Hello, everyone! It is the first Friday of October, so welcome to the spooky season!
Caidyn will be in blue.
Chantel will be in purple.
“Don’t look now,” Lockwood said. “There’s two of them.”
I snatched a glance behind me and saw that he was right. Not far off, on the other side of the glad, a second ghost had risen from the earth. Like the first, it was a pale, man-shaped curtain of mist that hovered above the dark, wet grass. Its head, too, seemed oddly skewed, as if broken at the neck.
I glared at it, not so much terrified as annoyed. For twelve months I’d been working at Lockwood & Co. as a Junior Field Operative, tackling Visitors of every horrific shape and size. Broken necks didn’t bother me the way they used to. “Oh, that’s brilliant,” I said. “Where did he spring from?”
I mean, my little extract sort of says what book this is, so what’s the point in pretending you guys don’t know? (I also did not read the first page and started typing and then realized that it sort of gave it away. I was just too lazy to find another book.)
This is the sequel to The Screaming Staircase, which I reread last month. This is basically me reading the rest of the series since the final book came out last month. Sad, right? But, oh well! I’m loving the series and really glad that I’m rereading it.
It has some of the best humor I’ve stumbled across in books with a real build on relationships across the board. It’s definitely better than most of the YA I’ve read.
Wind chimes tinkled, their high, golden sounds all wrong on this chill December morning. My fingertips traced my jaw to check my shave. The coffeemaker sighed, its work done. I filled my thermos. Loose linoleum tried to trip me on my way to the window. Outside there was a pearl-gray sky. Hell. I’d lived here long enough to recognize a snow sky. Snow days were busy. Car accidents, medical emergencies. Not to mention the local yokel antics. Two weeks ago, a fistfight broke out at Karp’s Hardware over the last snow shovel.
I zipped my jacket. Stuffed my leather gloves deep in my pockets. The glassy sound of the window chimes grew frantic. Strong wind outside. My phone rang. I paused at the door. It rang twice more. No one would care if I were late to the station. No one but my feral secretary, Mrs. Dunsmore. I picked up the white plastic receiver.
“Get out of town.” The voice was pitched low and deep, verging on Darth Vader.
“Or what?” My pulse leapt to the base of my throat.
“We don’t want your kind here.” He broke into a coughing fit.
“My kind?” The more he talked, the better my chances of identifying him.
“Homo,” he said. “Queer.” He hung up.
Was that a bit long? It was. I’m not sorry. I figured. I picked this book and went on as long as I did so I could talk about it a bit more. This is a sequel as well. I really enjoyed the first book and honestly, I’ve been waiting for this sequel since I finished that book. I finally have my tiny hands on a copy from the library and it’s in such excellent condition. I wish it was my own copy.
Anywho, onto the book.
Fun fact about me, I don’t like mystery novels. It’s not my genre and I just don’t care. However, I’ve had to amend said fun fact: I don’t like mystery novels unless the main character is gay. Now this isn’t surprising. You just have to say LGBT+ and she’s suddenly arrived in the conversation. This pretty much applies to any genre I’m not a fan of. I will pretty much read anything with a LGBTQIA main character, within reason, but I love seeing LGBTQIA representation in books and it’s so much more prevalent now than when I was a teenager. Do I sound old? I feel old, trust me. Not as old as Caidyn, though. He’s an old fart. This is 100% fact.
So, when I heard about a mystery novel where the main character Thomas Lynch is a gay detective, oh I was all fucking in. This isn’t one of those gay novels where there are two characters who are exact opposites but because of contrivances end up “falling in love” well…falling in bed really. I’ve read my fair share of those and I could rattle off the names of a few authors, but that’s really embarrassing and I don’t want to overshare. This is a genuine mystery and while I haven’t started it yet, I have high hopes. The first book was really good, even though I felt like the mystery was lacking, but clearly, the mystery isn’t why I read these books. Clearly.
I just like to read about the ruggedly handsome (at least he is in my mind) Thomas Lynch being gruff and grumpy and taking no nonsense.
I know the kids these days like to use the word “trash” to describe something you are shamelessly obsessed with. So, I shall declare that I am trash for Thomas Lynch mystery novels.
Did I say that right?
Let’s just say yes while I go find a nice home to put you in.