In this enthralling new tale from bestselling author Christopher Golden, one man is drawn into a realm just across the veil from our own, where every captivating myth and fairy tale is true, the vanished exist-and every fear is founded.... Yielding to his father's wishes, Oliver Bascombe abandoned his dream of being an actor and joined the family law firm. Now he will marry a lovely young woman bearing the Bascombe stamp of approval. But on the eve of his wedding, a blizzard sweeps in-bringing with it an icy legend who calls into question everything Oliver believes about the world and his place in it.... Pursued by a murderous creature who heeds no boundaries, Jack Frost needs Oliver's help to save both himself and his world-an alternate reality slowly being displaced by our own. To help him, Oliver Bascombe, attorney-at-law, will have to become Oliver Bascombe, adventurer, hero-and hunted. So begins a magnificent journey where he straddles two realities...and where, even amid danger, Oliver finds freedom for the very first time.
Stoker-winner Golden (The Boys Are Back in Town) launches a promising new dark fantasy series with this chiller, which opens on a snowy December night on the coast of Maine. Lawyer Oliver Bascombe is having a case of prewedding jitters at his family home, an "enormous Victorian mansion," when a blizzard smashes its way into the house and blows in "the winter man" (aka Jack Frost). Frost needs Oliver to save him from a Myth Hunter from beyond the Veil (i.e., the land of faerie). Seizing the opportunity to duck his wedding obligations, Oliver agrees to pass with Frost through the Veil. Meanwhile, on Earth, Oliver's tough-minded sister, Colleen, sets out to solve the mystery of his disappearance. When she finds her father murdered, she turns for help to Det. Ted Hallowell, who gets on the trail of a serial killer. Fast pacing, superior characterization and sound folklore yield a winner. (Jan. 31) Copyright 2005 Reed Business Information. -- PUBLISHERS WEEKLY.
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January 30, 2006
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Excerpt from The Myth Hunters by Christopher Golden
The promise of winterýs first snowfall whispered across the low-slung evening sky. Oliver Bascombe shivered, not from the December wind but with the same anticipation he had felt at his seventh birthday party, just before the magician performed his act. Oliver did not believe in magicians anymore, but he did still believe in magic. He was stubborn that way.
The green cable-knit sweater was insufficient to protect him from the cold, but Oliver did not mind. At the edge of a rocky cliff a hundred and twenty feet above the crashing surf, he hugged himself and closed his eyes; felt the north wind prodding him and smiled. His cheeks were numb but he cared not at all. There was a delicious taste to the air and the scent of it was wonderful, exhilarating.
Oliver loved being by the ocean, relished the air, but this scent was different. This was the storm coming on. Not the metallic tang of the imminent thunderstorm, but the pure, moist air of winter, when the sky was thick and each misting breath almost crystalline.
It was bliss.
Oliver inhaled again and, eyes still closed, took a step closer to the edge of the bluff. All the magic in the world existed right here, right now. In the air, the portentous gray sky, the mischievous auguring of winter. A solemn oath from nature that soon it would bring beauty and stillness to the land, at least for a while.
A few more inches, a single step, and he would fly from the bluff down into the breakers and serenity would be his. One final enormous disappointment for his father to bear, and then he would not burden the old man any further.
A flutter against his cheek. A rustling in his hair. A gust swept off the water and struck him with enough force that he stumbled back a step. One step. Back instead of forward. The wind blew damp, icy stings against his cheeks.
Oliver opened his eyes.
Snow fell in a silent white cascade that stretched from the stone bluff and out across the ocean. For the longest of moments he stood and simply stared, his heart beating faster, his throat dry, holding his breath. Oliver Bascombe believed in magic. Whatever else life brought him, as long as he could hold on to such moments, he could endure.