The Blood Books are now available in "Blood Ties" TV tie-in editions. View our TV tie-in feature page here here. An evil being has been sealed away for centuries in a sarcophagus never meant to be opened, waiting patiently for his chance to rise again. Now, brought to the Egyptology Department of Toronto’s Royal Ontario Museum, the seals and spells that imprisoned him chipped away from his discoverers, he has reached forth to claim the minds and souls of Toronto’s unsuspecting citizens. And only three people had any sense that something was wrong…. For Henry Fitzroy, it began with terrifying images of the sun, a marker of death for a vampire. Fearing for his sanity, he turns to his sometimes-lover, private investigator Vicki Taylor, for help. As the two struggle to cope with Henry’s obsession, Vicki’s closest friend and former partner Mike Celluci, is following up on two mysterious deaths at the museum, certain that a force from beyond the grave is responsible for everything. "Entertaining characters, wry humor, crazy plots, glimpses of horror, the occult, romance, and just a dollop of sex."— VOYA "The novel [has] an unexpected serious theme that helps raise it above the crowd. It may be funny, often lighthearted and highly entertaining, but it's  more than just another 'light' fantasy ."— Locus "A yummy concoction of equal parts fantasy and mystery , throwing in a splash of humor and a dash of romance to beguile the palate quite delightfully.... Ms. Huff manages to develop all her different plot threads to marvelous effect. How could anyone resist this vastly entertaining pastiche?"— RT Book Reviews "A fine mix of the detective story with the supernatural, and easily Huff's best novel to date....  A rousing adventure tale with likable characters and an interesting setting ."— Science Fiction Chronicle "The author of the  Blood  novels has once again proven herself  a master of urban fantasy ."— Library Journal "Huff tells a great story, but never takes herself or it too seriously. She consciously borrows elements from other books as well as movies, comics, and mythology and combines them with her own great imagination to make a thoroughly satisfying story."— SF Site       Tanya Huff  may have left Nova Scotia at three, and has lived most of her life since in Ontario, but she still considers herself a Maritimer. On the way to the idyllic rural existence she shares with her partner Fiona Patton, six cats, and a chihuahua, she acquired a degree in Radio and Television Arts from Ryerson Polytechnic—an education she was happy to finally use while writing her recent Smoke novels . Of her previous twenty-three books, the five— Blood Price, Blood Trail, Blood Lines, Blood Pact, Blood Debt —featuring Henry Fitzroy, bastard son of Henry VIII, romance writer, and vampire are among the most popular. ONE     HE HAD BEEN ALMOST aware for some time. Nothingness had shattered when they removed him from the chamber long concealed behind the centuries empty tomb of a forgotten priest. The final layer of the binding spell had been written on the rock wall smashed to gain access and, with that gone, the spell itself had begun to fray.     Every movement frayed it further. The surrounding ka, more souls than had been near him in millennia, called him to feed. Slowly, he reached for memory.     Then, just as he brushed against self and had only to reach out and grasp it and draw home the key to his freedom, the movement stopped and the lives went away. But the nothingness didn’t quite return. And that was the worst of all.       Sixteenth Dynasty, thought Dr. Rax running his finger lightly along the upper surface of the plain, unadorned rectangle of black basalt. Strange, when the rest of the collection was Eighteenth. He could now, however, understand why the British were willing to let the artifact go; although it was a splendid example of its type, it was neither going to bring new visitors flocking to the galleries nor was it likely to shed much light on the past.     Besides, thanks to the acquisitiveness of aristocracy with more money than brains, Great Britain has all the Egyptian antiquities it can hope to use. Dr. Rax was careful not to let that thought show on his face, as a member of said aristocracy, albeit of a more recent vintage, fidgeted at his shoulder.     Too well bred to actually ask, the fourteenth Baron Montclair leaned forward, hands shoved into the pockets of his crested blazer.     Dr. Rax, unsure if the younger man was looking worried or merely vacant, attempted to ignore him. And I thought Monty Python created the concept of the upper-class twit, he mused as he continued his inspection. How foolish of me.     Unlike most sarcophagi, the artifact Dr. Rax examined had no lid but rather a sliding stone panel in one narrow end. Briefly, he wondered why that feature alone hadn’t been enough to interest the British museums. As far as he knew the design survived on