Nobody looks out for you in Parris City. From swamps to hollers to rooftop shantytowns and riverboat casinos, down haunted bootlegger tunnels and mystic alleyways, wherever moonlight hits pavement, there’s something lurking, seething, waiting to grab you from behind and drag you somewhere nobody’ll ever find you. Nobody sticks their neck out for anybody, not in Parris City. Nobody dares.
Who are the Fowl and Madeline Cross?
Nobody.
