Markhat's new client is already dead and buried-or is he?

Humans, Trolls and even the halfdead have all passed through Markhat's door-more than once-seeking his services as a finder of missing persons and lost loves. This is a first, though. This time, his client is a dead man. At least that's what Granny Knot claims. But as long as the coin is real, Markhat has no trouble working for a guilt-ridden ghost.

Trouble is exactly what he finds, and soon he suspects his client, ghost or not, has darker motives for finding his estranged wife than the reconciliation he claims. Left with a cadaver for a client, a spook doctor for a partner, and Mama Hog as advisor on all things spiritual, Markhat must unravel a dark mystery ten years old, and do it before another grave is filled. Maybe his own.

Warning: This work of fiction involves the occult, several rather questionable uses of stuffed birds, the release of sarcasm inside a cemetery and numerous disparaging portrayals of wood elves.

No secret stays buried forever.

When patron of the arts Lady Erlorne Werewilk hires Markhat to identify the parties who are stealthily mapping out the Lady's estate by moonlight, Markhat anticipates the usual-greedy relatives or rapacious neighbors plotting a land grab. After all, muses Rannit's most feckless Finder, the Lady runs a colony filled with young artists. Aside from snits over color and perspective, how dangerous could a squabble over a backwoods house possibly be?

With new partner Gertriss in tow, Markhat takes the Lady's case. Before the first night is done, the house is visited by murder, mayhem, and the haunting wail of what may be a genuine banshee, come to herald not just one death, but the deaths of all within. Trapped in a house under siege, Markhat must make a desperate gamble with an old enemy to win the race to unlock the secret that lies beneath the Lady's lands. And find a way to turn that secret against the powerful forces converging on House Werewilk.

Warning: This Markhat adventure involves suggestions of impending matrimony, full-scale gluttony, and misuse of fermented beverages. Persons with weak constitutions or persons currently at the halfway mark of a thousand-meter tightrope walk above a crocodile-infested river should refrain from reading this work of fiction in dimly-lit drawing rooms, which should never be constructed above crocodile-infested rivers in the first place.

Ask not for whom the wedding bells toll.

There's no way Markhat can turn away his newest client. Who is he to refuse the woman he loves-especially when she bribes him with breakfast?

This time it's Darla's friend Tamar Fields, whose fianc‚ vanished days before the wedding. His wealthy family insists Carris Lethway is simply away on urgent business. Tamar smells a lie, and she needs Rannit's most famous finder to figure out if the source of the suspicious aroma is a conspiracy, or the groom's cold, sweaty feet.

As if his plate isn't piled high enough, Mama Hog's slip of the tongue has landed him in the middle of a good old-fashioned Pot Lockery clan feud. Plus, Rannit's streets are abuzz with rumors of war-and Tamar's case has his own lady love hearing wedding bells of her own.

As Rannit arms for battle, Markhat finds himself torn between old alliances and new commitments, and a growing, awful fear that no matter which way he turns, all he loves is about to go up in flames.

Warning: This work of fiction is known to contain dangerous vowels and at least two instances of provocative folk dancing. Readers should be prepared to produce fresh emus for inspection at any time while reading pages 78 or 134. Neither the Publisher nor the Author condones the formation of covalent hydrogen bonds, although the Author does wink at them when his attorney isn't looking.