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Title: Beautiful Death (The
Uruwashi Series #1)
Series: The Uruwashi Series
ISBN: 978-1500670757
Publisher: Uruwashi Publications
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/23261303-beautiful-death
Buy Links
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Beautiful-Death-Uruwashi-Christina-Moore-ebook/dp/B00FVV7H9K/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&sr=&qid=
DESCRIPTION/Blurb
The only thing about Tristan’s typical American life that’d been even slightly
atypical was that he was adopted. The Blum’s raised him, loved him as if he was
their own. But they never knew who Tristan really was, about the stigma his
birth surname carried. Everything changed after their untimely death. Suddenly
monsters are after Tristan and all because of a few words spoken by a
remarkable stranger.
EXERPT (Chapter one—Willing to provide up to four chapters)
1: Clubbed to Death
THERE were dead bodies everywhere. Skeletons, zombies,
mummies, something hairy with fangs... Odoru
Shikabane was one of the stranger clubs Tristan had been to. He wasn’t
sure what the name meant in English, but the theme was clear: death. He half
expected a real bat to fly by or find a guy dressed in a black cape with red
lining telling all the girls “I vant to suck your blood.” Yep, it was
just weird.
Tristan gave a soft oomph as someone plowed right into
the back of him. “Hey pretty lady,” he said with a great big smile, looking
down at the petite girl gawking up at him. “How’s it going? Ah… genki ka?” That was pretty much the
extent of his Japanese right there. Well, plus a few curses, but she was too
cute to curse at just for running into him.
The girl gasped and then was being dragged off by her
friend, saying loudly in Japanese that she didn’t need to get mixed up with a gaijin. The small town was more than a
little weary of foreigners and as gaijin went, Tristan stood out more than most
with his towering height and handsome European features. At least he wasn’t in
a skirt like the dude at the bar—it was only a kilt, but still, it wasn’t
something you saw every day. At least not outside of Tokyo.
There was one who wasn’t intimidated by the American’s
presence though as she wiggled up against him. That would be Shizuka. Her name
meant "the quiet one.” Tristan wondered how someone like her ended up with
a name like that. Seriously, the woman never shut up. She did a little dance,
moving against him to get his attention. Her silly expression clearly said she
had something to say—because she never
did, right? Tristan bent down with a weary sigh. He wasn’t tired of her company
really, but he was tired of her going on without being able to understand a
thing she said. Even the English bits. Shizuka leaned in close, pressing as
much of her front to his, a hand against his chest for support. The other found
its way over his hip and grabbed a handful of American ass.
Tristan grinned at the new development, tilting his
face into hers and met those gorgeous dark almond eyes. She had been getting
all touchy feely with him from the start, but this was more forward, more
demanding than before. Maybe she was tired of waiting for him to make a move.
He wasn’t shy when it came to flirting, but somehow, he just wasn’t into it
tonight. It might have had something to do with the reason he was in Japan to
start with. He didn’t belong here. He knew he didn’t, but still he tried to
force it. He had to find something normal in his life again. Flirting, drinking
and the fun that came after was normal enough he supposed. Somehow though, it
wasn’t enough. Not nearly.
“I get more drink,” Shizuka breathed into Tristan’s
ear. She’d been feeding him drinks all night. If it was her plan to get him
loaded, she’d have to try a hell of a lot harder than a handful of beers. She
shot him a grin full of teeth and danced off towards the bar without another
word—small miracle. She made sure to prance around so that her dress bounced up
to show virgin white panties, now bright purple thanks to the black lights.
Tristan grinned hard and found himself swaying with the pulse of the room,
mesmerized by the music, the mass of bodies in endless dance and the sway of
Shizuka’s cute little ass. The music picked up, a fast, frantic beat and he was
lost to the pounding. He caught himself quickly and stopped, wondering what he
was doing. He hated dancing.
Shizuka leaned over the front of the bar and flashed
the entire place her rear end and those sexy glowing panties. Everyone was
watching her. They were thinking primitive sexual thoughts—well, the men
anyway. The women, they all looked like they were about to claw her pretty
little eyes out. Tristan chuckled, studying Shizuka’s exposed backside, moving
his gaze down the smooth line the back of her legs made all the way to her
shiny red heels. She had a great set of legs.
An ashy voice cut through the din as if searching
Tristan out, drawing him out of his admiration of the saucy Asian. “That
is no woman.”
