Eons ago, vampires tried to turn the dark Fae to harness their magic, only to create a demonic enemy more powerful than they could have imagined. Now, the Vampiric Fae are on the move, hunting anyone in their path. As the war with the vampires ratchets up, Myst, Queen of the Indigo Court, enshrouds New Forest in her chilling grasp.

Cicely Waters, owl shifter and Wind Witch, has rescued the Fae Prince Grieve at a great cost. Their reunion has lost them the allegiance of the Summer Queen--and the tolerance of the vampires. In desperation they turn to the Consortium for help. Now, to regain the good will of Lainule, they must dare to enter the heart of Myst's realm. But as Cicely and Grieve embark on their search for the heartstone of Summer, Winter is already wreaking her terrifying revenge.


Chapter 1

The night was still. Snow drifted slowly to the ground, where it compacted into a glazed sheet covering the roads. Favonis—my 1966 sparkling blue Pontiac GTO—glided through the empty streets as I navigated the icy pavement. We had to be cautious. The Shadow Hunters were out in the suburbs tonight, searching for those who braved the cold. They were running amok, and New Forest, Washington, had become their hunting grounds.

Equally dangerous, Geoffrey and the vampires were also out in full force, patrolling the streets. Clusters of dark figures in long black dusters wandered the shopping areas, their collars turned up, hands in pockets, searching the crowds for Myst’s hunters, trying to prevent any more massacres from happening.


At least we could bargain with the vamps and have a chance of winning through reason. They weren’t like the Vampiric Fae; they weren’t out to destroy everyone they met. But still, it all boiled down to the fact that two bloodthirsty predatory groups now divided the town. And they were aching to shake it up.

As for us? We were on a reconnaissance mission.

Kaylin was riding shotgun. My father, Wrath—King of the Court of Rivers and Rushes—and Lannan Altos, the vampire I loved to hate who had become an unexpected ally, sprawled in the backseat.

We were on our way to see what was left of the Veil House, if anything. We’d been holed up for two days, planning out our next moves. Finally, tired of being cooped up, I suggested an expedition. If we could sneak back onto Vyne Street, we might be able to scavenge something useful from out of the ashes.

I dreaded seeing the pile of rubble. I expected to find a burned-out shell filled with soot and charcoal, soggy from the snow. So when Rhiannon had suggested coming along, I stopped her. Better that I go rather than my cousin. She’d grown up at the Veil House. She’d lost her mother there. Asking her to go on a raiding expedition would have been cruel. Besides, the four of us were the least likely to be killed. I’d wanted to bring Grieve, my lover, but it was dangerous to have him so close to the Golden Wood at this point.

A glance over my shoulder told me that my father was doing his best to avoid touching the metal framework of the car. The iron in the car hurt him, but he swallowed the pain, saying nothing. I admired his strength and reserve, and thought that finally I had a role model—someone I could be proud of in my family. But as he lurched against the side, a nasty thought struck me.

“You don’t think I’ll develop a weakness to iron, do you? Favonis has never bothered me before.” I’d only recently discovered that I was half–Cambyra Fae—one of the Uwilahsidhe, the owl shifters—and that Wrath was my father. And the Fae did not get along with iron.

“You are worried about this?” Wrath leaned forward, still looking ill at ease. “Have you noticed a problem?”

“No. It’s just that…I wonder, as more of my Fae lineage comes to the surface, will I be more vulnerable to the things you are?”

“Eyes back on the road, please. I don’t fancy dying in this contraption.” He gave me a slight shake of the head. “If you were to develop our intolerance to iron, it would have happened by now. The only reason you didn’t discover your owl-shifter capabilities earlier was because of the spell I laid on the pendant. I hid it for you, charming it so that you would not remember until you were ready. And I also placed a spell on you, when you were a baby, that you remain unaware of your heritage until you found the necklace and I could teach you how to fly.”

“Good, because I love my car.” I longed to flip on the radio, to listen to some sound other than the quiet hush of our breathing, but it wasn’t a good idea. We were doing our best to avoid drawing attention. I’d wanted to make this trip during the day, but Lannan couldn’t travel then. And during the day, we would have been far more visible to Myst and Geoffrey’s spies. So here we were, in the dark of the night, creeping through the streets, hoping to find something at journey’s end that would help us.

