Title: RAVEN’S LAST STAND
Author: J.B. Dane
Genre: Urban fantasy PI mystery comedy
Book Blurb:
The worst is yet ahead for magic tossing PI Bram Farrell, and naturally a new assassin appears to up the ante!
Or, according to Bram…
While glad to be back in my preferred version of Detroit – the real one – there doesn’t seem to be much that stayed the same while I was gone. And, considering I thought I was away for a mere five hectic days and to Naomie and everyone else it clocked in at seven months, that’s saying something.
My last day in fictional Detroit had both friends and enemies vanishing before my eyes, but nearly the same thing had happened to my friends in real Detroit. Durkin and Dawes are no longer cops. Burt no longer drives cabs. City officials closed the Lunds' bar and grill. And worst, my pseudo cousin Delia told Naomie what I really was!
But when has anything involving me rated as normal? Calie is stockpiling books, her intent to erase me. There’s a mysterious new vampire in town and he’s brought nasty new weapons with him. Palermo is missing and no one’s seen Prisk, though ghouls are everywhere! Plus, there’s a computer virus corrupted with magic that is wiping out any accounts with one of three dangerous words attached to them: Bram, Farrell, and Raven.
I’ve really become a nowhere man now!
Excerpt:
“Ralph had a very successful holiday,” Nomes informed me. “He attended a Cordon Bleu cooking school and did very well.”
“Really?” That so went against type for a troll sized to substitute for a roller compactor on a repaving job when the machine called in sick.
Despite my disbelief, Ralph shrugged off the offensive stance and took a spot behind the bar, resting his weight on his forearms. For him it leaned toward achieving a state of Zen. Barely recognized him as “Aggression” might have been his middle name in the past. Not that I thought he could spell it, but still…
“Yep,” he now rumbled, the fight or fight setting—I doubted he had a fight or flight switch—turned down a few notches. “The chef said he was proud to shake ma hand when he presented ma diploma. Landed maself a glowing C minus. Got the certificate hanging in the kitchen.”
I was inclined to believe the chef running the cooking class feared for his life if anything below the C minus grade was given. Inasmuch as I’d never heard Ralph use that many words in a row before, he’d picked up a bit of loquacity while away, too. Likely at bargain prices.
“So, what can I fix ya, Raven?” he finished. It felt like being the Chosen One at a nice early New England Puritan witch pressing and potluck event. More the pressing, as the pressee played the part of sandwich stuffing, then was tested to see how many big heavy rocks it took placing on top to make the condiments squirt out.
“Ralph learned to do very unexpected things with a standard BLT,” Nomes said, managing to bring a smile—at least I think that’s what it was— to Ralph’s face as well as warn me about ordering one, all in one fell swoop.
“Nothing today, big guy. We just stuffed ourselves with large breakfasts. Maybe next visit.” There needed to be time to think up various ways to avoid ordering anything at The Bridge and not get tromped on when doing so now that Ralph was back. To survive the current encounter, I pinned the two hellhounds with a look. “You two want anything to nosh on?” I hoped they did. Beelz always made anything served vanish in a few licks. Hell beings probably came with cast-iron stomachs.
The pooches exchanged a murmured conversation, then Beelz barked a question. Well, it sounded like one and, considering Ralph then handed me a laminated menu, I’d guessed right.
Some people might have thought I was nuts to hunker down to doxie level to hold it for the hounds to peruse, but that meant those nebulous folks’ dogs probably couldn’t read. Didn’t know if Aspy could, but Beelz is a very superior type of mutt.
Or so he frequently lets me know via growl and show of teeth.
The choice was made swiftly, and the order barked. Ralph nodded then headed back to the kitchen.
I returned to the bar stool perch, leaving the menu on the counter, and turned back to Ruth. “Thought you said Ralph went off in search of a mate.”
“And what do cooking schools usually have?” she prompted.
Nomes answered for me—probably because she read consideration of pots, pans, ladles, and the controversy between whether to use wooden spoons or not to use wooden spoons in my silence. “Girls.”
“Did he find one?” Really the question was if Ralphy had found a likely lady, would I be forced to meet her.
Ruth sighed. “He thought he had but when she got a C in the course, and he had that minus attached to his. She dumped him.”