“S’cuse
me...?” Tristan drawled, turning. “What the f—” His next words were cut off
when he saw the person standing behind him. “The hell are you?” he asked,
eyeing the soft-faced, shorty with long pale hair that glowed purple in the
lights. Dude was wearing a cape. Yep, just like Dracula. But his question
wasn’t to the costume. He had no idea if he was talking to a young woman or an
older teenaged boy. Guess he didn’t really care. “Look, Count. I’m not
interested in whatever you’ve got hidden in that cape, so scamper off and hit
on someone else.”
If only the loudmouthed American knew all that was
hidden within. Maybe he wouldn’t have been so quick to snap. “You
misunderstand, Tristan.”
The young stranger’s voice made Tristan flinch back.
It was strange, but he felt like the voice touched him, tickled his face. Or
maybe he was drunker than he realized. “Howdya know me?” The words fell out of
his mouth jumbled, tongue slow and uncooperative. He stopped and clutched his
head feeling disorientated. He was sweating, though it had nothing to with the
oppressiveness of the club. “You know what, forget it, I’m leaving.”
He turned to go, but the other man grabbed his arm,
forcing him to stop.
“I am afraid it is for something rather more urgent
than sex. I will only ask for you to come with me once politely.”
Tristan made a rude noise, giving him the look to go
with it as he felt a little more himself and jerked his arm away. “Look,
sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere with you. So why don’t you go find someone
else to take home and play your silly vampire game with.”
“You misunderstand,” the stranger repeated sternly. “I
could care less about games. I am here to help.”
“Ahuh. Help. I’ve heard that before. Seriously, piss
off.”
The stranger let out an annoyed sigh, looked down,
brought long fingers up to pinch a thin bridge of nose. Another sigh. “Looks
like things must be done the hard way. Again.” When the wannabe vampire looked
up again, he was grinning so that Tristan got a flash of press-on fangs. “But
the hard way can be more liberating now, can it not?”
Unlike Shizuka, the stranger spoke perfect English and
yet Tristan didn’t understand a word of their bizarre conversation. He blinked
down at the stranger, wondering what in the hell he—yeah, Tristan decided that
kind of arrogance had to be a dude—was rattling on about. He opened his mouth
to ask just that when the guy reached out and grabbed his upper arm again.
“You do not have time for this.”
“Wha—” Tristan’s words turned into a small yelp of
shock and he stumbled into a girl, spilling her drink all over them both.
“Hey!” Tristan yelled over the music as he tumbled along, lead around by his
arm like an indignant toddler. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Cries of surprise and groans of anger echoed around
the pair as Tristan was dragged through the dense throng of hot, thrashing
bodies. He tripped over his own feet, over other feet, over nothing fighting to
keep up with the quick pace. He glared at the back of the short man’s head,
willing his gaze to burn a hole through him. When that didn’t work, Tristan
jerked his arm but it was as if the guy anticipated the movement seconds before
it happened and tightened fingers into Tristan’s flesh. He groaned in
frustration and tried to plant his feet against the floor, faintly aware that
his arm hurt. He pulled back with his full body, thinking the smaller man
couldn’t possibly hold on against his larger weight and his sneakers lost
traction causing him to fall into a slender back, fingers tangled in silken
hair.
“What the fuck?” Tristan muttered under his breath,
arm still in the guy’s bruising grip.
The other man looked back, past Tristan. Green and
blue lights reflected off his pale skin giving that fucking stupid smirk a
sickly complexion. Tristan followed the other man’s line of sight and found
Shizuka standing where he had been moments before, a drink in both hands,
watching him being dragged off. She didn’t look very concerned.
Tristan huffed at her indifference and stumbled again,
almost falling. There was a hard jerk on his arm and then he was being
propelled forward. Hands slapped down onto his back and he went stumbling head
first into a door painted blood red. His free hand went up to catch himself but
he slipped, falling against the cold metal. He cursed loudly when his thumb
pulled back at a bad angle—it was a miracle he didn’t dislocate it. The slurred
words were barely out of his mouth when the stranger kicked in the long push
bar with his heavy boot, making the door spring outward. Tristan was falling
forward again, only to come to a sudden stop. Hard fingers dug into his ribs
from behind as the guy grabbed him. Just as he thought the short shit decided
to play nice, there was a deep grunt and then Tristan was airborne. He had
seconds to think that the cold outside air felt good and then his right
shoulder slammed into a dumpster. He cried out and tumbled backwards onto his
ass. The ground was cool and wet through his jeans. The tang of blood filled
his mouth where he’d bitten into his cheek.
