(The Harcourte Society Book 2)
BLURB
Centuries pass and yet one thing remains the same, we are predators and they are the hunted. What happens when the lines become blurred and the killers are now the only creatures who stand between humans and death?
Jolie Harcourte has taken on the responsibility of protecting those that would stake her in her sleep, since she is one of the most powerful undead remaining.
Along with her mates, she has decided to stand up for humans instead of seeing them solely as food.
After being chased from Philadelphia, by a rogue vampyre, she has now moved her family to New Orleans in hopes of just surviving what is coming for them.
With Jacques protecting her, and her newly acquired human mate working for the police, they once again have found themselves between the human world and that of the undead.
More bodies are turning up in the streets and fingers are pointing right at them.
Now, it's a matter of time before suspicion lands at their doorsteps and they once again are hunted and chased. One thing remains the same, someone has to die, but will it be them or the killers?
May the Dangerous Choices begin…
3 STARS
My Review
Shortly after moving to New Orleans, police detective Flynn Brody finds himself on the case of a rash of bizarre and unexplainable murders involving children. Kidnapped from behind locked doors, the children are found dead in various locations throughout the city. But the cause is a mystery. No visible signs of violence can be found. The children appear to have died of natural causes, despite the odd locations in which they are found.
Jolie and Jacques suspect soul stealing vampires, not a suspicion Flynn can take to his superiors. This leaves the trio with no choice but to once again ferret out the killers on their own. But someone from Philadelphia is hunting them, looking for revenge. And with every choice they make, one of them steps closer to the death which waits in the shadows.
As in the first book, I didn't find the main plot all that interesting. The missing children really don't get much attention, as they are just a means of propelling the characters into yet another hunt. I was much more interested in Genevieve's quest for revenge and in the situation going on in Delina's household.
The characters continue to be what holds the story together for me. I have to admit that some things in the relationship between Jolie, Jacques, and Flynn bothered me, but that's only a matter of personal taste and I don't want to get into and maybe give away a spoiler.
Jolie is even more awesome in this book. Her powers are growing in unexpected ways and I would like to see how she deals with that in future books. She is such a complicated character, someone who is capable of both great compassion and great cruelty. I enjoy complex characters such as she is.
I also like the way the character of Chloe was fleshed out and given a story all her own. A story which will certainly surprise and intrigue you.
The only character I have a problem with is Mamba. She was completely superfluous in and of herself, useful only as a means to facilitate a few crucial points in the story.
All in all, I enjoyed this story and would certainly read the next installment in the series.
Amazon
EXCERPT
Turning his head
to scan the darkness which surrounded him, he sought out the woman who was
hunting him.
Her vile scent was
unmistakable.
The air around him
was fragranced with the smell of gardenias. Oh, how he hated that nauseating
stench. It turned his stomach, making him want to wretch. The perfume was so
heavy in the air that it reminded him of a funeral.
Everything about
it was overpowering, but that was exactly what she wanted. There was no doubt
in his mind that she longed to greedily drink in his fear.
All of this was
quite obvious.
For this to work
for her, the prey needed to be well aware that he was going to be her victim.
The vicious bitch was tracking him to his demise. It was her pleasure to play
with his mind and, if she caught him, his body.
She was sick,
vicious, and out for blood. Unfortunately for her, he couldn’t let her win.
Not now.
Not ever.
He had a family to
consider, and his duty was with the woman who owned his soul. If the predator
were to catch him, it would be a dagger to his love’s heart.
Their family would
crumble, and they would be broken.
That’s why Flynn
Brogan had to keep going.
With each step
through the fog, he searched for the one way to escape her. As long as he kept
trying, ultimately, his death wouldn’t be in vain. The doom enveloped him as he
fought valiantly for hope and love.
As if by magic,
her name was gone from his mind.
It was like
someone was taking away all his memories of her.
No, it wasn’t just
her. It was all of them.
The harder he
tried to whisper her name, the more difficult it became. It wouldn’t roll from
his tongue, but instead burrowed deeper into his mind.
