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Sherlock Holmes and Miss James “Mori” Moriarty may have closed their first case, but the mystery is far from over in the thrilling sequel to Lock & Mori, perfect for fans of Maureen Johnson and Sherlock.
You know their names. Now discover their beginnings.
Mori’s abusive father is behind bars…and she has never felt less safe. Threatening letters have started appearing on her doorstep, and the police are receiving anonymous tips suggesting that Mori—not her father—is the Regent’s Park killer. To make matters worse, the police are beginning to believe them.
Through it all, Lock—frustrating, brilliant, gorgeous Lock—is by her side. The two of them set out to discover who is framing Mori, but in a city full of suspects, the task is easier said than done. With the clock ticking, Mori will discover just how far she is willing to go to make sure that justice is served, and no one—not even Lock—will be able to stop her.
- Sales Rank: #469374 in Books
- Published on: 2016-12-06
- Released on: 2016-12-06
- Original language: English
- Number of items: 1
- Dimensions: 8.25" h x 1.20" w x 5.50" l, .0 pounds
- Binding: Hardcover
- 304 pages
Review
"[A] splendidly resourceful heroine,...Mori keeps her own wise counsel and solves the many puzzles around her." (Kirkus Reviews)
"This sequel builds�on the suspense of the first [book], digging deeper into Mori’s dark side and her descent�into desperation. The cliff-hanger ending will certainly snag readers for the forthcoming�final installment." (Booklist)
"The tension between Mori and Lock is well written and engaging." (VOYA)
About the Author
Heather Petty has been obsessed with mysteries since she was twelve, which is when she decided that stories about murders in London drawing rooms and English seaside villages were far superior to all other stories. She is the author of the Lock & Mori series. She lives in Reno, Nevada, with her husband, daughter, and four hopelessly devious cats. You can visit her online at HeatherWPetty.com.
Excerpt. � Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Mind Games Chapter 1
I stared down an overconfident Sherlock Holmes, begging him to so much as twitch. He held his weapon in one hand high over his head, the shaft end pointed at the floor between us.
“Ready?” he asked.
I tilted my chin up in a half nod and made a noncommittal noise. “Mhm.”
I held my weapon up as well, one hand at each end, just high enough to glare at him from under it. The perfect height to shield the overhead blow that had been his opening gambit all afternoon. He was sweaty, and his cheeks were rosy, partially from his efforts, but mostly out of pure joy.
“Don’t forget you’re trying to keep me off balance. Use my strength to bolster yours.” He offered me perhaps the most arrogant smile he was capable of delivering and added, “Not that you’ll get the opportunity.”
He was the happiest I’d seen him in weeks, which probably should’ve concerned me a bit. Was it normal that he seemed to enjoy nothing more than our attacking each other with sticks? Not that I expected much normality from Sherlock Holmes. But when we’d sneaked out of school before my last class, I hadn’t expected him to bring me to a sparring gym.
He’d caught me clumsily practicing my aikido katas in my attic space the week prior and decided that I needed to learn Bartitsu, which he claimed was “the ultimate self-defense art.” Evidently, Lock liked to use the word “ultimate” when what he really meant was “antiquated.”
True to form, Lock swished his cane in a semicircle through the air above his head and then sliced down toward me with as much power as he could. I released the crook end of my cane just before the crack of the canes’ collision echoed through the room. He actually grinned at the sound, the arrogant ass, watching the released end fall down toward the ground, thinking he’d already won. His amusement faded quickly, however, when he realized what was about to happen next.
I used the power of his hit to boost mine as I flipped the cane around, smashing it against his hand so that he dropped his weapon with a satisfying grimace of pain. I kicked my foot out as the cane clattered against the floor, sliding his weapon out of reach, then brought the crook of my cane up under his chin, pushing just high enough to make him uncomfortable.
“You’re a quick study,” he said, shaking out his hand. His grin had returned, perhaps in response to my own, perhaps in a vain attempt to seem unaffected by the awkward angle of his neck. I pushed my cane slightly higher, forcing him up on his toes.
“You’re predictable.” I twirled my cane down and used the crook to snag his knee, but I must have moved too slowly. He somehow kept his balance as he hopped toward me. I tried to spin away, but he grasped both of my shoulders, so that my efforts only knocked us off balance, sending us both down into a heap on the practice mats. I should have gotten the worst of it, as he fell on top, but at the last minute, he wrapped his arms around my head to keep me from concussion. Always the gentleman, my Lock—right up until he started shaking with laughter instead of rolling off me apologetically.
