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Hellbent (Cheshire Red Reports, Book 2) by Cherie Priest

By Cherie Priest

BAD TO THE BONE
 
Vampire thief Raylene Pendle doesn’t want extra issues in her lifestyles. Her Seattle house is already overrun by way of a band of misfits, together with Ian Stott, a blind vampire, and Adrian deJesus, an ex-Navy SEAL/drag queen. yet Raylene nonetheless can’t face up to an previous pal’s request: search out and scouse borrow a weird and wonderful set of artifacts. additionally at the hunt is a superb yet certifiably loopy sorceress made up our minds to stomp somebody who will get in her manner. yet Raylene’s largest challenge is that the dying of Ian’s vaunted patriarch seems to have made him the following aim of a few blood-sucking sociopaths.  Now Raylene needs to grab up the effective relics, clear up a homicide, and retain Ian safe—all whereas keeping off a psychotic sorceress. yet no less than she won’t be on my own. a lady may well do much worse for a companion than an ass-kicking drag queen—right?

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Extra info for Hellbent (Cheshire Red Reports, Book 2)

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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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