The Bradys and the Death Bell

The juggler knows your dreams. The detective doesn't believe in magic. One of them is about to be proven wrong.

A detective who trusts nothing he cannot explain. A prisoner who can reach inside men's dreams.

Young King Brady has worked dangerous cases before, but nothing like this. Buried inside a private madhouse outside Boston, posing as an asylum attendant, he grows closer each day to Ram Chunda — a Hindoo juggler who has spent five years locked away by men who fear what he knows. Harry tells himself the man is simply a prisoner. He tells himself the strange dreams are only drugs. He tells himself there is a rational explanation for everything.

Ram Chunda tells him otherwise.

When Harry swallows the juggler's mysterious herbal compound, the dreams that follow are too precise, too personal, too *accurate* to explain away. The Hindoo knows about Old King Brady. He knows about Alice. He knows things no man locked in a padded cell should be able to know.

Now the escape Harry has been carefully orchestrating for weeks hangs on a single stolen box — a box containing powers Harry doesn't believe in and enemies he hasn't yet seen. Behind the asylum walls waits a fortune in diamonds, a dead man's revenge, and a secret that has already cost one man his freedom for five years.

If Harry gets it wrong, Ram Chunda goes back into the dark.

And something tells Harry he won't be far behind him.