back

SISTER OF THE DEAD
by Barb & J.C. Hendee
(ROC, 405 pp., mmpb, $7.50, 2005)

A couple of years ago we covered this pair's debut, Dhampir, and if that emphatic nod of approval wasn't enough to get you to the bookstore, prepare for another nudge.

You might not know it by looking at the covers (once more, disregard the cheesy artwork, which does the contents a big disservice), but the Hendees are building an impressive saga one volume at a time. This imposes the only significant but inevitable drawback: As they get further into it, the books stand less on their own. The first one did, certainly, and to some extent so did last year's Thief Of Lives. But now that they're on their third, the storylines flow directly out of the preceding books - the main action in Sister picks up the morning after Thief left off - with less and less room for summarizing everything that's gone before. If you've missed out, it's time to get on board.

At the center of this chronicle is an intriguing pair of half-breeds: Magiere - born to a mortal mother impregnated by a vampire - who has awakened to a predisposition to kill the undead, and her partner Leesil, a half-elf who has followed her into this new life from their earlier, earthier existences as con artists and tavern keepers . mostly out of a sense of duty to a friend-turned-lover. And they both have lots of questions about their pasts, as well as that of their wolf-like dog Chap, probably the coolest fictional canine since Einstein in Dean Koontz's Watchers, and who has turned out to be far more than he initially appeared.

This time it's mainly Magiere's turn for answers, and while every rock still hasn't been flipped over, we're much closer to the heart of the conundrum that has nagged her all along: Why would a vampire deliberately breed a hybrid prone to exterminating his own kind? The answer is a good deal darker and more apocalyptic than self-loathing, and the historical flashbacks showing how this was accomplished make for some truly harrowing scenes.

As before, the Hendees do a great job of balancing the story threads that span multiple books with more short-term conflicts - vampire hunters hunt vampires, after all, and this time they match wits and blades with one who feeds on life energy rather than blood - and they keep things moving with a propulsive mix of action and urgency.

Still, it's the small, deft touches that elevate this far beyond an exercise in efficient plotting. The lands and populaces, a blend of medieval and Eastern European, feel grittily real through a hundred little details. Better yet, so do the characters. These aren't archetypes, but flesh and bone individuals who aren't merely going through preordained motions. The evil aren't beyond altruism (or, interestingly, prejudice against their own kind), and the good aren't above pettiness, brashness, and mistakes. There was a moment I actively hated Magiere, even though she was being entirely true to herself. Moreover, as it increasingly emerges that her and Leesil's paths have for years been guided by outside manipulation - from more than one interest - the Hendees confront the most insidious issue of all: Just how much of our lives are we really in control of?

Apart from surrendering hours to compulsively readable books, that is.