{"product_id":"deja-who-isbn-9780425270394","title":"Deja Who","description":"\u003cb\u003eFrom the author of the \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling Undead novels comes a delightfully addictive new series about past lives and bad habits—and one woman paranormally predisposed to getting at the bottom of both. It’s her job.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003eYou couldn’t arrest for murder someone who had killed in his last life. You couldn’t bring a civil suit against such people, either. They could only be legally penalized for what they did this time around—and what a dark circus the legal system had been before that legislation passed! (It was still a dark circus, but perhaps not as dark.)  But you could spot them, and watch them. You could set traps for them.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Leah Nazir is an Insighter. Reincarnation is her business. But while her clients’ pasts are a mess, Leah’s is nothing short of tragedy. She’s been murdered. A lot. If left to that bitch, destiny, it’ll happen again. Leah wants to know who’s been following her through time, and who’s been stalking her in the present...\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e P.I. Archer Drake has been hired by Leah’s mother to keep an eye on her. But the more time he spends watching, the more he finds himself infatuated. Before long, he even finds himself agreeing to help find the person who wants her dead. Over and over again.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Now going full-on “rewind,” Leah hopes it can stave off the inevitable. After all, she’s grown fond of this life—and even fonder of nerdy Archer. But changing her pattern means finding out who her killer is today. And as Leah fears, that could be anyone she has come to know and trust. Anyone.\u003cb\u003ePraise for MaryJanice Davidson\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Delightful, wicked fun!”—Christine Feehan, #1 \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “No one does humorous romantic fantasy better.”—The Best Reviews\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “[Her] adventures are laugh-out-loud entertainment.”—Fresh Fiction\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “[Her] prose zings from wisecrack to wisecrack.”—\u003ci\u003eDetroit Free Press\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Sexy, steamy, and laugh-out-loud funny.”—\u003ci\u003eBooklist\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003eMaryJanice Davidson \u003c\/b\u003eis the \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of several books, most recently \u003ci\u003eUndead and Unforgiven\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eUndead and Unwary\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eUndead and Unsure\u003c\/i\u003e, and \u003ci\u003eUndead and Unstable\u003c\/i\u003e. With her husband, Anthony Alongi, she also writes a series featuring a teen weredragon named Jennifer Scales. MaryJanice lives in Minneapolis with her husband and two children and is currently working on her next bookONE\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Clinic notes: Alice Delaney, Chart #6116\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Date: 9\/17\/2017\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e INS: Leah Nazir, ID# 29682\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Cc: Dr. Riario, CF; Maura Hickman INS ID# 30199\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Patient is a well-nourished Caucasian female who presents with        anxiety, loss of appetite, fatigue, and night terrors.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"When are we going to figure out what's wrong? This is our fifth        session,\" #6116 complained.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"It will be fine,\" Leah assured her. Like Liz Lemon, if she        rolled her eyes many more times, she risked her optic nerves        cramping. \"We're getting close. We're not filling a cavity; it's        not a one-trip fix. Now take a long deep breath.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Okay, but I don't-\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Less talking. More breathing.\" She kept a smile on her face,        which wasn't easy.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Symptoms began thirteen days ago.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Yes indeed, because putting up with unpleasantness for even two        weeks is asking too much. Ugh.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Referred by her GP Gary Riario. DOB 8\/1\/1993.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Gary, Gary. Not a fan of Insighters, unless he needed to refer.        Then he was all Insighters, all the time. What secrets from        sticky past lives are you hiding, Gary? \"Feeling all right? Nod,        don't speak.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Chart #6116 nodded, eyes closed.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Meds bothering you?\" The hypnotic analgesic, applied five        minutes before the session began, sometimes triggered nausea.        And catastrophic brain injury. But that almost never happened        with the new protocols in place. Acceptable risk.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Chart #6116 shook her head. Oh, well. There was always the        chance she might throw up later. Dare to dream!\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I used to be nice. Didn't I? It was hard to remember. Once upon        a time, she liked her patients. Tried to like them, at least.