Minggu, 31 Agustus 2014

^^ Fee Download Bayou Moon (The Edge, Book 2), by Ilona Andrews

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Bayou Moon (The Edge, Book 2), by Ilona Andrews

Bayou Moon (The Edge, Book 2), by Ilona Andrews



Bayou Moon (The Edge, Book 2), by Ilona Andrews

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Bayou Moon (The Edge, Book 2), by Ilona Andrews

Cerise Mar and her clan are cash poor but land rich, claiming a large swathe of the Mire, the Edge swamplands. When her parents vanish, her clan's long-time rivals are suspect. But all is not as it seems.

Two nations of the Weird are waging a cold war fought by feint and espionage, and their conflict is about to spill over into the Edge-and Cerise's life.

  • Sales Rank: #103953 in Books
  • Published on: 2010-09-28
  • Released on: 2010-09-28
  • Original language: English
  • Number of items: 1
  • Dimensions: 6.85" h x 1.35" w x 4.25" l, .51 pounds
  • Binding: Mass Market Paperback
  • 480 pages

Review
"[Renée Raudman] uses pace and intensity to keep up with the struggles of the characters, who are caught up in old feuds to protect their land and family." ---AudioFile

About the Author
Ilona Andrews is the pseudonym for a husband-and-wife writing team. Together, they are the coauthors of the #1 New York Times bestselling Kate Daniels urban-fantasy series, including Magic Rises, Magic Slays, and Magic Bleeds and the romantic urban-fantasy novels of the Edge, including Steel's Edge, Fate's Edge, and Bayou Moon. They currently reside in Texas with their two children and numerous pets.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Chapter 1

William sipped some beer from the bottle of Modelo Especial and gave the Green Arrow his hard stare. The Green Arrow, being a chunk of painted plastic, didn't rise to the challenge. The action figure remained impassive, exactly where he'd put it, leaning against the porch post of William's house. Technically it was a shack rather than a house, William reflected, but it was a roof over his head and he wasn't one to complain.

From that vantage point, the Green Arrow had an excellent view of William's action figure army laid out on the porch, and if he were inclined to offer any opinions, he would've been in a great position to do so. William shrugged. Part of him realized that talking to an action figure was bordering on insane, but he had nobody else to converse with at the moment and he needed to talk this out. The whole situation was crazy.

"The boys sent a letter," William said.

The Green Arrow said nothing.

William looked past him to where the Wood rustled just beyond his lawn. Two miles down the road, the Wood would become simply woods, regular Georgia pine and oak. But here, in the Edge, the trees grew vast, fed by magic, and the forest was old. The day had rolled into a lazy, long summer evening, and small nameless critters, found only in the Edge, chased each other through the limbs of the ancient trees before the darkness coaxed predators from their lairs.

The Edge was an odd place, stuck between two worlds. On one side lay the Broken, with no magic but plenty of technology to compensate. And rules. And laws. And paperwork. The damn place ran on paperwork. The Broken was where he made his money nowadays, working construction.

On the other side lay the Weird, a mirror to the Broken, where magic ruled and old blueblood families held power. He was born in that world. In the Weird, he'd been an outcast, a soldier, a convict, and even a noble for a few brief weeks. But the Weird kept kicking him in the teeth the entire time, until he finally turned his back on it and left.

The Edge belonged to neither world. A perfect place for the man who fit in nowhere. That was how he first met the boys, George and Jack. They lived in the Edge, with their sister Rose. Rose was sweet and pretty and he'd liked her. He'd liked what they had, she and the kids, a warm little family. When William watched them together, a part of him hurt deep inside. He now realized why: he'd known even then that a family like that was forever out of his reach.

Still, he tried with Rose. Might have had a chance, too, but then Declan showed up. Declan, a blueblood and a soldier, with his flawless manners and handsome face. "We used to be friends," William told the Green Arrow. "I did beat the shit out of him before he left."

The joke was on him, because Declan left with Rose and took the boys with him. William let them go. Jack required a lot of careful care and Declan would raise him well. And Rose needed someone like Declan. Someone who had his shit together. She had enough trouble with the boys as it was. She sure as hell didn't need another charity project and he didn't want to be one.

It had been almost two years since they'd left. For two years William had lived in the Edge, where the trickle of magic kept the wild within him alive. He worked his job in the Broken, watched TV on weekends, drank lots of beer, collected action figures, and generally pretended that the previous twenty-six years of his life had not occurred. The Edgers, the few families who lived between the worlds like he did, kept to themselves and left him alone.

Most people from either the Broken or the Weird had no idea the other world existed, but occasionally traders passed through the Edge, traveling between worlds. Three months ago, Nick, one of the traveling traders, mentioned he was heading into the Weird, to the Southern Provinces. William put together a small box of toys on a whim and paid the man to deliver it. He didn't expect an answer. He didn't expect anything at all. The boys had Declan. They would have no interest in him.

Nick came by last night. The boys had written back.

William picked up the letter and looked at it. It was short. George's writing was perfect, with letters neatly placed. Jack's looked like a chicken had written it in the dirt. They said thank you for the action figures. George liked the Weird. He was given plenty of corpses to practice necromancy on and he was taking rapier lessons. Jack complained that there were too many rules and that they weren't letting him hunt enough.

"That's a mistake," William told the Green Arrow. "They need to let him vent. Half of their problems would be solved if they let him have a violent outlet. The kid is a changeling and a predator. He turns into a lynx, not a fluffy bunny." He raised the letter. "Apparently he decided to prove to them that he was good enough. Jack killed himself a deer and left the bloody thing on the dining room table, because he's a cat and he thinks they're lousy hunters. According to him, it didn't go over well. He's trying to feed them and they don't get it."

What Jack needed was some direction to channel all that energy. But William wasn't about to travel to the Weird and show up on Declan's doorstep. Hi, remember me? We were best friends once, and then I was condemned to death and your uncle adopted me, so I would kill you? You stole Rose from me? Yeah, right. All he could do was write back and send more action figures.

William pulled the box to him. He'd put in Deathstroke for George—the figure looked a bit like a pirate and George liked pirates, because his grandfather had been one. Next, William had stuck King Grayskull in for Declan. Not that Declan played with action figures—he'd had his childhood, while William spent his in Hawk's Academy, which was little more than a prison. Still, William liked to thumb his nose at him, and King Grayskull with his long blond hair looked a lot like Declan.

"So the real question here is, do we send the purple Wildcat to Jack or the black one?"

The Green Arrow expressed no opinion.

A musky scent drifted down to William. He turned around. Two small glowing eyes stared at him from under the bush on the edge of his lawn.

"You again."

The raccoon bared his small sharp teeth.

"I've warned you, stay out of my trash or I will eat you."

The little beast opened his mouth and hissed like a pissed-off cat.

"That does it."

William shrugged off his T-shirt. His jeans and underwear followed. "We're going to settle this."

The raccoon hissed again, puffing out his fur, trying to look bigger. His eyes glowed like two small coals.

William reached deep inside himself and let the wild off the chain. Pain rocked him, jerking him to and fro, the way a dog shook a rat. His bones softened and bent, his ligaments snapped, his flesh flowed like molten wax. Dense black fur sheathed him. The agony ended and William rolled to his feet.

The raccoon froze.

For a second, William saw his reflection in the little beast's eyes—a hulking dark shape on all fours. The interloper took a step back, whirled about, and fled.

William howled, singing a long sad song about the hunt and the thrill of the chase, and a promise of hot blood pulsing between his teeth. The small critters hid high up in the branches, recognizing a predator in their midst.

The last echoes of the song scurried into the Wood. William bit the air with sharp white fangs and gave chase.

William trotted through the Wood. The raccoon had turned out to be female and in possession of six kits. How the hell he'd missed the female scent, he would never know. Getting rusty in the Edge. His senses weren't quite as sharp here.

He had to let them be. You didn't hunt a female with a litter—that was how species went extinct. He caught a nice juicy rabbit instead. William licked his lips. Mmm, good. He would just have to figure out a way to weigh down the lid on the trashcan. Maybe one of his dumbbells would do the job, or some heavy rocks…;

He caught a glimpse of his house through the trees. A scent floated to him: spicy, reminiscent of cinnamon mixed with a dash of cumin and ginger.

His hackles rose. William went to ground.

This scent didn't belong in this world outside of a bakery. It was the scent of a human from beyond the Edge's boundary, with shreds of the Weird's magic still clinging to them.

Trouble.

He lay in the gloom between the roots and listened. Insects chirping. Squirrels in the tree to the left settling down for the night. A woodpecker hammering in the distance to get the last grub of the day.

Nothing but ordinary Wood noises.

From his hiding spot, he could see the entire porch. Nothing stirred.

The rays of the setting sun slid across the boards. A tiny star winked at him.

Careful. Careful.

William edged forward, a dark soft-pawed ghost in the evening twilight. One yard. Two. Three.

The star winked again. A rectangular wooden box sat on the porch steps, secured with a simple metal latch. The latch shone with reflected sunlight. Someone had left him a present.

William circled the house twice, straining to sample the scents, listening to small noises. He found the trail leading from the house. Whoever delivered the box had come and gone.

He approached the building and looked at the box. Eighteen inches long, a foot wide, three inches tall. Simple unmarked wood. Looked like pine. Smelled like it, too. No sounds came from inside.

His figures were untouched. His letter, pinned down by the heavy Hulk, lay where he'd left it. The scent of the intruder didn't reach it.

William pulled the door open with his paw and slipped inside. He would need fingers for this.

