By Laurell K. Hamilton
Harold Gaynor deals Anita Blake one million funds to elevate a 300-year-old zombie. figuring out it ability a human sacrifice may be invaluable, Anita turns him down. but if lifeless our bodies begin turning up, she realizes that somebody else has raised Harold's zombie--and that the zombie is a killer. Anita pits her strength opposed to the zombie and the voodoo priestess who controls it.
In The giggling Corpse, Anita will examine that there are a few secrets and techniques higher left buried-and a few humans dead...
Read or Download The Laughing Corpse (Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter, Book 2) PDF
Best urban fantasy books
Enterprise has been sluggish. ok, company has been lifeless. and never even of the undead type. you are going to imagine Chicago could have a bit extra motion for the single expert wizard within the telephone book. yet in recent times, 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 have enough money his subsequent meal, a homicide comes alongside that calls for his specific model of supernatural services.
Paranormal deepest eye. Grim reaper extraordinaire. no matter what. Charley Davidson is again! And she's ingesting copious quantities of caffeine to stick wide awake simply because, each time she closes her eyes, she sees him: Reyes Farrow, the part-human, part-supermodel son of devil. sure, she did imprison him for all eternity, yet come on.
Chloe King was once a standard sixteen-year-old woman.
She did her homework and obtained reliable grades, yet she wasn't afraid to ditch type occasionally to hang around together with her top associates. She slept at domestic, yet in a different way shunned all human touch along with her mother. the standard stuff.
Then she fell from San Francisco's optimum tower, and her existence replaced. For starters, she died. after which, she awakened.
Now Chloe's lifestyles is whatever yet basic: unexpectedly men are prowling round her, she's turning out to be claws, and someone's attempting to kill her.
fortunately for Chloe, she nonetheless has 8 lives to move.
Ethan Kaille isn’t the likeliest hero. A former sailor with a afflicted earlier, Ethan is a thieftaker, utilizing conjuring talents to seek down those that thieve from the great electorate of Boston. And whereas chasing down miscreants in 1768 makes his lifestyles a deadly one, the simmering political tensions among loyalists like himself and rabble-rousing revolutionaries like Samuel Adams and others of his ilk are even perhaps extra harmful to his future health.
- Butcher Bird: A Novel of The Dominion
- A Necklace of Water (Balefire, Book 4)
- Winter's Demon (Vesik, Book 3)
Extra info for The Laughing Corpse (Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter, Book 2)
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.