Crystal Moon by Jackson Stein
English | 2020 | Mystery & Thriller | ePUB | 2.6 MB
Ex-federal agent turned vampire detective, Samantha Moon, finds herself investigating one of the strangest cases in recent memory.
An unsuspecting client finds out he was murdered in a past-life… by one of the most notorious killers in history, Jack the Ripper. Now that same evil entity is back and chasing her client through time, ready to kill again. But the Ripper is no ordinary killer… and he may just be immortal.
Now, with help from her best friend, Allison, and boyfriend, Kingsley Fulcrum, Sam delves deeper into the world of black magic than she ever has before to save her client’s life. With time running out, the killer closing in, and her client’s life in the balance, can Sam rely on the power of the crystal moon?
* Crystal Moon is based on the characters created in “Vampire for Hire” universe by J.R. Rain.
The Reverend Mother shifted uneasily in her chair. The chair itself was not at fault. The committee dealing with slum clearance in Cork met in the luxurious surroundings of the Imperial Hotel on the South Mall of the city, and the chair, like everything else in the Imperial Hotel, was superbly comfortable. It was the typed figures before her that had caused unease. On average twelve families live in each house; she read the words without much surprise, but with a feeling of deep sadness.
It seemed extraordinary and deeply depressing. Years had gone by since Ireland had attained its freedom. And now over two hundred people were living along a city lane in thirteen houses that were declared to be, not only unfit for human habitation, but incapable of being rendered fit for human habitation. Four or five storeys high, relics of the long-gone Georgian age, these houses were sinking back into the marshy soil beneath them.
And then her eyes narrowed as her attention was caught by another sheet of paper. She picked up the page again. There must be some mistake. ‘Sixty-one families,’ she said aloud. ‘Surely sixty-one families amount to more than two hundred people.’
‘We count each family as three and one-third units, Reverend Mother,’ said the bishop’s secretary with an air of pride in his superior mathematical ability.
The Reverend Mother thought about the families in her school, thought about the children, those long lines of numerous brothers and sisters – units, she supposed that she should call them – all playing on the steps of those appalling houses, and their parents, more units, she supposed …
‘In my experience an average family would number about twelve, not three and one-third,’ she said sharply. ‘So you could have up to seven hundred persons in those thirteen houses.’ Her own figures appalled her, but she thought they were more accurate than those which had been produced for the committee to examine.
There was a murmur from those sitting around the table drawn up in front of a cosy fire. The Reverend Mother’s position in the hierarchy of Cork, her forcible personality, her reputation for speaking her mind, made them reluctant to contradict her, but all looked deeply uncomfortable. Only one was brave enough to speak out.
‘Dear Reverend Mother,’ said Julie Clancy, ‘God in his mercy tempers the wind to the shorn lamb. You forget that, although it may be true that a frightening amount of children are born to that class of people, many die in the early years.’
‘To be replaced by others,’ said the Reverend Mother, trying to put to the back of her mind the human suffering involved in these births and deaths.