He shook his head and mumbled, “Pretty strong for a
scrawny little bitch.” He wobbled to his feet, turning to face the man who was
now standing outside too, back to Tristan. “Look, asshole, I don’t know what
the fuck your problem is, but you don’t need to be a fucking prick about it.”
He was talking to the back of his head. The jerk hadn’t bothered to face him
while he was speaking. “Hey, I’m talking to you.” He grabbed the thin shoulder
in front of him and spun the shorter man to face him. Tristan’s fist was balled
and moving towards that stoic expression before he had a chance to think about
what his body was doing, a reaction that’d gotten him into trouble more than
once recently.
Brilliant white flashed past Tristan’s vision seconds
before his head snapped back, his body following the movement. After a moment
of disorientation, Tristan realized he was on the ground against the dumpster,
again. A tickle above his lip brought his hand up to find blood. He stared at
the red dripping down his fingers for a moment, unbelieving and then up to the
stranger. “You son of a bitch, who the fuck do you think you ar—”
The back door squeaked and they both jerked to
attention. Tristan sighed to himself, thinking that sumo-sized dude who was
doing crowd control had seen them and decided to follow them out. He was no
stranger to a bar fight, or two, or the inevitable that generally followed. And
who knew if the cops around here even spoke English. Guess it wouldn’t really
matter either way since Tristan had no idea what the hell was going on. He
didn’t have the faintest idea why he was sitting outside on his ass, in a
filthy alleyway with a bloody nose, staring up at the short man who gave it to
him.
“Shit,” Tristan said with a sigh. He was having a
fairly decent night too, that was until this guy showed up. Now, it looked like
he was going to end up in jail. Perfect.
The door opened and a beautifully shaped almond eye
framed by smooth white porcelain appeared around the edge. Tristan let out a
long breath, only half relieved. Shizuka stepped out into the alleyway, her
heels making two sharp clicks against the ground. She watched with a cynical
sort of smile while Tristan inched to his feet using the dumpster at his back
as a crutch. Shizuka slid her hands behind her, leaning against the door as she
glided across the front of it to make it click shut under her weight. She
grinned broadly, too broadly. It was then he realized she was mirroring him,
mocking him. He pushed off of the dumpster and took a step towards her, but not
before tripping on his own feet again.
Shizuka stood off the door immediately, mimicking his
movements, less the clumsy trip, and took a step towards him. Tristan’s
expression shifted into anger as she gave him a huge shit-eating grin. He just
about had enough of these two. He wanted to get the fuck out before he really
did find himself in serious trouble.
“That was unnecessary,” Shizuka said to the stranger,
amusement heavy in her voice as she fought off a laugh.
“It got you outside...,” he answered, “you disgusting
filth.”
Now Tristan was just confused. He thought that maybe
the guy wanted the girl, but now it looked like that couldn’t have been farther
from the truth. Maybe it was the beer. Wouldn’t have been the first time it
confused him.
“So rude.” Shizuka put hands to her slender hips.
“Master teach you no manner?”
The young man grunted a crude laugh, as if it were
some terrible joke. “Pitted against that man, I would be the one to teach
manners.”
In her native tongue, Shizuka responded, “What do you
want, fucking traitor whore?”
The stranger answered in perfect Japanese. “Now are
those Shizuka’s words or his?”
“You know very well that answer.”
The man gave a heavy sigh. “I am here to stop you from
doing this.”
“This one is special.”
“I know.”
“There was a telling,” Shizuka snapped. “He must die.”
“You are wrong.”
“He’s dangerous, As—”
“You have always been wrong,” he snapped, returning to
English.
The creature laughed, all giggly and girly.
Tired of being left out of the conversation, Tristan
took a heavy step forward, reaching for the stranger. “What, the fuck are you
two—”
The shorter man’s head jerked around to glare at
Tristan. All he could see of the look was those intense pale eyes but it was
more than enough to shut him up, snap his hand back. He couldn’t explain it,
but there was something dangerous and wild about this strange man who came
barging into his life like a bad superhero in that silly cape and press-on fangs.
“Enough,” Shizuka said, returning to her version of
English, “you bore and I have pet now. No hard feeling.”
Tristan smirked, wondering if he was the pet. Then he
thought that sounded like a lot of fun, in the right situation. God, what the
hell was wrong with him, thinking about sex at a time like this? “Look, it was
nice meeting you both,” he said with a sarcastic tone that even the dead could
hear. “But I’m done. I’m going home. You two have fun without me.”
