There’s no truth to the rumor that I only write fantasy so I can play with dragons… even if half my fantasy novels have “dragon” in the title… and then there’s the one I slipped into God’s Dice…
But there’s no dragons in Marked. Just airships, and zombies…
I never told my parents about the Mark.
My name is Frank Blackthorne, and I’m going to tell you a story.
Any sane individual could tell you that such plans are likely to go awry, and, again, they would be correct.
I might be married to her, but the fact she was currently a fifty-foot fire-breathing lizard could still be somewhat intimidating.
I didn’t witness it but I imagine it happening like this.
“Why did he die, Mr. Maxwell?”
Someone was stalking Nate Black.
Richie drove the decrepit VW microbus down the ugliest stretch of East 119 Street.