Part of Series
ABOUT THIS EPISODE The Golden Ratio killer resurfaces in California to target a former victim, and this time the case takes Malcolm and Seong-Jae hunting deep into his past, searching for connections between victim and killer that may reveal his identity. But with the killer one step ahead of them, toying with them, leaving false trails at every turn, it's like playing Russian Roulette—and if they guess the wrong suspect out of a potential five, one misstep could leave many more dead. With Malcolm and Seong-Jae's domestic life—and sex life—up in the air they're off their game, off the mark, and already starting to crack. But they aren't the only ones, as back in Baltimore Huang kicks a new plan into motion and Anjulie finds herself under unwanted scrutiny. Everyone's lives are falling apart. And if they can't get their sh*t together, more than their relationships may crash and burn. ABOUT SEASON TWO Malcolm Khalaji and Seong-Jae Yoon are back on the case—and partnering with the FBI on a horrific serial murder case that will test Malcolm's faith and revive the darkest parts of Seong-Jae's past. With an enigmatic killer leading them on a wild goose chase through city after city and body after body, both Mal and Seong-Jae will find themselves pushed to their limits as they discover the worst of what humanity can do. Even two minds against one may not be enough as they track the devious Golden Ratio Killer, and try to find the key to his pattern. But the trail of breadcrumbs left by the white rabbit will lead them suspiciously close to home, and a connection they never could have predicted. With their worlds exploding around them and everyone they know suddenly cast into doubt... Can their partnership—and their love—survive the greatest trial of their lives?
Author
Slender. Angry. (Part) Asian. Yeah, that about sums me up. Hi. I’m Cole. Xen. Whatever you want to call me; both are true, and both are lies. My pen names are multitudes, my nicknames legion. Tall, bi/queer, introverted author of a brown-ish persuasion made up of various flavors of Black, Asian, and Native American. I’m cuter than Hello Kitty, more bitter than the blackest coffee, and able to trip over cats in a single half-asleep lurch; I’m what happens when a Broody Antihero and a Manic Pixie Dream Boy fight to the death, and someone builds a person from the scraps left behind. Beardless, I look like the uke in every yaoi manga in existence; bearded or not, I sound like Barry White. About half my time is spent as a corporate writer, and the other half riding a train of WTFery that sometimes results in a finished book. Romance, erotica, sci-fi, horror, paranormal; LGBTQIA and cishet; diverse settings and diverse characters from a diverse author. Sometimes I shout about things on the internet. Usually intersectional feminism and marginalized voices, and whomever’s punching down in those directions today. Sometimes human sociology, the psychology of sex and gender, and my own gender non-conforming arse (he/him, by the way). Sometimes I get really mad at Stephen Hawking and nerd out all over the place about hairy black holes, and believe it or not, that’s not a terrible pun or even worse innuendo. That’s it. I’m a huge dork. My humor’s so dry it could empty oceans. I’m a native Southerner from the New Orleans area with zero Southern accent; I’m a mess of multi-ethnic, multi-cultural, multi-lingual influences; I have two cats. I wake up at daft hours of the morning to go running. I crochet terrible, lumpy things that never really turn into anything. I’m older than you think I look. I’m much more shy than my fury makes me sound (signifying gods only know what, but probably nothing). Recently I decided, at 36, that I needed to restart my life and move cross-country, so I tossed 75% of my possessions in the trash and randomly trucked it to Seattle. I’m in love with books and music and technology, and they war with each other for dominance and sometimes come together in a beautiful confluence. Most of the physical books I own are strange, obscure, out of print, overseas imports, or any combination of the four. Most of the physical books I used to own were destroyed in Hurricane Katrina, and have been replaced with the infinite library on my Nook. My wallet has a dangerous attraction to anything with pages; it flirts and teases and gives its all, until there’s nothing left but emptiness and ruin. There will always be things you don’t know, and I won’t tell. But ask me late at night over live music in a seedy bar, and you might just get an honest answer. ...or you can poke me via: * Email: blackmagic@blackmagicblues.com * Twitter: @thisblackmagic * Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/xen.cole * Website & Blog: http://www.blackmagicblues.com * Tumblr: http://thisblackmagic.tumblr.com/ And there's my Xen Sanders SFF / Horror profile: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show...