I allowed his fun to last exactly ten seconds before I warned, “The very minute you release me, I will kill you.”
“That doesn’t seem like incentive to move.” He pushed up onto his elbows and smiled down at me, so that his cheeks bunched up under his eyes. “Want to go again?”
I focused on his smile rather than the weight of him on me, which set off blaring alarms in my brain. Memories threatened to surface despite my focus, memories of a night two weeks prior, of my father, of me not being able to move, of his cruel eyes staring down. His warm blood on my cheek.
“Must we?” I blurted out with a little too much force. I recovered with a wink.
I saw something like concern flash in Lock’s eyes, but obviously not enough to make him move. Or maybe he was testing me again. We hadn’t spoken about that night or my father—not since it happened. My choice. He said he’d never ask, that he’d wait until I brought it up, if I brought it up. Still, every now and then, it felt like he was deliberately prodding at my brain to see what might spill out.
But I hadn’t only trained to fight with sticks since the night my father almost killed me. I’d sneaked into the back of the gym on the weekend in the middle of a self-defense class—just to observe, or at least that had been my intention. But when the woman running the training saw the bruises on my face, she’d talked me into staying after class. She’d run scenarios with me until after midnight, one of which was almost exactly like my current Sherlock predicament.
I knew how to get out from under him. I wasn’t truly stuck.
Still, none of that removed the alarm, the cold turn of my sweat, or the rising feeling that I should lash out at Lock until he let me go—all symptoms of the victimized. I didn’t have time to dwell on that, however, because Sherlock looked as though he was about to speak, and if he asked me if I was okay one more time, I was definitely going to turn violent.
I rushed to speak first but kept my voice soft. “You like this Bartitsu stuff a little too much.”
I thought he might still ask the question left unsaid, but he seemed to check himself before offering a simple, “I do.”
“Because it’s ancient?” I know how to get out of this, I repeated to myself, though it was needless. The panic had mostly subsided.
“Because it’s surprising.” He ran his finger down my temple, pushing sweat-plastered hair off my skin and back behind my ear. His expression changed while he did it, and I tried very hard not to let my lips twitch into a grin at how easily he was distracted by me.
“Off.” I pushed against his chest, and still he didn’t move.
“I would, but I don’t want to die.”
“Die quick or die bloody.” I bent one of my legs to rest my knee at his hip and playfully tilted my head to the side to mask the shift of my body in that direction. “It’s up to you.”
His finger traced down my jaw to my chin. “How long do I have to decide?”
I smiled to hide the sudden uptick in my breathing. “Ten seconds. Starting now.”
At ten, I pushed off with my foot just like I’d trained and twisted my body until I could get my feet under his chest to replace my hands. His eyes went wide just before I kicked out, easily tossing him aside. There was no one there to shield his head, though. I might have felt remorse over the hard thudding sound it made against the practice mat, but it wasn’t like I hadn’t warned him.
He held the side of his head as he sat up. “Not quite bloody. I suppose I should show gratitude for your mercy.”
“The very definition of magnanimous, really.” I held out my hand in a peace offering, and he stood so easily that I unintentionally pulled him too close. I had to tilt my head back to see his face, and before I could do more than note his amusement, he leaned closer still. Soon, his lips hovered not more than six inches from mine. I cleared my throat and added, “How will you ever show your thanks?”
“I’m going to make it up to you.”
“With a groveling apology and gifts?”
He seemed amused, but resigned to my suggestion. “Evidently, but first�.�.�.”
I knew he was going to kiss me. He’d been looking for an opportunity since the last of the other sparring couples had left the practice room, leaving us alone with our canes. I also knew how I would respond, and I felt heartache scrub away every happiness I’d felt while being with him that day.
I stepped back. “First what?”
He smiled, moving in sync with me. “You have exactly two more steps before you run out of space to ask stupid questions.”
I stepped back again. “Don’t you think kneeling and begging for forgiveness should come before anything else?”
He didn’t answer and didn’t look anywhere but at my lips, which I pursed subconsciously. I then somehow managed to affect a bored expression as I took my final step away from Sherlock that, as predicted, would be my last. My back hit the wall and my mind scrambled for something to say—anything that might distract him away from what he was about to do. A question. I still had one more question.
He didn’t let me ask it, however. He braced himself against the wall, laying one hand and forearm flat against the concrete by my head. His other arm looped around my waist, pulling me into him. When his lips were almost to mine, my heart sank even further, despite the tease in my voice when I said, “That’s not begging.”
“It’s a form of begging.”