The pain screamed through him, shooting through the marrow in his bones. He growled low, shook, convulsing, and shed his fur. Twenty seconds of agony and William crouched on human legs in the living room. Ten more seconds and he stepped out on the porch, fully dressed and armed with a long knife. Just because the box seemed benign didn't mean it wouldn't blow up when he opened it. He'd seen bombs that were the size of a coaster. They made no noise, gave off no scent, and took your leg off if you stepped on them.

He used the knife to pry the latch open and flip the lid off the box. A stack of paper. Hmm.

William plucked the first sheet off the top of the stack, flipped it over, and froze.

A small mangled body lay in the green grass. The boy was barely ten years old, his skin stark white against the smudges of crimson that spread from a gaping wound in his stomach. Someone had disemboweled him with a single vicious thrust and the kid had bled out. So much blood. It was everywhere, on his skinny stomach, on his hands, on the dandelions around him…; Bright, shockingly red, so vivid, it didn't seem real. The boy's narrow face stared at the sky with milky dead eyes, his mouth opened in a horrified O, short reddish hair sticking up…;

It's Jack. The thought punched William in the stomach. His heart hammered. He peered closely at the face. No, not Jack. A cat like Jack—slit pupils—but Jack had brown hair. The boy was the right age, the right build, but he was not Jack.

William exhaled slowly, trying to get a handle on his rage. He knew this. He'd seen this boy before, but not on the picture. He'd seen the body in the flesh, smelled the blood and the raw, unforgettable stench of the gut wound. His memory conjured it for him now, and he almost choked on the phantom bitterness coating his tongue.

The next picture showed a little girl. Her hair was a mess of blood and brains—her skull had been crushed.

He pulled more pictures from the box, each corresponding to a body in his memory. Eight murdered children lay on his porch. Eight murdered changeling children.

The Weird had little use for changelings like him. The Dukedom of Louisiana killed his kind outright, the moment they were born. In Adrianglia, any mother who'd given birth to a changeling child could surrender her baby to the government, no questions asked. A simple signature on a piece of paper and the woman went on her way, while the child was taken to Hawk's Academy. Hawk's was a prison. A prison with sterile rooms and merciless guards, where toys and play were forbidden; a place designed to hammer every drop of free will out of its students. Only outdoors, the changeling children truly lived. These eight must've been giddy to be let out into the sunshine and grass.

It was supposed to be a simple tracking exercise. The instructors had led the children to the border between Adrianglia and the Dukedom of Louisiana, its chief rival. The border was always hot, with Louisianans and Adrianglians crossing back and forth. The instructors allowed the kids to track a group of border jumpers from Louisiana. When William was a child, he had gone on the same mission a dozen times.

William stared at the pictures. The Louisianans had turned out to be no ordinary border jumpers. They were agents of Louisiana's Hand. Spies, twisted by magic and powerful enough to take out a squad of trained Legionnaires.

They let the children catch them.

When the kids and the instructors failed to report in, a squad of Legionnaires was dispatched to find them. He was the tracker for that squad. He was the one who found them dead in the meadow.

It was a massacre, brutal and cold. The kids didn't go quick. They'd hurt before they died.

The last piece of paper waited in the box. William picked it up. He knew from the first sentence what it would say. The words were burned into his memory.

He read it all the same.

Dumb animals offer little sport. Louisiana kills changelings at birth—it's far more efficient than wasting time and resources to try to turn them into people. I recommend you look into this practice, because next time I'll expect proper compensation for getting rid of your little freaks.

Sincerely yours,Spider

Mindless hot fury flooded William, sweeping away all reason and restraint. He raised his head to the sky and snarled, giving voice to his rage before it tore him apart.

For years he'd tracked Spider as much as the Legion would permit him. He'd found him twice. The first time he'd ripped apart Spider's stomach and Spider broke his legs. The second time, William had shattered the Louisianan's ribs, while Spider nearly drowned him. Both times the Hand's spy slipped through his fingers.

Nobody cared for the changelings. They grew up exiled from society, raised to obey and kill on command for the good of Adrianglia. They were fodder, but to him they were children, just like he had once been a child. Just like Jack.

He had to find Spider. He had to kill him. Child murder had to be punished.

A man stepped out of the Wood. William leapt off the porch. In a breath he pinned the intruder to the trunk of the nearest tree and snarled, his teeth clicking a hair from the man's carotid.

The man made no move to resist. "Do you want to kill me or Spider?"

"Who are you?"

"The name is Erwin." The man nodded at his raised hands. A large ring clamped his middle finger—a plain silver band with a small polished mirror in it. The Mirror—Adrianglian Secret Service—flashed in William's head. The Hand's biggest enemy.

"The Mirror would like a word, Lord Sandine," the man said softly. "Would you be kind enough to favor us with an audience?"

Most helpful customer reviews

94 of 101 people found the following review helpful.
AdMIREd the Heck Out of It
By Tracy
~* 4.5 Stars *~
William Wolf is a changling. Feared and hated by humans of the Weird - and sometimes killed at birth - his kind is cursed as demons and known for having a nearly unquenchable thirst for violence. He's not and will never be 'normal.' He was raised at Hawk's Academy, a cold place that trained him to be a killer for his country, then spit him out into the military. Until a court marshal and a death sentence took everything he knew away from him. Now, almost two years after helping his old friend/rival Declan defeat the evil Casshorn in On the Edge (The Edge, Book 1), he's living life as a solitary wolf, with a small home in the Edge and a construction job in the Broken. Until Mirror agents come knocking and offer him a job and a chance for revenge on his greatest enemy, a Louisianan Hand agent named Spider.

Cerise Mar is Mire born and bred, and with a large family to take care of and little money to be had, she's learned to scrape and scrounge out a life in the swamp of the Edge. With little legacy beyond an 80 year old family feud and magic of the old ways, she's thrust into assuming the responsibility of leading her entire family when her parents go missing and the Sheeriles, the rival Mire family the Mars are feuding with, take over a house on Mar land. Soon Cerise realizes there is a traitor in her midst, and the Sheeriles have crawled into bed with the magically twisted Hand and instead of facing a family feud, she and her family are staring at genocide the likes of which can hardly be conceived. And she's the one who will have to lead her family to it.

They meet up in the Broken, William and Cerise, these two lost and damaged souls on two separate missions that, in the end, are inexorably linked. They survive through the Mire and end up in the Rathole - working together in the hopes that at least some of them survive. But life isn't easy in the Mire and nothing in the Edge is ever guaranteed.

The husband and wife writing team that is Ilona Andrews has managed to do it again. When I first read On the Edge a year ago, I was - quite bluntly - blown away by the originality and uniqueness of the hard to classify series opener. I hadn't read anything quite like it before. I was familiar with Andrews' skill with plotting and character development from the Kate Daniels series, but I wasn't prepared for the depth and breadth of character and story they produced in that first book. I thought I was prepared for this one.

I was wrong.

Without a doubt, and despite the intricate, wonderful, and detailed plots, it is the characters that earn my highest marks in both books in the series. In Bayou Moon in particular, I was floored by the brilliant complexity of William's character. He is so delightfully and deliciously OTHER - and consistently maintained as such - that each aspect of his personality, from the echoing loneliness to the ferociousness of a warrior to the stark wolf-like needs to the endearing innocence, was brilliantly executed and exquisitely defined to build a phenomenal character that resonates with realism. He is at turns fearsome and heartbreaking, and so charming when bowled over by his struggle to seem human in the face of a complete lack of understanding of humanity. William Wolf will forever be one of my favorite protagonists.

I didn't want to stop reading about him. I didn't want to stop knowing him. In fact, when I finished the book the first time, I did something I have only done one or two times in my life. I went back to the beginning and read the entire book again.

Of course, Cerise was also extremely well drawn, and in typical Andrews fashion, secondary and ancillary characters are also just as complex, just as deep and fully realized that each feels like an old friend...or at least leery acquaintance...by the time you're done reading. I shared Cerise's heartbreak for Lark, her hopeless feeling of wasted opportunity for Lagar, William's frustrations with Kaldar, and even...though it's disturbing to admit...the cold passion of patriotism in Spider. There are no cardboard cutouts here, no two dimensional or cliched characters, no megalomaniacal, bent-on-world-domination bad guys...just complex motivations and complicated responsibilities, heavy burdens of obligation, chilling determination to succeed, fleeting glimpses of hope and yearning for something better.

It is a stunning world. With breathtaking characters. Heartbreaking and triumphant at turns. Fantastic in almost every way. And I was most appreciative that Andrews took the time to detail all the various layers of the plot during the body of the book, and loved the attention to the most minute detail and the nod to continuity in some of the smallest but most telling ways. Like the chocolate. Nice touches throughout that just made sinking into this book such a phenomenal experience overall.

I wasn't totally thrilled with absolutely everything, however. One particular turn of the plot made no sense to me given the definition of Cerise and William and dialogue they'd had through the book. I'm not going to mention specifics to prevent spoilers, but there was one thing that seemed to contradict a previous agreement and vow and it was so significant to the plot that it jarred me out of the story. That one particular turn, and just one other scene that seemed significant during, but never got fully rounded out by the end (and left me just as confused as William professed to being at the time concerning it) are the two aspects of the book that kept me sticking with a 4.5 rating instead of a five.

Overall, I felt Bayou Moon had a much meatier and significant plot than the previous book in the series, with characters, William in particular, that will stick with me long after the book is done. I'm dying to know what happens from here, and desperately want some closure on Lark's tragic issues, even Jack and George (who make an appearance here, and thank you for that!).

