Poison City

by Paul Crilley

  I grab the satchel, toss it through the air. She catches it, empties out the folders onto the couch where they join the rest. We must have a few hundred files by now. Any records, mentions, legends, or stories that have anything to do with orisha stealing children.

  Because that’s all I remember. Whoever took my daughter wasn’t human.

  I grab two beers from the fridge, crack them open. I pour one into the dog’s bowl and sit down on the floor. (Armitage doesn’t drink anymore. Doesn’t eat either.)

  I pull the closest file to me.

  I can’t remember who took Cally, but I’m going to find out.

  Then whoever it is? We’re going to have some serious fucking words.

  Acknowledgements

  Huge thanks to my agents Sandra Sawicka and Luke Speed, for going over the manuscript many times and offering suggestions that improved the book tenfold. And to my new editor Anne Perry. For getting exactly what I was trying to do with Poison City and for being so welcoming to me as I joined the Hodder family.