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Dead Witch Walking (The Hollows, Book 1) by Kim Harrison

By Kim Harrison

The underground inhabitants of witches, vampires, werewolves—creatures of desires and nightmares—has lived beside people for hundreds of years, hiding their powers. yet after a genetically engineered virus wipes out a wide a part of humanity, a few of the "Inderlanders" demonstrate themselves, altering everything.

Rachel Morgan, witch and bounty hunter with the Inderland Runner prone, is without doubt one of the most sensible at apprehending supernatural lawbreakers all through Cincinnati, but if it involves following the principles, she falls desperately brief. made up our minds to greenback the approach, she quits and takes to the air at the run with an I.S. agreement on her head and is reluctantly compelled to staff up with Ivy, Inderland's top runner . . . and a residing vampire. yet this witch is far out of her league, and to transparent her identify, Rachel needs to dodge shape-changing assassins, outwit a strong businessman/crime lord, and continue to exist a vicious underground fight-to-the-death . . . let alone her personal roommate.

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Golden oblongs of sunshine lay heavy on a black and white tiled floor. The floor and kitchen were old, but the appliances were new. One of those deluxe refrigerators with an ice maker and water dispenser took up a hunk of the back wall. All the appliances were done in a pale yellow: Harvest Gold, Autumn Bronze. Sitting at the kitchen table was a woman in her early sixties. Her thin brown face was seamed with a lot of smile lines. Pure white hair was done in a bun at the nape of her neck. She sat very straight in her chair, thin-boned hands folded on the tabletop.

Sometimes it’s goat blood, but more often chicken. I had compromised on the outfit, caught between showing respect and not melting in the heat. It would have been easy if I hadn’t planned 32 LAURELL K. HAMILTON to carry a gun with me. Call me paranoid, but I don’t leave home without it. The acid washed jeans, jogging socks, and Nikes were easy. An Uncle Mike’s inter-pants holster complete with a Firestar 9mm completed the outfit. The Firestar was my backup piece to the Browning Hi-Power. The Browning was far too bulky to put down an inter-pants holster, but the Firestar fit nicely.

A lot of hate in old Tony. It never occurred to him to pat me down for weapons. Tsk-tsk. A second man came to the screen door. He was in his late forties, maybe. He was wearing a white undershirt with a plaid shirt unbuttoned over it. The sleeves were folded back as far as they’d go. Sweat stood out on his forehead. I was betting there was a gun at the small of his back. His black hair had a pure white streak just over the forehead. ” His voice was thick and held an accent. ” The older man nodded.

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