By Kelly Gay
To avoid wasting her sister, she needs to cease a silent killer. . . .
Protecting Atlanta from the off-world criminals of Underground is difficult sufficient, yet now Detective Charlie Madigan and her siren associate, Hank, examine that the addicts of the offworld drug ash have began taking their very own lives. Ash makes people the fitting vessels for ownership, and whatever or an individual is top them to their deaths. Charlie is eager to keep her addicted sister, Bryn, from an identical destiny. As New Year’s Eve techniques and time runs out, Charlie makes a dangerous cut price with an historical race of beings and embarks on a deadly trip into hellish Charbydon with Hank and the Revenant Rex to save lots of Bryn and make it again prior to it’s too overdue. in basic terms, for one among them, coming domestic skill dealing with a destiny worse than loss of life. . . .
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Additional resources for The Hour of Dust and Ashes
Will and his secret life of black crafting had taught me that. It was a lesson I’d never forget. “There are limits on love and loyalty, Charlie. Everyone has a line, a truth, a sacrifice they are unwilling to make for another no matter how much devotion and love they have. Your siren has secrets just like you and everyone else. ” My expression went flat. She might know the future as it was tonight, but I firmly believed the future was fluid, changeable, affected by constantly varying factors. Whatever.
I shook my head. “Nothing. ” I chose a path down the center of the carless street to avoid the after-Christmas-sale shoppers populating the sidewalks. January was just a few days away, but you wouldn’t know it from the temperature. The darkness hovering over Atlanta seemed to insulate everything beneath it from the winter weather. Or maybe, like some theorized, the darkness was generating its own energy, its own heat … Whatever the case, I didn’t need the light jacket I slipped back on as I walked.
Come on, Hank. A light. A light coming on is all I want to see. Nothing. Growing more concerned by the second, I pulled out the spare key Hank had given to me for emergency purposes only, unlocked the door, and ran up the stairs. I hesitated at the landing, my heart pounding. The tat artist’s “dead” comment had my hand shaking as I shoved the key quietly into the lock. Hank couldn’t be … gone. I would know, would have felt it somehow. My mouth went dry. “Don’t say a word,” I whispered to Rex as I drew my weapon and then entered the spacious loft, concentrating on my senses, trying to feel any auras I didn’t recognize.
The Hour of Dust and Ashes by Kelly Gay