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Heart of Evil (Krewe of Hunters, Book 2) Mass Market Paperback – June 28, 2011

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Editorial Reviews

About the Author

New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author Heather Graham has written more than a hundred novels. She’s a winner of the RWA’s Lifetime Achievement Award, and the Thriller Writers’ Silver Bullet. She is an active member of International Thriller Writers and Mystery Writers of America. For more information, check out her websites:,, and You can also find Heather on Facebook.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

"Ah, dammit! I don't want to be a Yankee," Charles Osgood said.

It was there; it had finally come, and Ashley was grateful.

And the semi-drama going on here surely meant her mind had been trying to warn her that the day was not going to come without its share of trouble, because it was already proving to be one hell of an afternoon.

Morning had brought the business of breakfast, visitors pouring onto the property to spend time at the campsites. Now they were coming close to the main event of the day, the reenactment of the battle that had taken place at Donegal Plantation.

She'd never expected the real trouble to come over the sad situation of an ailing faux-Yankee.

"Dammit!" Charles exclaimed again.

Ashley thought that the man sounded like a petulant teenager, though she knew that he didn't really want to argue. Not on a day like today. He flushed as

the words came out of his mouth, and cast her a quick glance of dismay. She wasn't even the one handing out the assignments, though she was the only Donegal among them now. The relish the group was taking in telling Charles his new role unsettled her a bit. Charles Osgood was the newest in the "cavalry unit" of reenactors, which meant that he got the assignment to play for the other side. Yet this seemed to be turning into a college hazing; they were all friends, and they were usually courteous to one another.

"Charlie, come on! Being a Yankee will be fun. Okay, so they were jerks—well, the ones here—who couldn't spy on a neon sign, couldn't hunt, couldn't shoot…. But come on! Being a Yank will be fun!" Griffin Grant teased.

Ashley shook her head; how could grown men be so immature?

In her mind, although she truly loved the living history that took place at the plantation, she thought the units clinging to so-called glory were nothing more than inane. The event had ended with the death of one her ancestors—not a party.

"Hey, hey, all of you!" Ashley said, addressing the men around her and using the voice she would utilize when working with one of the school groups—the grade-school groups. "I know you all like to cling to the magical illusion that the antebellum South was a place of beauty, grace and honor—where men were men. Real men, hunting, riding, brawling—but honorable. Yes, we reenact what was. But this is now, and

that was then! None of you would seriously want to go back to the Civil War, and no one here is prejudiced. The slavery of any person was a horrendous way of life."

"Ashley—you're making it sound like being a real man is bad thing!" Cliff Boudreaux commented, laughing. Cliff, horse master at Donegal, was clearly amused and having a good time.

"Well, of course, Ashley, it's not like we take this too seriously," Griffin Grant said, staring back at her as if she was the one who didn't understand the question. Griffin was a striking man in his early thirties, sleek and slick, a CEO for a cable company in New Orleans, though his ancestors had lived out here, two hours down the road from the big city. "We know reality—and like it. But this is important playacting! "

She groaned softly.

They were good guys, really.

It was playacting, and for the playacting they were able to believe truly with their whole hearts that it had been about nothing other than states' rights. Ashley knew all the statistics about the fighting men— most of the men who fought and died for the South during the war couldn't have begun to have afforded a slave—and war was seldom caused by one issue. But her parents and her grandfather had never been the types to overlook the plantation's complicated history. Cliff was part of that with his gold-green eyes, bronze-colored skin and dark tawny hair. She knew

that half their visitors were immediately enthralled with him. He was one of the reenactors on the Southern side because of the Donegal blood that ran in his veins. Early on, a Donegal widower had fallen in love with a slave, creating the first racial mix in his background. In the 1920s, his great-grandfather had married a Donegal cousin, something that caused a serious scandal at that time in history, but which now gave both halves of the family a sense of pleasure and pride. She wasn't sure how to count second and third or twice-removed relatives, so she considered Cliff to be her cousin.

History was history. Donegal was steeped in it, good and bad, and they didn't hide any of it.

"Charles, they're right. It's a performance, you know," Ashley said. "It's a show, maybe even an important show in its small way. It's where people can see the weapons of the day, the uniforms that were worn. And, actually, remember, this particular fight started because men had a bar brawl—and then an excuse to fight because the war was getting underway. You're all examples of keeping history alive, and I'm so grateful to all of you."

Charles stared back at her blankly; the other men were smirking.

Why didn't they all get it? They were actors in a show, hopefully teaching American history, with several perspectives, along the way. But some things died really slowly here, in plantation country. Family was still everything. Loyalty to hearth and home, kin,

parish and state. They'd been wrong; they'd been beaten, and they knew it, but still, only one side of the cast of players was considered to be elite. And the reenactors could be incredibly snobbish.

