By Laurell K. Hamilton
And also you don't fall in love with a werewolf. It interferes together with your paintings. specifically whilst you're a preternatural specialist, like me. My identify is Anita Blake. My enterprise brings me up shut and private with all styles and sizes of monsters. and never them all are looking to kill me.
Take, for example, the neighborhood pack of lycanthrops - they're werewolves to you. a couple of them are lacking, and they've come to me for support. might be simply because I'm courting the chief of the pack. I've survived much - from jealous vampires to killer zombies - yet this love factor may perhaps kill me but.
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Extra info for The Lunatic Cafe (Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter, Book 4)
Sample text
He heard voices from outside and peeped back over the cliff. The three Russians were approaching. Like him, they had dismounted. Two of them carried pistols, but Owen knew how primitive their weapons were. The other must have been the one who had fired and would have to reload before he could do so again. Owen squeezed his fingers around the grip of his Dean and Adams revolver and smiled. Five shots without reloading – and only three targets. The men approached the rock fall that had been Owen’s path over the wall.
There must have been over six hundred of them at the beginning. All dead now, probably. Owen slowed his own horse to a canter. The rhythm of the cannon changed – volleys of three now, rather than four. Owen laughed, briefly. There were no guns, not here. Back in the valley they might still be firing, but not here. He slowed his horse even more and the rhythm of hoofbeats changed again, quietening to almost nothing. There had been a point when the cannon had been loud enough to engulf the sound of twenty-four hundred thundering hooves, but not any more.
Her first appointment of the day, direct from stepping off the train, had been inside the Kremlin. In Petersburg, the location of the offices of the Third Section of His Majesty’s Own Chancellery was well known; the ‘building beside the chain bridge’ as it was usually called, the bridge being the one that crossed the Fontanka at the southern end of the Summer Garden. But in Petersburg, the leaders of the Third Section – Count Orlov and General Dubyelt – believed that a secret police force was most effective when it was least secret; that fear was a more effective weapon than surprise.