“What are we looking for?” Lannan asked. “I don’t understand why you want to go back to that husk of a house. I have money. If you need something, I can buy it for you.”

I shook my head, glancing toward the rearview mirror, even though I knew I wouldn’t see his reflection. “Not everything we need can be purchased. Especially with Myst and Geoffrey hunting for us. I want to see if we can find any of our magical supplies. Last week, I finished making a lot of charms for Wind Charms, my business. If any survived the fire, they might come in handy. And I just need to see…” I paused.

“You need to see the Veil House and what happened to it,” Kaylin said. “A reality check.”

I kept my eyes on the road, even as my voice was shaking. “Exactly.” I nodded. “But don’t even use the word ‘closure’ to me. There can never be closure, not until Myst is dead and routed out of the wood.”

I pressed my lips together, still bitter over the way things had fallen out. Two of our most powerful allies had turned their backs on us because I refused to go along with a plan that would have changed me forever. I’d refused to let them turn me into a monster, so they walked away and left us dead in the water.

As if sensing my thoughts, Wrath leaned forward and put his hand on my shoulder. The weight and strength in his fingers reassured me. “You chose the correct path. It may be more difficult than the one Geoffrey offered you, but you must trust in your instincts, Cicely.”

I nodded, trying to wrest the feelings of betrayal that ran through my heart. What was past was past, and we’d have to do without either Lannan’s people or the Summer Queen’s help. And that brought up another sticky matter. My father, Wrath, was married to Lainule, and he had chosen to help me rather than side with her. A sick little fear niggled inside of me—would she come after me, too, for claiming his allegiance?

As I turned onto a side street, I flicked off the headlights. We’d wing it in the dark from here. Favonis fishtailed and I eased the wheels into the skid, slowly pulling out before we bounced off the curb. The silent fall of snow continued, as the long winter held us hostage in her embrace.


Fifteen slow minutes later, we approached the turnoff onto Vyne Street, a cul-de-sac. This town—and the Veil House—had been the only home I’d ever truly known. For years, I’d longed to get myself off the streets, to run away from my mother, who was a strung-out junkie and bloodwhore, and return to New Forest. Now that I’d gotten my wish, all hell had broken loose.

As we approached the end of the road, where the Veil House had stood until two nights ago, I realized I was holding my breath. What would we find? And would we have to fight off a host of Myst’s Shadow Hunters to get through to the ruins?

I pulled into the drive, finally daring to look over at the house. A blackened silhouette stood there—and my heart began to race. It wasn’t burned to the ground, there was still something left. I reached for the door handle.

“It’s not all rubble!!”

I started to jump out of the car, but Lannan snaked over the backseat and looped his arm around my neck, yanking me back. “Be cautious, my beautiful Cicely. The night is filled with predators. Don’t go running over there without us in tow.” His voice was seductive but oddly protective.

I glanced over my shoulder at him. Lannan Altos, with his jet-black vampire eyes that gleamed in the dark, set off by the golden hair that fell past his shoulders. He was gorgeous, and a freak, and his fingers lingered on my skin. I tried to ignore the lurch in my stomach at his touch.

“Point taken.” I’d been so eager I’d almost lost my head. And losing my head could lead to losing my life. I was learning, but over the years I’d had plenty of occasions in which I’d had to leap without looking, and I’d gotten used to hitting the ground running. But here we had to bide our time. The hunters who dogged our heels were far more deadly than any perv or junkie or cop on the street.

I leaned back in my seat, staring at the house. Beyond the three-story Victorian stood the Golden Wood, which spread out, buttressed against the foothills of the Cascades on its far edge. But the golden glow of the Summer Queen was only a memory, and now the forest belonged to Myst, with her spiders and her snow. The aura of the trees burned with a sickly greenish blue light, and I began to tremble. Evil lurked within the woodland, and a ruthless darkness.

I closed my eyes, calling for Ulean. We were bonded, she and I—she was the essence of the wind, an Elemental linked to my soul, and we worked as a team.

Do you sense anything out there?

Her words came in a rush through my mind. Yes. Two of the Vampiric Fae are around back of the house, hunting. If you creep up on them, I’ll be able to keep your scent from traveling ahead of you.

Anything else I should know?

She is out there, far in the forest, weaving her magic. And she is hungry, and angry. You stole Grieve back from her—she wants your blood and your soul. Myst is growing stronger even as the winter strengthens.