Tristan pushed past the shorter man, bumping into his
shoulder harder than he intended and tripped. He fell into the stranger and
felt something hidden within the cape that he was sure he didn’t like. “What
the fu—” The same moment he realized what the hard object was, Shizuka shot
forward and decked Tristan. He never saw the hit coming and for such a tiny
little thing, she packed one nasty
punch. Tristan lost his footing and fell, timber, all six-three straight back.
He only just managed to save from cracking his skull open on the pavement like
a watermelon. When he looked up again, Shizuka was swinging at the stranger.
Despite the absurdity of the whole damn situation, Tristan had to smile. The
loudmouthed girl had more fire to her than he realized. He loved a woman that
could kick his ass.
She took another swing at the stranger that went wide
when he ducked and he countered, delivering a hard blow to Shizuka’s plexus.
“Hey!” Tristan shouted at him, stumbling to his feet
again. “The hell is wrong with you… hitting a girl?”
Tristan threw his own punch that never made contact.
He wasn’t sure how, only that the stranger was holding his fist in a cold, hard
hand, blinking at him. “That is no woman.”
He said that before too, didn’t he? Tristan jerked his
hand back, glanced at Shizuka then back to the man. “You’re a bit of an
asshole. Or fucking blind.”
The other man gave a small nod. “I accept the former. However,
the latter is far from the truth. It is you who is blind.”
“What the fuck are you talking about? You know what, I
don’t give a shit. Come on Shizuka, I’ll take you home.”
“Stop!” The man darted out and grabbed Tristan’s wrist
when he reached out to the woman. He started to argue, ready to punch the short
shit’s lights out when there was a loud laugh echoed in the alleyway. They pair
stopped grappling and looked up.
Shizuka looked… different, though Tristan
wasn’t sure exactly why right away. “And that is not man.” She
laughed again. “I think animal. Hai, hai, inu-chan…”
“Yogore,” the man hissed back.
Shizuka burst into laughter. Her flesh rippled from
top to bottom and the smooth porcelain was replaced with dark, shriveled
leather. The surface flaked, sending leaves of dead flesh to the ground like
dirty brown snow. Voids opened, revealing knots of raw muscle and dark jelly.
Silken black hair came off in thick clumps, taking chunks of scalp with it to
fall to the pavement with a wet, sticky noise that echoed off the close walls.
As her body changed, so did her voice. Her laughter
turned shrill. The short little black dress sagged on her frame as dark fluids
poured out from under it and down spindly legs. She started to wobble on her
feet, splashing up dark liquid as she took tiny steps to steady herself in her
high heels. Finally, it was clear she couldn’t stand in those dangerous shoes
anymore. She kicked them off, sending them towards the club exit and stepped
bony feet into the body fluid collecting under her in a murky pool.
“Oh my god,” Tristan whispered and sucked in a sharp
breath, catching a whiff of decay. He gagged and stumbled backwards until his
back hit the dumpster, jabbing an elbow against the side. He sank to the ground
against the bin, cradling his elbow to his chest, though the pain wasn’t enough
to matter. Nothing mattered now except for the awful thing standing before him
that he knew as Shizuka. The stranger made no movement that Tristan could see
from his low seat. Somehow though, he knew the guy wasn’t surprised. That he
knew exactly what this woman was.
Monster…
The man sighed, shaking his head and reached inside
his cape. “I had preferred that it not come to this.” The soft reverberation of
metal rubbing against something solid sounded from under the fabric moments
before the katana that Tristan felt earlier emerged.
Shizuka’s laughter finally subsided as she rolled
cloudy brown eyes down to look at the others. She grinned broadly showing the
muscles of her jaw in thick leathery strands. When she spoke again, it was the
voice of a cartoon snake, all hiss. “Silly toy for silly—”
“Damare!”
the cloaked stranger shouted and darted forward, blade aimed right for
Shizuka’s head.
Totally thrown off guard, lost and confused, Tristan
gave a small cry and jerked back in shock, hitting his head on the dumpster. He
lifted a fist and banged it into the side. He was angry that he hadn’t
high-tailed it out of there while he had the chance. He was angry that all he
could do was sit there and watch, trapped between a stinking dumpster and a man
with a sword fighting a zombie.
A fucking zombie.
He thought briefly of getting up, trying to sneak
away. Maybe of evening helping the guy he was ready to punch out only minutes
before. But he fell into a trance, staring at the spectacle before him. It was
a dance these two performed. Somehow, despite one being short, the other short and
dead, they both moved with a delicate grace, and it was completely mesmerizing.
