Blood Cursed (Rogue Angel, Book 44)

Blood Cursed (Rogue Angel, Book 44)

Alex Archer, Michele Hauf

Language: English

Pages: 190

ISBN: 2:00307097

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

A local superstition or one of history's monsters come to life?

Deep in the Bavarian forest, archaeologists unearth a medieval human skull with a brick stuffed in its mouth. When Annja Creed catches wind of the strange discovery, the TV host and archaeologist rushes to join the dig. But the superstitious locals are furious, fearing the excavation has angered one of the chewing dead—those who rise from their graves to feast on human flesh and blood. And soon she and her colleagues are facing down violent mobs and death threats. As far as Annja is concerned, though, the vampire myth is a load of bunk.

Then a child goes missing.

Suddenly ensnared in the Czech Republic's black market underworld, Annja has no trouble believing that someone wants blood. But in this world, evil comes in human form, and Annja has no choice: she must wield Joan of Arc's sword to protect the innocent….

At the bottom of a lake lies an ancient cache worth killing for…

The Saint In London (Simon Templar 'The Saint', Book 12)

Tom Swift and His Electric Locomotive: Or, Two Miles a Minute on the Rails (Tom Swift, Book 25)

The Sentinels: Stone of Tymora, Book III

Birthright: Battle for the Confederation

Paradox (Rogue Angel, Book 21)

Hell and High Water













rusting farm equipment and fence posts tangled with barbed wire. Somewhere in the distance a rooster crowed. The fresh air didn’t calm her pounding heart. Of course, she didn’t want calm, only stealth. She had to remain alert for periphery guards, even though they hadn’t seen any on stakeout. Tracking across the dry lawn that crunched under her hiking boots, she ducked below a window and was thankful there were none of the thorned shrubs on this side of the house. It was risky to attempt

fountained up his throat. If his driver were only still alive, he could get to a hospital. “I’m ten miles out of...Chrastava...south...” The phone clicked off, and Santos tasted metal on his tongue. The wicked sun blurred bright orange spots in his vision. Sweat dripped into his ears and down his neck. He laid his head on the rough gravel and reached for the sword his father had given him. His father had stolen it from a man who had once threatened to kill him with it. One should never

held his gaze briefly, yet betrayed neither worry nor confidence. “Where in London can I find him? We need to protect the children.” “I don’t care about the children.” “Because you lost your own?” Luke guessed. The toys in the kitchen could have belonged to the dead boy, or perhaps to a man who had once played with his own child. The blade cut even deeper, and Luke swallowed. “Is that true?” Annja asked cautiously. “Did you lose a child, Santos?” “None of your damn business.” “I’m sorry for

took the impact and tendons crunched. Garin ran up the stairs, turned and clocked his pursuer—one of the scrawny ones—up the side of the head with a fan flick of the stick. Blood spattered from the man’s mouth, and possibly a tooth, but tenaciously he clung to the stair rail, and grinning a crimson sneer, he gripped Garin’s ankle and brought him down hard on his ass. Some landings were more vicious than others, and that one crushed his tailbone up into his spine and made him groan. And in the

retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales

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