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A SANCTUARY OF SPIRITS by Leanna Renee Hieber |

We are delighted to be internet hosting the duvet reveal with an excerpt for Leanna Renee Hieber’s latest Steampunk Fantasy A SANCTUARY OF SPIRITS , out this November.

Without additional ado, here is the smugglerific cowl!

Cowl art by Louis Malcangi

Concerning the ebook:

Souls are vanishing into the ether. It’s 1899 New York Metropolis and the mortal world and spirit realm stroll aspect by aspect. A Sanctuary of Spirits follows gifted younger medium Eve Whitby as she leads the NYPD’s secret Ghost Precinct by means of its most treacherous trial but. Investigating the disappearance of a mortician, Eve stumbles upon a dashing and harmful magician. The deeper into the investigation she journeys, the more drawn to him she becomes. Snarled in secrets and intrigue, Eve must unravel the link between the charismatic man and the spirit world, referred to as the Ghost Sanctuary, earlier than each soul in the city is taken, all whereas protecting her budding relationship.

An excerpt of the novel and a music:

Manhattan, 1899

“Maggie.” Eve Whitby waved at the distracted ghost who
floated before her, a clear, greyscale and luminous type. “Reply me. How
might you, of all spirits, simply disappear? And what brought you again?”

“I am lifeless; we
do this typically, you realize. Vanish,” Maggie stated with amusing. She turned and
started floating north, within the path of the practice depot the place they have been
headed. The wraith was a visible echo of the stunning younger woman she’d been in
life, wearing a high quality robe of the early eighties.

“Don’t you be flippant, my dear,” Eve chided, lifting her
skirts and hurrying after the specter, operating instantly into the cold chill of
her wake. “We’ve been distraught for weeks,” she continued with a shiver. “We
knew you’d by no means depart without telling us! We couldn’t even catch a trace of you throughout our séances!”

The dark-haired man taking long strides to maintain up beside
Eve cleared his throat.

The
usually drawn pallor of Eve’s cheek colored. “I’m sorry, Detective.” She
turned to him with out breaking her tempo. “I overlook you possibly can’t utterly hear or
see our subject here.”

Tall
and lithe, with a neatly trimmed mop of dark brown curls that bounced within the
breeze, dressed in a easy black go well with with a white cravat, Detective Horowitz,
in his mid-twenties, was as sharp in wit and thoughts as he was in options. The
angles of his face curved and softened as he smiled. His potential to shift from
critical to amused was as swift as it was engaging.

“I’m
catching items right here and there,” he replied, “however to be trustworthy, I’m extra
having fun with the seems to be you’re getting from passersby, averting wary, disdainful
eyes behind hat brims and parasols.”

“Oh.”
Eve batted an ungloved hand, caring not a whit for the nice particulars of
sartorial propriety, as gloves typically acquired in her means of tactile experience
essential to her work. “Mad people walk New York streets every day and nobody stops
them; it’s one of the glories of the town—minding one’s personal enterprise!”

Horowitz
laughed and stored tempo.

The
three angled along bustling Broadway as it slanted up forward of them, the ghost
at the fore, dodging passersby with parasols and weaving past horse-carts,
careful to mind their droppings. Eve grumbled because the stray foot of a
businessman’s cigar was lifted by the wind onto her shoulder, and she or he brushed
off the embers earlier than they caught the skinny wool on hearth. She wore an adaptation
of a police matron’s uniform: a easy gown with buttons down the entrance, but
in black, having donned fixed mourning in honor of those she labored with and
for, the spirits of New York.

The
detective didn’t appear to carry Maggie’s interruption towards her, regardless of the
undeniable fact that he’d been leaning toward Eve in a near-kiss when the spirit’s
incorporeal type had appeared between them. That the detective even entertained the thought of a ghost was a
blessing. That he might slightly see and barely hear fragments from Maggie was
unimaginable progress. Just weeks earlier than he’d been a confirmed skeptic. Maybe
Eve’s Sensitivities have been rubbing off on the practical, level-headed detective.
The concept she may be capable of draw this man additional into her world was an
equally thrilling and cautionary prospect. Eve reeled in more directions than
one.

Maggie
Hathorn had been Eve’s dearest pal since childhood, probably the most trusted
spectral asset in her Ghost Precinct since its current inception, and the spirit
didn’t appear to be taking her own disappearance critically. Yes, ghosts typically
came and went as they pleased. But they have been usually creatures of behavior with
specific patterns of hang-out. Eve’s Ghost Precinct of four mediums relied on
the fidelity of their secure of specters, Maggie at the core. Until she’d
vanished with no phrase.

“If
the Summerland attracts you and also you want to go, Maggie,” Eve stated earnestly,
reaching out to the floating figure and touching chilled air, “just inform us. I
love and wish you, however I know I mustn’t maintain my pricey pal from her
well-earned peace.”

“Oh,
my dearest good friend.” Maggie turned and reached out. A clear, icy hand
brushed across Eve’s cheek. “None of this was about eager to go however wanting
to stay, to help. But come, there are
particulars I can’t belief myself to recollect. I’ll take you to where the Sanctuary
left me. You’ll be able to’t go in, but you of all individuals should know where I came out.”
She turned and resumed her float. Eve and the detective tried once more to keep up.