He was shaken out of the trance though when Shizuka landed a hard blow to the
man’s stomach that made him give a low groan and shudder. But, he didn’t go
down.
Zombie Shizuka stepped back, shifting into a stance
that would have been appealing if she had her skin. Her chin started to jiggle
in a movement that was the beginning of her trying to speak, but then her lower
jaw fell off. The man gave a crude grunt and a little leap, aiming for Shizuka
again with that sharp, shiny blade. But he was swinging at empty space. The
blade whipped through the air, pulled downward as gravity brought man and metal
back to the earth. The tip chipped into asphalt with a loud metal ting. Tristan
had only a moment for his lethargic brain to think about why it was wrong
before the man spun on his heel, lifting the sword towards Tristan.
He put his hands up. “Whoa, hey—”
Shizuka appeared between them and reached out,
grabbing the man by his neck with those disgusting decomposed fingers. He let
out a long breath and lowered his arms, letting them hang lifelessly at his sides
as she held him in place. The sword almost slipped from his fingers, but he
didn’t seem to notice one way or the other. There was no fear in his eyes as a
dark, closed-mouth smile curled his lips, not quite reaching those pale eyes.
A blaze of bright metal flashed up past Shizuka’s side
and the arm gripping the stranger’s neck was suddenly on the ground. Shizuka
wailed and reached for him again with her remaining arm as he jumped away. His
toes barely touched asphalt and then he was airborne again moving towards
Shizuka. Towards Tristan. Tristan sucked in a sharp breath through clenched
teeth when the guy suddenly appeared directly in front of him, toe to toe. The
young man stared down at him, calm and relaxed as if he had been there all
along. As if there wasn’t a zombie trying to kill him.
Tristan blinked up at him for the longest ten seconds
of his life, not a single tangible thought making its way to the surface to
help guide him to something close to sane. He finally tore his gaze from the
stranger. Shizuka was standing behind him with her back to the others. Tristan
looked up to the man again, confused and whispered, “What happe—”, but never
got to finish his question. Shizuka’s head broke away from her neck and hit the
ground with a loud crack. Seconds later her body crumbled to the ground with a
heavy weight that said she was more than skin and bones. The stench of death
doubled as a breeze brought Shizuka’s scent to the others. It seemed to seek
Tristan out, tickling its way into his sinuses, making the back of throat itch.
Tristan’s stomach tightened and the blood drained from his face so fast it made
him dizzy.
The cloaked man blinked slowly, his eyes coming into
focus on Tristan’s. Expression utterly blank, he gave his blade a quick flick
at his side. Tristan flinched at the sudden movement and wished he hadn’t.
Expression still impassive, the stranger flung his long hair over his shoulder,
turned away, and brought his sword down onto the mass of bones and rotted flesh
that was once Shizuka.
The first piece of zombie was tossed over Tristan’s
head to the dumpster and a warm glob of something squishy, wet and stinking of
rot fell to his forehead and stuck. That was all it took. Tristan’s stomach
twisted and he scrambled to his knees, retching on the pavement.
When his stomach was empty of all of its contents
Tristan sat back on his heels, his back to the guy. He took in a deep breath
past his burning throat and hung his head in hopes to ease the pounding. He
could hear the cutting of rotted flesh and bones. He wasn’t ready to turn
around and see that again. Not just yet. He sighed, shutting his eyes and his
head spun again. When he opened his eyes, something to his right caught his
attention in a dark corner between the dumpster and a wall. Stomach spinning,
head feeling even worse, he decided standing wasn’t an option at the moment and
pushed to hands and knees to crawl forward a few paces.
“Oh shit!” he screamed and fell back onto his ass,
damp gravel cutting into his palms.
“What is it?” the zombie slayer asked, annoyance
lacing his words. The cracks of breaking bone echoed loudly off the walls as he
deftly finished his work.
A new nightmare, the crumpled body of a naked woman
shoved in the corner like a pile of trash. Her stomach cavity had been ripped
open and emptied, leaking stinking bile and other vital liquids on to the
pavement. The edges of the hole were torn and jagged like an animal had at it
with its teeth. Bloody scratches ran down the length of her face stopping at lips
frozen in a frightened scream. Two dark, cavernous holes stared blindly up at
nothing where her eyes had been ripped out.