There was no
choice.
He had to fight.
Deep down, he knew
that if he gave up, it would all be over for him. His heart was telling him to
fight on, while his brain told him to quit.
It was hopeless.
Why couldn’t he
remember her name or face?
Now, everything
about her was slipping away too.
Before this
moment, surely it had been burned into his soul for all time, and now…
It was missing.
“Come on,” he
muttered, as he fought hard to recall her name. It was right there on the tip
of his tongue, waiting for his mouth and brain to work together.
If he could just
say it, everything would be okay. Flynn was sure of it. All it would take is
calling for her, and this would all go away.
She would save
him.
The last piece of
her beautiful face slipped from his mind, taken so he couldn’t hold onto any
hope. It wavered, and then faded from his thoughts.
Shit!
It was getting
harder and harder to think straight.
“Run, Detective!”
came her hideously sweet voice. “Run for your pathetic life.”
Laughter.
Her words were
like nails on a chalkboard, and he refused to look back. For now, he needed to
keep going forward.
There was no way he’d
give her the satisfaction of a victory.
As far as he was
concerned, he had to get to her, no matter what obstacles stood in the way. His
heart demanded it. If he trusted in that alone, he’d be okay.
It was all Flynn
had to cling to.
“Damn it! Think!”
he muttered to himself, as he kept trudging through knee-deep sludge. It
swirled around him in a pungent, bubbling brew, threatening to pull him under.
He couldn’t let that happen. Locked in this nightmare, he feared what lived
above the water, let alone what was waiting beneath.
“What’s wrong,
Detective? Are you feeling a little lost?” she asked, laughing maniacally.
With each word,
there were cold, icy fingers brushing down his spine, wrapping around him. It
choked him as tears filled his eyes. Flynn was being bombarded with so much
hate, anger, and fear, that it was making each step painful.
Already, his will
was weakening.
He didn't have
much left.
Soon, he would be
forced to wish for death.
Brogan tripped,
falling face first into the sludge. It pulled him under as he fought to
resurface for air. Something intimately brushed his body beneath the murky
mire, and he tensed. So much fear was now gripping him as tentative fingers
touched his left leg, and then his hip.
Breaking the
surface, he fought to get away. As he opened his eyes and cleared the sludge
from his face, a strangled sound escaped his throat. Flynn was almost too
afraid to look at what was surfacing around him, but he could hear the water
churning.
It was coming for him.
He knew it.
As he looked down,
his worst fears materialized in sludge around him.
Floating in the
water were corpses.
There were so many
tiny broken bodies of children with no life left in them.
He wanted to weep.
Flynn needed to
scream.
No, he longed to
beg.
But instead, he
fought on, refusing to succumb to her madness.
“Christ,” he
hissed, trying not to touch them as they floated by with their dead eyes
watching him. Flynn silently began pleading for help. In his heart, he knew she
wouldn’t let him die like this.
Would she?
Shit!
What was her name?
“What’s wrong,
Detective? Does death bother you?” she asked, mocking him wickedly. He was her
prey, and soon she would even the score.
It would be his
life for the one she lost.
It only seemed
fair.
Brogan scrambled
away from the floating corpses to head to the bank of land which appeared at
his left. He knew he had to get out of the water or he would lose his mind.
That was her
intent, and he couldn’t let her win.
He wasn’t done
yet.
There was still
hope.
The broken bodies began calling from the water, “Help us,
Detective! Save us!” They reached for him, brushing his stomach and hips as he
struggled to escape their watery grave. He shook off one clinging child,
finally stumbling out of the water. On the ground, Flynn crawled like a crab to
escape their tiny fingers, as the little voices pleaded for his help.
“I’m sorry. I’m
sorry. I’m sorry,” he mumbled over and over again, watching them float away in
the murky water. Flynn knew that he was helpless to stop or help them. For now,
his survival had to come first.
He needed to live.
For the first time
in his career, he chose to be selfish. There was no way he was going back into
the water for the dead. It wasn’t happening.