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She bent forward so she was almost looming over #6116 and        adjusted the IV. Chart #6116 was lying snugly on the green        padded couch, so plush a patient didn't sink into it but was        swallowed by the greedy sofa. A necessary evil, as the couch had        built-in sensors that continually monitored blood pressure,        heart rate, temperature. It was always good to have advance        notice if a patient was about to stroke out. Being devoured by a        couch did not go over well with her claustrophobes; she kept a        cot for them, and monitored their vitals the old-fashioned way.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The diplomas and certificates on the wall behind her trumpeted        her expertise via large font and dark dramatic lettering: \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e anesthesiology (The American Board of Anesthesiology hereby        certifies that Leah Nazir, a licensed graduate of etc., etc.),        library science (By virtue of the authority vested the trustees        have conferred upon Leah Nazir etc., etc.), competitive reading        (Leah Nazir earned this award for participation and completion        of the fifth-grade reading club), and Insighting (Leah Nazir:        Certified Insider, ID #29682).\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The last one, she knew, either impressed or horrified people.        The first one just impressed them. They were indifferent about        her library science and fifth-grade reading awards. Maybe it was        time to go back to school, get a doctorate in . . . God,        anything that sounded like it could be good for a few laughs.        Criminal psych. Cannabis cultivation. Fermentation sciences.        Auctioneering. Gunsmithing?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Who are you?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"My name is Alice Delaney.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Why?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Why? It's . . . it's my name. Is why.\" Chart #6116's expression        = pay attention, dumbass.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Chart #6116 was not yet down deep enough. She could only see        herself, which was a large part of her problem. Problems.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Who are you to talk, sunshine? You see yourself and all your        past mistakes and has it made you happy or well-adjusted or        pleasant to be around?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Ah . . . no.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Leah double-checked the feed and hummed. She did this more or        less unconsciously; she scarcely heard it anymore, though        colleagues occasionally teased her about it. It had a tendency        to soothe her patients. And herself, of course. If she didn't        hum, she might stab.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Who are you?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Alice . . . hmmmm . . . mmmm . . . my name . . . my name is . .        .\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Who are you?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"My name is James Clark McReynolds.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Excellent. Leah crimped the tube. Past memories would come        easier now; Rain Down (generic name: reindyne, courtesy of the        good people at Pfizer, discovered by accident in 1987 when        Pfizer was trying to develop a heart medicine\/diet aid) was        invaluable for that, possibly more invaluable than Leah or any        of her colleagues. But if she kept the IV running wide open,        Alice\/James\/etc. would fall so far down the rabbit hole they'd        never make it back.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"My name is James Clark McReynolds.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"There you go.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"What?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Nothing, Judge McReynolds.\" Leah flipped through the chart. DOB        February 3, 1862. DOD August 24, 1946. Aquarius, a masculine        sign. A fixed sign, with keywords like \"stubborn,\" \"sarcastic,\"        \"rebellious.\" American lawyer and, later, judge. Possibly the        most vile wretch to ever sit on a Supreme Court bench.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Even by the standards of the time, Judge McReynolds was a        gold-plated jerkass, foisted on the unwary by President Taft,        and what the hell had el presidente been thinking? Thanks to        history's long memory, and her job, Leah knew exactly: Taft was        thinking what he was saying, and what he was saying was        McReynolds had been \"someone who seems to delight in making        others uncomfortable.\" Wasn't that a terrific quality for any        judge to have? Why, it ought to be a mandate! Oh, and lest he        hadn't been clear, Taft also described McReynolds as \"selfish to        the last degree . . . fuller of prejudice than any man I have        ever known . . . he has no sense of duty.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e So naturally, the politicians of the time were in full        agreement: Hire that man! And keep promoting him. Eventually        promote him just to get rid of him. Promote him again. And        again. Eventually give him a lifetime appointment to the highest        court in the land. Because in politics, shit flows uphill.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Leah was not surprised to find she was not surprised. Her        research-hours and hours looking up birth and death        certificates, hours on the online juggernaut that was the        Insighter database-helped her figure out who Alice was, and who        Alice had been. Chart #6116 was leaking McReynolds all over the        place. And that wasn't even the bad news. She had the same        thought about almost every patient: if only they'd come to see        me sooner. Before she did things she can never undo.