I nodded, then turned to the others. “Two of the Shadow Hunters are on the far side of the house. Ulean will run interference for our scent, but be prepared to take them down. No prisoners, no survivors.”

No prisoners. That had become our creed. I was still getting used to the feeling of being a killer. “Murderer” wasn’t a label that weighed easily on my mind, but it was what it was, and Myst was who she was, and in the deadly game of us or them, I wasn’t willing to sacrifice myself or my friends.

We quietly climbed out of the car and I craned my neck, listening. My father did the same. Lannan and Kaylin stood guard, poised for trouble.

A gust of wind howled past and I projected myself onto the slipstream. A whisper rushed by. I listened, focusing to catch the faint words. It wasn’t Ulean. What did you find? Does anything live within the house?

And then an answer: No flesh. No life. Nothing of importance. Only trinkets. She will not want them.

The Shadow Hunters. And they were probably searching for the cats, looking for food. No worries there, though. We’d managed to save all of the felines from the flames and falling timbers, and they were tucked away, safe and sound, back at the warehouse with Luna.

I turned to the others. “We go in. Take them down. Wrath, can you change into your owl form? They won’t be expecting you.”

My father nodded, stepping away from us. He shimmered and then, in a blur, lifted his arms. They became feathered wings, an almost six-foot span. His body transformed, shrinking, and then there he stood—a great horned owl, majestic and beautiful, a study in grace and danger.

I sucked in a deep breath, my blood stirring as it recognized his. Beside me, Kaylin let out a little sound. Lannan stiffened, watching my father with almost too much interest. His obsidian eyes glittered, taking in every nuance of the metamorphosis.

When Wrath was ready, he launched himself off the ground and took to the air, circling us as I jerked my head at the others. Crouching, I moved forward slowly and cautiously. Wrath disappeared around the house, his wings silently propelling him through the night.

Are you ready? We’re about to go in.

Ulean’s hushed reply echoed through me. I will slip ahead and disrupt your scent. They will not know you are coming.

And so we moved. I took the lead, with Kaylin behind me and Lannan silent as the night behind him. For some reason, Lannan’s stealth surprised me, though I don’t know why—vampires made no sound when they chose not to. Perhaps it was because he was so flamboyant. Perhaps because he always had to have the last word. Whatever the case, we proceeded in unison, stooping through the shadows, keeping to the sides of the ruined Veil House.

My fan was looped around my wrist. With it I could summon up gale force winds against our enemies, even a tornado, but Lainule had warned me to use it with caution. Magical objects had a way of possessing their owners if they weren’t careful. In my other hand, I held a silver dagger my father had given me. Kaylin was armed with shurikens, and Lannan carried no weapons. He was a weapon.

We circled the house, the scent of sodden ash and charcoal filling my nose. I caught my breath, once again struck by the loss we’d endured. But worse yet was the loss of my aunt Heather. She had been the heart and soul of the Veil House. Thinking about her, living under Myst’s rule as a vampire, made me cringe. I forced my attention back to what we were doing. One thing at a time. As for Heather…she was long lost to us. There was nothing we could do but attempt to release her spirit, and that meant finding her—and staking her.

As we rounded the corner, there they were. The Shadow Hunters. Vampiric Fae. They lurched up as we rushed in, and one of them let out a low hiss. The cerulean cast to their skin glowed in the light of the falling snow, but instead of the pure black of vampires’ eyes, the black voids glittered with a swirl of white stars.

I rushed forward, trying to reach them before they transformed. As I moved toward one, Wrath came winging down with a shriek and grappled the other Vampiric Fae by the shoulder.

The Shadow Hunter screamed and twisted as my father raked his skin. As Wrath flew out of reach, Kaylin sent a flurry of shurikens into the man. I launched myself at my opponent, with Lannan right on my heels.

The Shadow Hunter saw me coming and pulled out an obsidian dagger. Crap. Their blades were usually poisoned, so sharp that they could rip through skin like a hot knife through butter. And I had a particularly hard time with obsidian. The stone unleashed my predatory nature and I didn’t have control over the effects yet.

I darted to the side as he brought the blade to bear. Lunging past his outstretched arm, I drove my own dagger deep into the muscle above his waist. He let out a scream and began to transform as Lannan came in from the other side.

