By Adrian Phoenix
HIS identify IS DANTE.Dark. gifted. attractive. big name of the rock band Inferno. Rumored proprietor of the new New Orleans nightspot membership Hell. Born of the Blood, then damaged via an evil past imagination.HIS earlier IS A MYSTERY.F.B.I. specific Agent Heather Wallace has been monitoring a sadistic serial assassin referred to as the move nation Killer, and the path has led her to New Orleans, membership Hell, and Dante. however the dangerously appealing musician not just resists her research, he claims to be "nightkind": in different phrases, a vampire. Digging into his prior for solutions finds little. A juvenile checklist a mile lengthy. No social safeguard quantity. No identified beginning date. out and in of foster houses for many of his lifestyles ahead of being taken in by means of a guy named Lucien DeNoir, who looks to protect mysteries of his own.HIS destiny IS CHAOS.What Heather does learn about Dante is that whatever hyperlinks him to the killer -- and she's beautiful yes that hyperlink makes him the CCK's subsequent goal. Heather needs to resolve the reality approximately this sensual, complex, weak younger guy -- who, she starts to think, may well certainly be a vampire -- with a view to eventually carry a killer to justice. yet Dante's previous holds a surprising, risky mystery, and as soon as it's printed no longer even Heather might be in a position to defend him from his destiny....
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Extra resources for A Rush of Wings (Maker's Song, book 1)
Hell, maybe he’s a fan of Inferno. ” Johanna blew out a stream of scented smoke, savoring its tobacco-and-vanilla taste. She shook her head. “No. ” She extended the cigarillo to Gifford. He took it back from her, his fingers lingering for a moment against hers, warm and smooth. ” Gifford asked. He glanced down at the file in his lap again. His brows knitted together as he flipped through several pages. ” “I don’t know,” Johanna said quietly. ” “If that’s the case, we don’t have to worry,” Gifford said.
Adams’s brows were furrowed, his jaw tight. “Which is a sight more courtesy than you showed us,” he continued. E. warily, caught off guard by the hostility in his gaze. “Why didn’t you let us know? We could’ve issued alerts, warnings. A serial killer is in New Orleans, Agent Wallace,” Adams said. “You knew it. ” Weariness swept through Heather. “I apologize. ” “Tell her that,” Adams said, nodding at the body bank. He crossed the tile floor, then stepped out into the hall, the door swinging shut behind him.
Attractive, early thirties, blonde and blue-eyed Nordic, tall and fit. The very opposite of her père de sang in physical appearance. But she and Ronin shared a deep hunger for knowledge. In that they were very much alike. Weariness surged through her. She needed blood, then Sleep. She was pushing the pills’ limits too far. She could only postpone Sleep so long. “What was done to S’s memory isn’t the problem,” she said, turning to face Gifford. “E’s cross-country killing spree and the Bureau’s involvement in the case is the problem.