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Well. She\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e (they)\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e were here now. Leah would help as best she could. Of course, her        idea of help and her patient's idea of help were likely        different.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \". . . the only way you can get on the Supreme Court these days        is to be either the son of a criminal or a Jew, or both!\" #6116        was ranting in a shrill old man's voice.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Be glad you didn't live to see the twenty-first century,        McReynolds. African-Americans in Congress, the House, the White        House, and the Supreme Court. Jews roam freely, secure in the        absurd notion that religion doesn't have to dictate career        paths. Lesbians brazenly being lesbians. Homosexual couples        marrying! And then adopting! Legally!\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She swallowed her snicker. \"Further, Judge McReynolds.\" Leah        checked the IV crimp. \"Go back further. There's all kinds of        stuff in there. You have to dig for it.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Her voice changed at once; no hesitation, Rain Down was working        nicely and #6116 was deep in EffRe (Effortless Recall). #6116        went from a self-confident young woman to a shrill old man to .        . . \"My name is Westley Allan Dodd.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e There you go. I cannot tell you how much meeting a serial killer        before lunch brightens my Wednesdays.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Mm-hmm. Tell me all about yourself, Mr. Dodd. This is your        chance to be heard.\" The thing they all needed. The thing they        would kill to get. If she were nicer, she would be sympathetic.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She wasn't nicer.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Leah skipped past the McReynolds section of the chart. Westley        Allan Dodd. DOB July 3, 1961, DOD January 5, 1993. Cancer. An        astrological sign of contradictions, as keywords were \"loyalty,\"        \"oversensitivity,\" \"caring,\" \"self-pitying,\" \"dependable,\"        \"self-absorbed.\" Convicted serial killer and child molester. His        execution was the first legal hanging, at his own request, since        1965.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The manner of his death was the least unique thing about him. He        also claimed a stress-free, happy childhood of wealth and        leisure and his first victims were his cousins, because all        ordinary children with happy lives molested their cousins and        then went on to rape, torture, and kill other children. \"Dear        Mom and Dad, happy eighteenth birthday to me. Thanks so much for        a carefree childhood and instilling appropriate values in me and        protecting me from all trauma, but now I'm going to be a        sociopath, for funzies. Thanks again!\" wrote no well-adjusted        teenager ever.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Dodd's first victims: cousins. All victims: below the age of        twelve. Number of victims: over fifty. Attitude toward children        in ten words or less: \"I'm only nice to the ones I want sex        from.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \". . . told them, I said if I escaped I'd immediately go back to        killing and raping kids-\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"They should have taken you at your word, Mr. Dodd. Further now.        What is your name?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"My name is Nathaniel Gordon.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"You bet it is.\" DOB 1834; historical records do not recount        exact DOB. But they sure as hell paid attention to his death:        May 8, 1862. Nat Gordon, the last pirate ever hanged, and the        only slave trader ever tried, convicted, and executed for        stealing one thousand slaves. \"Real\" piracy was punishable by        death, but it was hardly ever enforced when the plunder was        merely people with dark skin. The paperwork alone hardly made it        worth it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Of the one thousand slaves Gordon stole, 172 were men and 162        were women. According to John Spears, author of The Slave Trade        in America, \"Gordon was one of those infamous characters who        preferred to carry children because they could not rise up to        avenge his cruelties.\" Nice.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Hilariously (to Leah, at least; she knew her job had turned her        into a jerk extraordinaire and that people were right to avoid        her at parties), Gordon tried to kill himself the night before        his execution. The local authorities found that annoying,        especially since it meant postponing Gordon's execution from        noon to 2:30 so the guy could recover enough to be murdered by        the state. Leah wondered just how that went down: \"He was        definitely too sick at noon, but now that it's 2:30 he hasn't        barfed in over an hour and can walk under his own power.\"        \"Great! Let's go kill him. Good news, Mr. Gordon, you're well        enough to execute.\" Or, as Leah preferred to think of it, the        classic \"well, sir, we have good news and bad news\" scenario.