I know exactly when the woman on Dorset Street dies.
I know the date, the street, the number on the door. I read it in a warm room, a hundred and thirty-eight years from now, with a coffee in my hand.
Now I'm here. Fog, gaslight, and thirty-nine days.
I have no money, no papers, and no business being alive in 1888. What I have is a lady with a laboratory in her cellar, a widow they're trying to lock away for the crime of being right about everything.
She shouldn't believe a word I say.
She believes me in under four seconds — and that terrifies me more than the man in the fog.
Because the road that brought me here opens once. Then it closes for eleven years.
And I'm standing in her bedroom at dawn, watching it open, with no idea which way I'm going to move.
Genre: Paranormal Romance
I know the date, the street, the number on the door. I read it in a warm room, a hundred and thirty-eight years from now, with a coffee in my hand.
Now I'm here. Fog, gaslight, and thirty-nine days.
I have no money, no papers, and no business being alive in 1888. What I have is a lady with a laboratory in her cellar, a widow they're trying to lock away for the crime of being right about everything.
She shouldn't believe a word I say.
She believes me in under four seconds — and that terrifies me more than the man in the fog.
Because the road that brought me here opens once. Then it closes for eleven years.
And I'm standing in her bedroom at dawn, watching it open, with no idea which way I'm going to move.
Genre: Paranormal Romance