About A Tail in Two Cities
Written by T.H. Ailward
74 pages / 24000 words
ISBN: 1-934166-69-3, 978-1-934166-69-7
Available file types - html, lit, pdf, prc
Angel Michael is starting to think his work as a Human Suicide Prevention Executive is not all it's cracked up to be. There are too many rules, too much red tape. Especially when he tries to save British politician, Charles, from a severe case of depression.
Demon Ben seems to have a better handle on things, bending the rules until they're ready to break in order to give Charles a happier life. Angels and Demons are not supposed to mix, and Michael has secrets that might make his friendship, and more, with Ben impossible. Can these two
make blending wings and tails work?
Review
Julia Talbot, bestselling Torquere Press author, writes:
Michael is an angel whose job is saving humans from their own depression and suicidal tendencies. Ben is a demon who does documentary filmmaking and plays benefactor to those fascinating humans when he gets the chance.
They both live in an alternate universe just above the human world, where angels and demons are the twain that never meet, and where the rules and regulations are getting to both of them. When they meet, sparks fly, and they work together to help a human politician hook up with a young musician and find happiness.
That’s the barest bones of TH Ailward’s A Tail in Two Cities. What that doesn’t tell you is how incredibly entertaining this story is. Okay, I’ll be honest, the sex all fades to black, which some folks don’t like. But don’t let that stop you on this one! It’s engaging, it’s at times hilarious, and it’s an incredibly good romance, as well.
The attention to detail in world building is fantastic, making me long to go to London (which is where the human story is set) again, and making me wish I could actually see the angel and demon city above. The portal to it is right above St. Paul’s cathedral, and who doesn’t love that? It’s the characters I fell in love with, though. Michael is smart, funny, and needs a new job in the worst way. And demon Ben is…well, he’s a charming little devil indeed. And he has a tail!
Give this one a try! I promise you won’t regret it.
Sample
The British Museum was a useful landmark. It was easily recognisable from above.
Michael landed in the courtyard, consulted his A to Z of London, and set off on the short walk to his new client's flat. He avoided the humans. Walking through an angel disturbed them, as it disturbed him.
His shoes sank into the pavement. It felt spongy underfoot, rather like walking on foam rubber. Being in the humans' world required concentration; otherwise you could find yourself slipping through their matter and suddenly up to your knees. Or worse. Had he been able to use his location-finder he could have flown all the way and straight through the window, but his client was as yet untagged.
Michael hated the graceless terminology of his profession. The people he helped were now called 'clients'. His own official job title was Human Suicide Prevention Executive; but he much preferred simple, time-honoured 'Guardian'.
This was the place. A row of grand town houses four storeys high, converted to flats. Expensive, to live here. He passed through the thick door with just a moment of blindness and climbed the stairs to the top floor. Half-way along the corridor was number 406. If his client was not at home this would be a wasted journey. He stepped through the door into a short hallway, and through another closed door into a living room. Success! A man answering the description on his job sheet was sitting on the sofa, wearing a Paisley dressing-gown.
Michael approached the man. He was completely still: staring into what is inaccurately called 'space', but is actually a crowded and compelling inner world.
Charles Sandys was forty-ish, Michael guessed. His fine, mousy hair had suffered a restless night. Some of it was squashed to his head and some stood on end, as if still terrified by his bad dreams. He had not shaved for several days. It was Monday, and Charles looked, to Michael's experienced eye, like someone after the typical depressive's unwashed and undressed Pyjama Weekend. Michael bent down to him and looked into his eyes. There appeared to be no one home.
Charles was a politician. A member of Parliament, in fact. A high achiever. They were often the worst, when depression took hold of them. They felt that having climbed as high as they could there was nowhere else to go. You got a lot of 'is that it?' depression with the high achievers.
He began with a gentle mind-scan, and immediately met with resistance. Odd. Very odd. Scanning humans was usually easy. He fished for a point of entry, trying to catch some thought, some idea...nothing. He could sense the depression, but there was something else. Something like...a block. As if there was a barrier in the way, an almost physical thing. All he could get was a generalised misery. No specifics.
He had never found anything like this before, not within a human. Humans did not have the necessary knowledge or skills to put a telepathy block in place. They didn't even know that there were beings who came to their world and read their minds. He probed a little more, but sensed only the smooth flat featureless barrier, with the depression hidden somewhere behind it. He withdrew. If he couldn't analyse his client he would study his client's environment. Search for clues.