That made Charles Osgood the odd man out.

Toby Keaton cleared his throat and then said softly, "Charles—come on. You're lucky to be in with the 27th Bayou Militia Cavalry Unit. Most of the time, the fellows taking part in the reenactments here are direct descendants of those who fought before. You've got to see the truth of this thing. You claim your place in the ranks through marriage—your stepfather was an O'Reilly, and I know he raised you, but, you know, in other old Southern units, that wouldn't count." Toby was forty-four, and Ashley's next-door neighbor at Beaumont, his Creole plantation, though they both had acres and acres of land. Toby grinned as if to cut the harshness of his words. "Newcomer—odd man out. You're a Yankee if I've ever seen one!"

"Great! So now I'm a newcomer—and that makes me an outsider?" Charles asked, staring around the room. "Come on, guys, you've just got to understand. This will really make it look as if I don't belong here

at all!"

He gave his appeal to the others gathered at the horse master's office in the old barn at Donegal Plantation that day—Cliff Boudreaux, Griffin Grant, Toby Keaton, Ramsay Clayton, Hank Trebly, all still with property in the general area, John Ashton, tour director from New Orleans, and Ashley herself. The

"Yankees" were gathering in the old smokehouse— a separate building, and now a small apartment. Charles would be joining them soon; all of the reen-actors gathered together for their roundtable discussions on the war, but each side met separately first on the day of the reenactment to make sure that every member knew the character he was playing. Later, they'd all meet back here to make sure that everyone was apprised of all the safety factors involved.

One, Charles, so it seemed, would have to play a Yankee, and go join the group in the apartment. They were short a Yankee, and that's the way it was. All of them belonged to Civil War roundtables, and these days, none of them really cared about sides—they just liked to discuss tactics and procedure. They often met in the dining room at Donegal; Ashley loved to listen, because they also knew their history, and they spoke about events in the lives of many of the key players in the war, and the fact that the generals had often been best friends before they had been forced to choose sides in the bloody conflict. They knew about weapons, uniforms, sad stories about treason and resisters, draft riots, food, clothing, trade and so much more.

"Charles," Cliff Boudreaux said patiently. "We're all just teasing you here, really. We're short on Yankees today, on account of Barton Waverly being sick with the flu. We're pretty desperate. And that's the rule; newcomers play Yankees when our brothers from up North ask for help. Hell, remember that year

when half of us were laid up with the croup? Three of them Yankees had to come play Southern boys. We're not doing anything bad to you—really."

Ramsay Clayton was seated across the table from Cliff. Ramsay looked like an artist; he was tall, with a wiry muscle structure, long dark hair and classical features. He owned a small place down the road, but he spent a lot of time in New Orleans, where he sometimes showed his work at Jackson Square and sometimes had showings at the galleries. He grinned at Charles. "Yeah, and don't forget, the Yankees won. Hell, come to think about it, where were all the Southern boys when we were losing this thing?" he asked lightly. "Ah, well. Born in our day and age, it's easy to look back at the South's part in the Civil War and wonder, 'What the hell were we thinking?'"

Ashley smiled. She liked Ramsay. He was a good


"Well, I wish I could just step up to the plate, but I can't. I can't play a Yankee—I just can't," Toby Keaton said. "Hell, my great-great-great-whatever grandfather was the first one to answer Marshall Donegal's call for volunteers. He was one of his best friends. I think he'd roll in his grave if I played a Yankee. Good God! I own a plantation! Wouldn't be fitting for me to play a Yankee. Lord knows, it could be bad for business."

Hank Trebly grinned. "Well, I'm just big sugar. I don't really give a whit. I see the war as over, over, over, and that's the way it is. Lord A-mighty! The

damn thing ended in 1865." Hank owned the property next to Donegal, and his ancestors had owned it forever. The old plantation had been replaced by a sugar refinery years ago. He was a small man, in his early forties, and his business meant everything to him.

John Ashton shrugged. "My family might have been here, but I don't care," he said. "The Civil War means my income these days—tourists love to go back. But I love 'em all. Yankees, rebels, Brits, Brazilians! Bring them on. They all spend money and take tours."

"And what happened here was in 1861, for God's sake, before the thing had really even gotten going," Griffin said, shaking his head. "Come on, now! My ancestor went on to die at the Second Battle of Ma-nassas—now, that's a damned big battle. We're here to teach, and to remember everything that happened in the past—and how it made us what we are today. Let's have fun, folks. C'mon—I come out here to forget the office and programming and statistics, computers and red tape. I don't care who plays what. It's just for a good time."

