by Karen Chance
“Karen Chance doesn’t disappoint.”—SFRevu
Praise for the Novels
of Karen Chance
Death’s Mistress
“Chance’s patented brand of political intrigue, wrapped around deadly danger and spiced with complex characterization, is a proven winner.”
—Romantic Times
“From the beginning until the ending this story is nonstop chaos of the sort only the undead or fey can deliver…high drama indeed.”
—Huntress Book Reviews
“In addition to action-packed plotlines, Karen Chance is also well-known for her imaginative use of fantasy mythology in building the diverse collection of humorous characters that populate her novels. Snappy dialogue is always a given and Death’s Mistress has no shortage on this front.…I can hardly wait to see where the author takes these characters next.”
—LoveVampires
“The unfurling of Dorina and Louis-Cesare’s relationship is actually quite fun; even after five hundred years, Dory is just as confused about men as any other woman.…Readers will enjoy the madcap romp and its occasional bouts of comedy…an excellent stepping-stone to other stories involving these ever-evolving characters.”
—The Romance Reader
“With a perfect blend of action, mystery, and romance, this was without a doubt one of my favorite books of the year.”
—Fiction Kingdom
“As entertaining a novel as I have read in many years.…For pure entertainment, Death’s Mistress is a novel you will not want to miss.”
—Fantasy Literature
Midnight’s Daughter
“Karen Chance doesn’t disappoint. Once again we have an action-packed adventure with a strong female character that, while tough as nails and a dhampir, is also very human.”
—SFRevu
“In dhampir Dorina Basarab, Chance has created a sassy, tough heroine who never says die. Following these first-person adventures is going to be an adrenaline high.”
—Romantic Times
“Karen Chance has done it again…a brilliant start to a new series [that] contains all the elements needed for a great urban fantasy.”
—Vampire Romance Books
“Karen Chance knows how to write. Not just the action scenes, or having the butt-kicking heroine throw out pithy one-liners, but the setup is clever [and] the involvement of the various factions in the simmering war is well thought-out, as are the repercussions to various actions characters take in the book.”
—Monsters and Critics
The Cassie Palmer Novels
“You definitely need to check out this series.”
—Literary Escapism
Hunt the Moon
“This isn’t just urban fantasy—it’s storytelling at its best.”
—SFRevu
“I am as surprised as anyone to have book five of a series stand me on my head and dazzle me, and even more so as I realize I could pick up Hunt the Moon and these characters would do it again and again and again.”
—All Things Urban Fantasy
Curse the Dawn
“A truly riotous ride.…Chance adds plenty of twists and obstacles to her first-person series that blends time travel, magic, vampires, and more.”
—Romantic Times
“Gunfights, explosions, magical catastrophes, rescue attempts, ambushes, and much more turn this book into the urban fantasy equivalent of a summer blockbuster.”
—SF Site
“Outstanding.…The dialogue is funny, the story is fast-paced, full of intrigue with really hot sex scenes.”
—The Romance Readers Connection
Embrace the Night
“Cassie is a well-rounded character, and the intensity and complexity of the plot puts her through her paces physically, emotionally, and psychically.”
—Publishers Weekly
“If you thought Touch the Dark and Claimed by Shadow were action-packed, well, buckle your seat belt.…Lara Croft would have a hard time keeping up.”
—SFRevu
“Quick pacing and imaginative use of some old mythologies blend into a captivating read that will leave readers clamoring for more.”
—Monsters and Critics
Claimed by Shadow
“A nonstop thrill ride from beginning to end, a wildly entertaining romp with a strong, likable heroine.”
—Rambles
“Ms. Chance is a master…a series well worth getting hooked on.”
—Fresh Fiction
“A great writer of supernatural fantasy that is on a par with the works of Kim Harrison, Charlaine Harris, and Kelley Armstrong.”
—Midwest Book Review
Touch the Dark
“A grab-you-by-the-throat-and-suck-you-in sort of book with a tough, smart heroine and sexy-scary vampires. I loved it—and I’m waiting anxiously for a sequel.”
—#1 New York Times bestselling author Patricia Briggs
“A really exciting book with great pace and a huge cast of vivid characters. This is one of my favorite reads of the year.”
—#1 New York Times bestselling author Charlaine Harris
“Exciting and inventive.”
—Booklist
BOOKS BY KAREN CHANCE
THE CASSIE PALMER SERIES
Touch the Dark
Claimed by Shadow
Embrace the Night
Curse the Dawn
Hunt the Moon
THE MIDNIGHT’S DAUGHTER SERIES
Midnight’s Daughter
Death’s Mistress
Fury’s Kiss
KAREN CHANCE
Fury’s
Kiss
A MIDNIGHT’S DAUGHTER NOVEL
A SIGNET SELECT BOOK
SIGNET SELECT
Published by New American Library, a division of
Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street,
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First published by Signet Select, an imprint of New American Library,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
First Printing, October 2012
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Copyright © Karen Chance, 2012
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
ISBN: 978-1-101-59019-5
SIGNET SELECT and logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
Printed in the United States of America
PUBLISHER’S NOTE
This is a work of ficti
on. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are 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 is entirely coincidental.
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.
If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
ALWAYS LEARNING
PEARSON
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks to Anne Sowards and the entire Penguin production team for eternal patience in the production of this book.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-one
Chapter Forty-two
Chapter Forty-three
Chapter Forty-four
Chapter Forty-five
Chapter Forty-six
Chapter Forty-seven
Epilogue
Chapter One
It wasn’t being shot that was the problem. Or the fact that someone had apparently decided to beat the crap out of me beforehand. Or afterward. Or, considering the way I felt, possibly both.