Laughter filled
the air, ripping down his flesh like sharp thorns in bramble.
“You’ll be sorry,
Detective.”
The voice
slithered around him, making his heart jump in his chest. The sick laughter
choked the air from his lungs, squeezing the breath from his body.
He was dying.
Scrambling to his
feet, Flynn needed to put space between him and the watery grave. As he glanced
up the muddy hill, he saw the trees and had hope.
He’d take a foot
race through the woods any day.
Despite the odds,
there was no other choice. Hope was waning as the predator’s laughter filled
his ears and head.
Who would save
him?
She would.
He was sure of it.
Now, if he could
only call out her name. It would act as a talisman out of this hell. Closing
his eyes, Flynn tried to picture her beautiful face to use it as a beacon home.
“Shit.”
He stumbled over
something again, as the last of his energy was depleted, draining from his
body. He was so tired and didn’t think he could take another step. Brogan
didn’t want to wade through death anymore. He just wanted to find her. In his
heart, he knew that she would offer him comfort and peace.
He knew it.
“Please save me,”
he whispered with so much pain and emotion in his voice.
“She can’t get to
you, Detective. You’re mine now.”
Flynn heard
the footsteps coming toward him, but his body was too heavy to care. He looked
down toward his feet and saw the bodies of the children. The corpses were
dragging themselves from the river and across the mud. They were closing the
distance with their dead eyes focused on him.
Flynn knew the
truth.
Ultimately, he
would die by their hands.
“No!” he screamed
hoarsely, as he tried to move out of their reach. His head pounded as more sick
laughter inundated him, wave after wave.
“Please help me!”
he called to her.
Only he knew the
truth.
She couldn’t hear him.
Shaking his head,
he tried to break the invisible bonds holding him against his will. Then, he
saw the evil bitch materialize in front of him. All the energy shifted around
him at her approach.
“We meet again,
Detective. You should have let me kill her, and then you could have saved
yourself. She isn't worth it, and now you’ll pay.”
Over his dead body
would he let that happen. Despite this bitch’s words, he knew the truth. Flynn
Brogan would die to keep his woman safe and out of this evil vampyre’s reach.
She stepped toward
him, kicking the crawling dead children out of her way as if they were nothing.
The sickening crunch of bone and brittle limbs filled the air, as they fell
like broken dolls. Yet, still more of the lost kept crawling from the stagnant
water toward him, refusing to give up their mission.
Flynn knew he was
screwed.
“Who do you
want to kill?” he begged, praying for a clue. He knew she would save him if he
could just remember her name.
Think damn it and
remember!
“I need your
mistress to pay. She killed my only precious child, and I need to make her
suffer. By stealing away what she loves, I can have my revenge. What choice do
I have?”
“You have a
choice,” Flynn hissed, as he watched her take a dagger from her sleeve. The
woman and her army of dead children crept toward him. Their little fleshless
hands began pulling at his clothes, as their skinless lips smacked in hunger at
the possible meal.
“No, God!
No!” he whispered hoarsely. It couldn’t end like this. Surely, this wasn’t
destined to be his final moments. Brogan closed his eyes and used every ounce
of his energy to focus on his woman. He sent out a silent plea to her, taking
one last chance that she would hear him.
He couldn’t
remember her name, but Flynn knew she existed. It would have to be enough.
“She won’t
come for you. She can’t save you, Detective.”
The
children were digging their nails into his body and pain tore through him. The
little claws of bone were ripping holes in his arms and legs to find leverage
on their climb up his frame.
They were trying
to get to his throat.
When he stared at
the closest one, he saw that the human teeth were gone, and sharp, pointy fangs
had emerged.
They were going to
drink him dry.
Brogan was about
to give in to it all, letting the horrors win. He was too weak to carry on.
He was lost.
There was no
choice but to let it all go.
Just as he
whispered goodbye to the nameless woman he loved, there was warmth. It covered
him, wrapping around his body in a gentle cocoon. Then, there was her beautiful
French tinged voice, and it was the sweetest sound to his ears. She was calling
for him from the darkness to be his salvation.