"I spend most of my time in New Orleans, art on the square and all that—you can call me a doughboy for all I care. It's the spirit of this thing," Ramsay said. "And Lord knows, what happened here couldn't even be called a battle. My ancestor and most of the Southern boys except for Marshall survived, but, as we've all pointed out now—the

North won. We are living the United States of America. This wasn't even really a battle."

He was right. What had taken place late in 1861 hadn't even been a battle. Drinking downriver, toward New Orleans, two Yankee spies had heard about Donegal's then-owner—Marshall Donegal— preparing a major summons to area troops to prepare them for an invasion of New Orleans. In trying to draw Marshall Donegal's men out further on the subject, they had all gotten into a fistfight when one made a ridiculous statement about Northerners being chickens. The two Confederates suspected the men of being spies, and had run back to Donegal. The spies went back to their headquarters, but they were spies, and thus their numbers were small. On each side, six men were mustered—and, rather than be executed as spies if they were caught, the Union men donned their uniforms.

The fighting had ranged from the stables to the porch of the main house and out to the chapel and cemetery—ending when Captain Marshall Donegal had died of a bayonet wound in his own family graveyard. The enemy had "skedaddled," according to the Southern side; the rebels had been left in utter defeat, according to their Northern counterparts.

Now, the "battle" was something that taught history, and, largely due to its small size—and the fact that the current owner of the plantation, Ashley's grandfather, Frazier Donegal, was a history buff and glad to welcome the units on his property—it was a

popular event. "Living history" took place frequently at Donegal, as often as once a week, but an actual re-enactment was done only once a year. Sometimes the actors doing the reenactments were involved in other locations. Some belonged not just to Civil War units, but Revolutionary War units, and it just depended on where the biggest shindig was going on. Luckily, most of the men who could claim to have had ancestors in the brawl loved the plantation and the nearly exact-to-the-past-moment location of the place, and they usually made this reenactment a priority.

Donegal House was surely one of the prettiest places left on the river road, with memories of the antebellum era held in place. The great house still maintained a gorgeous front. It had been built with magnificent Greek columns and wraparound porches, and elegant tree-shaded entries stretched forever before the front and back doors. The currently used stables, housing only six horses, were next to the house, while the larger stables needed in a bygone era were far back from the house, to the left, riverside, and offered three apartments for those who wanted to stay for the night. The old smokehouse and servants' quarters were available for rent as well, and sometimes they even rented out five of the rooms in the main house. With Beth there, Ashley's extraordinarily talented friend and chef, and the efforts they were making with the restaurant and the crazy business that came along with the reenactment, they had chosen this year just to let rooms in the outbuildings.


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Product Details

  • Series: Krewe of Hunters (Book 2)
  • Mass Market Paperback: 384 pages
  • Publisher: Mira; First Edition edition (June 28, 2011)
  • Language: English
  • ISBN-10: 9780778329985
  • ISBN-13: 978-0778329985
  • ASIN: 0778329984
  • Product Dimensions: 4.2 x 1 x 6.6 inches
  • Shipping Weight: 6.4 ounces (View shipping rates and policies)
  • Average Customer Review: 4.3 out of 5 stars  See all reviews (119 customer reviews)
  • Amazon Best Sellers Rank: #34,031 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)

More About the Author

New York Times and USA Today best selling author, Heather Graham was born somewhere in Europe and kidnapped by gypsies when she was a small child. She went on to join the Romanian circus as a trapeze artist and lion tamer. When the circus came to South Florida, she stayed, discovering that she preferred to be a shark and gator trainer.

Not really.

Heather is the child of Scottish and Irish immigrants who met and married in Chicago, and moved to South Florida, where she has spent her life. (She has, at least, been to the Russian circus in Moscow, where she wished she was one of the incredibly talented and coordinated trapeze artists.) She majored in theater arts at the University of South Florida. After a stint of several years in dinner theater, back-up vocals, and bartending, she stayed home after the birth of her third child and began to write. Her first book was with Dell, and since then, she has written over one hundred and fifty novels and novellas including category, suspense, historical romance, vampire fiction, time travel, occult, horror, and Christmas family fare.

She is pleased to have been published in approximately twenty-five languages, and has had over seventy-five million books in print. She has been honored with awards from Walden Books, B. Dalton, Georgia Romance Writers, Affaire de Coeur, Romantic Times, the Lifetime Achievement Award from RWA and more. Heather has also become the proud recipient of the Silver Bullet from Thriller Writers. Heather has had books selected for the Doubleday Book Club and the Literary Guild, and has been quoted, interviewed, or featured in such publications as The Nation, Redbook, Mystery Book Club, People and USA Today and appeared on many newscasts including Today, Entertainment Tonight and local television.

