About The Pardoner's Tale
by Morgan Ferdinand
83 pages / 33300 words
ISBN: 978-1-60370-419-9, 1-60370-419-1
Available file types - html, lit, pdf, prc
Werewolf and private investigator Nick Pardoner has a second job that he works part time. When he runs into vampire Alex, Nick knows he has to do his job, which is to slay the vamp. He can't seem to do it, though, and Alex ends up invading his life, and forming an uneasy alliance with him when things go terribly wrong.
On the run, and trying to save Alex from forces far larger than they are, Nick and Alex form a friendship that might just be more enduring than anything in Nick's life. With the help of a dedicated cop, and other unlikely friends, Nick and Alex try to stay alive, and try to figure out what their new relationship means. Can they make it through to find out if Alex's life is worth saving?
Review
Kiernan Kelly, author of In Bear Country and In Bear Country II: The Barbary Coast, writes:
Nicolas Pardoner is a man who wears many hats. Private Investigator, Procurer of Artifacts, Exorcist, Demon-Catcher, Vampire-Killer…and Werewolf.
He's a busy, busy guy.
Contracted to kill any vampire on sight, he's having a drink at his favorite bar one night when a new vampire crosses his path.
Alex isn't you're everyday, run-of-the-mill bloodsucker. For one thing, he refuses to go down easily; for another, he refuses to go away at all. After a fight in an alley next to the bar, he leaves Nicolas unconscious but still in one piece, and turns up on Nicolas' doorstep in the morning.
Alex worms his way into Nicolas' home; Nicolas can't seem to remove him from his life without a crowbar and bucket of grease. Over time, he comes to accept the fact that his new best friend is a vampire, and that they have a common goal – to catch and eliminate a demon who's been wreaking havoc with both their lives.
Ferdinand does a great job with the characters in The Pardoner's Tale. I loved their witty repartee, the sexual tension that lay just beneath their quips and insults and frequent fights. The plot draws the reader in, and has them rooting for the heroes to conquer the evil that's made their lives Hell.
I'm looking forward to reading more about these two!
Sample
The sign on the heavy oak door said Nicholas Pardoner, Private Investigator. The nameplate on the desk also read Nicholas Pardoner. The man seated in the battered leather chair, feet propped up on the desk, baseball cap over his eyes to block out the fluorescent lights, arms folded across his chest, and shirtsleeves rolled up, was the so-named Nicholas Pardoner, private investigator.
In other words, that was me. It was a Tuesday at ten in the morning and I'd already grown tired of repeated games of solitaire. I had a sticky-note on my monitor reminding me to download new games after my nap. Also on the desk (beside my computer and my feet) there was a cup of coffee gone cold, a very silent telephone, and a mobile phone that also served as a mobile computer (also in need of new games).
I'd really like to say something along the lines of the dame appeared before me, looking scared. Her blue eyes were wide with fear and her hands trembled as she shook my hand. "Mister Pardoner," she said, "I need you to find my father, Professor Smith. He's been kidnapped and I think they're coming for me next." I'd love to say that. That would be completely awesome. That would be the sort of thing that led me to become a detective in the first place.
But I'd be lying if I said that, because what actually happened was that two young men with very white smiles and neatly pressed suits knocked on my door and asked me if I'd found God. I told them I hadn't, but I could for two hundred a day plus expenses. They weren't amused and left just as quickly as they'd arrived.
I settled back in my chair to resume my nap.
Later that night I went to my favorite bar. There's nothing better, after a long day spent doing nothing except paying bills and watching the bank account dwindle, than a trip to the bar and a whole lot of alcohol.
There was nothing special about the place. It was just a standard "dive" bar. Popular with the locals, and not much of a draw for the tourists. That was why a stranger walking in caught my attention. That was what caught everyone's attention initially, but the man was given the once-over by the regulars, who then turned back to their drinks or their conversations or their games.
Most of the regulars. I didn't look away. I watched him carefully, keeping my head down just enough not to draw his attention, but my eyes raised so that I could track his progress through the bar. He sat down on a bar stool, not too near the window, but near enough that he could watch people on the street as they hurried past in the fading daylight. He ordered a draft beer. It wasn't anything fancy or expensive, but something told me his usual tastes were more exotic than Coors Light.