"Interesting story line. Dan Brown meets Alfred Hitchcock. Enough scares to keep you on your toes and enough story twists to keep you guessing all the way to the end. Looking for more from this author." -Reader
"Entertaining addition to the series. A fast and fun read. Engaging characters and story line." -C. Glasser
"Great ending. Lots of action. Give the trilogy a try. If you are into ghosts, you will like it." - Louise
"I liked this one and I am looking forward to the next part of the series. A good and quick read!!" -Judith C.
"Excellent read. Well-defined plot. I will recommend to everyone." -Reader
"Great characters! A plot that will keep your interest. Characters you can easily feel invested in their lives." -Reader
From the Inside Flap
"You're not seeing Cambridge at its best," said Mark. "Or seeing very much of it at all, really."
"I don't know," said Sue. "It's got plenty of character. And the fog is kind of beautiful."
"You have a knack for looking on the bright side," he said. "Come on, we can go through here."
He led her through a small gate into one of the labyrinthine cloisters of the university, pointing out landmarks that were just visible in the murk. Eventually, they came to the river, and Mark took Sue onto a footbridge.
"This is the Bridge of Sighs," he said. "It will get us to the library, which is another amazing building."
"I thought the Bridge of Sighs was in Venice?" asked Sue, looking up at the elaborated vaulted roof of the stone bridge. She took out her phone and snapped a couple of pictures.
"This is a copy," Mark explained. "Some Victorian gentleman liked Venice so much he thought his old university should have a little piece of it."
"This really is a different world," she said, looking out at the river below. "I can kind of see why you fell in love with it."
They paused to gaze out over the fog-bound river. Sue took some more snaps.
"This is the right place for a guy who studies all things Gothic," she said, adjusting her scarf.
"You get used to short days, dark mornings, the general cold and damp," he said. "Old England is a lot farther north than New England."
"What are those?" asked Sue, pointing to some flat-bottomed boats tied up at a jetty.
"They are punts," he said. "Propelled by poles. The punter stands on that platform thing at the back. Tourists pay through the nose for river trips. They come in all sizes."
"I can't really picture you in one," she said, smiling.
"No," he admitted, "I think I'd just fall in. It's a big thing, boating. Oxford and Cambridge have a tradition of student boat races, that kind of thing. And some people live on boats, moored further downstream where the Cam gets wider."
"That guy, Dylan Morgan," she said. "He lived on a riverboat, didn't he?"
"Yeah," said Mark. "It was part of his eccentric British charm. Or so I thought."
"Hard to believe he'd want to kill you just because you were young and successful," she said, turning to look up at him.
Mark felt uncomfortable.
"The thought of being hated that much by anyone is more disturbing than anything else that's happened," he admitted. "But Morga n was some kind of psychopath. I mean, he felt he had the right to just destroy people who caused problems for him. I was a rival, in his twisted view, so I had to die."
Sue nodded, but still looked doubtful.
"What if he was being manipulated?" she said. "Could he have just been a pawn in a bigger game, without realizing it?"
"How do you mean?" asked Mark.
"Well, he used this Follower to destroy a succession of clever young people. Suppose each time that curse, the way it focused occult energy ..."
She stopped, clearly perplexed.
"Sometimes things just happen," Mark pointed out. "If I hadn't come to Cambridge, then someone else would have aroused Morgan's jealousy. He wasn't a rational man."
"I get it," she said. "Maybe I want to see conspiracies where there aren't any. Come on, let's see this dusty old library you keep going on about."
They crossed the bridge and entered a labyrinth of stone corridors. When they reached a notice board, Sue paused to look at it, saying she wanted to 'get a feel' of college life.
"It's the usual student stuff you'll find at any university," commented Mark. "Clubs and societies, that sort of thing."
"So I see," she said, "but what's this stuff about Guy Fawkes Night? Is that part of Halloween over here?"
"Ah, no," he said, smiling, "it's a crazy British thing. They call it Bonfire Night, too. On the Fifth of November, they have firework displays and burn Guy Fawkes in effigy."
"Why?" asked Sue. "Did he prefer coffee to tea or something?"
"No, it was long before all that," said Mark.
He explained that Guy or Guido Fawkes was one of gang of religious extremists who tried to blow up England's parliament, plus the king. He was caught, executed, and became 'a kind of national boogeyman'. Every year they burn him in effigy."
"When did this happen?" asked Sue.
"About four hundred years ago, if I remember right."
She looked at the brightly-colored posters advertising firework displays and bonfire parties.
"So every year they have a real good time because of a terrorist?" she asked playfully.
"Kind of, I guess," he admitted. "I never thought about it that way. Hey, let's go see Ralph, he can give you the skinny on all that stuff."