Fighting monsters and demons in association with BBC Cult.
husband was not completely human. She was quite fond of the title, thinking it clever enough. And it had better be, she knew, for it had been many months since she had written anything new for Lane and Jones, the publishers of her previous novels. Tamara had written the gruesome occult tales before she had discovered that the horrors in them were not as fictional as she might have wished. It had taken her some time to find the will to write again afterwards.
Once she had begun, however, she found herself relishing the escape Stained Scarlet gave her. And if such works were more and more being dismissed by those who called them "penny dreadfuls," why, Tamara did not mind the mockery so much. The sales spoke for themselves. The people wanted these stories, and the publisher wanted to fulfill that desire. Tamara was happy to oblige.
With a small sigh of satisfaction she tucked a stray lock of her reddish-blond hair behind her ear - she wore it up but strands were always getting loose - and reached for her pen once more. Even as she did so there came a knock at the door. Tamara frowned. It was too early for William to have returned. It could not be good news.
