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Wrong Side of Dead (Dreg City, Book 4) by Kelly Meding

By Kelly Meding

Monster hunter Evangeline Stone awakened at the flawed aspect of lifeless this morning—and now there’s hell to pay.
 
Barely recovered from her prolonged torture by the hands of mad scientist Walter Thackery, Evy can use a holiday. What she will get as an alternative is a struggle, because the battered Triads that maintain Dreg urban secure locate themselves less than assault by way of half-Blood vampires who've one way or the other retained their cause, making them two times as deadly. Worse, the Halfies are joined via a breed of were-creature lengthy believed extinct—back and extra harmful than ever. in the meantime, Evy’s makes an attempt at reconciliation with the fellow she loves take a success after Wyatt is viciously assaulted—an assault traced to Thackery, who has now not given up his quest to exterminate all vampires . . . whether he has to ruin Dreg urban to do it. With Wyatt’s time working out, one other hazard emerges from the shadows and a incredible betrayal shatters the delicate alliance among the Triads, vampires, and shapeshifters, turning Evy’s international the other way up perpetually.

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Extra resources for Wrong Side of Dead (Dreg City, Book 4)

Sample text

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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