Book Title: Floats the Dark Shadow
Series: The Paris Trilogy
Author: Yves Fey
Publication Date: September 2022 (Second Edition)
Publisher: Tygerbright Press
Audiobook: narrated by Hollie Jackson
Page Length: 340 pages
Genre: Historical Mystery
Young American painter Theodora Faraday struggles to become an artist in Belle Époque Paris. She’s tasted the champagne of success, illustrating poems for the Revenants, a group of poets led by her adored cousin, Averill.
When children she knows vanish mysteriously, Theo confronts Inspecteur Michel Devaux who suspects the Revenants are involved. Theo refuses to believe the killer could be a friend—could be the man she loves. Classic detection and occult revelation lead Michel and Theo through the dark underbelly of Paris, from catacombs to asylums, to the obscene ritual of a Black Mass.
Following the maze of clues they discover the murderer believes he is the reincarnation of the most evil serial killer in the history of France—Gilles de Rais. Once Joan of Arc’s lieutenant, after her death he plunged into an orgy of evil. The Church burned him at the stake for heresy, sorcery, and the depraved murder of hundreds of peasant children.
Whether deranged mind or demonic passion incite him, the killer must be found before he strikes again.
Universal Link: https://books2read.com/u/3GW2BO
Villains Past and Present – Scene from the Catacombs - Floats the Dark Shadow
A blaze of red caught Theo’s eye. In the far corner of the room, someone was talking to Averill. Intent on memorizing the crypt, Theo had not seen him leave. Averill’s back was to her, blocking her view of his companion, but the man gestured dramatically, showing an expanse of crimson lining his velvet cape. Then they bent their heads together, talking intently. Was this the person he’d had been searching for earlier?
Just then, Averill turned and walked back toward her. He looked pleased with himself. Unable to resist, she asked, “Who is the man wearing the cape?”
“Vipèrine,” Averill said, tasting the syllables. He nodded over his shoulder. “Apt, no?”
“Oh yes, sinuous as a snake,” she agreed, looking back across the room. This man would make an absolutely perfect villain to illustrate one of Averill’s poems. He was dressed predominately in black, some long robe that suggested a priest’s cassock. Draped over it was the rich cape, its lining vivid as fresh spilled blood. Arcane symbols circled the hem, embroidered in heavy gold thread and studded with faux jewels. Most amazing of all, his beard was dyed brilliant cobalt. Theo’s lips quivered at the splendid ridiculousness of it all. But she didn’t laugh. Vipèrine stood like an actor commanding center stage—or a king holding court.
“He thinks he’s the incarnation of Gilles de Rais, with his blue beard,” Paul muttered.
“Hubris.” Casimir’s nostrils flared with disdain.
“Far worse than hubris—he fancies himself a poet.” Paul snorted with disgust.
“Worse than fancying himself Gilles de Rais?” Averill asked.
“Far worse. You didn’t have to read his submissions to Le Revenant.” Paul gave a theatrical shiver. “Hideous. I rejected them all.”
Casimir’s hands arced, suggesting a banner or title. “Beware Bluebeard’s revenge.”
Paul sniggered.
“I have a poem about Bluebeard,” Averill said to them. Theo had not read any such. When she gave a questioning glance, he gestured vaguely. “A work in progress.”
“Who was Gilles de Rais?” Theo asked bluntly. She hated not knowing already. Vipèrine was an incarnation, Paul had said, so someone long since dead. An actor from the days of Molière? A troubadour perhaps? A magician? Clearly a man fond of extravagant dress in the manner of Oscar Wilde, whom she had not been permitted to mention in polite conversation in Mill Valley, or in her new uncle’s parlor, for that matter.
“He was Jeanne d’Arc’s first lieutenant, when she fought her holy war to unite France,” Casimir said.
“With a blue beard?” It seemed too ludicrous—popinjays preening and strutting on the battlefield, leading a holy crusade with Jeanne d’Arc. Then Theo remembered some of the fantastical armor she had seen in museums, the helmets crowned with plumes, a boar’s head or a raven’s wings. Medieval aristocrats dressed richly for war, as they dressed richly for everything else. Show seemed even more important than skill—but they skewered their enemies nonetheless. Still, a blue beard did not conjure wealth or daring but eccentricity.
“The color of the beard may be totally apocryphal,” Paul replied. “After they burned Jeanne at the stake, Gilles de Rais became the most notorious murderer in French history.”
“He was particularly fond of disemboweling,” Averill murmured, as if sharing a secret.
“Like Jack the Ripper?” Theo suppressed a shudder at the thought of the killer who had terrorized London a decade ago. “Gilles de Rais murdered women?”
Averill looked at her askance, suddenly uneasy. “No. Children.”
“Innocent children!” Heads turned at her outburst, but for once Theo didn’t mind being the brash American.
Casimir gave a Gallic shrug, apologetic, bemused. “Only true innocence would satisfy.”
“And he’s famous?” Anger and horror ruled, despite her best effort to regain a blasé façade.
Casimir offered a placating smile. “Infamous.”
Yves Fey has MFA in Creative Writing from the University of Oregon, and a BA in Pictorial Arts from UCLA. Yves began drawing as soon as she could hold a crayon and writing at twelve.
She’s been a tie dye artist, go-go dancer, creator of ceramic beasties, writing teacher, illustrator, and has won prizes for her chocolate desserts. Her current obsession is creating perfumes inspired by her Parisian characters.
Yves lives in Albany with her mystery writer husband and their cats, Charlotte and Emily, the Flying Bronte Sisters.
Website: YvesFey.com
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Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Yves-Fey/e/B008VHHPPC
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Tour Schedule page: https://thecoffeepotbookclub.blogspot.com/2022/09/blog-tour-floats-dark-shadow-by-yves-fey.html
