Where the Angels Dream (An Affinity for the Dead)

A gas lamp fantasy woven through with ghosts, cemeteries, secrets, and magick.

Something old and powerful walks the gas-lit streets of Ashwood town...

For decades, the Ascher family cemetery had been left to rot and ruin. Still, getting the position as caretaker there had been a boon for Devon Amaris. The job suited him, and it paid well enough that he could bring his younger sister, Sara, to Ashwood to continue her education.

And if the spirits did not rest as quietly as they should in their weed-shrouded crypts... well that was of no nevermind to him. He could not say the same of the woman who waited for him every night in his dreams.

Sara had worried that making friends in a new town would prove difficult. As it happened, a little white cat with rust-colored ears had adopted them nearly from the first day that she and her brother had arrived in Ashwood. And she had made more friends since. The fact that most of those new friends happen to be dead, she supposed, was only to be expected.

But unbeknownst to Devon and Sara, there is a darkness growing in Ashwood. The devil is in the air, and not everyone is as they appear to be. Certainly not a little white cat with rust-colored ears.

Set in a time when electric lights and telephones are signs of the well-to-do and spiritualism is all the rage, Where the Angels Dream follows the story of Devon and Sara Amaris. Two siblings with an affinity for the dead and the unfortunate luck to have drawn the interest of powers far older than themselves.

I grew up in a rural community on the east coast of Florida called Jupiter Farms, and I live there still. There was a whole lot of daydreaming and horseback riding involved in my growing up, as well as reading and writing (a common thing among authors it seems). And I am still doing all of those same things today, save horseback riding and growing up. I always have stories rolling around in my head, myriad worlds filled with characters, all clamoring for me to tell their stories. I love writing about them (except when they make me pull my hair out, then it's more of a love/hate kind of thing) and marvel at how they take shape with a life all their own. I find myself looking forward to seeing what will happen... only to have to remind myself that if I want to see how it all turns out, then first I need to finish writing them.