Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter serie #9

Obsidian Butterfly: An Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Novel

Name: Obsidian Butterfly: An Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Novel
Brand: Hamilton, Laurell K.
SKU: PR-9780515134506
Price: 0.99 EUR
Availability: OutOfStock
Rating: 4.0 (412 reviews)

4.0

(412)

Le Pitch

Présentation de l'éditeur #1 New York Times bestselling author Laurell K. Hamilton offers a sexy, suspenseful novel of human—and inhuman—passions, as vampire hunter Anita Blake must repay a favor to a man almost as dangerous as the ancient evil she's about to face... Edward is a hit man, specializing in monsters, vampires, shapeshifters, anything and everything. There are people like Anita who do it legal, but Edward doesn't sweat the legalities, or, hell, the ethics. He's an equal opportunity killer. Anita may be one of the few friends that Edward has, but it’s like being friends with a tame leopard. It may curl up on the foot of your bed and let you pet its head, but it can still eat your throat out... Extrait Chapter 1 I was covered in blood, but it wasn't mine, so it was okay. Not only was it not my blood, but it was all animal blood. If the worst casualties of the night were six chickens and a goat, I could live with it, and so could everyone else. I'd raised seven corpses in one night. It was a record even for me. I pulled into my driveway at a quarter 'til dawn with the sky still dark and star-filled. I left the Jeep in the driveway, too tired to mess with the garage. It was May, but it felt like April. Spring in St. Louis was usually a two-day even between the end of winter and the beginning of summer. One day you were freezing your ass off and the next day it's be eighty plus. But this year it had been spring, a wet gentle spring. Except for the high number of zombies I'd raised, it had been a typical night. Everything from raising a civil war soldier for a local historical society to question, a will that needed a final signature, to a son's last confrontation with his abusive mother. I'd been neck deep in lawyers and therapists most of the night. If I heard, "How does that make you feel, Jonathan (or Cathy, or whoever)?" one more time tonight, I'd scream. I did not want to watch one more person "go with his or her feelings" ever. At least with most of the lawyers the bereaved didn't come to the graveside. The court-appointed lawyer would ascertain that the zombies raised had enough cognitive ability to know what they were signing, then he would sign off on the contract as a witness. If the zombie couldn't answer the questions, then no legal signature. The corpse had to be of "sound" ming to sign a legally binding signature. I'd never raised a zombie that couldn't pass the legal definition of soundness, but it happened sometimes. Jamison, a fellow animator at Animator's Inc., had a pair of lawyers come to blows on top of the grave. What fun. The air was cool enough to make me shiver as I walked down the sidewalk to my door. I could hear the phone ringing as I fumbled the key into the lock. I hit the door with my shoulder because no one ever calls just before dawn until it's important. For me that usually meant the police, which meant a murder scene. I kicked the door closed and ran for the phone in the kitchen. My answering machine had kicked on. My voice died on the machine and Edward's voice came on." "Anita, it's Edward. If you're there, pick up." Silence. I was running full out and skidded on my high heels, grabbing the receiver as I slid into the wall and nearly dropped the phone. I yelled into the receiver as I juggled the phone, "Edward, Edward, it's me! I'm here!" Edward was laughing softly when I could finally hear him. "Glad I could be amusing. What's up?" I asked. "I'm calling in my favor," he said quietly. It was my turn for silence. Once upon a time Edward had come to my aid, been my backup. He'd brought a friend, Harley, with him a smore backup. I'd ended up killing Harley. Now, Harley had tried to kill me first, and I'd just been quicker, but Edward had taken the killing personally. Picky, picky. Edward had given me a choice: either he and I could draw down on each other and find out once and for all which of us was better, or I could owe him a favor. Some day he would cal Afficher moinsAfficher plus

Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter serie #9

Obsidian Butterfly: An Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Novel

4.0

(412)

Indisponible

Le Pitch

Présentation de l'éditeur #1 New York Times bestselling author Laurell K. Hamilton offers a sexy, suspenseful novel of human—and inhuman—passions, as vampire hunter Anita Blake must repay a favor to a man almost as dangerous as the ancient evil she's about to face... Edward is a hit man, specializing in monsters, vampires, shapeshifters, anything and everything. There are people like Anita who do it legal, but Edward doesn't sweat the legalities, or, hell, the ethics. He's an equal opportunity killer. Anita may be one of the few friends that Edward has, but it’s like being friends with a tame leopard. It may curl up on the foot of your bed and let you pet its head, but it can still eat your throat out... Extrait Chapter 1 I was covered in blood, but it wasn't mine, so it was okay. Not only was it not my blood, but it was all animal blood. If the worst casualties of the night were six chickens and a goat, I could live with it, and so could everyone else. I'd raised seven corpses in one night. It was a record even for me. I pulled into my driveway at a quarter 'til dawn with the sky still dark and star-filled. I left the Jeep in the driveway, too tired to mess with the garage. It was May, but it felt like April. Spring in St. Louis was usually a two-day even between the end of winter and the beginning of summer. One day you were freezing your ass off and the next day it's be eighty plus. But this year it had been spring, a wet gentle spring. Except for the high number of zombies I'd raised, it had been a typical night. Everything from raising a civil war soldier for a local historical society to question, a will that needed a final signature, to a son's last confrontation with his abusive mother. I'd been neck deep in lawyers and therapists most of the night. If I heard, "How does that make you feel, Jonathan (or Cathy, or whoever)?" one more time tonight, I'd scream. I did not want to watch one more person "go with his or her feelings" ever. At least with most of the lawyers the bereaved didn't come to the graveside. The court-appointed lawyer would ascertain that the zombies raised had enough cognitive ability to know what they were signing, then he would sign off on the contract as a witness. If the zombie couldn't answer the questions, then no legal signature. The corpse had to be of "sound" ming to sign a legally binding signature. I'd never raised a zombie that couldn't pass the legal definition of soundness, but it happened sometimes. Jamison, a fellow animator at Animator's Inc., had a pair of lawyers come to blows on top of the grave. What fun. The air was cool enough to make me shiver as I walked down the sidewalk to my door. I could hear the phone ringing as I fumbled the key into the lock. I hit the door with my shoulder because no one ever calls just before dawn until it's important. For me that usually meant the police, which meant a murder scene. I kicked the door closed and ran for the phone in the kitchen. My answering machine had kicked on. My voice died on the machine and Edward's voice came on." "Anita, it's Edward. If you're there, pick up." Silence. I was running full out and skidded on my high heels, grabbing the receiver as I slid into the wall and nearly dropped the phone. I yelled into the receiver as I juggled the phone, "Edward, Edward, it's me! I'm here!" Edward was laughing softly when I could finally hear him. "Glad I could be amusing. What's up?" I asked. "I'm calling in my favor," he said quietly. It was my turn for silence. Once upon a time Edward had come to my aid, been my backup. He'd brought a friend, Harley, with him a smore backup. I'd ended up killing Harley. Now, Harley had tried to kill me first, and I'd just been quicker, but Edward had taken the killing personally. Picky, picky. Edward had given me a choice: either he and I could draw down on each other and find out once and for all which of us was better, or I could owe him a favor. Some day he would cal Afficher moinsAfficher plus