He was right. The way he paused before he kissed me, the pleading look in his eyes for this to be the day that I forgave him—for this kiss to be the one that turned everything back to normal. Lock was begging. And it should have worked. Even without our lips touching, just the closeness of him set my heart fluttering, changed my breathing. He affected me, my Lock, in a way he shouldn’t have been able. Not anymore.
Because it was all so temporary.
That was the reminder I gave myself when I turned my face away so that his lips brushed my cheek. “Temporary.” The word that I’d kept with me whenever I was with Lock. Ever since the night two weeks ago when Lock had brought the police to my house to save me from my father, I knew we were on our way to being done. We were on separate paths, parallel for now, but still separate, our arms stretched across the gap to keep us connected. But the gap was still there, widening every day that I saw the innocent glint in Sherlock’s eyes and felt the black ash of rage staining mine.
I have rescued you, he seemed to say with his every look.
You have only prolonged the inevitable, I countered with mine. Sherlock had stopped my father from killing me. He obviously wasn’t sorry for doing that. But he’d made the call to send police my way, not even knowing if I needed rescue. He’d done it because he didn’t trust me. He didn’t care what would be best for my life or for my brothers’. He just didn’t want me to change. That’s what he’d said. He’d kept me from killing my father in some vain attempt at preserving what little innocence I still possessed.
And it might have worked. Those first hours after my father’s arrest were filled with so many details to recount, detectives to placate, and reporters to dodge, I’d almost forgotten the cold, dark creature I’d become that night. I’d distracted myself with practicalities and left what had happened in a mental drawer to deal with in some distant future, when my world wasn’t falling apart.
But I’d had to relive that night over and over in the past two weeks, making statements to this officer and that, my story checked and double-checked before the police would even consider keeping him away from us. My father locked up wasn’t the freedom Sherlock had thought it would be. Even though the police had finally hidden him away from me, my father was always with me in my memory, filtering into my day-to-day thoughts in unexpected ways.
That day in the sparring gym with Lock wasn’t the first time a memory had exploded from the drawer and taken my composure with it. It wasn’t the first time my anger had crawled back, waiting in the shadows to remind me that I couldn’t trust Sherlock Holmes anymore. That he’d never trusted me in the first place. That he’d betrayed me when he could have helped, leaving my father lingering out there like a blinking red warning light in the distance—a promise of trouble to come.
But even with all the anger and memory pounding in my head, even though I turned away from his kiss, I couldn’t push Sherlock away. I won’t let my father take anything else away from me. That’s how I rationalized it, but I knew better. Things weren’t right between us. They might never be right. But he was still my Lock and I still wanted him. It wasn’t fair of me, but I did.
So when Sherlock’s head bent and I felt his heavy sigh against my neck, I lifted a hand to cup his cheek. It wouldn’t quell his frustration, but maybe, if I could focus only on today, if I could forget his betrayal and my father’s violence, maybe then I could keep Lock by my side—before I fell to pieces, locked away my emotions for good, or did something that would guarantee he’d leave me forever. I pressed my cheek to his and held him close. Temporary, I knew. I just wasn’t ready to let go yet.
Most helpful customer reviews
0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
Two Weeks Later...
By PocketSable
Mind Games starts only two weeks after the events of the last book. James "Mori" Moriarty finds herself in a bit of a mess as her family is constantly the target of a media smear campaign, a police department who seems to have a grudge against her as well as anonymous threatening letters that appear at her doorstep. Sherlock Holmes has constantly tried to be by her side and get back into her good graces, much to her annoyance. However, the two will have to find a way to work together if Mori wants to stop her father from being released from Prison as well as find a new killer who's only goal seems to be to frame Mori for her father's crimes.
This second book has the same great characters as the first, the same tone as the first (surprisingly just as dark) and does have a rather interesting, albeit somewhat predictable, mystery. The book, however, does tend to meander a bit. It focuses a lot on the relationship between Mori and Sherlock quite a bit more. Which, while interesting and more established than the first book, can be a little grating by the seventh time that Mori mentions she can't be with Sherlock while still being with Sherlock. The book also suffers with dragging out the mystery until the very end of the book, leading to most of the book simply forgetting it exists until someone brings it up again.
There are a lot of great scenes with Sherlock in this book that we didn't really get in the first book. Although Mori is the main character, most of the character development is focused on Sherlock and his determination to not only keep going forward but to try to keep Mori safe and by his side. Mori definitely gets darker as a character, as her entire determination is focused around killing her father, as it was by the ending of the last book.