The
spirits that pledged themselves to Eve’s Ghost Precinct promised they wouldn’t
go on to the Sweet Summerland, as the Spiritualists referred to as their concept of a
heavenly aircraft, with out telling their coworkers. It was a means of making certain that
the delicate channel between the precinct Mediums and the spirits didn’t tear
itself into injurious pieces. An open, psychic channel to the spirit world harm
if torn away and never correctly shut. A wounded third eye might never correctly
heal. It had injured Eve when Maggie had been ripped away. It appeared the spirit
hadn’t considered that. Eve swallowed again a reprimand that would appear
ungrateful contemplating how glad she was to see her lifeless good friend.

“Eve,
who is that this gentleman trailing you?”
Maggie waved an incorporeal hand toward the detective. “Have you ever began hiring
men since I’ve been gone?”

Eve
shook her head. “Detective Horowitz and I’ve been consulting on unusual instances
that have sudden, intersecting patterns. He’s been a essential liaison for
the division and a priceless pal.”

“To
be clear,” the detective added, wanting vaguely in Maggie’s path as they
continued uptown, his gaze focusing and dropping focus as if he faintly caught
sight of her spectral individual then misplaced her again. “I do help Miss Whitby and
her precinct, even if I don’t all the time perceive it.”

The
public at giant didn’t know concerning the existence of the small Ghost Precinct,
technically part of the New York Police Division. The few lieutenants and
sergeants who did know thought the entire thing preposterous. “Full of hogwash,”
Eve had overheard at some point in Mulberry Headquarters. The truth that the Ghost
Precinct was made up of girls didn’t assist the drive’s estimation, and it had
been Eve’s hope that Horowitz championing them would help win over some
colleagues. Those who didn’t similarly decide him for being Jewish, that’s.

The
unlikely trio made the last fifteen blocks to Grand Central faster by jogging
over an avenue to catch an uptown trolley line, hopping on the subsequent automotive that
clanged its bell at the cease.

Maggie
seemed round with fierce curiosity in each sensory element because the trolley
dinged along, her luminous eyes taking in every storefront and theatre. The
venues grew grander as the blocks ticked up their numbers. The ghost appeared to
research each horse and cart, carriage or hack; each passerby, be they elegant
or ragged, watching the shifting sea of hats along the sidewalk, from silk prime
to tattered caps, feathered millinery to threadbare scarves, varieties dodging and
darting like fish in a slender stream. Eve noticed all of it cross around and thru
the ghost, her clear picture superimposed over the tumult of midday
Manhattan.

“I’ve
missed you,” the specter murmured to the metropolis. Eve didn’t hear New York
reply, however she felt it in her coronary heart. When one genuinely liked the town, the
soul of New York took notice.

Watching
Maggie watch New York was a research in everlasting eagerness. Love stored the great
spirits tethered to the tactile world. Moments like this have been Eve’s lesson
about life taught by the lifeless: drink all of it in, the chaos, the tumult, the
bustle of life and its myriad details as a lot as potential, as one’s
relationship to all of it might change at any second.

Once
inside Grand Central Depot, a noisy, dark, crowded place full of glass and
trestles, soot and steam, a constructing dearly overdue for an upgrade to a full
station, Maggie gestured towards a specific platform.

“Transit
is with us, and if we’re quick, you may be back inside the two hours I quoted,”
the ghost exclaimed, wafting up train-car steps on the northern line. With a
screeching rumble and a billowing burst of steam, they have been off. Eve and the
detective took a small bench at the rear of a automotive before pausing to think about
whether or not it was clever to belief the calls for of an excitable ghost.

The track

The Gothic Victorian Chamber Metallic band Valentine Wolfe created a theme track for Spectral Metropolis as a collection! How cool is that? Lessons of the Lifeless: A Spectral City Theme Track makes use of text from the guide and creates a very eerie and rocking environment and you may take heed to it proper here, proper now:

Concerning the writer:

Actress, playwright and writer Leanna Renee Hieber is the award-winning, bestselling writer of Gothic Victorian Fantasy novels for adults and teenagers. Her Unusually Lovely saga, beginning with The Unusually Lovely Story of Miss Percy Parker, hit Barnes & Noble and Borders Bestseller lists and garnered numerous regional genre awards, with new revised editions from Tor Books now out there. Darker Still was named an American Bookseller’s Association “Indie Next List” decide and a Scholastic E-book Membership “Highly Recommended” title. Her new Gaslamp Fantasy saga, The Eterna Information and Eterna and Omega, is now out there from Tor Books. Her brief fiction has appeared in numerous anthologies reminiscent of Queen Victoria’s E-book of Spells, Willful Impropriety, The Mammoth Guide of Gaslamp Romance, featured on Tor.com and she or he writes for Legal Factor.

A four-time Prism Award winner for excellence in the genre of Fantasy Romance, Leanna’s books have been selected for national guide club editions and translated into languages corresponding to Complicated Chinese, German and Polish. A proud member of performer unions Actors Fairness and SAG-AFTRA, she lives in New York Metropolis the place she is a licensed ghost tour information and has been featured in film and television on exhibits like Boardwalk Empire. She is represented by Paul Stevens of the Donald Maass company and is lively on Twitter @leannarenee