Book description
"He sees her most erotic dreams, shares her most carnal desires,
and for a price Dorantes will make them all come true." A recurring
dream takes her to a vast ocean where she swims naked in its inky black
waters. Yet this time there is a presence that watches, follows, and
becomes an intimate partner. The sex is vivid and violent and when
Detective Regina Page wakes to a mysterious phone call - a man who
identifies himself only as Dorantes - he reveals every detail of her
erotic dream. But he also says he is a witness to a series of unsolved
murders, the victims devoid of blood, on the waterfront, a case she
can't seem to solve. She agrees to meet him and the nightmare begins.
Dorantes is more than a witness - he is a gifted Grimoire - and he aches
for her alone. He distorts her senses, blinds her with mystical sensual
words, and hurls them both into the visionary worlds of debauchery and
lust. His motives for these lurid revelations are shrouded in mystery
until she learns of a horrifying truth one that takes her to the brink
of madness. And only Dorantes can ease the fires of what must become
their eternal tryst. _x000D_ You have an energy, the Clairvoyant told
me. "People are attracted to you because of it." She paused.
"Both living and dead." This revelation was shared with me not
so long ago. Looking back on forty some years I could see how this
simple statement could explain much. Strangers who feel comfortable
telling me their problems, children who smile and take my hand, even
stray animals- unapproachable- yet they respond to the sound of my
voice. But most of all it has been that sense that I am never alone. A
voice when no one is there, footsteps following me, my name called out
in an empty house, a weight sitting on my bed in the dead of night…
"You are an old soul," she smiled. "It comes through in
your creativity." I write because my mind has always been a
tumultuous rush of noise- voices- continually chattering. One by one
these 'people' have come forward to tell me 'their' stories. I listen
and I type. I wonder sometimes just how thin the line is between reality
and madness. Yet I believe in what is unseen. I believe that shadows
move. Each voice has a story, and I am pleased that they have faith in
me to tell those stories. I believe in them because they believe in me.
