By Cherie Priest
Vampire for lease . . .
Raylene Pendle (AKA Cheshire Red), a vampire and world-renowned thief, doesn’t often dangle along with her personal sort. She’s too busy stealing beneficial artwork and infrequent jewels. but if the infuriatingly fascinating Ian Stott asks for support, Raylene unearths him very unlikely to resist—even even though Ian doesn’t wish useful artifacts. He desires her to retrieve lacking executive files—documents that care for the key organic experiments that left Ian blind.
What Raylene doesn’t discount for is a case that takes her from the wilds of Minneapolis to the suggest streets of Atlanta. And with a psychotic, power-hungry scientist on her path, a kick-ass drag queen on her part, and males in Black stoning up on the such a lot inconvenient moments, the case proves to be one hell of a journey.
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Additional info for Bloodshot
It had a rough edge, a rasp of physical pain. Beneath his robe, The Dweller's burns were not yet healed. Not entirely. Lardis shrugged awkwardly, felt lost for an answer. 'You sent for me. ' The Dweller answered Lardis's shrug with one of his own. 'I myself don't know what they are! But for the moment they are the needs of my people. Later ... ' Lardis waited, and eventually: 'I fear there are changes in the offing,' said The Dweller, sighing. 'There are several subjects to discuss. My mother, my father, myself.
Lardis followed him, watching as he opened the window, leaned out a little way, and inclined his head upwards to the misted mountain peaks. The ghost of a howl came ululating down, thin and eerie, echoing in flooding moonlight. And behind his golden mask The Dweller smiled. 'No harm will come to me or mine," he eventually continued, when the howling stopped. ' 'But ... ' Lardis was at pains to understand his motives. ' 'Stay here? Ah, no. ' 'To your mother? ' For a moment Lardis believed he saw red fires reflected on the rims of the eye sockets in the golden mask, and he was hard put to contain a sudden shudder.
Perhaps it was so, but mention her name to The Dweller and he would only smile. Except... these days he wasn't much given to smiling. Lardis arrived at his destination: a white stone bungalow with round windows and a chalet-styled roof, situated close to a hot spring. An exterior staircase of yellow-varnished pine zigzagged up to a small balcony under projecting eaves, which fronted The Dweller's bedroom in the hollow of the red-tiled roof. After the battle in the garden, when the house suffered exploding gas-beast blasts, only its shell had been left standing.