Sounded like the unknown object of Ralph’s affection had made a bolt for freedom to me.
Honestly, considering Ruthie lacks looks and height—and a pleasant disposition—I’m always surprised that males from a variety of gene lagoons go out of their way to attract her attention. Of course, the one swain of hers I’d met was a human ex-cage fighter. His eyesight and hearing might not have measured up to normal standards any longer.
“Let the bee out of your bonnet,” Ruth said, waving a hand to encompass both Nomes and my lowly self. “Neither of you show up here unless you want something.”
“Hey, I’m still in shock that you let Naomie into the joint.”
“She’s not as bad as first acquaintance suggested,” Ruthie allowed.
“Thank you, I think,” Nomes murmured. “I’m just glad you did give me a second chance.”
Ralph returned with two large soup bowls of something the menu likely termed stew. As the dogs dug in with the enthusiasm other visitors to The Bridge might fake, the big guy wedged himself into the bench seat opposite Ruth’s. Barken grabbed the stool next to Nomes and repositioned it in the middle of the aisle where he could watch the door for new arrivals.
With an audience at hand, I launched my first question. “Any of you ever hear of the Chasomyst diamond?”
“Last week I’d have said no,” Ruthie admitted, “but it’s been the top news story in The Virginia every day recently.”
The Virginia—if you’re wondering why that sounds familiar—is an Otherworlders only newspaper. It disseminates innuendo, lies, and tall tales. I’ve actually never seen a copy because my request for a subscription was turned down. Something about me not being weird enough for them. Actually, I considered myself weird incarnate at times.
The only way I knew what sort of stories could be found in The Virginia came from Ruth feeding me the synopsis version when I visited.
“Any reason why it’s headline news?” I asked. It couldn’t be because the diamond had been stolen because that had just happened the night before thus there had to be a reason why the Chasomyst rock had been making waves in the journalistic world for days already.
“Well, because it’s cursed,” Ralph answered.
Buy Links (including Goodreads and BookBub):
BookBub https://www.bookbub.com/books/raven-s-last-stand-raven-tales-book-5-the-raven-tales-by-j-b-dane
If you could dress up as anything or anyone this Halloween, what or who would it be and why?
This is a toughie. I don’t think I’ve ever been anything other than a cowgirl, and that’s as a kindergartener (when westerns were big on TV) and an adult (where I lived in the western desert for twenty-two years, and Stetson-ish hat and tooled boots lived in the closet). However, I did once win an All Hallow’s costume prize when working at a university library. I’d been in charge of the “event” but the only thing I bought was a yard of cheap black lace, took my black shirtwaist dress out of the closet, added black stockings and a tag that said I was a “Golf Widow”. The fact that my husband at the time didn’t play golf had no bearing on the choice. I won “most original”, though I would term it “cheapest” since it was only the black lace draped over my head that required an outlay ahead of time.
Explain why your featured book is a treat to read:
Since this is the fifth Raven Tale novel, Bram Farrell and I have been through the Otherworldly mill more than once. The first novel in the series played out in the days before (and included) Halloween, and in RAVEN’S LAST STAND (not the final book in the series by any means) he’s up against his creator once more and it’s likely even money on which one will walk away on All Hallows night. Hence, perfect seasonal read, right? Hordes of different types of magic getting tossed and beings from nearly every non-human (or used to be human) classification ready to decimate each other. Which to some of them might sound like Christmas! But it’s not. Sarcasm and humor still rule. It wouldn’t be a Raven Tale story without those treats.
Giveaway –
One lucky reader will win a $100 Amazon gift card.
Open internationally.
Runs October 1 – 31, 2024
Drawing will be held on November 1, 2024.
Author Biography:
J.B. Dane is one of many pseudonyms that have been used by author and writing instructor Beth Daniels. Actually, she likes being J.B. the most, likely because she gets to step into Bram Farrell’s shoes in the Raven Tales. She could swear he’s just dictating the adventures, though the shots of humor are something they have in common. She’s been dancing through genre niches ever since her first novel was published the Spring of 1990. RAVEN’S LAST STAND is her 39th title and she still has a few ideas percolating. She and Bram will be back, but she has been “seeing” other snarky male characters on the side, so more fun and games still lie ahead, no matter which of the pseudonyms she uses.
Social Media Links:
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