I wasn’t sure, as I couldn’t seem to remember the fight that had left me bloody and bruised, with a bullet hole in my right thigh and another in my left shoulder. I couldn’t seem to remember much of anything else, either, including who the hell I was. But that still wasn’t the problem.
No, the problem was that I’d woken up next to a vampire.
One who was maddeningly hard to kill.
“If you would but listen to me for a moment,” he said, as I slammed his pretty red head against the concrete floor for the sixth freaking time.
“Okay,” I panted, wondering what the hell his skull was made of. Granite? “Let’s chat.”
Of course, that would be difficult since I’d just changed tactics, grabbing his throat and squeezing for all I was worth.
I wasn’t trying to choke him to death. That doesn’t work with creatures who don’t breathe, and the bastard’s neck was too muscular for me to close my hands around anyway. But most vamps have instincts left over from their human days, and they don’t like being grabbed there. It distracts them, messes up their concentration, makes them panic.
At least, I really hoped it did, since otherwise I was screwed.
He didn’t have fangs in me yet, but he didn’t need them. Because Hollywood had gotten it wrong. Even plain old vamps could leech blood molecules through the skin using a simple touch. As a master, this one could probably do it without even that, just by being in my vicinity, assuming he could concentrate. Which, judging by the bulging eyes, was probably not the case.
But then he got a leg over mine and flipped us.
Okay, then, I thought grimly. It looked like the choking thing wasn’t providing enough of a distraction. Fortunately, he’d left me a hand free.
So I used it to break his nose.
“Damn it!” He actually looked surprised. “Stop fighting me!”
“Sure thing,” I grunted, struggling for a foothold. “I’ll just lie here and let you drain me.”
“I’m not draining you!”
“Then why do I feel like shit?”
He stared down at me, exasperation and what looked weirdly like concern shimmering in liquid blue eyes. “Because you took two bullets in the last hour?”
Oh, yeah.
For a second, dizziness and an odd sense of familiarity combined to mess with my head. I stared up at the stranger, trying to place him. It should have been easy; he wasn’t exactly the sort of guy you forgot.
The hair was actually more auburn than red, and there was an absurd amount of it for a man, flowing over his shoulders and my hands. It should have made him look girlie, but somehow it didn’t. Maybe because it framed a strong, aristocratic face—high cheekbones, sensuous lips, hard jawline—that managed to be arresting even covered in blood from the broken nose. A nose that was already twitching back into place, like the smear of red was sinking back into the pale perfection of his skin, leaving him looking as if he’d never been injured at all and—
Damn it!
This is how they operate, I told myself harshly. They drain you until your brain doesn’t work so well, then turn on the innocence or beauty or charm, confusing the hell out of you until you black out and they finish the job. Only that so wasn’t happening this time.
Of course, that would be a lot easier to manage if I had a stake. Or a knife. Or anything remotely weapon-like, because hand-to-hand against this bastard was starting to look like a gesture in—
I paused, noticing the shackle dangling off my right wrist.
Oh, goodie.
“I’m trying to help you,” he rasped, somehow getting a hand under the chain before it decapitated him.
“Sure you are.” I grunted, really putting my back into it. “Next you’ll be telling me you’re my boyfriend, come to get me out of this.”
He burst out laughing, since clearly he was off his head.
Or maybe that was me, because now I was hearing voices.
“Status.” The word rang in my ear as clearly as if someone were looking over my shoulder. My head whipped around, but the only occupants of the iron-barred cage I’d woken up in were me, the vamp and a desiccated rat.
“I have…ugh…located her.”
“Estimated extraction time?”
“That is…still being determined.”
“There is a problem?”
The vamp’s hand flailed out and grabbed one of the cage bars. I smashed my foot—the one in the steel-toed Cat—down on it. He cursed and let go. “Yes, well…a few.”
“Show me.”
And suddenly things went from weird to super-ultra-weird as a picture flashed through my head as vivid as a movie. It was upside down and jiggling, but the best I could tell it showed some chick wearing a blood-splattered tank and a crazed expression. Her short dark hair was spiky with sweat, her face was livid with bruises and her weird golden eyes were slitted with effort as she—
Oh. I guessed that was me.
Wow, I look like shit, I thought, right before I noticed something else. I looped the slack of the chain around the bar behind me for leverage and—
Oh, yeah. That worked better.
“What the hell is she doing?” That was someone new, a crabby voice with an English accent.
“With respect, Lord Marlowe,” the vamp snapped, “what does it look like?”
“And she is trying to remove your head because…?”
/>
“She doesn’t recognize me. I believe drugs may have been involved. She—”
“Drugs have no effect on dhampirs.”
“I will be sure to tell her that, my lord. As soon as my vocal cords knit back together!”
“What about Lawrence?” That was the first voice again.
“I found him at the dock. He is dead.”
“You are sure? He’s first level—”
“Quite sure.” The vamp’s mental voice was dry. I got another flash—this time of a vampire, or what was left of one, the pieces arranged almost artistically on a patch of bloody concrete—and then it was gone.
Someone cursed. Maybe one of them, maybe me. I couldn’t tell anymore. The longer they talked, the more my head ached. By now waves of pain were stabbing my brain with every word, like needles through the eye.
“Where are you?” the voice asked. “We were tracking you, but lost the signal—”
“Because they took her into one of their labs.”
And suddenly I was in freaky visual number three, running through what looked like a time-lapse film of a city at night. For a couple of seconds, my brain took me on a crazy ride over mangled fences, under trash-strewn bridges and through a maze of alleyways that zipped by so fast, all the graffiti streamed together into one long, obscene snarl. It ended in what looked like a warehouse out of some dystopian nightmare, except even postapocalyptic ruins don’t usually feature a bright orange hell-mouth swirling away in the middle of a wall.
“What is that?” the English guy demanded.
“The other problem,” the vamp rasped as the cage blinked into view again.
