Description

The stallion reared over me, quietly reducing the air with all the hooves of its forelegs, a beast of such enormous energy that I happened backward although I understood like a desire that it had been as unimportant. . . . The lady astride the mount reaches out frantically, the spirit to recruit the assistance of Odd Thomas, the humble small fry cook whose gift—or curse—it would be to simply help them when he is able to, and to begin to see the tones of the disturbed dead.