“Ther—there’s a dead girl back here.” He didn’t think
he even spoke loud enough for the guy to hear. He swallowed hard against the
tang of his regurgitated dinner and alcohol. He was sure he was going to lose
it again. God, what was wrong with him? He never got sick from just drinking.
And as his head spun he was sure the reason had more to do with Shizuka than he
realized.
“Ah yes, I had almost forgotten about that. The
jikininki I just disposed of did that. It needed the—” He paused and Tristan
looked over his shoulder to him, disgusted. He was twirling his hand in a small
circle like he was searching for the appropriate word. Finally he settled on,
“Sustenance, from that poor soul there to appear as the exquisite woman she
was.”
“I—I don’t understand...”
“I know.” He strolled forward, boots silent on the
pavement, and extended a hand.
Tristan gave the pale hand a long, slow blink and
whispered, “You askin’ me for a dance again?” A heavy, dark fuzziness was
creeping in on the edges of his vision. He shuddered, suddenly cold and let out
a long sigh. “You’re pretty sweet, for a weird lookin’ dude.”
The “weird lookin’ dude” gave a dismayed sigh. “Come,
we must go.”
Tristan met those strange eyes and gave him another
long look. “Go... with you? Why?”
The offer of a hand was rescinded with a scowl. “Did
you not figure that much out?”
Tristan shook his head, immediately regretting it.
Thick lace covered his vision, blurring everything and he swayed, even though
he was seated firmly on the ground.
“That jikininki knew me,” he said, voice steadily
rising, “but it was summoned to hunt you.”
Tristan could only manage to answer with a long, drawn
out, “Oh.” Someone was looking for him? That was nice. He dropped his face into
his hands and toppled over. Something dark and warm was coursing through him.
He was certain of it now, that he’d been drugged. It was whispering promises of
sweet sleep to him. His eyes had shut, though he couldn’t remember when. He was
losing against the drug. It was better to not fight it anyway.
“Who—what… ?” He couldn’t even finish his sentence.
What was he even trying to say? Guess it wasn’t important.
“Everything is okay,” came the stranger’s creamy
smooth voice, like a distant whisper. It was strangely comforting. “I am here
now to—” His voice broke. “Just… sleep.”
Tristan let out a long groan, the drug finally claiming
victory over him. He thought he heard the stranger again in his last twilight
of consciousness whisper something about ashes.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
SOMETIMES known as Stinna
(pronounced Steena), Christina Moore just so happens to be her real name. Her
writing career started under a pseudonym in the romance genre. But her true
love has always been the paranormal. Vampires, werewolves, demons, faerie and
everything in between, she loves them all—the allure of the unknown. The birth
of the Uruwashi series started many years ago with a daydream sparked by a very
special voice of a certain bad-ass vampire in her favorite anime. Little did
she know then that the story of the Uruwashi would morph into what it is today.
When not writing or chasing her toddler, Christina
loves to read, garden, cross-stitch, and play video games. A Maryland native,
she lives just outside of beautiful historic downtown Annapolis with her
husband, daughter (a.k.a. Tiny Boss) and two Australian Shepherds, Deunan and
Aydin. Growing up riding horses to show in dressage and cross-country, later
moving on to racing Volkswagens and then finding a career in the architecture
industry as a graphic artist/mother hen, she’s never been a real expert in any
one thing. Christina has a passion for diversity and enjoys many types of
music, film and literature that sometimes clash with the norm. She's often said
she's going to marry Spike Spiegel when she grows up—her husband understands.
Author (Contact
Links)
Website: www.thebeautifuldeath.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/thebeautifuldeathseries
Twitter: https://twitter.com/TheUruwashi
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7275171.Christina_Moore
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Christina-Moore/e/B00FVXGO92/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1
4 Stars
Tristan came to Japan to find his birth mother after the horrific deaths of his adoptive parents, what he found there or rather what found him was a whole lot of crazy. Monsters as it turns out are real and for some reason they want him dead. The only one looking out for him is Ash a mysterious Jap who for some reason want to help him.
Ash has secrets, a whole host of them, and they are not easy for someone to uncover. Try as Tristan might there is always something new coming to light when it comes to Ash.
As they work together to find out what Tristan is and who wants him dead he has to decide what he really wants out of life.
Tristan says what he thinks, but still surprises you with his actions. He has a will to survive he doesn't even realize at the beginning, but as you go through the story you see it shine through.
Ash is mysterious. What you see is not all you get and you never know if you've seen it all. Throughout the story you see more and more helping you uncover the mystery.
The story was interesting and I'm definitely excited to see more of this series.
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