Heather loves travel and anything that has to do with the water, and is a certified scuba diver. She also loves ballroom dancing. Each year she hosts the Vampire Ball and Dinner theater at the RT convention raising money for the Pediatric Aids Society and in 2006 she hosted the first Writers for New Orleans Workshop to benefit the stricken Gulf region. She is also the founder of "The Slush Pile Players", presenting something that's almost like entertainment for various conferences and benefits. Married since high school graduation and the mother of five, her greatest love in life remains her family, but she also believes her career has been an incredible gift, and she is grateful every day to be doing something that she loves so very much for a living.

Customer Reviews

Most Helpful Customer Reviews

15 of 16 people found the following review helpful By Amazon Customer on July 7, 2011
Format: Mass Market Paperback
Heather Graham is very much a hit or miss author with me. In a great number of her books, I find them to be good stories, but very superficially written. I had the opportunity to review this book; however did not have the chance to review the first book in the series. Although I have done this before with her other series, it appears that the character development which occurred in the first book,Phantom Evil, was pretty important to understanding the characters in this book. What I thoroughly enjoyed in this book though was that it was light on romance which always works for me.

I am half way through Phantom Evil at this point and still believe that it is important to read this series in order.
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4 of 5 people found the following review helpful By ChibiNeko VINE VOICE on July 11, 2011
Format: Mass Market Paperback
I don't really expect much from romance books. This isn't because I don't think that there can be some fantastic books in the genre (there's some amazing stuff out there), but because the main goal of romance & most fiction isn't to be some amazingly deep read. Their goal is to entertain & only to entertain, which I respect. Unfortunately you sometimes get things that fall short of even that modest goal, which is what happened here with this book.

Normally I'd have a huge paragraph of great things to say about an Adam Harrison related book, but this just isn't the case with this book. While I do like the characters & at times there's some good chemistry, there just wasn't a lot that really stood out here until the ending. I did like the pacing towards the end & it does have a nice little scene at the end as well as some great recipes.

It's just that most of the book felt forced & predictable. Some of the background characters just blurred into one big lump because there wasn't anything to really make them stand out or be exemplary from the rest of the cast. It was also fairly easy to predict the killer because there were only a few people who were described well enough to be the killer & one of those I was able to eliminate because *minor spoiler* one of the team members showed an interest in him *end spoiler*. Even the love scenes didn't really do much to rescue the book because more often than not the chemistry just wasn't present enough to really loop me in like previous books have.

As far as entertainment value goes, I can't muster more than 2 stars for this book. The Heather Graham fangirl in me keeps nagging me to raise the star rating to at least 3 stars, but it's that same fangirl who says "well...
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19 of 27 people found the following review helpful By Boraborajen on July 16, 2011
Format: Mass Market Paperback
First of all, let me say that I am a harsh book reviewer. Not by trade but by virtue of the fact that I read. A lot. That being said, and having read a few of Heather Graham's novels before, I knew I was going to be getting a light summer read with some romance and a ghost dressed in period costume, like always. But this time, I really had a hard time getting into the story. It wasn't a real page turner by any means, but at least it was something to read. Until I got to the part where she mixes up her main character (Ashley) with an investigator (Angela) on page 173. What?! And when it happens again a few pages later..... well. I think I'm done with this book.

Note to Ms. Graham, if you or your editor can't keep two "A" named people straight, maybe next time to you need to have an Ashley and a Zelda. More letters in the alphabet to help you out.

Bottom line: She's written better. Don't bother with this book.
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1 of 1 people found the following review helpful By Kirstein Howell VINE VOICE on October 12, 2011
Format: Mass Market Paperback
This story of history, ghosts, and love reunited drew me in quickly and kept my attention throughout. There is nothing like a serial killer doing a vengeful ghost's bidding to bring back together two people who were separated because of their opposing views on the existence of such paranormal entities. How is that for an original plotline?
The characters were strong, each with their own unique personalities, including the unnamed killer. I really like it when you get brief glimpses into the killer's demented thoughts in these types of novels. I think it takes the suspense up a notch. The dialogue of all of the characters was expertly written, enhancing each character in manner of speech and tone. Graham is one of the best characterization authors I have ever read. Even the secondary characters, including the ghostly ones, were all very well developed.
Of course, I can't talk about the characters without mentioning the steamy, romantic plotline. I am a sucker for lovers-torn-apart being forced back together again. In this one, as opposed to most, the two past lovers didn't hate each other. Yet, despite the fact they were willing, so much stood in their way of getting back together again. I found myself really rooting for Jack and Ashley.
The plot while well constructed and suspenseful, took a few scary turns with ghosts to help the investigation along. I loved how the paranormal element helped even when the main character resisted, a nice opposition to the ghost who had a human killing for him.
The setting came through beautifully through rich descriptions of the plantation and cemetery along with the rich history of the place. The setting of a civil war reenactment was very clever especially when you have modern day people playing the ghosts walking among them.
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