Enter your mobile number or email address below and we'll send you a link to download the free Kindle App. Then you can start reading Kindle books on your smartphone, tablet, or computer - no Kindle device required. To get the free app, enter your mobile phone number. The strong cliff-hanger of an ending bodes well for future adventures. Fans of postapocalypse fantasies will appreciate this superb interpretation of the endless end of days. Bold and imaginative in approach, with appealing characters and a suspense-filled story, this belongs in most fantasy collections.
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Enter your mobile number or email address below and we'll send you a link to download the free Kindle App. Then you can start reading Kindle books on your smartphone, tablet, or computer - no Kindle device required. To get the free app, enter your mobile phone number. The strong cliff-hanger of an ending bodes well for future adventures.
Fans of postapocalypse fantasies will appreciate this superb interpretation of the endless end of days. Bold and imaginative in approach, with appealing characters and a suspense-filled story, this belongs in most fantasy collections. Mixes romance, high fantasy, apocalyptic and postapocalyptic adventure to good effect. Steady pacing, dashes of humor, and a strong story line coupled with a great ending neatly setting up the next adventure make this take on the apocalypse worth checking out.
Strong characters and a compelling story. Stylish storytelling and gripping drama make this a good addition to most fantasy collections. Fans will enjoy reading about the continuing end of days. Penguin Books Ltd. Penguin Books India Pvt. Penguin Books South Africa Pty. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise , without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Holly McClure, for Cherokee stories, especially for allowing me to cull info from her Cherokee novel, Lightning Creek.
Stephen Mullen, of Nightrider. Coe, C. And last but not least, my editor at Roc, Jessica Wade, who saw the multisouled Beast in Jane and bought this series. I carried a selection of silver crosses in my belt, hidden under my leather jacket, and stakes, secured in loops on my jeans-clad thighs. The saddlebags on my bike were filled with my meager travel belongings—clothes in one side, tools of the trade in the other. As a vamp killer for hire, I travel light.
My hostess might be offended. Not a good thing when said hostess held my next paycheck in her hands and possessed a set of fangs of her own. A guy, a good-looking Joe standing in a doorway, turned his head to follow my progress as I motored past.
He wore leather boots, a jacket, and jeans, like me, though his dark hair was short and mine was down to my hips when not braided out of the way, tight to my head, for fighting. A Kawasaki motorbike leaned on a stand nearby.
I maneuvered the bike down St. Louis and then onto Dauphine, weaving between nervous-looking shop workers heading home for the evening and a few early revelers out for fun. I spotted the address in the fading light. I parked, set the kickstand, and unwound my long legs from the hog. I had found two bikes in a junkyard in Charlotte, North Carolina, bodies rusted, rubber rotted.
They were in bad shape. It took six months. It was the best I could do for the months it took me to heal. Even someone with my rapid healing and variable metabolism takes a long while to totally mend from a near beheading. Now that I was a hundred percent, I needed work.
My best bet was a job killing off a rogue vampire that was terrorizing the city of New Orleans. It had taken down three tourists and left a squad of cops, drained and smiling, dead where it dropped them. All that suggested the rogue was old, powerful, and deadly—a whacked-out vamp. The nutty ones were always the worst. According to my Web site, I had successfully taken down an entire blood-family in the mountains near Asheville. And I had. No lies on the Web site or in the media reports, not bald-faced ones anyway.
Or to heal, but spin is everything. A lengthy vacation sounded better than the complete truth. I took off my helmet and the clip that held my hair, pulling my braids out of my jacket collar and letting them fall around me, beads clicking. I palmed a few tools of the trade—one stake, ash wood and silver tipped; a tiny gun; and a cross—and tucked them into the braids, rearranging them to hang smoothly with no lumps or bulges. I also breathed deeply, seeking to relax, to assure my safety through the upcoming interview.
I was nervous, and being nervous around a vamp was just plain dumb. The sun was setting, casting a red glow on the horizon, limning the ancient buildings, shuttered windows, and wrought-iron balconies in fuchsia. It was pretty in a purely human way. I opened my senses and let my Beast taste the world. She liked the smells and wanted to prowl.
Later , I promised her. Predators usually growl when irritated. Soon —she sent mental claws into my soul, kneading. I had never met a civilized vamp, certainly never done business with one. So far as I knew, vamps and skinwalkers had never met. I was about to change that. This could get interesting. I clipped my sunglasses onto my collar, lenses hanging out. I glanced at the witchy-locks on my saddlebags and, satisfied, I walked to the narrow red door and pushed the buzzer.
The bald-headed man who answered was definitely human, but big enough to be something else: professional wrestler, steroid-augmented bodybuilder, or troll. All of the above, maybe. The thought made me smile. He blocked the door, standing with arms loose and ready. Tell Katie that Jane Yellowrock is here. A man of few words. I liked him already. My new best pal. With two gloved fingers, I unzipped my leather jacket, fished a business card from an inside pocket, and extended it to him.
Vamp killing is a bloody business. I had discovered that a little humor went a long way to making it all bearable. Troll took the card and closed the door in my face. I might have to teach my new pal a few manners. But that was nearly axiomatic for all the men of my acquaintance. I heard a bike two blocks away. Maybe a Kawasaki, like the bright red crotch rocket I had seen earlier.
He pulled his bike up beside mine, powered down, and sat there, eyes hidden behind sunglasses. He had a toothpick in his mouth and it twitched once as he pulled his helmet and glasses off. The Joe was a looker. A little taller than my six feet even, he had olive skin, black hair, black brows. Black jacket and jeans. Black boots. Bit of overkill with all the black, but he made it work, with muscular legs wrapped around the red bike.
No silver in sight. No shotgun, but a suspicious bulge beneath his right arm. Made him a leftie. Something glinted in the back of his collar. A knife hilt, secured in a spine sheath. Maybe more than one blade. There were scuffs on his boots Western, like mine, not Harley butt-stompers but his were Fryes and mine were ostrich-skin Luccheses. I pulled in scents, my nostrils widening. His boots smelled of horse manure, fresh.
Love and freedom in the Jane Yellowrock series
What a novel idea for a vampire novel. I loved the idea of a shapeshifter that hunts vampires. At times, this is story showed real potential but for the most part, I just didn't connect with the story I've met Faith Hunter at JordanCon, where I've found her to be articulate, informative, intelligent, and amusing.
Jane Yellowrock series
Look Inside. Jane Yellowrock is the last of her kind—a skinwalker of Cherokee descent who can turn into any creature she desires and hunts vampires for a living. Some 22 novels written, with … 18? My early authorial voice was too urban and modern-sounding for epic, and even for anything that was popular in the dark urban novels I like so much.