The boy on the mortuary slab is dead; so why doesn’t he act like it?
Forensic sorcerer Frank Sampson reckons it’s something to do with the bizarre magic symbols carved into his flesh. He thinks he knows the sorcerer behind it; but the trouble is, he also thinks he may be in love with her. Or not . . .
Life can get confusing when your loyalties are divided, you’re on the run, and the Inquisition are on your tail with a stack of dry firewood and a box of matches.
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Donald Hounam 