The Shadow Hunter shifted, his mouth unhinging as his jaw lengthened and he went down on all fours, into a monstrous dog-beast with razor-sharp teeth. He rushed toward me, even as Lannan landed on his back and brought his fangs down onto the back of the creature’s neck, distracting it.

I grabbed the chance, plunging my blade between its eyes. As the Shadow Hunter screeched, Lannan reared back, driving his fangs deep in the flesh as he ripped open the veins. A fountain of blood bubbled up, spurting into the air, foaming over the side of the beast. With a throaty laugh, Lannan began to suck from the wound.

I stumbled back, yanking my dagger out of the creature’s skull, unable to look away. There was something primal, something feral and wild and passionate about watching the vampire feed. I wanted to reach out, to run my hand through his hair, to brush his lips with my own…

Ulean howled around me. Cicely! Watch your step—you are too close to the flame.

Shaking my head, I forced myself to turn away and brushed my hands across my eyes. Damn it. Ever since I’d drunk Lannan’s blood, there’d been a bond between us that I did not want. Like it or not, it existed, no matter how hard I tried to deny it. I’d noticed, over the past few days, that I felt him when he was nearby, like a shadow creeping behind me, waiting. As much as I tried to hide the sensations from Grieve, I was afraid my lover had noticed.

Shaky, my knees weak, I turned to see that my father was back in his Fae form. He and Kaylin were finishing off their opponent. Wrath carried a curved dagger and he slit the man’s throat quickly and quietly, stepping away as the Shadow Hunter clutched at his neck and went tumbling to the ground.

They lay there, silent bodies in the snow, as a stain of blood spread around them, dyeing the brilliant white with dark crimson. Lannan pulled away from the creature, which had reverted to its Fae form. He wiped his mouth on his hand, his eyes glittering. His shirt was stained with blood, and he fastened his gaze on me.

Stepping forward, he reached for my hand, and unable to look away, I let him take it. With a slow, sinuous smile, he lifted my fingers to his mouth, kissing them one by one with his bloody lips.

A shiver raced through me, a live wire that set me aflame. There was something about the blood splattered on him, about the savage way he’d torn into the Shadow Hunter, that set me off. As if he could sense my thoughts, Lannan’s smile turned into a smirk, and he squeezed my hand so tightly I grimaced before he slowly let go, dragging his index finger against my palm.

My wolf growled. I pressed my hand to the tattoo on my stomach. Grieve could sense my feelings, and he wasn’t happy. I quieted him, even as Lannan leaned close to my ear.

“I can smell your arousal,” Lannan whispered. “I’ll fuck you right here if you want me to, baby.” But then Wrath called to us, and he backed away.

I turned to find Kaylin staring at me, but he said nothing. Instead, he motioned to the house. “We should get in there and see what we can find before any of their kinfolk arrive.”

Not trusting my voice, I nodded. The back of the house had been the most damaged, and I wasn’t sure how much I trusted the roof over the kitchen. Most of it had burned away, but there were still patches held up by support beams that had survived the inferno, albeit heavily damaged. The front of the house looked much more stable.

“We go in through the front door,” I finally said. The others followed me, Kaylin first pocketing the obsidian knives from our enemies. We hurried back around the house and up the front steps.

The house is clear?

Ulean shivered against me. Yes, the house is empty, but do not tarry. The woods are alert tonight. The hunters are awake and active. They are searching for you and Grieve. And all who helped him escape.

“We have to hurry, Myst’s people are out in full force and we don’t have a lot of time.” I jogged up the stairs and pushed open the door. We hadn’t even had a chance to lock it when we were rushing to escape.

As I entered the living room, it hit me just how much had happened in the past few weeks—and how much we’d all lost.


My name is Cicely Waters and I’m one of the magic-born, a witch who can control the wind. I’m also part Cambyra Fae—the shifting Fae. Uwilahsidhe to be precise, which means I can shift into an owl. On that front, I only recently learned about my heritage and in no way have honed my abilities. But in a few short weeks I’ve learned to love being in my owl form, and I’ve found a freedom I’d never before experienced. Flying, soaring over the ground, has offered me an escape I’ve never before felt. I always felt like a part of me was missing. Now, I feel whole.

