By Kim Harrison
Ritually murdered corpses are showing throughout Cincinnati, terrifying amalgams of human and other.
Pulled in via the FIB to assist examine, former witch-turned-day-walking demon Rachel Morgan quickly realizes a frightening fact: others are looking to create their very own demons, and to take action they wish her blood.
She's confronted vampires, witches, werewolves, demons, and more--but this time Rachel's hardest problem should be humanity itself.
Read or Download A Perfect Blood (The Hollows, Book 10) PDF
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Joclyn Despain has been marred by means of a model on her pores and skin. She doesn't comprehend why the mark seemed on her neck, yet she doesn't wish someone to determine it, together with her ally Ryland, who understands every little thing else approximately her. The scar is the explanation she hides herself in the back of saggy outfits, and won't permit the assumption of kissing Ryland input her brain, regardless of how a lot she desires to.
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Additional resources for A Perfect Blood (The Hollows, Book 10)
But she was not, November found, when she kissed her outside the restaurant, under the washed-out constellations. She tasted like flour, flour and salt. Their breasts pressed tight together between two fog-dewed overcoats, the ache of it half-painful and half-pleasant. Xiaohui took her to a little apartment above a grocery store, and they fell together just inside the doorframe, awkwardly, like great beasts too eager for niceties. She bit November’s lower lip, and there was blood between them then.
He would watch her angles under the strings, the crease of her legs beneath an immodest skirt, her lips moving against the glass. The little wet fog of her breath. She could almost tell what he looked like without turning her head: good black suit, a little too small, clutching his briefcase like a talisman, probably a little gray at the temples, no rings on his hands. They all looked like that. Sei turned, her blue hair brushing her hipbones. Good black suit, a little too small, clutched briefcase, freckles of gray in the hair.
It was not his fault that that simple thing instilled so much trust in him, so much instinctive, automatic familiarity. Lyudmila had locked herself out of her tall, narrow house, where her cats mewled in panicked sopranos from within. “That was my sister’s name,” he said softly as he put his eye to the lock in her brownstone, his lashes falling just inside the old metal. The woman spoke to him hopefully in Russian. This occasionally happened, and he dreaded it. He could speak no more than a few words now, those snow-slushed consonants and swallowed vowels having receded into the same icy mist as Novgorod.
A Perfect Blood (The Hollows, Book 10) by Kim Harrison