Melissa Marr writes fiction for adults, teens, and children. Her books have been translated into 30 languages and been bestsellers in the US (NY Times, LA Times, USA Today, Wall Street Journal) as well as overseas. Wicked Lovely, her debut novel, was an instant New York Times bestseller and internationally bestselling series with a myriad of accolades. Her current releases include Remedial Magic (Bramble), a witchy lesbian fantasy-romance, and the 2024 graphic novel The Strange Case of Harleen and Harley (D.C. Comics). If she's not writing, you can find her in a kayak or on a trail with her wife.

The Wicked and the Dead by Melissa Marr

Enter a new faery world written by the author of the internationally bestselling Wicked Lovely series...for readers of Patricia Briggs, Chloe Neill, and Jeaniene Frost.

Half witch, half killer, wholly unprepared for a Faery Bargain...Geneviève Crowe makes her living beheading the dead in near-future New Orleans.

But now, her magic's gone sideways, and the only person strong enough to help her is the one man who could tempt her to think about picket fences: Eli Stonecroft, a faery bar-owner in New Orleans.

When human businessmen start turning up as draugr, both the queen of the again-walkers and the wealthy son of one of the victims hire Geneviève to figure it out. Neither her heart nor her life are safe now that she's juggling a faery, murder, and magic.

 

REVIEWS

  • "Bestseller Marr (the Wicked Lovely series) gives urban fantasy and paranormal romance readers a treat with her entertaining Faery Bargains series launch... Marr ensconces beloved genre tropes in refreshing worldbuilding, offering a sly, never self-serious take on faery bargains and the walking dead.... Readers will be hooked."

    – Publishers Weekly

  • "I loved The Wicked and The Dead A sassy, ass-kicking heroine, a deliciously mysterious fae hero, and a wonderful mix of action and romance. Add that to Melissa's usual great world-building, and I'm already looking forward to book 2"

    – Jeaniene Frost, NYT Bestselling Author

  • "I absolutely loved this novel....I especially loved the tension between Gen and Eli—sometimes she wants to kill him and others, she has to do everything in her power not to fall helplessly into his arms... Melissa Marr does a brilliant job of weaving obscure folklore into a modern story."

    – Staff Pick, Lafourche Public Library (Lafourche, Louisiana)
 

BOOK PREVIEW

Excerpt

The soft tinkle of the grave bell was quickly becoming obnoxious as the deceased cracked the lock on their vault.

I circled the fence, looking for the best entry point. I wanted to avoid spending too much time walking through the graves, since the last thing I needed was an army of dead bodies animated to do my bidding.

"Here," I told Eli as I admitted to myself that the only way in was over.

After a quick boost from Eli, I hoisted myself up by grabbing the wrought iron just under the sharp points on top of the fence.

Eli, despite the metal being poisonous to him, practically vaulted over the fence. I had a leg over, and he was on the ground grinning. He reached up and grabbed my legs, so I slid into his arms.

Eli lowered me to the ground and stepped away. "I hear it."

My sword was in hand before I could think, and Eli had moved away from the toxic metal as I raised it.

He gave me a strange look when I didn't send a pulse of magic to find the again-walker I sought, but my magic had been like a malformed pipe these days. Sometimes, I tried for a trickle and ended up with a flood. Sometimes, I tried for a stream and received a few droplets. Better to use my regular sight.

I could hear the bells that were tied to the draugr, but I wasn't keen on standing still and waiting. Despite the romanticized attitudes of some people, draugr were not the vampires of popular fiction. They were creatures out of mostly forgotten Icelandic folklore.

I motioned to Eli, who followed with the sort of stealth that made me think of tigers or panthers.

We rounded a corner, and there, between a grave topped with a lamb and one with a weeping angel of death, was a draugr. The late Mr. Chaddock looked like his photograph, seventies and well-dressed, but he was still coated in soil and concrete dust from the vault he had shattered to escape. Logic wasn't present yet, and the newly perverted were hungry for any life they could drink. In time, he'd be genuinely sentient. Right now, he was a newborn who knew only hunger.

He lunged, moving with the serpentine flow that typically only came with age and experience. He was one place and then the next, faster than a newly arisen draugr had ever been. Something was wrong here. He was too fast for the newly risen.

I tugged on the magic inside my bones, as if it was a tangible thing that nestled in my marrow when unused.

To bind.

To hold.

Barely visible tendrils twisted around Chaddock's feet, holding him to the soil even as he tugged to tear free.

I whispered a prayer as I lifted my sword, and then added, "I am sorry for your loss."

Perhaps my prayers and words eased no one's pain but my own, but I still needed to offer them.

My first swing missed because somehow Chaddock was able to break free and flow. He should not be able to do that. He ought to be lumbering.

I heard Eli's muttered curse, as he shoved me out of Chaddock's suddenly-too-close reach.

Fear for Eli and for myself made me foolish. I flowed, too, and my magic flared into tendrils that would make Jack's fabled beanstalk look puny.

Then, I swung my sword again. My blade glanced off Chaddock's upper arm. I let more magic fill me, calm me, strengthen me. I hadn't ever needed it for the recently dead before now. I should not have needed it with Alvin Chaddock, but I did.

Inhale. Anticipate. Swing.

Finally, my blade slid through flesh.

"Dust to dust," I whispered in relief as I severed the head of the late businessman from his torso.

The head landed with a meaty sound, and the late Alvin Chaddock stared at my boot through once-more lifeless eyes.