Walking In the Midst of Fire

Simeon thought of the angel, now called Remy Chandler, and smiled. There’s something about that one, he thought, turning to walk the path from the cemetery, his demonic minions walking respectfully behind him, as they had since he pulled himself from the mud and ruins of Castle Hallow.

Something to be watched, and if possible, cultivated.

This Remy Chandler could be exactly what was needed to move things along. It was something to consider, but there was another matter that needed attending to.

Another need to be filled.

It wasn’t all that difficult to locate the one he’d been searching for. Simeon and his demonic lackeys stood outside the run-down stone building located just behind the bakery. The aroma of freshly baked bread wafted in the air as the forever man searched for the entrance.

The door whined like a hungry feline as he pushed it open and proceeded inside. His demons attempted to follow, but Simeon did not believe they would be necessary.

“Wait for me here,” he told them, turning to climb the creaking wooden steps up to the top floor of the ancient tenement. The air was thick with the residue of the many Romanian meals that had been cooked there through the centuries the structure had stood. Simeon could just imagine the lives lived here.

The lives, and the deaths.

It hadn’t been all that difficult to locate the one Simeon sought, no matter how hard he tried to hide himself. Purchases of baubles to ward off evil from a local Romani clan, thefts of holy relics from churches close by, reports of a strange man who openly wept when a story about an environmental calamity on a deserted Japanese island was reported on a news broadcast at the village tavern.

All were like a map to one such as the forever man; a map that pointed to the location of one who could be beneficial to his work.

Simeon could feel the presence of something unnatural—preternatural—as he reached the heavy, wooden door at the top of the stairs. It was obvious to him that he had come to the right place.

“Who’s . . . who’s there?” asked a weak voice from inside.

“I’ve come with a proposition,” Simeon said to the closed door, listening for sounds of movement on the other side. “May I come in?”

There came a chilling laugh behind the door. “Oh yes, please do,” said a voice unlike the one he’d first heard. This one sounded strong, confident. “We would truly enjoy hearing what you have to propose to us.”

Simeon took hold of the metal knob and turned it, pushing open the door. The atmosphere inside was immediately oppressive, as if there was a storm about to rage within the tiny confines.

Closing the door behind him, Simeon took in the appearance of the place: the walls covered with pages of religious texts, strange symbols painted in blood upon any surface that had remained untouched, magickal talismans hanging from the ceiling, candles burning before makeshift shrines to gods and saints known, and long forgotten.

And in the center of the room, sitting in the middle of a circle of protection drawn upon the rough wood floor, sat the shadow of a man.

Simeon was surprised at how bad he looked, the incident on Gunkanjima having far more of a devastating effect on him than the forever man would have imagined.

“Do I know you?” the man asked, his voice soft with weakness.

“We met briefly,” Simeon said. “On the island.”

The man’s eyes grew wide and filled with tears, before his expression changed and the evil spirit that resided within him reared its ugliness.

“Oh to be there again,” the evil spoke in a voice horrible and rough. “To be part of all that death—glorious; but I do not remember you.”

The man turned his body in the circle to face him.

“Come closer,” the spirit said, motioning with a finger that had become like a claw. “Maybe if I was to taste you . . .”

Simeon crossed his arms, unfazed by the evil entity’s teasing.

“You do not remember, for I chose that you not,” Simeon said. He showed the entity possessing the man the rings adorning his hands.

The spirit gasped at the sight of the two rings.

“But I know you, Constantin Malatesta,” Simeon said. “As well as the ancient thing that resides inside of you.”

Malatesta closed his eyes, his face lined from incredible strain.

“Please,” he begged. “You must leave at once; you’re not safe. Even with all this protection . . .” His eyes darted about the room. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep it contained.”

Simeon smiled.

“Contained?” he asked. “And why would you want to do that?”

Malatesta looked horrified. “Why have you sought me out?”

“I come with an offer,” Simeon said, picking up a piece of religious statuary from a nearby table. “I require someone with your skills.”

“Skills?” Malatesta repeated with a shiver, still attempting to keep the entity inside him from regaining control.

“A sorcerer,” Simeon said. “I have need of a sorcerer.”

Praise for the Remy Chandler Novels

In the House of the Wicked

“Remy and his human friends are engagingly believable characters in a series noted for flashes of humor despite its overall serious tone. Series fans and followers of Jim Butcher’s Dresden Files will enjoy this urban fantasy.”

—Library Journal

“A fun . . . thought-provoking book.”

—Innsmouth Free Press

“Sniegoski ups his game in this most recent Remy adventure, and we begin to see some of the grand scheme he is setting up for us. The conflict and situations within this novel are refreshingly personal, bringing the forefront of activity back to the Boston area. The characters are varied and very well developed, bringing life and humanity into this novel largely centered around the angelic pantheon. With In the House of the Wicked, Sniegoski has crafted a very powerful, very personal tale that is equal parts gut-wrenching, heartwarming, and awe-inspiring.”

—The Ranting Dragon

“An excellent read and part of an excellent series that gets better and better.”

—Fangs for the Fantasy

A Hundred Words for Hate

“Sniegoski nicely juggles a large cast and throws in some touching moments (Remy’s conversations with his late wife, Madeline, are especially sweet) and humor (as always, provided by Remy’s dog, Marlowe) to balance the epic violence. There’s more than enough nonintrusive exposition to let new readers jump into the story, while longtime fans will appreciate the development of recurring characters.”

—Publishers Weekly

“A fun, fast ride that takes advantage of a strong setting and interesting characters. And when a book combines that with serious angel smackdowns, really, what else do you need?”

—The Green Man Review

Where Angels Fear to Tread

“This strong, fast-paced noir fantasy is a treat. Remy is a compelling character, as he constantly struggles to hold on to the shred of humanity he forged for himself by suppressing the Seraphim. . . . Sniegoski adds a creative