I've read other books throughout the years that have left me wanting more. This, however, is the first book - and the first series - that has me demanding (however impotently) more of the lives of these characters - all of them: primary, secondary, and ancillary - and the world they inhabit. I want more of their personalities, want to experience the passions and the rivalries and the revelry. To feel it, to triumph and suffer with these people I've come to know. It's a visceral, painful, yearning sensation with which I was previously unfamiliar.

The Kate Daniels series is a favorite of mine. I can't deny it. The Edge series, though...I think it may be even better. Please, please, give us more.

Reviewed for One Good Book Deserves Another.

43 of 44 people found the following review helpful.
Great mix of action, suspense, mystery, humor and romance
By Shannon C.
Bayou Moon is the second book in The Edge series. We met William, the wolf shapeshifter, in book one. He is living as a recluse in the Edge--the border area between the Weird (magic) and the Broken (not magic) worlds. High ranking members of the Mirror (secret service) show up at his door to tell him his nemisis the Spider is back. The Spider is a murderer runs a group known as the Hand--magic altered, very creepy and tough bad guys. William goes undercover into the Mire, swamp land in the Edge, to track him down and discover an elusive journal that Spider is hunting.

The Mar family is a land rich, cash poor family living in the Mire. They've had a long running feud with the Sheeriles, a rival clan. When Cherise Mar's parents go missing, she is shocked to discover that the powerful Hand helped the Sheerilies with the disappearance. What does the Hand want with her parents? The Sheerilies are trying to take some of the Mar's land. Cherise must find a way to take back their land and save her parents. While on a mission to the Broken to track down some key legal papers, she meets William. At first they do not trust each other, but over time they learn that the Hand is an enemy of both. They agree to work together in the fight against the Hand.

I was very pleasantly surprised by this book--it is definitely better than the first book. It has a highly imaginative, fast paced, suspenseful storyline. Highly entertaining mix of action, suspense, mystery, humor and romance. The original world building was very well done.

I loved the main characters and found many of the supporting cast interesting. Cherise was a strong lead female who runs her clan in her parent's absense. I loved her kick a$$ sword abilities--some great fight scenes. I liked William when he was a side character in the first book, and liked him more as his character was developed in this book.

Only negative to me was a part towards the end, which I didn't buy--can't say more because it's a spoiler. It seemed like a contrived conflict (like what you'd find in some romance books) and didn't seem to jive with what we knew about William & Cherise's characters. But that was only one small part of the book, and ultimately this book has a happy ending. I liked the setup for the next book and hope William & Cherise's story will continue.

If you are looking for simliar books, here are others I enjoyed if you want to check them out. Top favs are marked with an asterisk.

Mercy Thompson* and Alpha & Omega* series by Patricia Briggs (Don't miss the anthology in On the Prowl,which is a prequel to Cry Wolf)
Kate Daniels* series by Ilona Andrews
Night Huntress* series by Jeaniene Frost
Sookie Sackhouse* by Charlaine Harris
Cassandra Palmer and Dorina Basarab Dhampir* series by Karen Chance (I like Dory better than Cassie, but from a timeline perspective Cassie comes first. Dory is a great kick butt character reminiscent of Kate Daniels.)
World of Lupi series by Eileen Wilks
Guild Hunters by Nalini Singh
Chicagoland Vampires series by Chloe Neill
October Daye series by Seanan McGuire
Kara Gillian series by Diana Rowland
Black Jewels trilogy and The Invisible Ring by Anne Bishop
Jane True by Nicole Peeler
Fever series by Karen Moning
Circle series by Linda Robertson
Elemental Assassin series by Jennifer Estep

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
Always the authorlords
By Amazon Customer
Loved it like all of the authorlord books.

See all 218 customer reviews...

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Rose Daughter, by Robin Mckinley

Twenty years ago, Robin McKinley dazzled readers with the power of her novel Beauty. Now this extraordinarily gifted novelist returns to the story of Beauty and the Beast with a fresh perspective, ingenuity, and mature insight.

With Rose Daughter, she presents her finest and most deeply felt work--a compelling, richly imagined, and haunting exploration of the transformative power of love.

  • Sales Rank: #114793 in Books
  • Color: Blue
  • Brand: ACE
  • Published on: 1998-12-01
  • Released on: 1998-12-01
  • Original language: English
  • Number of items: 1
  • Dimensions: 6.80" h x .80" w x 4.20" l, .32 pounds
  • Binding: Mass Market Paperback
  • 304 pages
Features
  • Great book!

From School Library Journal
Grade 8 Up. Gertrude Stein's famous quote, "Rose is a rose is a rose...," is dispelled by McKinley in her second novelization of the tale "Beauty and the Beast." (Beauty was her first novel, published 20 years ago.) Both books have the same plot and elements; what is different is the complexity of matured writing and the patina of emotional experience. Here, she has embellished and embodied the whys, whos, and hows of the magic forces at work. The telling is layered like rose petals with subtleties, sensory descriptions, and shadow imagery. Every detail holds significance, including the character names: her sisters, Jeweltongue and Lionheart; the villagers, Miss Trueword, Mrs. Bestcloth, and Mrs. Words-Without-End. Mannerisms of language and intricacies of writing style are key in this exposition. The convoluted sentences often ramble like a rose and occasionally prick at the smoothness of the pace. Word choices such as feculence, sororal sedition, numen, ensorcell, and simulacrum will command readers' attention. McKinley is at home in a world where magic is a mainstay and, with her passion for roses, she's grafted a fully dimensional espalier that is a tangled, thorny web of love, loyalty, and storytelling sorcery. Fullest appreciation of Rose Daughter may be at an adult level.?Julie Cummins, New York Public Library
Copyright 1997 Reed Business Information, Inc.

From Booklist
Gr. 6^-12. Almost 20 years after her well-received, award-winning Beauty (1978), McKinley reexplores and reexpands on the Beauty and the Beast fairy tale. This is not a sequel, but a new novelization that is fuller bodied, with richer characterizations and a more mystical, darker edge. Although the Library of Congress catalogs it in the 398s, the book really belongs on the fiction shelves alongside Beauty. The familiar plot is here, but the slant is quite different, though Beauty's sisters are once again loving rather than hostile as in de Beaumont's original version. A few scenes are reminiscent of Beauty. For example, in the dining room scenes in the castle, Beauty eats but the Beast merely is present: "I am a Beast; I cannot eat like a man." In Rose Daughter, Beauty has an affinity for flower gardening, particularly roses, because of her memories of her deceased mother; it is a talent that serves her in good stead as she nurtures the Beast's dying rose garden. Also, in some nicely done foreshadowing, Beauty suffers from recurring dreams of a long, dark corridor and something--a monster?--waiting for her at the end. Rose Cottage, where Beauty and her family settle after the father's financial downfall, and the nearby town and its residents, as well as the opulence of the Beast's castle and the devastation of his rose garden, are vividly depicted. Among the fantasy elements are a prescient cat, the spirit of the greenwitch who willed Rose Cottage to Beauty's family, unicorns, and preternatural Guardians. There is more background on the Beast in this version, allowing readers to see how he came to be bewitched, and Beauty's choice at the end, a departure from that in Beauty, is just so right. Readers will be enchanted, in the best sense of the word. Sally Estes

From Kirkus Reviews
This luxuriant retelling of the story of the Beauty and the Beast is very different from McKinley's own Beauty (1978). While sticking to the tale's traditional outlines, this version by turns rushes headlong and slows to a stately pace, is full of asides and surprises, and is suffused with obsession for the rose and thorn as flora, metaphor, and symbol. Beauty can make anything grow, especially roses; her memories of her dead mother are always accompanied by her mother's elusive rose scent. The Beast's aroma is also of roses, as is the scent of a sorcerer and a greenwitch. Eroticism, comfort, hard work, and the heart's deep love are all bound in rose imagery, from the curtains and tapestries of the Beast's palace to the Rose Cottage home of Beauty's family. Roses stand for all the many different facets of love (the text is specific on that): Beauty's for her father and her vividly etched sisters Lionheart and Jeweltongue; for a family hearth and safe home; for a puppy named Tea-cosy; and most incredibly but satisfyingly, for the Beast who has haunted her nightmares since childhood. While the story is full of silvery images and quotable lines, it will strike some as overlong and overblown; for others, perhaps those who were bewitched by Donna Jo Napoli's Zel (1996), it is surely the perfect book. (Fiction. 12+) -- Copyright ©1997, Kirkus Associates, LP. All rights reserved.

Most helpful customer reviews

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
Not as good as Beauty
By Jennifer
Having read both this story and the previous one, Beauty, written by this author I personally like Beauty better. There are some similarities between the two books. Such as Beauty's sisters being decent people and not the vain duo depicted in the original fairy tale. Here again Beauty's father comes across the Beast's realm due to a storm. Only in this story her father finds the rose in the dining room, not in the garden.
The main differences are also why I like Beauty better. This story focuses a lot on gardening and roses. The writing flips from one location to another rather quickly and with limited preparation or clue that the next jump is coming. Rose Daughter is also less true to the original fairy tale and has several circumstances where what is going on has an Alice in Wonderland trippiness that I found more confusing than helpful.
All in all this is a lukewarm version of Beauty and the Beast and I would suggest reading Beauty for a much better version.

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
Glass and Roses
By Sylvia A. Kelso
Probably the better, in being the most developed beyond the original fairytale, of the McKinley Beauty and the Beast adaptations. McKinley has a tendency to horridly long sentences and a bunch of fairly irrelevant detail, causing me to get very wishful of a blue pencil, especially in Spindle's End, but this one isn't so beset with micro-fiddles, the characters are good, the setting is both rich and originally idiosyncratic, and the final phases are stronger than those in the first version.

