Paranormal Suspense / Urban Fantasy / Supernatural Thriller / Light Paranormal Romance
Date Published: June 25, 2015
The world is full of corpses, and Jackson knows them by name. When a group strives to destroy the Inquisition, his powers may be all standing between the supernaturals and extinction.
However, when he learns the truth behind the deaths of his wife and unborn daughter, Jackson may prove to be the greatest threat of all to the survival of mankind...
RJ Blain suffers from a Moleskine journal obsession, a pen fixation, and a terrible tendency to pun without warning.
When she isn't playing pretend, she likes to think she's a cartographer and a sumi-e painter. In reality, she herds cats and a husband, and obeys the commands of Tsu Dhi, the great warrior fish.
In her spare time, she daydreams about being a spy. Should that fail, her contingency plan involves tying her best of enemies to spinning wheels and quoting James Bond villains until she is satisfied.
Contact Links:
Website: http://rjblain.com
Twitter: https://twitter.com/rj_blain
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EXCERPT
The world was full of corpses, and I, Dante Jackson Emmett Anderson,
knew them by name. Unfortunately for me, my brother knew my secret.
When my brother asked for help, it usually involved unidentified
bodies or paperwork. When he had showed up at my door, I hadn’t expected an
invitation to join an Inquisition field operation, one dangerous enough to
warrant the use of my brother’s armored truck. He had me dead to rights when he
told me I’d be driving, and judging by the way he had smirked while spinning
the keys around his finger, he had known it.
I doubted the red-painted, tempting seductress of a monstrosity could
be eliminated by anything other than a missile or a tank; even if someone
wanted to blast their way in, they’d need a ladder to reach the door. I wasn’t
small, not at six foot three, and I needed the help of the step rail and roll
bar to climb in. The rest of the team needed me to give them a hand.
I drew a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. I should have refused
my twin and ignored the lure of driving his absurd, stupid truck. I should have
told him I would do a stint at the Inquisition headquarters shuffling papers
and naming dead people instead of pretending I was trained for field
operations.
Drumming my hands against the leather wheel, probably the only normal
thing in the truck, I waited. The manila envelope on the dashboard mocked me,
reflecting in the windshield as I watched the darkening forest for any signs of
the team’s return. Once I opened it, I’d know more about the operation and its
Inquisitors than I wanted. I’d know the names and faces of the dead, and if my
bad luck held, I’d get a glimpse of their final moments.
The dead were vindictive like that.
I leaned forward, resting my forehead on my hands. My brother had
been in enough of a hurry to get me into his truck and on the road I hadn’t had
time to change out of my suit. Combat boots, fatigues, and Kevlar protected the
Inquisitors. I wore a silk dress shirt and an equally thin jacket a bullet
would ignore before tearing a hole through me.
Clenching my teeth, I bumped my forehead against the wheel as I
cursed my idiocy.
A smart man would’ve put the idling engine into gear and left. If I
did that, I’d be the target of my very own Inquisition operation. I doubted
even the Red Beast could withstand a pack of angry Fenerec armed with more
firepower than the military. They had missiles, and I had supplied all six
warheads to them. If they launched one at the truck, they’d blow it—and me—into
scrap metal and unidentifiable bits.
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