Praise for
C.E. Murphy and her books:
The Walker Papers
Coyote Dreams
âTightly written and paced, [Coyote Dreams] has a compelling, interesting protagonist, whose struggles and successes will captivate new and old readers alike.â
âRomantic Times BOOKreviews
Thunderbird Falls
âThe breakneck pace keeps things movingâ¦helping make this one of the most involving and entertaining new supernatural mystery series in an increasingly crowded field.â
âLOCUS
âFans of Jim Butcherâs Dresden Files novels and the works of urban fantasists Charles de Lint and Tanya Huff should enjoy this fantasy/mysteryâs cosmic elements. A good choice.â
âLibrary Journal
Urban Shaman
âA swift pace, a good mystery, a likable protagonist, magic, dangerâUrban Shaman has them in spades.â
âJim Butcher, author of the bestselling series The Dresden Files
âC.E. Murphy has written a spellbinding and enthralling urban fantasy in the tradition of Tanya Huff and Mercedes Lackey.â
âThe Best Reviews
âTightly plotted and nicely paced, Murphyâs latest has a world in which ancient and modern magic fuse almost seamlesslyâ¦Fans of urban fantasy are sure to enjoy this first book in what looks to be an exciting new series.â
âRomantic Times BOOKreviews
[nominee for Reviewerâs Choice Best Modern Fantasy]
The Negotiator
Hands of Flame
âFast-paced action and a twisty-turny plot make for a good readâ¦Fans of the series will be sad to leave Margritâs world behind, at least for the time being.â
âRomantic Times BOOKreviews
House of Cards
âViolent confrontations add action on top of tense intrigue in this involving, even thrilling, middle book in a divertingly different contemporary fantasy romance series.â
âLOCUS
âThe second title in Murphyâs Negotiator series is every bit as interesting and fun as the first. Margrit is a fascinatingly complex heroine who doesnât shy away from making difficult choices.â
âRomantic Times BOOKreviews
Heart of Stone
â[An] exciting series openerâ¦Margrit makes for a deeply compelling heroine as she struggles to sort out the sudden upheaval in her professional and romantic lives.â
âPublishers Weekly
âA fascinating new seriesâ¦as usual, Murphy delivers interesting worldbuilding and magical systems, believable and sympathetic characters and a compelling story told at a breakneck pace.â
âRomantic Times BOOKreviews
Most especially, I want to say thank you to my husband, Ted. The kernel of this series was his, and I quite literally wouldnât be here without him. I love you, hon. Letâs hope there are lots of Walker Papers to celebrate in the future.
Thanks are also due to cover artist Hugh Syme; my editor, Mary-Theresa Hussey; and my agent, Jennifer Jackson; as well as my usual suspects, particularly Silkie, who once more went beyond the call of duty in doing unpaid research and catching my embarrassing spelling errors.
Tuesday, July 5, 8:58 a.m.
Someone had driven a tire iron into my skull. I could tell, because centered in my left temple was a vast throbbing pain that could only come from desperate injury. It felt like there were a thousand vicious gnomes leaping up and down on the iron, trying to increase the size of the hole in my head. I had the idea that once it was split open far enough, they would run down the length of metal and dive into the soft, gooey gray matter of my brain and have themselves a little gnomish pool party.
Neither of my eyes would open. I fumbled a hand up to poke at them and encountered sufficient goo that I took a moment to consider the possibility that the gnomes were already in my head, had overfilled it and were now flowing out my sinuses and tear ducts. It wasnât a pretty thought. Then again, nothing could be a pretty thought when someoneâd smashed a tire iron into my head.
I rolled my fingers across my eyelashes, trying to work some of the ook out of them. My heart was beating like a rabbit on speed, except when it paused with an alarming little arrhythmia that made me start hyperventilating. I hoped I was dying, because anything else seemed anticlimactic with all that going on. Besides, I had some experience with dying. It was kind of old hat, and so far it hadnât stuck.
Unlike my eyes. I physically pried one open with my fingers. The red numbers on my alarm clock jumped into it and stabbed it with white-hot pokers. I whimpered and let it close again, wondering why the hell I was in my bed, if I was dying. Usually I found myself dying in more exotic locations, like diners or city parks.