Once again, the book totes that this is a Sherlock Holmes/James Moriarty story. And once again, there is very little that connects this to the classic stories. Arguably, there are more references in this book than were in the last, including a mention of a group of criminals that were hypothetically run by Mori, another mention of Watson and Gregson. However, anyone looking for a direct adaptation will again be highly disappointed. Take this story as it's own story. Don't try to compare it to the Sherlock Holmes novels.
If you liked the first book, you'll definitely like Mind Games, which plays less like another story and more like a continuation of the first book. The biggest flaw about the book is the painful cliffhanger ending. Otherwise, it's just as fun as the last book, if not more and I highly recommend it for a quick and enjoyable read.
1 of 1 people found the following review helpful.
A WINNING MYSTERY FOR TEENS & ADULTS...
By Rebecca Hutchison
In LOCK & MORI: MIND GAMES, Heather W. Petty has written a tight, intriguing mystery filled with interesting twists and turns and several unique Sherlock Holmes references. Though it ends in a cliffhanger, the path to that point contains such a captivating storyline with well-drawn, compelling characters (and a pinch of small side cases to appeal to young Sherlock Holmes fans), that the story is well worth the time it takes to read it and wait for the next installment.
The story begins shortly after the end of the series' first book, with high school friends Sherlock "Lock" Holmes and James "Mori" Moriarty practicing Bartitsu, a type of martial arts, to add to Mori's self-defense arsenal. Strong, self-sufficient, and intelligent Mori is still recovering from the brutal beating she received as her father, Detective Sargeant Moriarty, tried to kill her, and she needs to be mentally and physically ready to keep her three young brothers safe from their father's cruelty by insuring he remains in jail. But with the help of fellow officers wanting to exonerate one of their own from being charged as a murderer, DS Moriarty strives to have Mori charged as the killer, so he can get out of jail and take the boys where no one can find them.
Mori's worries multiply when she begins receiving threatening letters and the police start believing tips implicating her as the Regent Park murderer. She feels she can only rely on herself to prove her innocence. But her brilliant, frustrating, gorgeous Lock won't be pushed away from helping Mori. She is the one person he cares so much about, and he promises she can trust him. In a race against time, they travel around London following clues to the third player's identity. Through it all Mori realizes what lengths she's willing to go to protect her family and for justice to be served.
Issues of physical and mental abuse, school bullying, and the ethics of right and wrong actions are interwoven with the grief of losing a parent and trusting others. The burgeoning romance between Lock and Mori has just the right amount of teen angst, internal dialogue, and hesitant touches. The book is fast paced and full of action, and Sherlock Holmes fans will enjoy the several scenes of Lock's experiments and examples of his deductive reasoning.
Petty has a definite winner in LOCK & MORI: MIND GAMES. It's a great addition to the series and a smart mystery for both teens and adults. I look forward to the final book in the trilogy, to be released in Fall 2017.
If You Like This, You May Like: LOCK & MORI (Book 1) by Heather W. Petty, CHARLOTTE HOLMES NOVELS by Brittany Cavallaro, STOKERS & HOLMES SERIES by Colleen Gleason, GLASS AND STEELE SERIES by C. J. Archer, THE BASKERVILLE AFFAIR SERIES by Emma Jane Holloway, EMBASSY ROW SERIES and HEIST SOCIETY BOOKS by Ally Carter
* Read my other reviews on the Blue Moon Mystery Saloon blog.
** An e-galley was provided by Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers and Edelweiss for an honest review.
0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
Not as much of a shocker as Lock and Mori, but Mind Games does up the ante!
By Amber Elise @ Du Livre
Review based on advanced copy.
3.5 stars.
Plot: With the shocking events of Lock and Mori, I couldn't imagine where the sequel would go. Not surprisingly, Mind Games opens with Mori trying to cope with the events of the Regent Park serial killer and try to piece together what little she knew about her mother. It seems the police are against her, and her father is taunting her from jail. I felt as though the mystery in Mind Games was more secondary compared to Lock and Mori. I didn't feel the rush or need to keep reading until the last third of the book with Mori is desperately trying to figure out who done it. I can tell that this novel was set up for the climatic third book.
Characters: Lock and Mori are in an unknown territory in terms of their relationship. Their differences are more obvious now, but their pull is dynamic and I enjoyed how they used each other for comfort. I still can't imagine how the two of them will embody their literary counterparts.
Worldbuilding: I feel like Mori ran all of London. There wasn't a chapter where Mori didn't run to the local park, hop over to the hospital, take public transit to the county. It was actually kind of exhausting to be pulled to so many different locations.
Short N Sweet: Mind Games wasn't as memorable as its predecessor, but it did set up for a shocking third book!
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