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
... was definitely an enjoyable take on one of my favorite tales. Three sisters instead of the one Disney ...
By Dance Scholar
This was definitely an enjoyable take on one of my favorite tales. Three sisters instead of the one Disney gave us. There is a mishap with the father resulting is one of his daughters living at the Beast's magical and mysterious home. Some elements were not well explained or had only a very cursory mention but they did fit in this world, I just wanted a little more explanation (animals and salamander if you're wondering). All in all an enjoyable read I didn’t want to put down.

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In 1989, the American Institute of Steel Construction published the ninth edition of the Manual of Steel Construction which contains the "Specification for Structural Steel Buildings-Allowable Stress Design (ASD) and Plastic De­ sign." This current specification is completely revised in format and partly in content compared to the last one, which was published in 1978. In addition to the new specification, the ninth edition of the Manual contains completely new and revised design aids. The second edition of this book is geared to the efficient use of the afore­ mentioned manual. To that effect, all of the formulas, tables, and explanatory material are specifically referenced to the appropriate parts of the AISCM. Ta­ bles and figures from the Manual, as well as some material from the Standard Specifications for Highway Bridges, published by the American Association of State Highway and Transportation Officials (AASHTO), and from the Design of Welded Structures, published by the James F. Lincoln Arc Welding Foun­ dation, have been reproduced here with the permission of these organizations for the convenience of the reader. The revisions which led to the second edition of this book were performed by the first two authors, who are both experienced educators and practitioners.

  • Sales Rank: #6118473 in Books
  • Published on: 1992-03-31
  • Original language: English
  • Number of items: 1
  • Dimensions: 9.50" h x 6.50" w x 1.25" l, .0 pounds
  • Binding: Hardcover
  • 503 pages

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Engineering Physiology Bases of Human Factors/Ergonomics, by K.H.E. Kroemer, H.J. Kroemer, K.E. Kroemer-Elbert

Engineering Physiology

Bases of Human Factors/Ergonomics

How tall are people nowadays? How far can we reach? How high do we sit? How strongly do we push with a hand or foot? How does the body develop strength? What are our work capabilities? How can we measure and judge them? How can we, at the same time, make work easy and effective? Engineering Physiology, Third Edition, describes the bases of human factors and ergonomics by providing answers to these and many other questions concerning the size, build, and functioning of the human body at work. This information is presented in clear, concise language, not in the jargon of physiology, biology, or medicine; it does not require background knowledge from the reader, just interest--and it is interesting to read.

This practical guide shows how the body monitors itself, how it reacts to workloads and environmental stresses such as heat or cold, humidity, and wind. Each chapter focuses on real-world applications of specific physiological knowledge in the workplace to help assure high performance with minimal effort.

A wealth of information on anthropometry is also included, exploring the size and mobility of the human body and the various ways of designing for different sizes--there is no "average" person. There is a thorough discussion of the architecture, functioning, and biomechanics of bones, joints, muscles, tendons, and ligaments. It becomes clear how they develop forces and torques and move the body at work or sports. Overhead work, or sitting and standing still for a long time, is fatiguing: the team of authors explains why. Our bodies prefer dynamic activities to sustained static effort: we want to move about.

The book explains energy extraction from food and drink, what efforts the body is capable of, and how this depends on the cooperation of respiratory, circulatory, and metabolic systems. It points out ways of measuring and assessing a person's ability to work and continue working, such as the observation of a subject's breathing rate, heart beat rate, and oxygen consumption.

The effects of environmental conditions (heat, cold, humidity, air movement) and of shift work (day, evening, and night work) on task performance are discussed in practical terms. There are advantages, and some drawbacks, to "compressed work weeks" and "flextime"!

The Third Edition of Engineering Physiology has new information on body size and how to fit equipment to it. The book describes how we develop muscle strength and transmit it along the limbs to a handle or pedal--and how to design for that application of force or torque. It explains what happens in repetitive trauma and how to avoid "carpal tunnel syndrome." What can we expect from "reengineering" the body; how can artificial joints replace worn out hips and knees?

The third edition of this successful book provides numerous ideas to human factors engineers, designers, managers, industrial hygienists, safety personnel, plant engineers and supervisors, students, and anyone else interested in the ergonomics of "fitting work to the human body."

  • Sales Rank: #9728103 in Books
  • Published on: 1990-08
  • Original language: English
  • Number of items: 1
  • Dimensions: 10.50" h x 7.25" w x .75" l,
  • Binding: Hardcover
  • 211 pages

From the Back Cover
Engineering Physiology

Bases of Human Factors/Ergonomics

How tall are people nowadays? How far can we reach? How high do we sit? How strongly do we push with a hand or foot? How does the body develop strength? What are our work capabilities? How can we measure and judge them? How can we, at the same time, make work easy and effective? Engineering Physiology, Third Edition, describes the bases of human factors and ergonomics by providing answers to these and many other questions concerning the size, build, and functioning of the human body at work. This information is presented in clear, concise language, not in the jargon of physiology, biology, or medicine; it does not require background knowledge from the reader, just interest—and it is interesting to read.

This practical guide shows how the body monitors itself, how it reacts to workloads and environmental stresses such as heat or cold, humidity, and wind. Each chapter focuses on real-world applications of specific physiological knowledge in the workplace to help assure high performance with minimal effort.

A wealth of information on anthropometry is also included, exploring the size and mobility of the human body and the various ways of designing for different sizes—there is no "average" person. There is a thorough discussion of the architecture, functioning, and biomechanics of bones, joints, muscles, tendons, and ligaments. It becomes clear how they develop forces and torques and move the body at work or sports. Overhead work, or sitting and standing still for a long time, is fatiguing: the team of authors explains why. Our bodies prefer dynamic activities to sustained static effort: we want to move about.

The book explains energy extraction from food and drink, what efforts the body is capable of, and how this depends on the cooperation of respiratory, circulatory, and metabolic systems. It points out ways of measuring and assessing a person's ability to work and continue working, such as the observation of a subject's breathing rate, heart beat rate, and oxygen consumption.

The effects of environmental conditions (heat, cold, humidity, air movement) and of shift work (day, evening, and night work) on task performance are discussed in practical terms. There are advantages, and some drawbacks, to "compressed work weeks" and "flextime"!

The Third Edition of Engineering Physiology has new information on body size and how to fit equipment to it. The book describes how we develop muscle strength and transmit it along the limbs to a handle or pedal—and how to design for that application of force or torque. It explains what happens in repetitive trauma and how to avoid "carpal tunnel syndrome." What can we expect from "reengineering" the body; how can artificial joints replace worn out hips and knees?

The third edition of this successful book provides numerous ideas to human factors engineers, designers, managers, industrial hygienists, safety personnel, plant engineers and supervisors, students, and anyone else interested in the ergonomics of "fitting work to the human body."

About the Author
K. H. E. Kroemer is Professor Emeritus in the Grado Department of Industrial and Systems Engineering at Virginia Polytechnic Institute in Blacksburg, Virginia. He has done consulting work in the Americas, Europe, and Asia. Dr. Kroemer is author or co-author of about 200 publications.

H. J. Kroemer is President of the Ergonomics Research Institute, Inc., a consulting firm in Radford, Virginia. She holds a master's degree from the University of Cincinnati and has done postgraduate studies at the University of Michigan. Her special area of interest is instructional techniques.

K. E. Kroemer-Elbert, their daughter, holds an MS and PhD degrees in mechanical engineering from Cornell University with a specialization in biomechanics. She is Principal Research Engineer with one of the leading U.S. manufacturers of orthopedic devices and artificial body joints.

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Now back in print: Book one of Lucasfilm's Alien Chronicles trilogy.

The ruler of the reptilian Viis has just purchased a new pet for his daughter. But he is unaware that this furred creature with sharp teeth--enslaved by the Viis for many years--is destined to bring down a corrupt empire.

  • Sales Rank: #1175070 in Books
  • Published on: 1998-02-01
  • Released on: 1998-02-01
  • Original language: English
  • Number of items: 1
  • Dimensions: 6.64" h x .95" w x 4.32" l, .0 pounds
  • Binding: Mass Market Paperback
  • 352 pages

From Library Journal
A dramatization of the first part of a trilogy by romance novelist Chester, this story might best be described as The Jungle Book meets Star Wars. Its protagonist is a warm, furry feline who gradually learns the cruel extent to which the reptilian Viis rulers oppress her race. Although the recording lasts only three hours, the story unfolds so slowly that one almost welcomes the periodic blasts of loud music. However, those who do stay alert will not be rewarded, for the story ends just as it starts to get interesting. One may well skip this part altogether and wait for the second and third installments. Recommended only for libraries whose patrons prefer movies to books.AR. Kent Rasmussen, Thousand Oaks, CA
Copyright 1998 Reed Business Information, Inc.

