By Adrian Phoenix
HIS identify IS DANTE.
darkish. proficient. attractive. famous person of the rock band Inferno. Rumored proprietor of the new New Orleans nightspot membership Hell. Born of the Blood, then damaged through an evil past mind's eye.
HIS previous IS A MYSTERY.
F.B.I. specified Agent Heather Wallace has been monitoring a sadistic serial assassin often called the pass 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 unearths little. A juvenile list a mile lengthy. No social safety quantity. No identified delivery date. out and in of foster houses for many of his existence sooner than being taken in by means of 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 lovely definite that hyperlink makes him the CCK's subsequent aim. Heather needs to resolve the reality approximately this sensual, complex, weak younger guy -- who, she starts off to think, could certainly be a vampire -- for you to eventually convey a killer to justice. yet Dante's earlier holds a surprising, harmful mystery, and as soon as it really is published no longer even Heather can be capable of guard him from his destiny....
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Additional info for A Rush of Wings: Book One of The Maker's Song
A shame,” Stearns said. “I think I’ll send my agent on to Pensacola to get those DNA results. ” Especially for the ADIC of Special Ops and Research, an ADIC rumored to have ties to the “non-existant” shadow branch. com) “Not necessary,” Moore replied, another warm smile on her lips. ” “Recall Wallace,” Moore said, smile gone. ” Stearns’s mind raced, flipping through possible courses of action. ” “You’re fencing with the wrong person. ” “One of your projects must be down there. ” A rueful smile brushed over Moore’s lips.
So, did Dante have any ties to Seattle? “Not really,” a low voice said. ” Heather looked up sharply. She straightened, her gaze lighting on the speaker — the wine-drinking minor from the club. Had she been thinking out loud? He leaned against the wall just inside the archway, purple hair gelled into a disheveled rock star/bedhead look. His startling silver eyes seemed lit from within, his face pensive as he chewed on his lower lip. He looked no older than sixteen. “I’m sorry,” Heather said. ” He wore black jeans studded with metal, zippered and looped with chains.
Ronin? ” “Apparently you weren’t impressed by his cool black business card either,” Dante said, a smile tugging up one corner of his mouth. ” “He turns up at crime scenes before we even have a chance to process them,” Heather said, voice hard. “He takes pictures of the victims and sells them to tabloid rags or Internet death-porn sites. He’s a good writer, I’ll give him that, but he’s always accusing the police and the Bureau of being incompetent. Or worse, claiming that we plant evidence and arrest the innocent.