Tuesday, September 26, 2017

Memento Mori (A Time Traveller's Best Friend, Book 2) by W.R. Gingell

September 26, 2017
Subgenre: Time Travel

About Memento Mori:


Even time travellers can run out of time.

Marx and Kez have been skipping through the known Twelve Worlds, keeping one step ahead of certain capture by the seat of their trousers, and the vastness of time and space is feeling a tad too small.

Kez has always been a bit crazy, but now it’s Marx who is getting mad. Someone is trying to kill them, and that’s the sort of thing he takes personally.

To add to their difficulties, there are Fixed Points in time that are beginning to look a little less…fixed.

Between Time Corp, WAOF, Uncle Cheng, and the Lolly Men, it’s beginning to look like there’s nowhere safe in the known Twelve Worlds for Kez and Marx.

Here be monsters… 



“We’d better synchronise our timepieces, sir.”
“We have a time limit?” asked Mikkel, his brows rising in surprise.
“Not as such,” said Arabella. “But there are certain things that need to happen at exactly the right time. If they don’t…well, let’s just say that we really, really want them to happen at the right time.”
“Are we fixing events in time?”
“Something like that.”
“That’s going a bit overboard, isn’t it?” Mikkel said, frowning. Time and synchronicity were reasonably flexible: so long as a few major things remained fixed, smaller changes didn’t ripple too far forward. River-like, time had a way of falling back into its previous course, flooding around obstacles and back into its accustomed bed. “Even if we’re here to help Kez and Marx—! I mean, they can’t do too much damage running around the Time Stream; it is self-repairing, after all.”
Arabella gave a small, prim cough.
“It fixes itself.”
Arabella’s mouth pursed in a pained sort of way.
“Good grief! They broke the Time Stream?”
“They are trying to fix it, sir,” Arabella said excusingly. “And my employers would like us—me, that is—to help them. If we don’t pin down these few little things at the right time—”
“I get the picture,” said Mikkel rather grimly. He had seen what could happen when a Fixed Point in time was interfered with. “Are you telling me that Kez and Marx have made something as small as the opening of a door into a Fixed Point in the Time Stream? No, don’t answer that: of course they have.”
“I’m glad you understand, sir,” Arabella said. “Shall we begin?”


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About W.R. Gingell: 

W.R. Gingell is a Tasmanian author who lives in a house with a green door. She loves to rewrite fairytales with a twist or two--and a murder or three--and original fantasy where dragons, enchantresses, and other magical creatures abound. Occasionally she will also dip her toes into the waters of SciFi.

W.R. spends her time reading, drinking an inordinate amount of tea, and slouching in front of the fire to write. Like Peter Pan, she never really grew up, and is still occasionally to be found climbing trees.

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