Review
The Jungle Book meets Star Wars. -- Library Journal

About the Author
No Bio

Most helpful customer reviews

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
Worth reading, but you might want to wait . . .
By pcress@nish.org
The author is a very good story teller and catches you up in this tale of oppressed races and how they exist in a world ruled by the whims of their oppressive rulers. The plot provides two very different views of this existence. One is a street urchin that must grow up by using its wits to survive in the ghettos. The other is adopted (bought) by an upper crust family and raised in a luxurious world of priveledge - all the while being reminded that it is part of a sub-class.
The story moves along with a lot of adventure, a decent vocabulary and a very interesting edge to the plot's progress that doesn't leave you thinking, "Yeah, I knew that was going to happen!" The linking of the two threads also keeps you guessing on how they will come together and how their joining could possibly result in the outcome hinted at by the marketing blurbs printed on the cover (and of course, repeated in the Amazon listing).
As you round a corner and realize you are at the three-quarter point on completing the book it becomes obvious that this plot cannot climax and resolve the tale in the ramaining space. It was at that point that I developed the sinking feeling that I will have to await the publishing of the remainder of the trilogy to satisfy my curiosity. It is disappointing to find that you will be left hanging and must wait. It was not made clear on the cover of the book that it was a trilogy - or not clear enough that I missed that detail.
I will wait until both of the final two volumes are available before I take up the second book - but I will finish the story.

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
Great story worth reading, but it ends too soon.
By A Customer
Wonderfully crafted storytelling. This novel tells the story of two principle characters, Ampris and Elrabin - Ampris being the real focus. Both characters are members of subjugated species within the Viis empire. Ampris' early years are pampered, while Elrabin's are impoverished. Yet fate brings them together. However, they are not united till the very end.
The great strength of this book is the character development. All of the characters' thoughts and actions develop naturally from their circumstances and backgrounds. Deborah Chester has done a wonderful job of creating three dimensional, and believable, characters. Additionally, when a crisis develops, the characters' responses, and the story line, remain believable. Ms. Chester never relied on tricks or unlikely interventions to rescue a character in distress.
The main flaw of the book is that it ends with a cliffhanger. The story is no where near completing the story line. I grant that given Ms. Chester's richly detailed telling, 344 pages are just not enough to get us there - but I want resolution. I've read that book two in not due to be published until October - I can't wait. To her credit, Ms. Chester does provide some resolution. We see Ampris' character develop, through experience, the psychology that will bring her to greatness and we see how she and Elrabin will be thrust together. But, I don't want to wait nine months to find out what happens next.
All in all, I recommend Alien Chronicles The Golden One without reservation.

1 of 1 people found the following review helpful.
Not George Orwell, not George Lucas, but still good
By Daniel Udell
This book could turn some off by the chincy cover and meoldramatic clichéd back. However, the book is nothing of the sorts. It's a great read, and you'll be able to gobble it up quickly.

Regardles of the LucasFilm's brand, it has nothing to do with Star Wars, and the only resemblence is that it's Science Fantasy. The characters are incredibly well-drawn, and if you react to the book the same way I will, you'll want to keep reading.

The plot moves quickly, and is really two plots, because it follows the lives of two characters who don't meet until the end of the book. One, Elrabin, is a poor, homeless street thief who runs away from home at the age of seven, and Ampris, a member of a race deemed subhuman by the Viis Empire (the badasses of the book) who is bought out of poverty and into royalty to be the pet of the Emperor's daughter. So, a nice ying and yang scenario is set up.

This book is really a medophor I think for the stupidity of biggotry and class distinction in society, but it's still a fun, light read. Buy this book knowing that it's not an importan piece of Science Fiction literature, but knowing you'll have a good time.

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Selasa, 26 Agustus 2014

~~ Ebook Download First Truth (Truth, Book 1), by Dawn Cook

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First Truth (Truth, Book 1), by Dawn Cook

View our feature on Dawn Cook’s First Truth.Before she wrote as New York Times bestselling author Kim Harrison, Dawn Cook wrote the Truth...

This is the first novel of Dawn Cook's extraordinary coming-of-age fantasy featuring Alissa, a young novice in the art of magic, who embarks on an epic journey of discovery and danger.

  • Sales Rank: #234021 in Books
  • Published on: 2002-05-28
  • Released on: 2002-05-28
  • Original language: English
  • Number of items: 1
  • Dimensions: 6.70" h x .90" w x 4.20" l,
  • Binding: Mass Market Paperback
  • 352 pages

From Booklist
Alissa is a headstrong, pragmatic child of the foothills, whose father has been missing since she was five. One morning her mother announces that Alissa must journey to the Hold, the magical place of stories her papa had told her, where gifted people are trained to be Keepers by the mysterious Masters. Her mother has seen signs that Alissa has inherited her father's talents and must be trained. Against her will, Alissa sets out across the prewinter plains. She meets Strell, a light-hearted minstrel who has a penchant for irritating her, but who has a map. A partnership is born. Neither partner knows that at the Hold the evil Bailic has dispatched the Masters and murdered the Keepers--Alissa's father among them. Bailic wants the book of First Truth, and to rule the land with it. When Alissa and Strell arrive, Bailic soon comprehends that one of them can help him find the book. A beautifully told, simple story that looks unblinkingly at how prejudice unnecessarily reinforces misconceptions, misunderstandings, and hatred. Paula Luedtke
Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved

Review
In her beguiling debut, Cook has woven together magical threads. . . a tale of courage and quest. . . a world rich with vivid detail. . . and characters, whether valiant or villainous, impossible to forget. --Deborah Chester

Dawn Cook's First Truth is a fun book, sure to appeal to fans (like me) of Tamora Pierce or Robin McKinley. With characters to cheer for, vicious villains, and attack birds, First Truth had everything I need in a good read. I look forward to Alissa's next adventure. --bestselling author Patricia Briggs

About the Author
Dawn Cook est le pseudonyme utilise par l auteure Kim Harrisson pour ses uvres de fantasy. De son propre aveu, Kim Harrison fut longtemps un garcon manque. Elle joue (mal) au billard et (beaucoup mieux) aux des, et aime regarder des films d action en mangeant du pop-corn. A part ca, on la voit souvent trainer avec un type tout de cuir vetu. Plus serieusement, elle est depuis 2004 l un des best-sellers de la bit-lit.

Most helpful customer reviews

2 of 2 people found the following review helpful.
I absolutely LOVED these books!
By Kimberly Moler
The Truth series is one the best I have ever read. The second of the series, Hidden Truth, is my favorite of all time. Dawn Cook's works are genius!

You HAVE to read all four books. I admit First Truth starts out slow and seemingly pointless, but if you just hang in til the second half of the book you will be hooked. After reading the first book I remember my only complaint was wishing the plot could be more complicated. But now after reading the whole series I am shocked at how much was actually going on in that first book that I would have never guessed!

With a small cast of characters, each is very well developed. While at times I found Alissa's stubbornness annoying, she eventually found her way into my heart, as she does with basically every character in the books. And Strell is absolutely adorable. You will fall in love with him immediately!

The Truth series is riddled with surprising twists, some that made my heart pound and some that made me cry. With the end of each book I was frantic to get my hands on the next. But when it was finally over, I was not left with that pained feeling of wanting more that some books can do to you. Instead, you know in your heart that this is how it should end.

I strongly recommend you read this book. I will be amazed if I ever find a series to match its equal.

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
Good fantasy
By S. Rayball
This was a good fantasy book. Strong female and male characters so it should appeal to either gender. It has dragons and magic which were well written and thought out. Fans of Kim Harrison should be highly entertained because Dawn Cook is her pen name.

3 of 3 people found the following review helpful.
Good start!
By A Customer
FIRST TRUTH is a wonderful build-up to its sequel, HIDDEN TRUTH.
I would actually give it 4.5 stars, if possible, only because I will be giving HIDDEN TRUTH 5 stars and needed to leave some space for improvement. You will love Alissa, Strell, and Useless; and you will hate Bailic. I recommend this book and its sequel even more.

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Minggu, 24 Agustus 2014

@ Fee Download Magic Burns (Kate Daniels), by Ilona Andrews

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Magic Burns (Kate Daniels), by Ilona Andrews

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Magic Burns (Kate Daniels), by Ilona Andrews

As a mercenary who cleans up after magic gone wrong, Kate Daniels knows how waves of paranormal energy ebb and flow across Atlanta like a tide. But once every seven years, a flare comes, a time when magic runs rampant. When Kate sets out to retrieve a set of stolen maps for the Pack, Atlanta's paramilitary clan of shape shifters, she quickly realizes much more is at stake. The stolen maps are only the opening gambit in an epic tug of war between two gods hoping for rebirth, and if Kate can't stop the cataclysmic showdown, the city may not survive.

  • Sales Rank: #143713 in Books
  • Brand: Ace
  • Published on: 2008-04-01
  • Released on: 2008-04-01
  • Original language: English
  • Number of items: 1
  • Dimensions: 6.75" h x .75" w x 4.20" l,
  • Binding: Mass Market Paperback
  • 260 pages
Features
  • Great product!

Review
"Fans of urban fantasy will delight in Ilona Andrews' alternate-universe Atlanta." -FRESH FICTION

About the Author
Ilona Andrews is the pseudonym for a husband-and-wife writing team. Together, they are the coauthors of the #1 New York Times bestselling Kate Daniels urban-fantasy series, including Magic Rises, Magic Slays, and Magic Bleeds and the romantic urban-fantasy novels of the Edge, including Steel's Edge, Fate's Edge, and Bayou Moon. They currently reside in Texas with their two children and numerous pets.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Chapter One

The phone rang in the middle of the night. The magic wave was in full swing, and the phone shouldn't have worked, but it rang anyway, again and again, outraged over being ignored, until finally I reached over and picked it up.

"Yehmmm?"

"Rise and shine, Kate." The smooth cultured voice on the line suggested a slender, elegant, handsome man, all things that Jim was not. At least not in his human shape.

I clawed my eyes open long enough to glance at the windup clock across the room. "Two in the morning. Some of us sleep during the night."

"I've got a gig," Jim said.

I sat up in the bed, wide awake. A gig was good—I needed the money. "Half."

