By Adrian Phoenix
HIS identify IS DANTE.Dark. gifted. appealing. big name of the rock band Inferno. Rumored proprietor of the recent New Orleans nightspot membership Hell. Born of the Blood, then damaged through an evil past imagination.HIS earlier IS A MYSTERY.F.B.I. distinct Agent Heather Wallace has been monitoring a sadistic serial assassin referred to as the go nation Killer, and the path has led her to New Orleans, membership Hell, and Dante. however the dangerously beautiful musician not just resists her research, he claims to be "nightkind": in different phrases, a vampire. Digging into his previous for solutions unearths little. A juvenile list a mile lengthy. No social protection quantity. No identified beginning date. out and in of foster houses for many of his lifestyles ahead of being taken in via a guy named Lucien DeNoir, who appears to be like to protect mysteries of his own.HIS destiny IS CHAOS.What Heather does find out about Dante is that whatever hyperlinks him to the killer -- and she's lovely certain that hyperlink makes him the CCK's subsequent aim. Heather needs to get to the bottom of the reality approximately this sensual, advanced, weak younger guy -- who, she starts off to think, could certainly be a vampire -- as a way to eventually deliver a killer to justice. yet Dante's earlier holds a surprising, risky mystery, and as soon as it truly is printed now not even Heather can be in a position to defend him from his destiny....
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Additional info for A Rush of Wings (Maker's Song, book 1)
She didn’t envy the man. ” Heather said, shifting her attention to the square steel door Gina rested beyond. The CCK is edging ever closer to Dante. Why is he playing games? “Midweek, most likely. ” Adams’s voice was low and strained, heated. Heather jerked her gaze up. 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 song lured him in: the cockroach’s genetic song, an undulating wave, backed by DNA rhythm. Dante plucked at the rhythm’s strings and altered the song. Sleep still beckoned. For a moment, he drifted and the strings went slack, then knotted, and another song entirely blasted through his mind — chaos rhythms of nightmare and rage. An image flashed through his mind; a little girl, a plushie orca — black and white and red-spotted…deep red… Gone. Renewed pain snaked through Dante’s mind. So much he didn’t remember.
Ran his fingers along the edges of the X, the metal smooth and warm. The rune for partnership — given to him four years before by Dante, a warm and unexpected token of their friendship. Lucien’s fingers tightened around the pendant. The rough edges bit into his flesh. He bowed his head and closed his eyes. Remembered the wild, rough anhrefncathl he’d answered five years before…remembered landing on a wharf beside the Mississippi River. A youth in worn leather pants, scuffed-up boots, and a T-shirt sits cross-legged on the wharf’s warped and weathered wood, something wriggling between his hands caught in a bluish glow.