By S. M. Stirling

First within the new Shadowspan sequence from the hot York instances bestselling "master of speculative fiction" (Library Journal). Eons in the past, Homo Lupens governed the earth. owning outstanding powers, they have been the resource of the entire myths and legends of the uncanny. And notwithstanding their numbers were drastically decreased, they exist nonetheless- although now not as purebreds. Adrian Breze is one such being. prosperous and reclusive, he's extra Shadowspawn than human. yet he rebelled opposed to his personal sort, picking out to dwell as a normal guy. Now, to avoid wasting humanity, he needs to conflict the darkish forces of the world-including these in his personal blood...

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There was a button microphone in his ear with the slender thread of the pickup alongside his jaw, and one hand rested inside the coat. Ellen hesitated as he opened the door; the interior loomed dark, as if this was some threshold across which she could never return. A hand pushed firmly at her back, and the man said something in Chinese. Adrienne replied in the same language, her tone sharp. Then her head came up just as she put one foot inside the door; her eyes pointed eastward past the Cathedral, towards the apartment.

In more ways than one. " " "Ah, ochen' horosho," he said. Then he looked at Ellen. " "I? Mock? Impossible, Dmitri. Oh, well, possibly a little of both. I acquired her in Santa Fe, yes. Previously my brother's. Perhaps that explains my desire to show off a little, although he got surprisingly little use out of her. Guilty, I suppose. " "Not just human. Petit bourgeois, which is worse," Dmitri said. " "I . . Polish, German, some Scots-Irish, a little Cherokee, sir," Ellen replied. "And she has the most intriguingly complex psyche, too," Adrienne said.

Adrian nodded. " Polson asked. The air went still. Harvey's hand made a slight gesture towards his coat before his conscious mind controlled it, prompted by decades of experience with the bubbling edge of violence. Adrian carefully finished chewing and swallowing, laid down his knife and fork, and leaned forward. His goldflecked eyes met Sheila Polson's, and locked. After a long moment she looked aside, a slight sheen of sweat on her forehead. "Ms. Polson, I will say this only once. Ellen Tarnowski was my friend--yes, we were lovers.

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