When I was very young, Grieve—the Fae Prince of the Court of Rivers and Rushes, and his friend Chatter—came to my cousin Rhiannon and me and taught us how to use our magical abilities. It was Grieve who bound me to Ulean, my Wind Elemental, telling me I would need her help. In a sense, he was foreshadowing my life to come.

When I turned six, my mother, Krystal, dragged me down the stairs of the Veil House, and we headed out on the road. My aunt Heather and the only stability I’d ever known vanished in the blink of one afternoon.

I learned early on how to survive on the streets. I’d longed to return to the Veil House, but Krystal—a meth head who used booze and drugs to dim her own gifts—wasn’t capable of surviving on her own and so I stayed with her until she died in the gutter, a bloodwhore who’d serviced one bad trick too many. Until that day, I’d kept us going, using my ability to hear messages on the wind to stay one step ahead of the cops and the drug runners.

And now my mother was dead, and I’d finally returned to New Forest, Washington. But too little, too late. My aunt had been captured by Myst, and my cousin Rhiannon was terrified for her life. Myst holds the town in her icy grip, and she’s out to spread her people throughout the land, to conquer the vampires and use the magic-born and yummanii—the humans—as cattle.

In a past life long, long ago, I was Myst’s daughter. And Grieve had been my lover then, too. We’d defied our families to be together, rampaging through the bounty hunters and soldiers who sought for us. We’d hidden behind rock and tree, snared them in traps, and I’d torn them to shreds, reveling in the blood.

Grieve and I had fought for our love, killed for our love, and—at the end—when we were cornered and couldn’t escape—died for our love. We had bound ourselves together forever with a potion designed to bring us back together again in another life.

Now, we’re back, and we’ve found one another again. Once again, we’re caught between the Cambyra Fae and the Vampiric Fae. Only this time, Grieve is the one bound to the Indigo Court. Myst turned him into one of her own. And now, the vampires are playing into the equation. I’m tied to their shirttails by a contract that they insist on enforcing.

Some of our allies have chosen to betray us, so we’re in hiding, on the run, fighting against overwhelming odds. Only this time, it will be different. Neither Myst nor the vampires will win. Grieve and I will weather the storm. We have no other option.


Once we were inside, I flipped on a flashlight. The living room had survived the fire, with soot and smoke damage, but the weather was creeping in through the caved-in roof in the kitchen, and I shivered at the ravaged state of the room. Myst’s people had been through here, that much was apparent. The upholstered sofas were shredded as if by wild dogs. Holes marred the walls, the beautiful old antiques scratched and broken.

I slowly walked over to my aunt Heather’s desk. She’d never sit here again, writing in her journal. The sight of the injured wood made me glad that I’d come, and not Rhiannon. It was bad enough to lose her mother to the enemy, but to see how many of the memories of her childhood had been destroyed? I wasn’t about to put her through that. As I ran my hand over the hand-carved oak, now dented and scratched along the once-polished surface, my heart ached.

“I’m sorry.” Kaylin’s voice echoed behind me. “Can I do anything to help?”

I turned, gazing into his smooth, unlined face. Kaylin’s soul had been wedded to a night-veil demon while he was still in his mother’s womb and he hadn’t ever been fully human. Gorgeous, he was Chinese by descent, with a long ponytail trailing down his back. Lithe and wiry-strong, Kaylin Chen was over one hundred years old and had seen more than his share of sorrow. So when he lightly touched my elbow, I knew he understood.

I sought for something to say, but there were no words. I was in a dark spot, and I didn’t know the way out. Finally, I looked around the room. Everything seemed hopeless. But a picture on the wall of Heather and Rhiannon spurred my tongue.

“Family memories. If you see any pictures…for Rhiannon…like that one…”

He nodded, taking the picture off the wall, and then began to hunt through the sideboard on the opposite side of the room. After a while, he moved out into the next room.

I turned back to the desk and yanked open one of the drawers that had remained untouched. And there, I saw my first sign of hope. Aunt Heather’s journal, containing her magical notes, intact with the map that showed the Veil House as a major power juncture on several crisscrossing ley lines.

I pulled out the journal. It was cold in my hand, slightly damp, but otherwise unharmed. Shoving it in my bag, I shuffled through the rest of the drawer. The bank book, an envelope of cash—of course, the Shadow Hunters would have left these things. Myst’s people had no use for money, but we could use it.

