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Informationen zum Autor Deanna Raybourn is the New York Times bestselling and Edgar® Award–nominated author of the Veronica Speedwell Mysteries, the Lady Julia Grey series, and several stand-alone novels including KILLERS OF A CERTAIN AGE. She lives in Virginia with her family. Klappentext "Veronica must find and stop a devious killer when a group of old friends is targeted for death in this new adventure from the New York Times bestselling and Edgar Award-nominated author Deanna Raybourn. Veronica's natural-historian beau, Stoker, has been away in Bavaria for months and their relationship is at an impasse. But when Veronica shows up before him with his brother, Tiberius, Lord Templeton-Vane, he is lured back home by an intriguing job offer: preparing an iguanodon for a very special dinner party. Tiberius has received a cryptic message-along with the obituaries of two recently deceased members of his old group of friends, the Seven Sinners-that he too should get his affairs in order. Realizing he is in grave danger but not knowing why, he plans a reunion party for the remaining Sinners at his family estate to lure the killer out while Veronica and Stoker investigate. As the guests arrive and settle in, the evening's events turn deadly. More clues come to light, leading Veronica, Stoker, and Tiberius to uncover a shared past among the Sinners that has led to the fatal present. But the truth might be far more sinister than what they were prepared for"-- Leseprobe 1 Bavaria, September 1889 You must not go into the forest at night," the innkeeper warned, his voice trembling with fear. "Something dangerous walks there in the darkness." He carried on in this vein for some time as I applied myself to a stein of Weissbier and a plate of crisp, excellent sausages. My friend and travelling companion, the Viscount Templeton-Vane, listened politely as the fellow grew more vehement. "The creature that walks by night, it is part wolf, part man. It has but one eye, the other a gaping hole of deepest black. It keeps to the shadows, and if you dare to come near, it snarls like a bear," he went on, his eyes round in his chubby, shiny face. He was a character straight from a storybook, plump and bearded, an imp of a fellow, with lines of good humour etched upon his face. But there was no mirth to be found upon his visage as he told his tale, only fear, brightening his eyes and causing his mouth to tremble ever so slightly. Behind him, a lurking barmaid whose ample charms were scarcely contained by the lacing of her dirndl threw her apron over her head and fled through the door to the kitchens. The viscount-Tiberius to his friends-quirked up one expressive brow. "My good man, calm yourself. Surely this is some piece of local lore meant to frighten the feeble. We English are made of sterner stuff." "But it is true," the fellow insisted, colour pinkening the cheeks above the white fringe of his beard. He glanced around and lowered his voice. "I have seen it, a hulking shadow, moving in the silence of the firs. And when I stepped in its direction, it reared back and it growled with the fiendish fury of a hound of Hell." Tiberius, usually a man of cool logic, looked startled. "Growled, you say?" "Like a wolf," the man confirmed. I sighed. It was time to put an end to this. "My good man," I said politely to the innkeeper, "whilst I must concede that your use of alliteration is impressive, I think we can dismiss the notion of a hybrid monster roaming these mountains." He gave me a look of profound injury and slunk away, muttering. Tiberius met my gaze. "Can we? I realise the local folk are a superstitious lot, but how exactly would you explain the existence of such a creature?" I ticked off the qualities as I said them. "A tall, unsociable creature that keeps to the shadows, shuns the society of respectable people, and...
