NEW
RELEASE and EXCERPT
Winter Wolf
(Witch & Wolf Book 2)
(Witch & Wolf Book 2)
by RJ
Blain
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Description
The hunted wizard.
When Nicole dabbled in the occult, she lost it all: Her voice, her
family, and her name. Now on the run from the Inquisition, she must prove to herself
- and the world - that not all wizards are too dangerous to let live.
The savage murder of a bookstore employee throws Nicole into the middle
of Inquisition business, like it or not. Driven by her inability to save the
young man’s life, she decides to hunt the killer on her own. Using forbidden
magic to investigate the past, she learns that the murderer is in fact a
disease that could kill the entire werewolf race.
Forced to choose between saving lives and preserving her own, Nicole
embraces the magic that sent her into exile. Without werewolves, the power of
the Inquisition would dwindle, and she could live without being hunted.
Nicole’s only hope for success lies in the hands of the werewolves she
hates and the Inquisition she fears, but finding someone to trust is only the
beginning of her problems. There are those who want to ensure that the
werewolves go extinct and that the Inquisition falls.
But, if she fails to find a cure, her family - including her twin sister
- will perish…
Excerpt
Almost everyone in
the store had a phone. Dormant devices, from reading lights to mobile chargers,
littered the tables. One woman, browsing books nearby, had four battery-powered
devices in her purse. One was a phone, and like mine, it hungered. Its need was
strong; its battery waned to the point of failure.
No one would notice
if I did. Maybe the woman would wonder how her phone hadn’t died before she got
home. It only had a few minutes left. It’d take me all of ten seconds to fix it
for her. If I did, I wouldn’t be so aware of it. But to do so, I’d have to
touch her - or her phone. Some things I could manipulate without having a
direct conduit, but cell phone batteries were tricky, greedy things.
I cringed a little,
setting the thriller book down. I picked up the next nearest title. I flipped
it over, not reading the text on the back. Did I dare? Out of the corner of my
eye, I watched the woman browsing through the books. All it would take was a
few seconds. I could charge it without her noticing.
That was one thing I
was actually good at.
I put the novel I
held down and wandered to the same table, careful not to look at her. Book by
book, I investigated the titles, circling to where she stood.
“You’re Nicole
Thomas, aren’t you? The actress. You’re her.” My quarry appraised me with a
pleased expression.
People normally
recognized the mainliners, people with beautiful faces and voices to match,
people who didn’t avoid crowds.
In short, people
other than me.
I met her gaze, abandoning
my perusal of novels. “I am,” I replied, wincing a little at the
sandpaper-rough quality of my voice. At least I hadn’t been reduced to a
whisper - yet. My fatal flaw was my rough, grating voice. Chronic laryngitis
did that to a person. It ruined careers, as it had mine, though I hadn’t quite
given up on being an actress. I’d already lost the ability to sing.
I wasn’t going to
let a stupid disease take everything away from me.
The woman smiled,
not seeming to mind talking to someone who sounded more like a zombie than a
human. “You’re taller than I expected. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
She thrust out her
hand.
We shook.
I left her phone
alone.
“They keep putting
me next to giants,” I quipped. It was true. When I did manage to get on the
silver screen, I worked alongside actors easily a foot-and-a-half taller than
me. “It’s a pleasure to meet you too.” I matched her smile. She didn’t tell me
her name, and I didn’t ask for it.
It took all of my
will not to fiddle with her phone. All it would take was a murmured word and a
thought, and it’d be done. It would have been easy to charge the battery when
our hands had been clasped together, but I hadn’t dared.
If, sometime later,
she noticed her phone had magically been charged - literally - she might remember
me. She knew my name.
And in true
cowardice, I couldn’t bring myself to help her. If she connected the strange
behavior of her phone with me, she might tell someone. If she did, I’d be as
good as dead - or worse. I had dabbled in the occult, and the occult had
dabbled back, and there were those who didn’t like when that happened.
The last thing I
needed was them finding me.
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About the Author
RJ Blain suffers from a Moleskine journal obsession, a pen fixation, and
a terrible tendency to pun without warning.
When she isn't playing pretend, she likes to think she's a cartographer
and a sumi-e painter. In reality, she herds cats and a husband. She is
currently on a quest for a new warrior fish.
In her spare time, she daydreams about being a spy. Should that fail, her
contingency plan involves tying her best of enemies to spinning wheels and
quoting James Bond villains until she is satisfied.
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