Dark Descendant (Nikki Glass Series)
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From the acclaimed author of the Morgan Kingsley, Exorcist books comes the gripping first novel in a new series about a private eye who discovers, to her surprise, that she’s an immortal huntress.
Nikki Glass can track down any man. But when her latest client turns out to be a true descendant of Hades, Nikki now discovers she can’t die. . . . Crazy as it sounds, Nikki’s manhunting skills are literally god-given. She’s a living, breathing descendant of Artemis who has stepped right into a trap set by the children of the gods. Nikki’s new “friends” include a descendant of Eros, who uses sex as a weapon; a descendant of Loki, whose tricks are no laughing matter; and a half-mad descendant of Kali who thinks she’s a spy. But most powerful of all are the Olympians, a rival clan of immortals seeking to destroy all Descendants who refuse to bow down to them. In the eternal battle of good god/bad god, Nikki would make a divine weapon. But if they think she’ll surrender without a fight, the gods must be crazy. . . .
wasn’t coming back and the old ladies at the front of the church had called the police, I was so hysterical I couldn’t even tell them my own name, much less my mother’s. Nor could I tell them where I lived. My mom had made me memorize our address and phone number once, but I didn’t remember it. Eventually, I calmed down enough to remember the address, but it was just the street address—no city or state. The street name was common enough—Main, or Broad, or something like that—that the police were
advantages of chili is that all I have to do is scoop it into a bowl. Strictly a one-person job.” He got a couple of bowls out of one of the cabinets and generously ladled in the chili. Then he reached into the oven and pulled out a foil-wrapped bundle, which turned out to be cornbread. He put the bowls and cornbread on a couple of plates, then carried them into the nook and set them down. The chili smelled heavenly. “Don’t worry,” Anderson said, one side of his mouth curling up in another of
never be able to get to sleep if I didn’t explore every nook and cranny of my room to make sure I was alone. I was not at all comforted to find that the bedroom door and the entrance to my suite were both locked. I wished I could believe I’d dreamed Jamaal’s visit, but I knew I hadn’t. If he could pass through locked doors, then I supposed he could have escaped from his basement cell on the night of Emmitt’s death, despite all the pounding and shouting I’d heard. Of course, if passing through the
of mica in the dirt, I told myself, but my fingernail caught on something, and it wasn’t mica. I dug my finger into the soil and pulled out a silver band, dotted with moonstones and what looked like diamonds. “Look what I found,” I said, scraping some of the dirt away as I laid the ring on my palm to show it to Maggie. “Where did you get that?” Maggie asked, and there was something off about her voice. “It was in the pot. Why? Do you recognize it?” She nodded. I didn’t like the way she was
the thought before I made myself hysterical. I decided to make a cursory examination of my cell. I tried the door, of course, but the sound of those locks clicking shut had been no illusion. I tried the sink and discovered that yes, blessedly, I could get hot water. I picked up my bloody, ruined sweater, rinsed out as much of the blood as possible, then used the sleeve like a washcloth to clean myself up. I was painfully aware that Anderson was planning to come back and question me later. The