Welcome to my tour stop for The Missing by Jerico Lenk hosted by Chapter by Chapter Blog Tours.
The Missing by Jerico Lenk
Publication Date: October 10, 2017
Dark proclivities, excess, and outlandish curiosities prevail in 1890’s London. Around the city, a battle rages between the living and the dead. The Black Cross, tasked to keep the peace, are quickly losing ground.
Sixteen-year-old Willow Winchester, lives life as a boy called “Will” in his father’s house of distinguished ladies, all but invisible to the wealthy Londoners who frequent. It’s an easy ruse since his mother’s death left his father’s attention to fall upon business matters. But this isn’t his only secret.
When Will unwittingly becomes involved in a Black Cross ghost hunt, his uncanny ability to sense supernatural beings comes to light and the Black Cross wants him in their service. Suddenly, Will’s free to be himself.
But such freedom will come with a price, as Will fights for the acceptance of the only father he’s ever known.
Now, part of a team of misfits and unlikely allies, Will finds he isn’t the only one keeping secrets. Someone does not want him to uncover the truth about those who aren’t just missing from the world of the living, but missing from history itself.
Can he find the Missing before he ends up becoming one of them?
Link to Goodreads:
An (unfinished) deleted scene from the Black Cross All Hallow’s. Might show up somewhere in the future. Spoiler alert.
“We could always go look at … ” Cain’s suggestion faded away below his breath as we noticed in sync the throb of a distant light, dispelling some of the shadows beyond the second turn.
At once, we both turned to each other, wide-eyed and tense.
Murmuring. There were others downstairs with us, around the corner somewhere — talking.
“ … the call of the Black Cross … ”
“But the registration, Charles … not within our capacity … and when is it no longer study, but trespassing?”
“Is that Bartlett?” Cain whispered. He rubbed the key to the evidence room between two fingers before passing it my way. “I might sweet talk the right key out of him.”
Far from what I’d expect of a young nobleman, he licked his palm with a dart of the tongue and promptly extinguished our long taper by closing his fist on the wick. The last I saw before the shadows thickened and he inched along the wall toward the corner of the corridor was the wild curiosity in his wide eyes.
The men were still speaking, in low, calm voices. Closer now.
“Explain to me your difference in opinion.”
“You have good reason for your convictions, but you must remember … ”
It was Bartlett, in fact. I recognised his voice now. But he spoke with —
“Westwood,” I alerted Cain in a tense whisper, waving my hands.
“Of course,” Westwood said, a bit louder, and not entirely pleased, it seemed. He and Bartlett stopped just at the other side of the corner, nothing but two thick shadows stretching across the wall in a swell of lamplight. “And our witchcraft department is one severely lacking not only in organisation but in attention. When I accepted the title of Commissioner, files had barely been touched since Queen Anne and the Parliaments’ union.”
Cain let out a long sigh through his teeth as though he’d been holding his breath, just as I did behind him, clutching the old key.
“Impartial,” Bartlett said very softly, just short of respectful reprimand. “Impartial vantage, Westwood. And George I, rather.”
Westwood’s shadow tightened up along the wall. “What is not impartial about bringing such a vital department into the current century?”
“Scholarly inspection,” Bartlett said gently. A reminder, perhaps. A correction.
Cain turned with a scrape of the heel, brushing past me roughly. His hand slipped out in the dark to close on my elbow; I jumped, eyes widening, before I realised it was him. The shadows of Bartlett and Westwood fell still and quiet at the sound, but they did not move to see what it was that made the shuffling sound. At least, if they did, it was after the two of us had made it back to the stairs, leading up, up out of the cold, dark lower research rooms, where in some rooms, evidence cluttered the darkness, or souls sat bottled on shelves, while in others yet, dangerous case files waited. Locked away.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Undergraduate studying Creative Writing, Classics, Russian and Western European History. Unabashed weeb probably burning incense and drinking too much coffee at this very moment. Out for queer representation and great sex hair. Beyond ready for the upcoming Vampire Chronicles TV series.
Lenk writes Young Adult/New Adult, spec fiction, poetry, and screenplays. He is currently unagented.
His poems have appeared at/in USF Tampa’s Thread Literary Inquiry, biannual 6×6 creative writing showcase, and placed second in National Poetry Month 2015; Tethered By Letters’ F(r)iction Spring 2016 poetry contest finalist; winner of the 2017 Bettye Newman Poetry award.
One winner will receive an Echo Dot. Enter to win HERE!
Link to Tour Schedule: