It is Blasphemer's Week, an annual period during which the gods vacation at Mount Olympus and ignore the inconsequential mortals, and it always begins with blood. The first victim is a former police officer getting butter from his fridge. Virgil Glezos, the city-state's first detective on his first case, must track the killer by inventing his own techniques combining magic and technology. He is aided by a professional dance choreographer, a biowarfare expert who doesn't want to be there, two police officers who hate him, and a priest who might or might not be incompetent and who might or might not be trying to kill him. Virgil uncovers something deeper than a single murder, and he is the wrong person at the right time to stop it.

About the Author

Robert E. Harpold has been writing stories since he was seven years old, and most of those stories will be shown to no one. In previous jobs, he traveled to Greenland and Antarctica and operated spacecraft. Now he designs spacecraft trajectories, which is his realistic-dream job. His dream job is the same as everyone else's: astronaut.

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