By Adrian Phoenix
HIS identify IS DANTE.
darkish. proficient. 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 mind's eye.
HIS previous IS A MYSTERY.
F.B.I. exact Agent Heather Wallace has been monitoring a sadistic serial assassin often called the go state 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 defense quantity. No recognized start date. out and in of foster houses for many of his existence sooner than being taken in through a guy named Lucien DeNoir, who appears to be like to protect mysteries of his personal.
HIS destiny IS CHAOS.
What Heather does find out about Dante is that something hyperlinks him to the killer -- and she's beautiful definite that hyperlink makes him the CCK's subsequent objective. Heather needs to get to the bottom of the reality approximately this sensual, advanced, weak younger guy -- who, she starts to think, may perhaps certainly be a vampire -- so as to eventually deliver a killer to justice. yet Dante's prior holds a surprising, risky mystery, and as soon as it's published no longer even Heather should be capable of shield him from his destiny....
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Extra info for A Rush of Wings: Book One of The Maker's Song
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.
E’s muscles tightened. His knuckles rapped against his thighs. He stared into the night. A shadow suddenly divided the puddle of light on the grass, and E held his breath. He just knew Dante stood at the window. Knew that he’d sensed something raging outside, right under his fucking nose. The shadow vanished. E sprang to his feet and ran. Thighs pumping. Breath burning. Adrenaline flooding. Heart hammering. The stone wall jittered closer with every step across the dew-slick grass. Then a tree stepped into his path and E slammed into it.
Nausea clutched his belly. ” Ah. The big guy. Also the unexpected tree. “I felt him,” said a low voice — Dante. ” From further away, Heather’s voice, sharp and clear and protective. “Get away from him,” she called. ” “Peeping Tom’s assistant,” Dante murmured. “So this is how he spends his evenings off. ” Fingers brushed over his face. Little electric bursts sparked beneath his skin; sizzled blue and cool along his spine. The world whirled even faster. His vision darkened. Hands patted him down — De Noir’s, he thought.
A Rush of Wings: Book One of The Maker's Song by Adrian Phoenix