The ghosts are out in full force tonight at Chetham Library—the oldest public library in Great Britain. They like to wander up and down the sleek, black stacks, rattling the cabinets that hold their books. The sounds echo around the vaulted ceilings, dark wood reflecting the moonlight and my torch as I run
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Never make a deal with a fae lord.
The old adage ran through my head as I approached the house of Lord Faron Beaugard—High Lord of the Forest Realm. The glamor—a façade—of the house rolled toward me in unending waves, but I wasn’t foolish enough to be sucked in. I scanned the sprawling mansion,
The stars are alive.
I tip my head back, gazing at the constellations as they spin their stories across the endless blue-black of the night sky. Tonight, Lupus is being hunted by Orion. The spear of the warrior twinkles as he stalks toward his prey. The Ursas are drumming a beat, the low pulse
I grasp the cold metal handle and swing open the door of Interrogation room B. With its cinder block walls, steel table, and single chair that sit facing the door, it sends a chill down my spine. My bond pet nestles closer to my neck, hiding from the man tied to the chair.
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Our world is captured by the Fears—the wraiths of mankind. They haunt us and hunt us, because we are the Children of the Promise. The last hope for the human race.
Which is why I’m leaning against the side of a building in the heat of the sun, watching people
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