After a quick look-see, I just swept everything into the bag and then glanced at the piles on the floor surrounding the other upended drawers. Not much had been left intact, but there—a ring of keys. Not sure what they went to, I added them to the bag.

Lannan had vanished, but after a moment he reappeared, carrying a large bag stuffed full of filled plastic bags and jars. “I found your herb stash. Thought these might be useful.”

I nodded, rummaging through them. Some of these I could use. Some had been healing herbs that Leo had used to make healing salves. Leo. “Crap.”

“What’s wrong?” Lannan was on instant alert, darting a look over his shoulder at the door. “Do you sense something?”

“No. I was just thinking about Leo and how he fucked us over.” I glanced up into Lannan’s eyes. A mistake—you should never stare at a vampire directly—but I didn’t care.

Lannan’s eyes were the center of the abyss, cold and unfeeling. “Leo made his choice. I told you that Geoffrey was not to be trusted.” He hefted the bag over one shoulder. “Don’t blame the boy. He chooses what many would choose—to align himself with immortals over frailty.”

“Don’t blame him? Leo trashed Rhiannon’s world. They were engaged and he turned his back on her. He fucking knocked me across the floor. And Geoffrey…” I shuddered. “Geoffrey wanted to turn me—the same way he’d turned Myst. He wanted to use me as a weapon to bait her.”

Eons ago, Geoffrey, the Regent of the Northwest Vampire Nation and one of the Elder Vein Lords, had attempted to turn the Unseelie Fae. It was then that Myst had been born, turned from his lover into a creature neither vampire nor Fae. A terrifying half-breed, she was more powerful than either Unseelie or vampire. And she was able to bear children. She had become the mother of her race and Queen of the Indigo Court.

Lannan brushed away my fear. “Forget about Geoffrey.” His voice coiled seductively around me as he leaned against my back, one hand around my waist. “I want to turn you but not in order to use you against Myst. I want you for a playmate. But you, Cicely Waters, you would be no fun if I made it too easy. I like a little fight in my playthings.”

I caught my breath, steeling myself as his lips tickled my ear, his fangs dangerously close to my neck. “Better find another toy.” I pushed his hand away from my waist. He let go, only to grab my wrist, his fingers holding me in an iron grip as he delicately rubbed against my skin, setting off yet another unwelcome spark in my stomach.

“Remember your manners, Cicely. Or I’ll have to give you another lesson in etiquette.” His words were soft but threatening.

The glimmer of the flashlight on his hair made him sparkle as if a golden nimbus surrounded him. A memory flared, with me caught in the blood fever, crying out, “My angel of darkness…” My words echoed through my thoughts and I let out a little moan. I was walking on thin ice—I’d felt the sting of Lannan’s perverted lessons too many times now.

Lannan watched me closely, a look of delight spreading across his face. “You’re thinking about me. Inside you. If only we hadn’t been interrupted, I could have finished and you would have been mine. Can you really think that I don’t revel in your reluctance? But you have to admit, I’ve become a valuable ally.”

I let out a long, slow breath and nodded. “Perhaps, but I don’t trust you.”

“Good. You shouldn’t trust anyone. I don’t understand why you trusted Leo to begin with. He stuck his nose so far up Geoffrey’s ass that I’m amazed you didn’t suspect him earlier. He’s just doing what his nature begs.”

“Stop, please. And don’t defend Leo.”

Lannan snorted. “Girl, if Geoffrey gives him what he wants, your cousin better lock her doors at night, because he’ll be coming for her. I know his type.”

“If he hurts her, I’ll never forgive him.” If Leo came after Rhiannon, I’d stake him myself.

Tipping my chin up with his index finger, Lannan shook his head. “My sweet Cicely…if Geoffrey turns him, Leo won’t bother asking for forgiveness. Vampires have neither need nor desire for atonement. I am what I am. I’m a predator. I’m your master. And I have no remorse for any of the things I’ve done in my life. Save, perhaps, for leaving Regina behind. The thought of my beautiful sister in that house with Geoffrey…I fear for her safety, even though she’s the Emissary to the Crimson Court.”

I pulled away and kicked at the rubble. There was nothing else of value here. “You had to. You didn’t have a choice.”

“Now you come to my defense? You’re a confusing one, Cicely. Perhaps you’re right, perhaps not. But we should go, if you are done. Here come your father and Kaylin.” And once again, he was all business.

