Coming soon: 'Beware the savage jaw...'

So, I'm in a position now to describe what the next 'non-Emma' novel is going to be (serialised in between the imminent 'Ubara of Gor' book chapters). I have several such books in various stages of planning and development, but the one that is most ready to be foisted on you is...

Drum roll please...

A Rachel Evans novel entitled 'Beware the savage jaw...' which follows on one year after 'Glad Tidings of Comfort and Joy'.

When last we saw our Earth bound heroine things looked grim indeed, but this is no ordinary woman we're talking about – this is Rachel Evans!

One year on from that novella and for reasons that will become clear in detail in the novel, Rachel is now in hiding 'in plain sight' from the Kur conspiracy that is tightening its grip on North America year by year. A dark shadow is slowly but surely drawing its veil over the planet Earth as the Priest Kings on Gor seem powerless or disinterested to intervene.

As women in North America lose more and more of their hard won civil liberties, Rachel is in hiding now as a common maid servant in the household staff of Kur sympathiser, Patrick Rowell.

It is New Year's Eve and a number of the high ranking Kurii sympathisers and their red silk and white silk girls have been invited by Patrick Rowell to a remote and luxurious house on an island off the coast of Maine for a welcome vacation to party hard and see in the new year – a new year that will herald even more power for the Kurii.

It is a party where Rachel Evans will be serving the very same Kur masters who would have her head if only they knew who she was.

But this is no ordinary New Year's vacation, for attending will be a man whose name is feared by every Kur sympathiser on Earth – the Kurii enforcer known only as 'the Sleen'. This is a man who will kill, when ordered, a President or Prime Minister or a King or a Queen if they stand in the way of the Kur conspiracy. The Sleen is said to be one of the deadliest men on Gor – a master of the Black caste – now stationed on Earth to ensure that all the Kur factions and sympathisers 'behave themselves' and follow orders without question.

But as a storm rolls in from the North Atlantic, the island of Bear Crag off the coast of Maine is cut off from the mainland, and when the body of one of the leading Kur sympathisers is found dead in the wine cellar with the words 'Ta-Sardar-Gor' (translation: 'to the Priest Kings of Gor') scrawled in blood on the flagstones, it is evident that a Priest King assassin is on the island too – his or her name, 'Azrael' signed with a flourish next to the body.

Now the Kur are trapped and hunted and it is all Rachel Evans can do to avoid being exposed to the Kurii or being added to Azrael's kill list.

It's Gor meets Agatha Christie's 'Ten Little Indians' with a dash of the Handmaid's Tale for good measure and a David Bowie quote for the title. 

Intro: 

Colonel Mustard in the conservatory with the candlestick?

No.

Reverend Green with the pistol in the lounge?

No.

Or my favourite, the only I always loved as a little girl: Miss Scarlet with the dagger in the ballroom? She was my femme fatale. I liked to think with Miss Scarlet it was always a crime of passion. Mr Black was going to leave her, or had been unfaithful, or perhaps had threatened to blackmail her good name for some scandalous indiscretion. She did him in with a stiletto – always the weapon of choice for a woman.

I loved the board game Cluedo when I was a young girl. I used to play it with my reluctant parents on Christmas Eve and whenever I could persuade my parents to spend time together as a family which wasn't very often as dad worked long hours and mum... well, mum worked long hours too and needed the comfort and solace of gin in the evening. I later discovered boys and makeup and David Bowie, but when I was twelve I loved Cluedo. There was a brief time when I thought I might grow up to be a glamorous detective solving Agatha Christie murders in old stately homes full of respectable suspects.

My father would have preferred me to become a doctor. In the early 1970s it was something for a woman to aspire to I guess. An alternative to working as a secretary in some business firm full of lecherous middle managers.

And so we all stood in the wine cellar to view the body. Jonathan Stane – a prominent Kur sympathiser and collaborator on the Eastern Seaboard of America - lay face down on the cement floor between racks of vintage wine bottles. Somewhere to my left there was the incessant screaming from a white silk girl which was really getting on my nerves.

Let me be clear on something: I was a Kur agent on Gor for forty years.

Dead bodies in wine cellars don't really shock me.

They really don't.

I'm Rachel Evans by the way. And this is nine fifteen PM on the 31^st December 2024 on the island of Bear Crag off the coast of Maine. Terrible things are about to unfold, but I'm getting ahead of myself. Time to wind the clock back and make sense of it all.

Are you ready to play detective with me?