"Third."

"Half."

"Thirty-five percent." Jim's voice hardened.

"Half."

The phone went silent as my former Guild partner mulled it over. "Okay, forty."

I hung up. The bedroom lay quiet. My curtains were open and moonlight sifted into the room through the metal grate shielding the window. The moonlight acted as a catalyst and the metal bars glowed with a weak bluish patina where the silver in the alloy interacted with the ward spell. Beyond the bars, Atlanta slept like some hulking beast of legend, dark and deceptively peaceful. When the magic wave ended, as it inevitably would, the beast would awaken in an explosion of electric light and possibly gunfire.

My ward wouldn't stop a bullet, but it kept the magic hazmat out of my bedroom, and that was good enough.

The phone rang. I let it ring twice before I picked it up.

"Fine." Jim's voice had a hint of a snarl in it. "Half."

"Where are you?"

"In the parking lot under your window, Kate."

Calling from a pay phone, which shouldn't have worked, either. I reached for my clothes, left by the bed for just such an occasion. "What's the gig?"

"Some arsonist wacko."

***

Forty-five minutes later, I was winding my way through an underground garage and cursing Jim under my breath. With the lights knocked out by magic, I couldn't see my hand in front of my nose.

A fireball blossomed in the pitch-black depth of the garage. Huge, churning with violent red and yellow, it roared toward me. I jumped behind the concrete support, my throwing knife sweaty in my hands. Heat bathed me. For a moment I couldn't breathe, and then the fire hurtled past me to burst in an explosion of sparks against the wall.

A thin gleeful cackle emanated from the garage depths. I peeked out from behind the support in the direction of the sound. Nothing but darkness. Where was the tech shift when you needed one?

Across from me at the next row of supports Jim raised his hand and touched his fingers to his thumb a few times, imitating an opening and closing beak. Negotiate. He wanted me to engage a lunatic who had already turned four people into smoking meat. Okay. I could do that.

"All right, Jeremy!" I yelled into the night. "Give me the salamander and I won't cut your head off!"

Jim put his hand over his face and did some shaking. I thought he was laughing, but I couldn't be sure. Unlike him I didn't have the benefit of enhanced night vision.

Jeremy's cackle reached a hysterical crescendo. "Stupid bitch!"

Jim peeled himself from the support and melted into the darkness, tracking Jeremy's voice. His vision worked better than mine in low light, but even his sight failed in absolute darkness. He had to hunt by sound, which meant I had to keep Jeremy talking. While Jim stalked Jeremy's melodious voice, Jeremy, in turn, stalked me.

Nothing to worry about, just a homicidal pyromaniac armed with a salamander in a sphere of enchanted glass and intent on setting what was left of Atlanta on fire. The main thing was to keep the salamander's sphere safe. If that thing broke, my name would be more famous than Mrs. O'Leary's cow.

"Damn, Jeremy, you need to work on your vocabulary. So many good names to call me and the best you could come up with is bitch? Give me the salamander before you hurt yourself."

"Suck my dick . . . whore!"

A tiny spark flared into existence to the left of me. It hung suspended in the darkness, illuminating both the scaly outline of the salamander's mouth and Jeremy's hands clutching the glass sphere with white-knuckled need. The enchanted glass parted and belched the spark. The air hit the tiny packet of energy and the spark exploded into a fireball.

I ducked behind the support just as the fire smashed against concrete. Flames shot past on both sides of me. The acrid stench of sulfur stung my nostrils.

"That last fireball missed me by a mile. You shoot blanks with your other salamander, too, Jeremy?"

"Eat shit and die!"

Jim had to be close to him by now. I stepped into the open. "Come on, you sniveling shit for brains! Can't you do anything right?"

I saw flames, lunged to the side and hit the floor rolling. Above me the fire howled like an enraged animal. The handle of the knife burned my fingers. The air in my lungs turned to heat, and my eyes watered. I pressed my face into the dusty concrete, praying it didn't get any hotter, and then suddenly it was over.

Screw this. I jumped to my feet and charged in Jeremy's direction. The salamander flared within the sphere. I caught a flash of Jeremy's crooked smile above the glass. It wilted as Jim's dark hands closed around Jeremy's throat. The arsonist slumped, ragdoll limp, the sphere rolling from his weakened fingers. . . .

I dived for it, caught it three inches above the cement, and found myself face-to-face with the salamander. Ruby-red eyes regarded me with mild curiosity, black lips parted, and a long, spiderweb-thin filament of a tongue slithered from the salamander's mouth and kissed the sphere's glass in the reflection of my nose. I love you, too.

Gingerly I got to my knees and then to my feet. The salamander's presence tugged on my mind, as eager to please as an overly enthusiastic kitten arching her back for a stroke. Visions of flames and heat wavered before me. Let's burn something. . . . I slammed my mental shutters closed, locking her out of my mind. Let's not.

Jim relaxed his hold on Jeremy and the arsonist sagged to the ground like a wet blanket. The whites of his eyes stared at the ceiling from his slack face, caught by death in a moment of utter surprise. No pulse check needed for this one. Shit. There goes the capture bonus.

"You said it was a live-preferred bounty," I murmured. The living Jeremy was worth a lot more than his corpse. We'd still get paid, but we had just waved a third of the money good-bye.

"It is." Jim twisted the body on its side, exposing Jeremy's back. A thin metal shaft, tipped with three black feathers, protruded from between Jeremy's shoulders blades. Before my mind had the time to digest its significance, I hit the deck, cradling the salamander. Jim somehow got there before me.

We stared into the gloom. Darkness and silence.

Someone had taken out our mark with a crossbow bolt. Could have taken us out as well. We had stood by the body for at least four seconds. More than enough time to squeeze off two shots. I touched Jim and touched my nose. He shook his head. With all the sulfur in the air he probably couldn't smell a skunk if it sprayed him in the face. I lay very still and tried to breathe quietly. Listening was our best bet.

A minute dragged by, long, viscous, and silent. Very slowly Jim shifted into a crouch and nodded to the left. I had a vague feeling the door lay to the right, but in the darkness with some unknown crossbowman waiting, I would trust Jim's senses over mine.

Jim grasped Jeremy's corpse, slung it over his shoulder, and we took off, bending low, running fast, him ahead and me, half-blind in the gloom, slightly behind. Concrete supports flashed by, one, two, three, four. The tech hit, and before I could put down my raised foot, the magic drained from the world, leaving the battered technology in its wake. The fluorescent lamps in the ceiling blinked and snapped into life with a buzz, bathing the garage in a weak man-made glow. The black rectangle of the exit gaped ten feet before us. Jim dived into it. I lunged to the left, behind the nearest support. The salamander in the globe stopped glowing and went to sleep, looking like a harmless black lizard. My long-range weapon was tuckered out.

I set it down on the floor and slid Slayer from its sheath. Salamanders are overrated anyway.

"He's gone," Jim said from the doorway and pointed behind me.

I turned. Far at the back, the concrete wall had crumbled, revealing a narrow passageway probably leading up to the street. He was right. If the bowman wanted to take us out, he had had plenty of time to do it.

"So he sniped our mark and left?"

"Looks that way."

"I don't get it."

Jim shook his head. "Weird shit always happens around you."

"This was your gig, not mine."

A shower of sparks fell from above the door and a green EXIT sign burst into life.

Jim stared at it for a moment, his features twisted in a distinctly feline expression, disgust and fatalism rolled into one, and shook his head again.

"Dibs on the bolt in his back!" I called.

"Be my guest."

Jim's pager went off. He checked it and a familiar neutral mask slid onto his face.

"Oh no, you don't! I can't carry him by myself."

"Pack business." He headed for the exit.

"Jim!"

I killed the urge to throw something at the empty doorway. Served me right for taking a job with a guy who served on the Pack Council. It's not that Jim was a bad friend. It's just that for shapeshifters, Pack business always took precedence. On a scale from one to ten, the Pack was eleven and everything else a one.

I stared at a very dead Jeremy lying like a sack of potatoes on the floor. Probably a hundred and fifty pounds, dead weight. There was no way I could carry him and the salamander at the same time. There was no way I could leave the salamander unattended, either. The magic could hit anytime, setting the little lizard ablaze. Plus, the sniper might still be around. I needed to get out of here, and fast.

Jeremy and the salamander, each worth four grand. I no longer did a lot of work for the Guild, and gigs of this size didn't come my way too often. Even split in a half with Jim, the bounty would cover my two mortgages for two months. The thought of leaving four grand on the floor made me physically ill.

I looked at Jeremy. I looked at the salamander. Choices, choices.

***

The Mercenary Guild's bounty clerk, a short, trim, dark-haired man, stared at Jeremy's head on the counter. "Where is the rest of him?"

"I had a slight logistics problem."

The clerk's face split in a wide smile. "Jim took off on you, didn't he? That will be one capture ticket then?"

"Two tickets." Jim might be an asshole, but I wouldn't screw him out of his share. He'd get his capture ticket, which entitled him to his half of the bounty.

"Kate, you're a pushover," the clerk said.

I leaned over the counter and offered him my best deranged smile. "Wanna push and see if I fall over?"

"No thanks." The clerk slapped the stack of forms on the counter. "Fill these out."

The inch-thick stack of paperwork promised to occupy me for a good hour. The Guild had pretty lax rules—being an organization of mercenaries, they took keen interest in profit and little else—but death had to be reported to the cops and thus required red tape. The small significance of Jeremy's life was reduced to the price on his head and a lot of carefully framed blank spaces on a piece of paper.

