Arcane Circle
(Sprache: Englisch)
Fourth in the Circle Series featuring Persephone Alcmedi, a modern-day witch with a werewolf boyfriend and an unbreakable bond to a vampire-wizard.
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Fourth in the Circle Series featuring Persephone Alcmedi, a modern-day witch with a werewolf boyfriend and an unbreakable bond to a vampire-wizard.
Klappentext zu „Arcane Circle “
After an epic battle against the fey on the shores of Lake Erie, Persephone Alcmedi must now help the new Domn Lup, her wærewolf lover Johnny, regain the magical powers locked in his mysterious tattoos. Complications keep his memory from opening wide and a name-Arcanum-is their only lead. With the Romanian lords of all Wærewolves-the Zvonul-en route to greet the new Domn Lup, Johnny becomes desperate for the magic to be unlocked-these lords aren't the type to deal with any hindrance on one's power. But this isn't Seph's only problem. The Zvonul also have specific ideas about how Seph, in her role of the Lustrata, should serve the Dom Lup. Menessos, the vampire overlord, hasn't been himself since the battle, the Witch Elders Council believes Seph is responsible for the death of their, Eldrenne Xerxadrea, and there's a new human investigative task force looking into recent strange events near Cleveland and clues are leading them right to Seph's door. And if that isn't enough, the house is being remodelled and Seph promised her foster daughter Beverley a grand birthday party.
Lese-Probe zu „Arcane Circle “
CHAPTER ONENearly dragging the veterinarian behind me, I raced up the tight and twisting stairs, desperate for him to treat my boyfriend. It was just after two P.M. and the vet, Dr. Geoffrey Lincoln, was already well acquainted with his patient, Johnny Newman. What other type of doctor would make an emergency house call to treat a wærewolf?
Johnny, wearing only dark jeans and an Ace bandage wrapped high around his rib cage, lay on his narrow bed in the attic bedroom of my saltbox farmhouse. Despite a grimace of pain, he made no sound.
As soon as Kirk, a wærewolf from Johnny's pack, saw the doc and me enter the room, he rose from the folding chair next to the bed. He hadn't moved since we'd gotten Johnny in the bed hours earlier. Kirk nodded at us and then walked quietly to the foot of the bed.
Dr. Lincoln set his bag on the chair, pulled latex gloves from it, and bent to inspect Johnny's wound. It kept seeping blood and had completely saturated numerous gauze pads and two of the elastic wraps already. In the time I'd been gone, the blood had again soaked through layers of padding and was darkening the bandage like an ever-expanding Rorschach blot.
I hoped that I appeared to be holding myself together and functioning, but my shaking hands threatened to expose my counterfeit calm. This is all wrong. Johnny was in wolf form when injured. These wounds should have healed when he transformed back, but they didn't. My fears ricocheted inside me like wild bullets-the crossfire could shatter my cool and collected façade at any moment, exposing my panic.
A veterinarian by trade, Doc Lincoln had experience with the traumatic wounds animals sometimes inflicted on each other, and he had treated Johnny and other wæres before. At five-foot-nine, with receding brown hair, brown eyes, and glasses, the doctor appeared at first glance to be an average man, but the fact that he was willing to provide care to wærewolves-albeit secretly-made him very
... mehr
special indeed.
He took a pair of scissors from his bag and cut carefully through the wrapped bandage. "I need more light."
When Johnny moved his rock 'n' roll self in a few weeks ago, he'd brought a table lamp made from a guitar neck. I jerked the shade off and twisted the little knob. A hundred watts brightened the narrow, slope-sided room.
"Hold it closer."
I stretched the lamp's cord as far as possible. Under the harsh illumination, he peeled the bandage back and exposed Johnny's gruesome chest injury. The three jagged slashes were deep, each at least six inches long. Despite the swelling, each time Johnny inhaled the wounds gaped wider. Fresh blood welled up, flowing across his chest. It was thick enough to hide the winged pentacle tattoo that spanned his pectorals.
Dr. Lincoln examined the gashes, and even though his touch seemed light, Johnny grimaced, compressing his features so tightly the Wedjat tattoos around his eyes almost disappeared. But the "wolf king" does not whimper. He had recently revealed to his pack he was the fated Domn Lup, able to make a full transformation at will, not just when the moon was full.
At least the doctor was here now. He'd know what to do to help Johnny. Doing something, anything, was better than the helplessness I'd felt while waiting for him to show up.
As he completed his examination, the doc's thin lips pressed into a firm line and he announced, "I've sewn up worse on you, John, but this doesn't show any indication of that accelerated healing you wærewolves are notorious for. Was it silver that cut you?"
"Nope." Johnny shot me a grim look that, in effect, passed the task of answering the doctor's question to me.
Johnny's wounds had been inflicted by a phoenix raking him with her claws during a dawn battle with fairies. Another consequence of that battle was the myriad elementals-unicorns, griffons,
He took a pair of scissors from his bag and cut carefully through the wrapped bandage. "I need more light."
When Johnny moved his rock 'n' roll self in a few weeks ago, he'd brought a table lamp made from a guitar neck. I jerked the shade off and twisted the little knob. A hundred watts brightened the narrow, slope-sided room.
"Hold it closer."
I stretched the lamp's cord as far as possible. Under the harsh illumination, he peeled the bandage back and exposed Johnny's gruesome chest injury. The three jagged slashes were deep, each at least six inches long. Despite the swelling, each time Johnny inhaled the wounds gaped wider. Fresh blood welled up, flowing across his chest. It was thick enough to hide the winged pentacle tattoo that spanned his pectorals.
Dr. Lincoln examined the gashes, and even though his touch seemed light, Johnny grimaced, compressing his features so tightly the Wedjat tattoos around his eyes almost disappeared. But the "wolf king" does not whimper. He had recently revealed to his pack he was the fated Domn Lup, able to make a full transformation at will, not just when the moon was full.
At least the doctor was here now. He'd know what to do to help Johnny. Doing something, anything, was better than the helplessness I'd felt while waiting for him to show up.
As he completed his examination, the doc's thin lips pressed into a firm line and he announced, "I've sewn up worse on you, John, but this doesn't show any indication of that accelerated healing you wærewolves are notorious for. Was it silver that cut you?"
"Nope." Johnny shot me a grim look that, in effect, passed the task of answering the doctor's question to me.
Johnny's wounds had been inflicted by a phoenix raking him with her claws during a dawn battle with fairies. Another consequence of that battle was the myriad elementals-unicorns, griffons,
... weniger
Autoren-Porträt von Linda Robertson
Linda Robertson is the mother of four wonderful boys, owns three electric guitars, and is followed around by a big dog named after Bela Lugosi. Once upon a time she was a lead guitarist in a heavy metal cover band and has worked as a graphic artist. She still composes and creates art, when time permits. Linda currently writes and rocks in northeast Ohio. Visit her at AuthorLindaRobertson.com.
Bibliographische Angaben
- Autor: Linda Robertson
- 2011, 416 Seiten, Maße: 11,1 x 17,8 cm, Kartoniert (TB), Englisch
- Verlag: Simon & Schuster UK
- ISBN-10: 1439190259
- ISBN-13: 9781439190258
- Erscheinungsdatum: 26.01.2011
Sprache:
Englisch
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