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By Norman Partridge

A hurricane is coming to Cliffside, California, and with it comes a killer.

His identify is Clay Saunders, and he walks in worlds. Born with a caul, Saunders sees ghosts. yet to him, the realm of the useless is particularly very similar to the realm of the residing. It's a realm of everlasting soreness -- inescapable and incessant -- that cuts as deeply because the razor fringe of the employed killer's K-bar knife.

Saunders has spilled blood on Florida sand, and the snow-covered Canadian prairie, and the black lava of Hawaii. His newest objective is Diabolos Whistler, chief of a satanic cult. Exiled in Mexico, Whistler is on my own while Saunders stabs him simply above the 1st vertebrae... by myself, aside from the mummies stacked like a lot cordwood in his library.

But the residing who watch for the killer's arrival in Cliffside are extra scary than the decayed corpses of the lifeless. There's Whistler's daughter Circe, a tattooed siren who leads Saunders to a mattress of iron and satin...and Circe's bodyguard, a seven foot scholar of Egyptology whose sarcophagus rests in a redwood pyramid... and Janice Ravenwood, a brand new age medium with a startling hidden gift.

And there's a bit woman, a ghost held prisoner through vengeful revenants. merely Clay Saunders can shop her. to do this, he needs to bridge the worlds of the dwelling and the useless in an unforgettable climax of darkness and blood.

"Vivid writing, lightning velocity and precise originality make this novel a real page-turner… an unrelenting and disturbingly amoral one."
—Publishers Weekly

"Part hard-boiled mystery, half grisly horror, half delicate personality research, Wildest desires is a kind of extraordinary and engrossing novels that matches no classification yet its personal. I actually needed to learn it in a single sitting."
—Charles de Lint, delusion & technology Fiction

"… Partridge deftly works adequate twists and becomes Wildest desires for a singular two times its length... belief me, it’s a journey and a half."
—Brian Hodge, Hellnotes

"What Norman Partridge has wrought in Wildest desires is the bad genuine Thing."
—Edward Bryant, Locus

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Simply because I had what the flies sought after. they'd scented the bloody factor in my backpack. I couldn’t wait to be rid of that factor, and all that got here with it, and all that it attracted. Flies…and a girl named Circe Whistler. the lady I’d come to satisfy. yet I wouldn’t look forward to Circe the following. I’d wait outdoors, and I’d take the little lady with me. “Let’s go,” I acknowledged, and that used to be while i spotted that the little woman used to be already long gone. I took a step again and my heel struck an asymmetric stone within the ground. It appeared to wobble underfoot, or perhaps it was once me who wobbled, however the outcome used to be a similar. I approximately misplaced my stability. the 1st fly brushed prior my cheek. If I waited one other minute, I’d be crawling with the issues. I grew to become, a kick back of disgust capering up my backbone. a lady blocked my manner. * * * I simply knew issues in regards to the girl: she wasn’t frightened of flies, and she or he wasn’t Circe Whistler. “I used to be waiting for a person else,” I acknowledged. “Plans change,” she acknowledged. “Life is fluid. ” “Life is clockwork. Or it may be. ” “Maybe the place you come back from, yet issues are diverse the following. besides, I didn’t suggest to provide you this kind of commence. ” She smiled. Blonde and moderate, yet she didn’t examine all susceptible. and how she held onto her amused expression jogged my memory of a few smartass child who’d simply noticed a zip on Godzilla’s again. We stood outdoor, clear of the flies. The little lady used to be nowhere in sight, and that i used to be stunned to discover that i used to be frightened approximately her. I couldn’t support considering if she’d obvious the lady, if this stranger had scared her off— “What’s incorrect? ” the blonde requested. “You seem like you’ve noticeable a ghost. ” I stared at her. probably she’d visible the little woman and was once being coy with me. perhaps she hadn’t. I couldn’t decide—her eyes have been flat and chilly, just like the ocean. “Do you suspect in ghosts? ” I requested. “I think in lots of issues. for example, i think that the bottle home is a spot of extreme energies. either confident and unfavourable. Souls stay right here. I’ve spoken to them. ” “Really,” I acknowledged, doing my top to sound diplomatic. yet my new age radar was once going up, and going up quickly. the very last thing i wished was once a lecture on energies, or dynamics or— “Faith is the most important, of course,” she acknowledged. “This position was once a temple, you recognize. a spot of extreme religion. And religion is energy. excessive strength. Don’t you compromise? ” “I’m getting the all-over heebie-jeebies simply brooding about it. ” I bit off the comment as quick as i may and held out my hand, one final stab at international relations. “Clay Saunders. ” She checked out my hand like I’d provided her a trojan horse on a silver platter. “Forgive me if I don’t shake. ” “I’m yes you might have your purposes. Energies, dynamics…like that. ” “My identify is Janice Ravenwood,” she acknowledged, ignoring the jab. “I’m a medium. possibly you recognize my books. ” “No. yet then, I stick more often than not to nonfiction. ” “I imagine I’m complete up with sarcasm now. ” “I’m no longer being sarcastic. It’s simply the best way i'm. I purely think what I see. ” “You see what you decide to determine. ” She raised her hand. “It’s all an issue of energies. ” Her hands did a bit dance, and the silver bracelets encircling her skinny wrists supplied the track.

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