I gave the top form the evil eye. "I don't have to fill out the R20."

"That's right, you work with the Order now." The clerk counted off eight pages from the top of the stack. "There you go, VIP treatment for you."

"Yippee." I swiped my stack.

"Hey, Kate, let me ask you something."

I wanted to fill out my forms, go home and take a nap. "Shoot."

He reached under the counter. The Mercenary Guild occupied an old Sheraton Hotel on the edge of Buckhead and the clerk's counter had been a lobby bar in that previous life. The clerk pulled out a dark brown bottle and set it in front of me with a shot glass.

"Why, no, I won't drink your mysterious love potion."

He guffawed. "Hennessy. The good stuff. I'll pay for the info."

"Thanks, but I don't drink." Not anymore, anyway. I still kept a bottle of Boone's Farm sangria in my cabinet for a dire emergency, but hard liquor was right out. "What's your question?"

"What's it like to work for the Order?"

"Thinking of joining?"

"No, I'm happy where I'm at. But I've got a nephew. He wants to be a knight."

"How old?"

"Sixteen."

Perfect. The Order liked them young. All the easier to brainwash. I pulled up a chair. "I'd take a glass of water."

He brought me water and I sipped it. "Basically the Order does the same thing we do: they clear magic hazmat. Let's say you've got a harpy in a tree after a magic wave. You're going to call the cops first."

"If you're stupid." The clerk smirked.

I shrugged. "The cops tell you that they're busy with a giant worm trying to swallow the federal courthouse, instruct you to stay away from the harpy, and tell you they'll come out when they can. The usual. So you call the Guild. Why wait, when for three hundred bucks a couple of mercs will bag the harpy with no fuss and even give your kid a pretty tail feather for his hat, right?"

"Right."

"Suppose you don't have three hundred bucks. Or suppose the job is code 12, too nasty for the Guild to take it. You still have a harpy and you want her gone. So you call the Order, because you heard they don't charge that much. They ask you to come to their Chapter, where a nice knight talks to you, gets your income assessed and tells you good news: they're charging you fifty bucks because they've determined that's all you can afford. Kismet."

The clerk eyed me. "What's the catch?"

"The catch is, they give you a piece of paper to sign, your plea to the Order. And there in big letters it says that you authorize the Order to remove any threat to humanity that arises in connection with this case."

The Order of Merciful Aid had chosen its name well. They provided merciful aid, usually on the edge of the blade or by the burn of a bullet. Trouble was, sometimes you got more aid than you wanted.

"Let's say you sign the plea. The knights come out and observe the harpy. At the same time, you notice that every time you see the damn thing, your elderly senile aunt disappears. So you watch the old lady and sure enough, the magic wave hits and she turns into a harpy. You tell the knights you want to call the whole thing off—you love your aunt and she does no harm sitting in that tree anyway. The knights tell you that five percent of harpies carry a deadly disease on their claws and they've determined her to be a danger to humanity. You get angry, you yell, you call the cops, but the cops tell you it's all legal, there is nothing they can do, and besides the Order is part of the law enforcement anyway. You promise to lock your aunt up. You try a bribe. You point to your kids and explain how much they love the old lady. You cry. You beg. But nothing helps." I drained my glass. "And that's what it's like working for the Order."

The clerk poured himself a shot and tossed it down his throat. "Did that really happen?"

"Yep."

"Did they kill the old lady?"

"Yep."

"Jesus."

"If your nephew thinks he can do that, tell him to apply to the Academy. He's at a good age for it. It's hard physically and the academic load is pretty big, but if he has the will, he'll make it."

"How do you know?"

I swiped my stack off the counter. "Back when I was a kid, my guardian enrolled me. He was a knight-diviner."

"No shit. How long did you last?"

"Two years. Did well on everything except mental conditioning. I've got authority issues." I waved at the clerk and took my paperwork to one of the tables in the gloom.

Truth was, I didn't do well. I did great. Tested right off the power-scale. Got certified as an electrum-level squire. But I hated it. The Order required absolute dedication, and I already had a cause. I wanted to kill the most powerful man in the world, and that kind of desire leaves little room for anything else. I dropped out and went to work for the Mercenary Guild. It broke Greg's heart.

Greg had been a great guardian, fanatical in his determination to protect me. For Greg, the Order was a place of safety. If my target found out I existed, he'd kill me, and neither Greg nor I had enough power to resist him. Not yet anyway. Had I joined the Order, every last knight would protect me against this threat. But it wasn't worth it, so I parted ways with the Order and never looked back.

And then Greg was murdered. To find his killer, I went to the Order and maneuvered myself into their investigation. I found the murderer and killed him. It was a grisly, nasty affair, now called the Red Point Stalker case. In the process my Academy record came to light and the Order decided they wanted me back. They weren't subtle about it, either. They made up a job—a liaison between themselves and the Mercenary Guild—promised me Greg's office, his files, authority to handle minor cases, and a steady paycheck. I took it. Part of it was guilt: I had shunned Greg after dropping out of the Academy. Part of it was common sense: I had mortgages on both my father's house, near Savannah, and on Greg's place here in Atlanta. To give up either one would be like ripping a chunk out of my body. Guild gigs paid well but I had a small territory near Savannah and a big job happened there maybe once every six months. The lure of steady money proved to be too strong.

My affiliation with the Order wouldn't last. But for now, it worked. I had yet to default on either payment and once I filled out these forms, I'd ensure I could cover my bills for another month or two.

After writing my merc ID number ten times on every imaginable piece of paper, I was treated to a "check yes or no" questionnaire. Yes, I acted in self-defense. No, I didn't believe excessive force was used in subduing the suspect. Yes, I perceived the suspect as presenting imminent threat to myself and others. By the time I reached the "fill in the blank" portion my eyes needed matchsticks to stay open. In the "state the suspect's intent as perceived by you" blank, I wrote down, "Intended to burn down the city due to being a complete crackpot."

When I finally stepped out of the Mercenary Guild's heavy, reinforced steel doors, the sky was pale gray with that particular color that usually meant the sun was rising. At least I had the bolt from Jeremy's back. And I was three hundred bucks richer, thanks to my advance. The rest of the money would have to wait until the cops approved the kill. By the time I got to the intersection, I had the advance divided between various bills. I still had it—if I thrust my hand in my pocket, I would feel the soft paper of four worn fifty-dollar bills and five twenties, and yet the money was already gone.

The great mystery of the Universe.

***

Two hours later, I stumbled into the Atlanta Chapter of the Order, bleary-eyed and armed with a huge mug of coffee, the mysterious bolt wrapped in a brown paper bag and tucked securely under my elbow. The office greeted me with its plethora of vivid color: a long hallway with gray carpet, gray walls, and gray light fixtures. Ugh.

As I stepped in, the magic hit. The electric lights went out. The bloated tubes of fey lanterns flared a gentle blue as the charged air inside them reacted with magic.

This was the third wave in the last twenty-four hours. The magic had been going crazy the last couple of days. Shifting back and forth like it couldn't make up its mind.

The faint clicking of an ancient typewriter echoed in the empty office, coming from the secretary's nook by the door of the knight-protector. "Good morning, Maxine."

"Good morning, Kate," said Maxine's voice in my head. "Rough night?"

"You could say that."

I unlocked my office door. The Atlanta Chapter of the Order made an effort to appear as inconspicuous as possible, but my office was small even by their standards. Little more than a cube, it was barely large enough to house a desk, two chairs, a row of filing cabinets, and some bookshelves. The walls showcased another radiant shade of gray paint.

I paused in the doorway, arrested in midstep. I had inherited the office from Greg. It had been almost four months since his death. I should have gotten over it by now, but sometimes, like this morning, I just . . . had a hard time making myself enter. My memory insisted that if I stepped in, Greg would be there, standing with a book in his hand, his dark eyes reproachful but never unkind. Always ready to pull me out of whatever mess I had gotten myself into. But it was a lie. Greg was dead. First my mother, then my father, then Greg. Everyone I ever cared about died violently, in a great deal of pain. If I took a moment to let it sink in, I'd be howling like a Pack wolf during a full moon.

I closed my eyes, trying to clear the memories of the office and Greg within it. Mistake. The image of Greg only got more vivid.

I did a one-eighty and walked down the hall to the armory. So I was a coward. Sue me.

Andrea sat on a bench cleaning a handgun. She was short, built with strength in mind, and had the kind of face that made people want to tell her their life stories in a checkout line. She knew the Order's Charter front to back and could rattle obscure regulations off the top of her head. Her radios never lost contact, her magic scanner never malfunctioned, and if you brought her a broken gadget, she would return it the next day fully operational and clean.

Andrea raised her blond head and gave me a little salute with her hand. I shrugged a little, feeling the reassuring weight of Slayer, my saber, in its sheath on my back and waved in reply. I could understand the metal addiction. After the little adventure that had landed me this job, I was loath to part with Slayer. A few minutes without my blade and I got edgy.

Andrea noticed me still looking at her. "You need something?"

"I need to ID a crossbow bolt."

She made a come-here motion with the fingers of her left hand. "Give."

I gave. Andrea removed the paper, took out the bolt and whistled in appreciation.

"Nice."

Blood-red and fletched with three black feathers, the bolt looked about two feet in length. Three inch-long black lines marked the shaft just before the fletch: nine marks in all.

"This is a carbon shaft. It can't be bent. Very durable and expensive. Looks like a 2216, designed to bring down medium-sized game, deer, some bear. . . ."

"Human." I leaned against the wall and sipped my coffee.