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He left behind a mother, wife, and son, but Judge Shipman (a man        who almost a century earlier was a hundred times the \"justice\"        McReynolds was) commented on Gordon's real legacy: \"Think of the        cruelty and wickedness of seizing nearly a thousand fellow        beings, who never did you harm, and thrusting them beneath the        decks of a small ship, beneath a burning tropical sun, to die in        of disease or suffocation, or be transported to distant lands,        and be consigned, they and their posterity, to a fate far more        cruel than death.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \". . . family to support,\" Gordon was whining from the plush        couch. \"How can it be a hanging crime to move property?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e So! A pirate, a serial killer, and the worst bigot the Supreme        Court had ever seen. And Leah was trapped in a room with all of        them. All right, \"trapped\" was inaccurate, since she had        obtained patient consent, drugged #6116, and called all her        shadows forward.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Wednesdays!\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e TWO\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"So what was it?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Wrong question,\" she told Chart #6116. \"'Who was it?' would be        more accurate.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Chart #6116 rolled her eyes. \"I never bought into that past        lives crap. It's just one more thing to blame your problems on.        I mean-I believe it,\" she added when Leah raised her eyebrows.        \"I'm not one of those weirdos who say there's no such thing as        past lives, that we're just here for one lifetime and then go to        heaven or hell or wherever.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Ah, the afterlife. You don't have to learn anything in your        single solitary lifetime, and then you can live in the sky        forever after! Unless you live in a lake of fire beneath the        earth forever after. Well, there were stranger theories. Tabula        rasa, for one. The goal of goals, an ideal so unlikely as to be        mostly unattainable.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e What would it be like, born with a clean slate? Nothing to make        up for? Nothing to relive or regret? It was such an amazing        concept Leah couldn't grasp it. Like trying to explain the        science of reproduction to a preschooler: \"He does what? And        then what happens?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"It does seem to defeat the purpose of living,\" Leah put forth        with care, shaking off the daydream. \"No point in trying to        learn from your mistakes since this is your only chance to get        it right . . . it calls a lot into question.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Exactly. I'm not a Denier. But I'm in control of this life.        Whoever I was before, they had their time. Now it's my turn.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"That mind-set can work,\" Leah said carefully, \"sometimes.\" It        depended on who the person used to be. And what that person used        to do. If in her past lives #6116 was, say, a humanitarian who        mentored needy children in her spare time, then sure. Except . .        . \"About seventy percent of the populace can remember some or        all of their past lives. But it's fragmented, they get flashes.        Or they remember it all but they don't feel it.\" One of her        patients had explained it as being akin to watching a movie. You        might care about the characters on the screen, but no matter how        the events unfold, it doesn't affect the viewer on a personal        level. \"Or, in your case-\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e #6116 shuddered. \"Nightmares. But they never bothered me        before.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e You weren't escalating before. \"Sometimes a traumatic event will        change how a person perceives their past lives.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Why are you talking like you're narrating a documentary? I know        all this.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Leah ignored the bluster. It was barely possible the woman would        hear what she was really trying to say. \"I've had patients who        didn't have any sense of who they used to be, but then a loved        one dies, or they survive a violent trauma-assault, rape-and        suddenly they're flooded with images of who they used to be.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Then there were the others, the last group, the smallest        percentage. About 5 percent of the population not only remember        their past lives perfectly, and feel them on an emotional level,        they are able to help others access their past selves. And to        this day, scientists were still arguing about why.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Once upon a time, Insighters were routinely burned alive,        thought to be in league with Satan. These days, nobody burned        and Insighters were only in league with whatever HMO covered        their patient. The meds helped, too, of course.","brand":"Berkley","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46301178560741,"sku":"NP9780425270394","price":15.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780425270394.jpg?v=1767724968","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/deja-who-isbn-9780425270394","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}