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Take a look at the cover and excerpt below.
From our position outside the capital city of Romania, the mountain peaks were the color of fading bruises.
Credit: Kerri Maniscalco
Judging from the heavy snow falling they were likely as cold as dead flesh.
Quite a charming thought for a blustery morning.
A knee struck the side of the carved wooden panel in my compartmentagain.
I closed my eyes, praying that my traveling companion would fall back asleep.
One more jitter of his long limbs might unravel my fraying composure.
At least thats the ridiculous story hed told our chaperone, Mrs. Harvey.
My hands were suddenly warm and damp inside my gloves.
Id been studying the language enough to make out most of what it said.
Thomas, of course, was already fluent.
It was all rubbish meant to inspire fear and sell papers.
There was no such thing as an immortal being.
Flesh-and-blood men were the real monsters, and they could be cut down easily enough.
In the end, even Jack the Ripper bled as all men do.
Though papers still claimed he prowled the foggy London streets.
Some even said hed gone to America.
If only that were true.
An all-too-familiar pang hit my center, stealing my breath.
It was always the same when I thought about the Ripper case and the memories it stirred within.
By all outward appearances, I was still a vibrant seventeen-year-old girl.
And yet, Id taken such a devastating blow to my soul.
Specimens I hadnt collected.
Hed said nothing, but I knew he was disappointed.
I was supposed to have a heart that hardened in the face of death.
Perhaps I wasnt meant for a life of forensic studies after all.
I gritted my teeth while Thomastap-tap-tappedalong to the chugging of the wheels.
How Mrs. Harvey slept through the racket was truly incredible.
At least hed succeeded in drawing me from that deep well of emotions.
They were the kind of feelings that were too still and too dark.
Stagnant and putrid like swamp water, with red-eyed creatures lurking far below.
Mrs. Harvey would spend a night or two in Brasov before traveling back to London.
Part of me longed to go back with her, though Id never admit it aloud to Thomas.
I leaned closer, realizing the branches werent covered in snow, but ice.
They caught the first light of day and were practically set ablaze in the bright reddish-orange sunrise.
It was so peaceful I could almost forgetwolves!
I stood so abruptly that Thomas jumped in his seat.
Mrs. Harvey snored loudly, the sound akin to a snarl.
I blinked and the creatures were gone, replaced by branches swaying as the train chugged onward.
What I had thought were glinting fangs were only wintry boughs.
Id been hearing phantom howls all night.
Now I was seeing things that werent there during daylight hours, too.
Im going to…stretch my limbs.
I need a few moments.
Try not to miss me too much, Wadsworth.
Thomas sat back, his face falling slightly before his expression was once again playful.
The lightness didnt quite reach his eyes.
Though that might be an impossible task.
I, for one, miss myself terribly when asleep.
What was that, dear?
Mrs. Harvey asked, blinking behind her spectacles.
I said you ought to try counting sheep.
Was I sleeping again?
I took advantage of the distraction, shutting the door behind me and grabbing my skirts.
I didnt want Thomas reading the expression on my face.
The one that I hadnt yet mastered in his presence.
I couldnt stay out here unchaperoned for long, but I needed an escape.
If only from my own thoughts and worries.
Last week, I had seen my cousin Liza was walking up the stairs in my home.
A sight as normal as anything, except shed left weeks prior for the country.
Days later something a bit darker occurred.
When Id blinked, all was well.
Hed said I needed to confront my grief, but Id rather not reopen that wound yet.
One day, maybe.
A few compartments down, a door slid open, dragging me into the present.
A man with primly styled hair exited the chamber, moving swiftly down the corridor.
When he tugged a silver comb from his overcoat, I nearly cried out.
Something in my core twisted so violently my knees buckled.
He had died weeks ago in that awful accident.
I fisted my cream skirts and ran.
Id know that stride anywhere.
Science could not explain the power of love or hope.
There were no formulas or deductions for understanding, no matter what Thomas claimed regarding science versus humanity.
The man tipped his hat to passengers sitting down to tea.
I reached out, tugging the man around, ready to toss my arms around him and cry.
The events last month were only a nightmare.
Tears pricked my eyes.
The hairstyle and clothing did not belong to who Id believed they did.
He lifted a walking cane, switching it to his other hand.
He hadnt even been holding a comb.
I was losing touch with what was real.
I slowly backed away, noting the quiet chatter of the car behind us.
Panic made breathing more difficult than the corset binding my ribs.
I panted, trying to draw in enough air to soothe my jumbling nerves.
The clatter and laughter rose to a shrill pitch.
Part of me wished the cacophony would drown out the pulse thrashing in my head.
I was about to be sick.
Are you all right,domnisoara?
I laughed, uncaring that he jerked away from my sudden outburst.
This man spoke with a Romanian accent.
He wasnt even English.
And his hair wasnt blond at all.
It was light brown.
Scuze, I said, forcing myself out of hysterics with a meager apology.
I mistook you for someone else.
Before I could embarrass myself further, I dipped my chin and quickly retreated to my private car.
I kept my head down, ignoring the whispers and giggles, though Id heard enough.
I needed to collect myself before I saw Thomas again.
Id pretended otherwise, but Id seen the concern crinkling his brow.
The extra care in the way hed tease or annoy me.
I knew precisely what he was doing each time he irked me.
Thomas was unlike other young men, however.
I came upon my compartment and threw my shoulders back.
It was time to wear the cool exterior of a scientist.
My tears had dried and my heart was now a solid fist in my chest.
I breathed in, and exhaled.
Jack the Ripper was never coming back.
A real a statement as any.
There were no career murderers on this train.
The Autumn of Terror ended last month.
Wolves were most certainly not hunting anyone on the Orient Express.
If I wasnt careful, Id start believing Dracula had risen next.