"Yeah." Andrea nodded. "Good power, good trajectory without any significant sacrifice in speed. It's a man-killer. Look at the head—small, three-blade, weighs about a hundred grains. Reminds me a lot of a Wasp Boss series. Some people go for mechanical broadheads, but with a good crossbow the acceleration is so sudden, it opens the blades in flight and there goes your accuracy down the drain. If I were to pick a broadhead, I'd pick something like this." She twisted the bolt, letting the light from the window play on the blades of the head. "Hand sharpened. Where did you get this?"

I told her.

She frowned. "The fact that you didn't hear the bow go off probably means it's a recurve. A compound crossbow ‘twangs' at release. Can I fire it?" She nodded at a man-shaped paper target pinned to the far wall, which was sheathed in several layers of corkboard.

"Sure."

She put on gloves to keep the magic residue to a minimum, took a small crossbow off the bench, loaded, swung it up, and fired, too fast to have aimed. The bolt whistled through the air and bit into the center of the man's forehead. Bull's-eye. And here I was, unable to hit a cow at ten yards with a gun.

The feylanterns flickered and faded. On the wall, a dusty electric fixture flared with soft yellow light. The magic wave had drained and the world had shifted from magic back to tech. Andrea and I looked at each other. Nobody could predict the duration of the shifts: the magic came and went as it pleased. But the waves rarely lasted less than an hour. This one had been what, fifteen minutes?

"Is it me, or is it shifting more than usual?"

"It's not you." Andrea's face looked a bit troubled. She freed the bolt. "Want me to scan it for magic?"

"If it's not too much trouble." Magic had the annoying tendency of dissipating over time. The sooner you could scan your evidence, the better your chances of getting a power print.

"Trouble?" She leaned to me. "I've been off-line for two months. It's killing me. I have cobwebs growing on my brain." She pressed her finger below her right eye, pulling the lower eyelid down. "Look for yourself."

I laughed. Andrea worked for a Chapter out West and had run into some trouble with a pack of loups raiding the cattle farms. Loups, the insane cannibalistic shapeshifters who had lost the internal battle for their humanity, killed, raped, and raged their way from one atrocity to the next, until someone put the world out of their misery.

Unfortunately, loups were also contagious as hell. Andrea's partner knight became infected, went loup, and ended up with two dozen of Andrea's bullets in her brain. There was a limit to how much shapeshifters could heal, and Andrea was a crack shot. They relocated her to Atlanta, and although she didn't have any trace of Lycos virus in her blood and wasn't in any danger of sprouting fur and claws, Ted kept her on the back burner.

Andrea took the bolt to the magic scanner, raised the glass hood, slid the bolt onto the ceramic tray, lowered the cube, and cranked the lever. The cube descended and the m-scanner whirled.

"Andrea?"

"Mmm?"

"The tech's up," I said, feeling stupid.

She grimaced. "Oh, Christ. Probably won't get anything. Well, you never know. Sometimes you can pull some residual magic imprints even during tech."

We looked at the cube. We both knew it was futile. You would have to scan something really saturated with magic to get a good m-scan during tech. Like a body part. The m-scanner analyzed the traces of residual magic left on an object by its owner and printed them in a variety of colors: blue for human, green for shape-shifter, purple for vampire. The tone and vividness of the colors denoted the different types of magic, and reading an m-scan correctly was practically an art form. The traces of magic on a bolt, probably held very briefly, were bound to be miniscule. I knew of only one man in the city who had an m-scanner high-speed enough to register such slight residual magic during tech. His name was Saiman. Trouble was, if I went to him, it would cost me an arm and a leg.

The printer chattered. Andrea pulled the print out and turned to me. Her face had gone a shade whiter. A wide slice of silvery blue cut across the paper. Human divine. That in itself was not remarkable. Anybody who drew their power from deity or religion registered as human divine: the Pope, Shaolin monks, even Greg, a knight-diviner, had registered silver-blue. The problem was, we shouldn't have been able to get an m-scan at all with the tech up.

"What does this mean? Is the residual magic just incredibly strong on this thing?"

Andrea shook her head. "The magic waves have been really erratic lately."

We looked at each other. We both knew what rapid-fire waves meant: a flare. And I needed that like a hole in the head.

"You have a petitioner," Maxine's voice said in my head.

I grabbed my m-scan and went into my office.

Most helpful customer reviews

139 of 147 people found the following review helpful.
A "realistic" Urban Fantasy Novel.....Hurray!!!
By J. Hulet
Important note: I would not call this a paranormal romance, I would call this a Urban Fantasy book. I have a pet peeve about being mislead and this book fits the former category.

After I finished the first book of this series I was seriously worried that we were headed down the path to another of the too powerful to be believable heroines. The characters were interesting and the author's idea for bringing magic and technology together was good, but I seriously wondered if our Heroine was going to be another Anita Blake who develops new powers every other page.

Book 2. Ilona Andrews gets a big thumb up for letting her heroine get her butt royally kicked several times in the book. She's still a really bratty, smart-mouthed girl who happens to be really, really powerful in magic and other things. Here's the great part. There is a good explanation for a lot of it. She doesn't just magically have powers, she has been to schools and she studies on her own to get better. What? A heroine who works at it?? Thank you, Ms. Andrews, for writing with your brain intact.

The second book starts up pretty much where the first book left off. Kate, our heroine, is still struggling financially, has a hard time keeping a boyfriend and doesn't play nice with others. Her interactions with other paranormal groups continue and she keeps trying to do good while staying as sassy and likable as before.

The storyline follows Kate through the advent of a major surge/spike in magic and the interactions of several different groups who are being affected. The Beastlord who she flirted/fought with during the first book remains a strong supporting character, but Ms. Andrews doesn't just throw them together for the almost mandatory sex that these books too often include without a good reason. Again, nice job Ms. Andrews.

40 of 41 people found the following review helpful.
Lions and mermaids and shaman, oh my!
By Lauren Hutchison
Magic Burns is the second book in the Kate Daniels series by Ilona Andrews. Kate is a mercenary in magic-torn Atlanta, eliminating the magical anomalies that surface each time a wave of magic hits. In Magic Bites, she investigates the murder of her guardian and ruffles a few important furs and feathers in the process. In Magic Burns, we revisit Kate's uncanny ability to attract danger from all sides as she works to investigate the disappearance of a young girl's mother. She must work cooperatively with The People (vampires) and The Pack (shapeshifters), though this alliance is frequently strained.

Fans of the series should not be disappointed by this new installment. This reads like a separate episode - while it does help to have some prior knowledge of the universe, it may not be required for you to enjoy this second book. The romantic fans will be titillated by Magic Burns as Kate's relationship with Curran really starts getting interesting and a rival enters the battle.

Books like this are typically not my "thing," but I have to give the author credit for a work that I finished at a break-neck pace. Magic Burns is full of action, adventure, mystery, humor, and a touch of romance. The emphasis of Magic Burns is the action - the dark qualities aren't quite as strong as they were in Bites, and the mystery is a little rushed. Humor in a book like this is a delicate balance - alternating between comedy and dark adventure is tricky, especially while keeping up the momentum of the plot. Overdoing the one-liners can turn a book into pure schlock or a belly-laugh. In Magic Burns there are some phrases that are a little overused ("In your dreams!"), some reactions that seem unreasonable or cartoonish. But overall, the funny bits are very well done and elevate the series from interesting to endearing. The snark suits Kate well and creates a thoroughly entertaining read.

All of your favorite characters from Magic Bites make a reappearance in Magic Burns, almost without exception. These characters are typically well integrated into the story, but some of them make cameo appearances that are not really part of the story, and a few of the characters undergo a personality shift between Bites and Burns.

The world is intriguing and well researched, integrating Celtic mythologies and new facts about shapeshifters, vampires, and the urban fantasy landscape. Magic Burns takes place during a magic flare, where the abilities of all magical creatures are enhanced: for better and worse. We also get a short, satisfying, and revealing glimpse into Kate's origins. Now that we have answers, here's hoping that the next book will explore the inevitable confrontations.

Magic Burns is a tease and a page-turner. Peppered with furry, sticky violence and rapier wit, the whirlwind tour of Atlanta is far from over.

63 of 68 people found the following review helpful.
Three things about Kate Daniels
By R. Kyle
* Weird sh@t is attracted to her
* She doesn't do 'humble'
* She has cute bows on her panties

Intrigued? You should be. If you're a strong fan of kickbutt urban fantasy heroines, you need to meet Kate.

Kate lives in an alternate Atlanta in a world where magic has returned and it comes in waves with technology. Aside from double coping skills, she's got two jobs--one with the Order and One with the Merc Guild. Add to that, two mortgages and enough trouble on her plate that she needs a clone or two to give her a hand.

Someone's stealing valuable maps from the weres and she's got to get them back. A misguided coven makes an alliance with the wrong Celtic God and Kate's stuck with the coven leader's daughter. And the girl comes with all the troubles teenage girls are prone to--and then some. You see, she's a virgin and her boyfriend wants to try and use her for some powerful mojo.

What I'm most impresed with Ilona Andrews' sophomore effort is that she's taken a great start in "Magic Bites" and made it better. Clearly, she's done her mythological research and synthesized it into her manuscript seamlessly. Strong fantasy and titilating romance blend with enough elements of both to keep both camps happy.

"Magic Bites" was an impressive entry into the urban fantasy genre. "Magic Bites" establishes Ilona Andrews as an author who's going to keep honing her craft until she reaches the top of the charts. I wish her every success in that endeavor and I'll be waiting for the next installment.

Magic Bites (Kate Daniels Series, Book 1)

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