By Richard Kadrey
Supernatural myth has a brand new antihero
Life sucks, after which you die. Or, if you're James Stark, you spend 11 years in Hell as a hitman earlier than eventually escaping, purely to land again within the hell-on-earth that's l. a..
Now Stark's again, and prepared for revenge. And absolution, and even perhaps love. but if his first cease saddles him with an abusive speaking head, Stark discovers that the line to absolution and revenge is far longer than you'd count on, and either Heaven and Hell have their very own rules for his destiny.
Resurrection sucks. Saving the area is worse.
Darkly twisted, irreverent, and fully hilarious, Sandman Slim is the step forward novel via an acclaimed writer.
Read Online or Download Sandman Slim (Sandman Slim, Book 1) (UK Edition) PDF
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Company has been sluggish. ok, enterprise has been useless. and never even of the undead type. you will imagine Chicago could have a bit extra motion for the single specialist wizard within the yellow pages. yet in recent years, Harry Dresden hasn't been capable of dredge up any form of paintings - magical or mundane. yet simply whilst it feels like he can't find the money for his subsequent meal, a homicide comes alongside that calls for his specific model of supernatural services.
Paranormal inner most eye. Grim reaper extraordinaire. no matter what. Charley Davidson is again! And she's consuming copious quantities of caffeine to stick wakeful simply because, whenever she closes her eyes, she sees him: Reyes Farrow, the part-human, part-supermodel son of devil. definite, she did imprison him for all eternity, yet come on.
Chloe King was once a typical sixteen-year-old lady.
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fortunately for Chloe, she nonetheless has 8 lives to move.
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Extra resources for Sandman Slim (Sandman Slim, Book 1) (UK Edition)
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.