'd made him promise not to eat until he had found her prize.
He could barely stand, and swarms of hungry insects buzzed about his gaunt face as if drawn by his nearness to death. Stumbling, he leaned heavily against the stone frame of the doorway, licking dry and cracked lips with a dark, swollen tongue.
"It's here," he managed, his voice an awful croak.
His words were like magic, and she felt a vitality flow through her, the likes of which she hadn't experienced in centuries.
"It's here," Delilah repeated, heading toward him, walking atop the corpses as if they were little more than rubbish strewn in her path.
Nothing would keep her from the item.
Blondelle raised a trembling hand as she climbed the three stone steps to the temple landing.
