“A fantastic high-stakes adventure on a ghost ship sailing forever into eternity, where every soul is (literally) worth fighting for—what’s not to love?” —Rin Chupeco, author of The Bone Witch and The Girl from the Well, on The Soul Keepers
There are worse things than death.
The Harbinger is lost, sunk to the bottom of an otherworldly sea. Every soul that ever died and was protected within its hold has been lost along with it. But at least that precious cargo is out of reach of the demon Urcena and her army of soul-devouring monsters.
The soul keepers are broken, scattered, and barely clinging to existence without their ship or any way to collect or protect the souls of the newly dead. If they are to have any hope of stopping Urcena’s horrifying plans to destroy the fragile balance between living and dead, they will first have to survive long enough to locate the ghost of one of their own, who sacrificed himself to save the rest of the crew.
Devon Taylor’s cinematic and pulse-pounding duology comes to a thunderous conclusion in The Ghost Seekers.
But it persisted. Calling to him. Searching for him.
Mate, are you there?
He was sitting against the wall, watching the trees outside judder and flail, growing leaves and shedding them over the course of minutes instead of months. It was the same as it had been every second of every minute of every hour since he arrived here. But when the voice spoke, the sound of it exploded into the room like a firework going off. It shook against the floor and the ceiling, and he swore he saw a sprinkling of plaster come falling down from somewhere.
Mate. Rhett. It’s me.
He knew that voice, but it couldn’t possibly be real. Yet the sound of his own name was such a sweet thing to hear that he couldn’t help but pull himself off the floor, cocking his head to listen. He thought about a time that felt like centuries ago, when he’d stood on the side of a highway in New York, talking to the owner of that voice.
My name is Rhett, he had said. Rhett Snyder. While nearby, his dead body hung within the wreckage of the car accident that had ultimately landed him here. The voice spoke again, thunderous within the tiny house.
It’s me, mate. It’s Basil. Can you hear me?
Rhett opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. He realized he’d barely spoken the entire time he’d been here.
He tried again. Standing in the middle of the room, he cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled from the deepest part of his gut.
“I’m here!” he barely croaked. “Basil, I hear you! I’m here!”
Beneath him, the floorboards shuddered. The walls groaned deeply, menacingly. As Rhett watched them, tiny cracks began to form, snaking their way across the paint like slow bolts of lightning.
Hang on, mate! We’re going to try to bring you to us!
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