We carried what bags and boxes we’d found out to the car and backed out of the driveway to return to the warehouse that had become our temporary home. All the way there, Lannan leaned over the backseat, resting a hand on my shoulder.

I knew Wrath and Kaylin were watching, but there was nothing I could do to stop him. Lannan was an ally we needed, and if I protested, he’d only find another way to screw with my head. And another mind-fuck was the last thing I needed right now.


Playlist for Night Seeker

I write to music a good share of the time and have been sharing my playlists on my website. I finally decided to add them to the backs of the books for my readers who aren’t online.

  • Adam Lambert: Mad World
  • Air: Napalm Love, Surfing on a Rocket, Playground Love, Another Day, Cemetary Party
  • Android Lust: Dragonfly, Stained, Sex and Mutilation
  • Avalon Rising: The Great Selkie, Dark Moon Circle
  • Awolnation: Sail
  • Black Rebel Motorcycle Club: Shuffle Your Feet, Fault Line
  • Bobbie Gentry: Ode to Billie Joe
  • Buffalo Springfield: For What It’s Worth
  • Cat Power: I Don’t Blame You, Werewolf
  • Cat Stevens: Katmandu
  • Chester Bennington: System
  • Chris Isaak: Wicked Game
  • Cobra Verde: Play with Fire
  • Corvus Corax: Filii Neidhardi, Mille Anni Passi Sunt, Ballade de Mercy
  • Cul de Sac: I Remember Nothing More, Into the Cone of Cold, The Moon Scolds the Morning Star, The Invisible Worm, Song to the Siren, Cul de Sade
  • David Bowie: Sister Midnight
  • David Draiman: Forsaken
  • Death Cab for Cutie: I Will Possess Your Heart
  • Depeche Mode: Dream On, Personal Jesus
  • Disturbed: Stupify
  • Faun: Sieben, Punagra, Deva
  • Foster the People: Pumped Up Kicks
  • Gary Numan: Walking with Shadows, Prophecy, The Angel Wars, Melt, A Child with the Ghost
  • Gypsy: Spirit Nation, Morgaine
  • Heart: Magic Man
  • Hedningarna: Gorrlaus, Juopolle Joutunut, Tuuli, Räven (Fox Woman), Grodan/Widergrenen, Täss’ on Nainen
  • Hugo: 99 Problems
  • In Strict Confidence: Promised Land, Forbidden Fruit, Silver Bullets
  • Jace Everett: Bad Things
  • Jay Gordon: Slept So Long
  • Jorge Rico: Theme from Picnic at Hanging Rock
  • Julian Cope: Charlotte Anne
  • King Black Acid: Rolling Under
  • Lady Gaga: Paparazzi, I Like It Rough
  • Lacuna Coil: Our Truth, Swamped, Fragile
  • Little Big Town: Bones
  • Low: Half Light
  • Marilyn Manson: Arma-Goddamn-Motherfuckin-Geddon, Tainted Love, Godeatgod
  • Nine Inch Nails: Sin, Get Down, Make Love, Deep
  • Nirvana: You Know You’re Right, Heart-Shaped Box
  • Notwist: Hands on Us
  • Orgy: Blue Monday, Social Enemies
  • A Pale Horse Named Death: Meet the Wolf, Cracks in the Walls
  • PJ Harvey: Let England Shake, The Words That Maketh Murder, In the Dark Places
  • Puddle of Mudd: Psycho
  • Red Hot Chili Peppers: Californication
  • E.M.: Drive
  • Ringo Starr: It Don’t Come Easy
  • Rob Zombie: Mars Needs Women
  • Róisín Murphy: Ramalama (Bang Bang)
  • Sarah McLachlan: Possession
  • Saliva: Ladies and Gentlemen
  • Seether: Remedy
  • Sully Erna: Avalon, The Rise
  • Susan Enan: Bring on the Wonder
  • Tamaryn: The Waves, Mild Confusion
  • Tina Turner: One of the Living
  • Toadies: Possum Kingdom
  • Warchild: Ash
  • Woodland: Morgana Moon, The Dragon, Blood of the Moon, Winds of Ostara, Gates of Twilight, First Melt, Into the Twilight
  • Wumpscut: The March of the Dead
  • Yoko Kanno: Lithium Flower
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