Author Bio:

Joseph Devon was born in New Jersey and currently lives in New York. He’s been a student, a nanny, worked at the Ground Zero recovery project after 9/11, and of all the things he’s created he is probably most proud of the character Kyo. He writes a blog, enjoys photography and he’s also at flickr, and tumblr, and twitter — sometimes he thinks that he might have one too many social networking outlets. Joseph’s Annual Fan Art Contest has a lot of great prizes to choose from for simply submitting art based on his books — check it out at: http://josephdevon.com/contest/the-third-annual-joseph-devon-art-contest/.

 

Synopsis:

Matthew knows that he died twenty years ago. He has, after all, been bouncing around New York city ever since, causing mischief and having fun as a supernatural being. But recently some problems have been cropping up: not only is he hallucinating things in garbage cans, but his mentor doesn’t think he’s working up to his full potential, his best friend can’t offer any solace but drunken confusion, and his wife is dying in Central Park.

 

See, the past twenty years haven’t meant a thing because now it’s time for Matthew to make his second choice and become a tester of humanity.

 

And that’s all before the zombies show up.

 

Come explore the world of Matthew and Epp and see what a samurai from Feudal Japan has to do with the course of modern physics, what a two-thousand year old Roman slave has to do with the summit of Mount Everest, and what a dead man from Brooklyn has to do with the fate of the world

 

Check out this excerpt from Probability Angels:

 

Matthew walked further and further into the park, following path after path, cursing more than a few times as branches he hadn’t noticed swatted at his face. Then, through the darkness, he saw a thin band of yellow hovering in the air. As he drew closer his eyes recognized it as a strip of tape, like the kind used to mark off crime scenes, only different, strung across the path. Matthew paused and looked around, looked at the darkness that was behind him, then looked at how the light on the other side of the tape was different somehow. He smiled, a little laugh coming out of his mouth, then with a touch of nervousness he ducked his torso and stepped onto the other side of the tape.

 

The first difference was as immediate as it was obvious. All noise ceased. As Matthew straightened himself up there was no more wind in the trees, no more muffled sounds of traffic from Central Park West, there was only silence. He continued walking down the path, the second change slowly sinking in as he realized he was no longer walking through a post-midnight darkness. The air was now mellower, lighter, like it was only a little past dusk. Then he stopped short and walked a slow circle around a single point of light, smiling as he recognized a firefly, its bottom flashing electric green, frozen in time, hovering in the air. He reached a finger up and slowly pointed it towards the glowing beetle, was about to tap it to see what would happen when a voice spoke up behind him.

 

“Please don’t.”

 

Matthew jumped and turned, then smiled and shook his head. “Jesus, Epp, you scared the hell out of me.”

 

Epp walked over, his face lit by the firefly’s light. His skin was sable black, the color of an exotic hardwood, and he was a good head taller than Matthew, although due to a complete lack of anything but muscle on his body, he probably weighed the same.

 

“What happens if I touch it?” Matthew asked, looking back to the firefly.

 

“Just more work for me,” Epp answered, the calm undertone of his voice making Matthew’s easy confidence seem like a bad case of nerves. Epp looked Matthew up and down. “Nice tuxedo,” he said.

 

There was honest appreciation for good tailoring in Epp’s voice, but Matthew found himself unable to accept it as a straight compliment considering that Epp was wearing a suit that seemed more like a symphony composed of charcoal threads than mere clothing.

 

“I was working some adultery at a wedding,” Matthew said to explain his clothes.

 

“Adultery?” Epp asked turning and walking away. Matthew started walking with him, the idea of not following never crossing his mind. “At a wedding? With your skill? Seems a little beneath you, Matthew. You might as well tailgate at the political conventions with the rest of the newbies.”

 

“Well,” Matthew said, not letting himself get rankled, “the woman in question was the bride.”

 

A slow exhalation of breath through Epp’s nose was all Mat-thew got, but he knew enough to know that this was as close to laughter as he was likely to get. “I suppose that does contain a certain amount of flair worthy of you, Matthew.”

 

“Yeah?” Matthew said, a touch of haughtiness in his voice. “The guy involved was the priest.”

 

A smile spread across Epp’s dark features and as his eyes softened Matthew knew that he had redeemed himself. “You know, it’s been twenty-two years,” Matthew said, “you think it might be time for you to give me a little credit?”

 

The smile disappeared from Epp’s face. “Not a chance.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Matthew said, “so why’d you text me?”

 

“Come,” Epp said, and Matthew followed him off the path into a patch of lawn, more trees popping up between them and the views of the city. Not much farther in, at a secluded area, they came upon a frozen couple. The woman was in the process of saying something with strong emotion to the man. The man was stuck with a panicked look on his face, his body lurching forward as if he was trying to break into a run. There was a large knife in his hands. Matthew bent down and examined the knife, saw the red sheen covering it, the blood frozen in the air spraying off the blade, could imagine the man’s arm moving fast, the knife whipping around as he panicked. Matthew straightened up. The man was running…he turned…he saw a form lying on the grass not far away and gathered easily enough that this was the victim. Matthew turned back to Epp. “I’m still not used to murders.”

 

“I don’t know that we ever get used to them.” Epp was looking down at a clipboard.

 

“Still though,” Matthew walked over to him, “I don’t get it.”

 

Epp looked up from his clipboard. “It’s an insurance thing.” He pointed to the couple, “These two need a body. Don’t worry about that, it gets complicated.”

 

“But,” Matthew was looking around at the coverage, more trees than you’d normally get in Manhattan, that was for certain, but it was still awfully thin, “I mean, it’s 2007, who the hell dies in Central Park anymore? And what time is it, actually?” He squinted, trying to read the frozen light level. “It barely looks like the sun has set.”

 

Epp flipped a page, studying something, flipped another page. “We are here to test their spirits, Matthew. Their intelligence is out of our hands.”

 

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Happy Reading,

Jaidis