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Strange Angels
Cover of Strange Angels
Strange Angels
Strange Angels Series, Book 1
Borrow

In Strange Angels, Dru Anderson has what her grandmother called "the touch." (Comes in handy when you're traveling from town to town with your dad, hunting ghosts, suckers, wulfen, and the occasional zombie.) Then her dad turns up dead—but still walking—and Dru knows she's next. Even worse, she's got two guys hungry for her affections, and they're not about to let the fiercely independent Dru go it alone. Will Dru discover just how special she really is before coming face-to-fang with whatever—or whoever— is hunting her?

In Strange Angels, Dru Anderson has what her grandmother called "the touch." (Comes in handy when you're traveling from town to town with your dad, hunting ghosts, suckers, wulfen, and the occasional zombie.) Then her dad turns up dead—but still walking—and Dru knows she's next. Even worse, she's got two guys hungry for her affections, and they're not about to let the fiercely independent Dru go it alone. Will Dru discover just how special she really is before coming face-to-fang with whatever—or whoever— is hunting her?

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    2
  • Library copies:
    2
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  • Interest Level:
    UG
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Excerpts-
  • From the book p r o l o g u e

    I didn't tell Dad about Granmama's white owl. I know I shouldhave.

    There's that space between sleep and dreaming wherethings—not quite dreams, not fully fledged precognition, but weirdlittle blends of both—sometimes get in. Your eyes open, slow anddreamy, when the sense of someone looking rises through the cotton-woolfog of being warm and tired.

    That's when I saw it.

    The owl ruffled itself up on my windowsill drenched in moonglow,each pale feather sharp and clear under icy light. I hadn't botheredto pull the cheap blinds down or hang up the curtains. Why bother,when we—Dad and me—only spend a few months in any town?

    I blinked at the yellow-eyed bird. Instead of the comfort thatmeans Gran is thinking about me—and don't ask how I know thedead think of the living; I've seen too much not to know—I felt asharp annoyance, like a glass splinter under the surface of my brain.The owl's beak was black, and its feathers had ghostly spots likecobwebs, shadows against snowy down. It stared into my sleepy eyesfor what seemed like eternity, ruffling just a bit, puffing up the wayGran always used to when she thought anyone was messing with me.

    Not again. Go away.

    It usually only showed up when something interesting or reallyfoul was about to happen. Dad had never seen it, or at least I didn'tthink so. But he could tell when I had, and it would make him reachfor a weapon until I managed to open my mouth and say whether wewere going to meet an old friend—or find ourselves in deep shit.

    The night Gran died the owl had sat inside the window whileshe took her last few shallow, sipping breaths, but I don't think thenurses or the doctor saw it. They would have said something. By thatpoint I knew enough to keep my mouth shut, at least. I just sat thereand held Gran's hand until she drained away; then I sat in the hallwhile they did things to her empty body and wheeled it off. I curledup inside myself when the doctor or the social worker tried to talk tome, and just kept repeating that my dad would know, that he was onhis way—even though I had no clue where he was, really. He'd beengone a good three months, off ridding the world of nasty things whileI watched Gran slide downhill.

    Of course, that morning Dad showed up, haggard and unshaven,his shoulder bandaged and his face bruised. He had all the ID,signed all the papers, and answered all the questions. Everythingturned out okay, but sometimes I dream about that night, wonderingif I'm going to get left behind again in some fluorescent-lit corridorsmelling of Lysol and cold pain.

    I don't like thinking about that. I settled further into thepillow, watching the owl's fluffing, each feather edged with coldmoonlight.

    My eyes drifted closed. Warm darkness swallowed me, andwhen the alarm clock went off it was morning, weak winter sunshinespilling through the window and making a square on the browncarpet. I'd thrashed out of the covers and was about to freeze my assoff. Dad hadn't turned the heater up.

    It took a good twenty minutes in the shower before I felt anythingclose to awake. Or human. By the time I stamped down the stairs, Iwas already pissed off and getting worse. My favorite jeans weren'tclean and I had a zit the size of Mount Pinatubo on my templeunder a hank of dishwater brown hair. I opted for a gray T-shirt anda red hoodie, a pair of combat boots and no makeup.

    Why bother, right? I wasn't going to be here long enough foranyone to care.

    My bag smacked the floor. Last night's dishes still crouched inthe sink. Dad was at the kitchen table, his shoulders hunched overthe tray as...

Reviews-
  • Publisher's Weekly

    June 8, 2009
    Dru has always known about the poltergeists, vampires and werwulfen
    that inhabit the Real World since her father has traveled the country battling them, often with Dru's help. But when he is killed after they move to the Dakotas—and sent back as a zombie to kill her—Dru digs deeper into her history, trying to find out who murdered her mother and who is after her. Graves, an orphan, joins up with her and is soon turned into a loup-garou by a wolf bite, and Dru is able to get some answers from Christophe, a djamphir
    (part human, part vampire). In her YA debut, St. Crow (who writes adult novels as Lilith Saintcrow) creates with masterful prose a vivid and dark world that will mesmerize readers. Dru's mix of strength and vulnerability peppered with teenage observations (as when she compares mean teachers to sharks, “machines made for eating, with a finely tuned sense for blood in the water”) make her a fully relatable character, and teens will dig the Buffy-
    like blend of supernatural action and wit. Ages 12–up.

  • School Library Journal

    July 1, 2009
    Gr 9 Up-Sixteen-year-old Dru Anderson has grown up traveling the country with her demon-hunter father. When he tries to tackle a powerful sucker named Sergej in the Dakotas, he is turned into a zombie. After stopping him from killing her, Dru must save herself when she, too, becomes Sergejs target. She is befriended by Graves, a classmate who is quickly bitten and turned into a "loup-garou" (half werewolf), and meets Christophe, a "djamphir" (half-vampire vampire hunter). Dru also learns that she is growing into her own special powers. This is the first book in a series, and a large portion of it is spent developing the three lead characters, which occasionally slows down the action. While Graves seems to be the love interest, it is clear that both young men are attractive enough to draw Drus attention, promising tension in future installments. However, the book is plagued by frequent odd descriptions (a werewolf the size of a Shetland pony and Graves, who is half Asian, described as a half breed), and the choppy pacing is sometimes distracting. Drus inner monologue is a bit wordy during action scenes as well, which drags down the pace. Despite flaws, the similarities to Stephenie Meyers Twilight Saga (Little, Brown) will make this book an easy sell (though Dru is, by far, a tougher heroine than Bella, both in her language and her behavior), and the cliff-hanger ending will leave readers eager for the sequel."Kristin Anderson, Columbus Metropolitan Library System, OH"

    Copyright 2009 School Library Journal, LLC Used with permission.

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    Penguin Young Readers Group
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Strange Angels Series, Book 1
Lili St. Crow
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