Dear Readers, Next up: the final chapter of Book IV from the Chronicles of the Mythic Cartographer. For those just joining, this series follows Dr Elena Delange—a once-cautious anthropologist whose research into myth takes a dangerous, visceral turn. Each book dives deeper as her world collides with legends made real, forcing her to survive, adapt,…
Tag: London
The COMC Files: The Sting
The King’s Gold — 10:54 p.m. The pub is packed, South London voices rising beneath battered beams, pints gleaming amber under yellow light. Roger stands behind the bar, posture loose but watchful. I’m nursing my gin, scanning the crowd with my fieldworker’s eye—noting every shift in tension, every too-loud laugh that might mean trouble. Harry…
The COMC Files: King’s Gold
Old Foxes and City Spring I set the burner on the counter beside my forgotten groceries. Two hours. The old Fox doesn’t waste time. I strip off my coat, catch my reflection in the hall mirror—hair still wild from travel, shadows under my eyes that haven’t lifted since Romania. My body carries the toll: months…
The COMC Files: Flashes-back&forth
My spine stiffens; I exhale through a grin I can’t quite suppress. “Dr D”—that’s one of the boys, then. But the voice continues, and I catch the gravel beneath the mischief, the particular cadence that only decades, and heaps of rye, can build into a throat. Not Bartley. Nor any of the siblings. The old…
The COMC Files: Update
London, when the cab spits me out by my townhouse, is grey and humid, the air smelling of diesel, toast, and river. My feet strike the pavement with purpose, but there’s a tremor beneath every step: exhaustion, awe, the shock of clocks resuming. I unlock the door, inhale the familiar scent of home—old books, ground…
The COMC Files: London
Book of Burned Bridges The Heathrow arrivals hall is a fluorescent dawn after so many nights of myth. I stand still just past the immigration gates, letting the static-pated crowd flow around me—families, suits, tourists blinking at arrival boards. I am unaccompanied: Tarmo had cajoled, pleaded for me to board his Zurich-bound jet, but I’d…
The C.O.M.C. Files 