My cases aren’t like normal cases. I find the secrets the occult world is likely to kill you for. Quit half way and you step into oblivion, misjudge and you might lose your mind. Paranoia is an occupational hazard. They say all roads lead to Rome and, in this case, so do all my clues. Nestled deep within the Vatican clergy—guarded by something with more tricks than Harry Houdini and possessing the moral conscience of a snake—are the answers I’ve been looking for, so long as I am willing to trade my soul. It’s one thing to know when the antichrist has come, it’s a whole other kind of crazy when he says he’s your brother.
I grew up in a cold place called Minnesota. It means Land of Many Waters in the native Indian tongue, but what I took it to mean was Land of Many Winters.
There, during the long snowy months and sub zero temperatures, I learned about a place called Narnia and spent my days figuring out how to move there. When I grew up, I figured it out. Only when I got there, I found it was much darker than I had anticipated or than CS Lewis had reported. Now, I tell the stories of what I found in Dark Narnia.