Hell's Horizon (The City Trilogy)
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The second volume in a noirish, gritty urban fantasy for adults from the bestselling Children's author. In the City, The Cardinal rules, and Al Jeery is a loyal member of his personal guard. But when Al is seconded from his duties at Party Central to investigate a murder, an unexpected discovery leads him in a new direction, where his loyalties and beliefs will be severely tested. Soon he is involved in a terrifying mystery that draws in the dead, the City's Incan forefathers, the imposing figure of the Cardinal, and the near-mythical assassin, Paucar Wami. Wami is a law unto himself, a shadowy, enigmatic figure who can apparently kill anyone he chooses without fear of punishment or retribution. And Al is about to find out that he has a lot more in common with Wami than he could ever have imagined...
the events of the first novel. The Cardinal and Paucar Wami are both portrayed with more compassion and humanity in this story then they seemed to receive in Procession of the Dead. Why the change? It all comes down to the Rashomon theory that truth is in the eye of the beholder. I firmly believe that interpretation is everything in storytelling, as it is in life. Truth is only what we see and perceive—it’s not fixed. In the first book, Capac is a very cold, calculating character, and his
I’d seen it on Nic a couple of times. At its center was a symbol of the sun. “Recognize it?” “Yes.” “She was wearing it the night of her murder. I don’t think it’s coincidence. Nicola Hornyak moved in dangerous circles. She became involved with men of violence. Perhaps she anticipated an attack of this nature. If so, would she not have sought protection? Found a strong boyfriend adept in the ways of death? A solider maybe… or a Troop?” “She never mentioned any of this to me. We spent very
stand. “What’s your son’s name?” I asked. “Drake.” She was nervous. “You won’t hurt him, will you?” I smiled at her. “No. Fabio’s explained what I do?” “Kind of.” “There’s no risk involved. It works or it doesn’t. Worst case, Drake goes on like he is. Do you have a pack of cards?” She handed them over. She’d been holding them since before I came and they were warm from the heat of her hands. I knelt and waited for the kid to look up and catch my eye. When he did I smiled. “Hi, Drake. My
madness began—stepped into their path and told them what had happened, how I’d been injured trying to save the child. They relaxed after that and lowered their guns. One asked if I was OK. I nodded. Did I want to let go of the kid? I shook my head. When I eventually handed over the boy—they put his tiny body on a gurney, covered it with a sheet and wheeled it away—a medic crouched beside me and attended to my arm. A light graze. Nothing a bandage and a few days rest wouldn’t cure. The
you—but I will disable you without a second’s hesitation.” “I’ll be still as a mouse,” I promised, stomach clenching in anticipation. “You asked why I was at the Red Throat. It was not because you are my son. I was there in search of answers, hoping to trace a client through you.” “What client?” I frowned. He paused a second, then said, “The one who hired me to eliminate the Fursts.” I came dangerously close to disregarding his warning and going for his throat. If I’d had a weapon of my own,