“Please help me,”
he begged in response to the warmth.
“Flynn, come to
me,” she called, love flooding from her voice to offer him peace.
He opened his eyes
and stared down at the dead who were digging into his body. Just her essence
was forcing them to scatter and scamper away. Flynn knew that this wasn’t a
figment of his imagination.
He could trust her.
She was the one.
This woman was his love.
Glancing up at the
hideous killer, he watched as she loomed over him. Her face contorted into an
ugly mask of hate. In her cold black eyes, he saw anger and destruction. It was
then that her intent was clear. Flynn watched as she lifted the dagger to end
his life, and fear flooded back into his body.
“Flynn, come to
us,” the voice said, offering peace and the only way out of the nightmare.
“Jolie?”
The name slid into
his mind and out between clenched teeth. He heard the woman in front of him
scream at the realization that the prey was no longer hers. The dagger started
its descent downward in a sickening arch, aimed right at his heart.
“Wake, Flynn.
NOW!” she called urgently.
He felt himself
being jerked back to consciousness, just as the cold metal of the dagger began
piercing his flesh. He fought to sit upright, but his arms were pinned to his
sides by some force stronger than him. He opened his eyes fully expecting to
look into the face of death, but it was peace which stared back at him.
“Jolie?” he asked
again, his voice cracking. Here stood the darkest angel he had ever seen, and
she was straddling his body.
He didn't wait.
Sitting upright,
Flynn went into her arms and against her body, like a scared child who needed
comforting.
“Flynn, you
had us terrified,” she whispered into his ear, as she lovingly stroked his
strong back and silky black hair. He was clutched to her chest, holding on for
dear life. Jolie left kisses across his flesh in an effort to reassure him that
he was indeed safe.
Her heart pounded
against his.
“Oh God!
That was horrible!” He shook uncontrollably against her as Jolie’s hands
soothed away all his fears. Flynn stared at the second vampyre sitting beside
them as he ran his hand gently over Flynn’s leg in comfort.
“It’s okay, my
friend. You’re safe,” promised Jacques, his serene, green eyes offering
sympathy.
“We’re here,
Flynn. You’re safe now.”
Brogan lay back,
still clutching on to her tightly. As he came to rest against the pillows on
their shared bed, Jolie curled protectively around him.
“I have you,
Flynn. I won’t leave you,” Jolie offered.
Taking a deep
breath, he inhaled the scent of her expensive French bath oils. Instantly, the
fragrance began erasing the horrible memories that were replaying in his head.
As he buried his face in her throat, she placed as much of her body against him
as possible. His Jolie was acting like a warm, protective blanket.
“What happened,
Flynn?” she asked.
“She was in my
dreams,” he finally said, when the calming ministration began to relax him.
“Who is ‘she’,
Flynn? We heard you call for us, and it took us a while to get to you. What
happened? What was scaring you so much and keeping you from us?” Jolie
inquired.
He relaxed as they
both moved to protectively frame his body, building a buffer from anything that
wanted to hurt him. The closeness gave him peace.
This was his
family.
Flynn had
survived, and now he could tell them what he’d learned. Someone had to give
them the bad news, and it needed to be him.
“She’s back for
you-for us.”
“She?” repeated
Jacques, already sure he knew the answer to his own question.
“Genevieve,” he
whispered, as if saying her name was forbidden and would conjure the monster
into their room.
Silence shrouded
them.
Jolie had no doubt
that this day would come.
It had only been a
matter of time.
Now, it would
begin.
Jacques began
planning his strategy of keeping his family safe. It appeared that the wicked
vampyre was going to hit them fast and hard, but Flynn’s nightmare could be to
their advantage.
They had a
warning.
“She’s found us
through your dreams, and now we’re the hunted,” stated Jolie sadly, knowing
what was coming.
Brogan didn't say
a word. After what he experienced, he knew that the woman wasn’t just coming
for them.
She was wielding
the hammer of twisted justice.
Genevieve had one
thing in mind.
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