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It is a very up-to-the-minute novel, featuring terrorism and the internet, and portraying how terrifying the world can really be. Her strength and determination to succeed is so admirable, yet there is also a very human side to Cat. The Cat Connolly Series is not a romance.

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We travel to France, London and the US where we witness the cross-policing of the different agencies and we are exposed to the evilness that lurks in the dark, dark world of the web. There are two victims in this story, whose deaths need to be explained and Sam Blake wraps it all up in a very neat package with this fast-paced page-turner that grabs your undivided attention from the very first page. Order your copy online here. A massive thanks to all our users who participated in the recent survey we know they can be annoying.

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That word seemed even colder now that I realized who the corpse was. She is—she was—Vanessa Turner. My best friend. Trinity placed a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. My fingers clenched and I gave a jerky nod as I tried to damp down the grief welling in my chest. When she started seeing someone new, he flipped out on her. She had to get a restraining order. She disappeared not too long after that, but we could never prove he was involved.

I could still remember our last conversation—though fight was probably a far more accurate word to use—me bitching that she had accepted her first solo assignment way too soon. It was probably my calling her an overeager virgin itching to pop her cherry that sent her over the edge. Okay, so maybe I could use a little sensitivity training of my own. Okay, correction. Mentioning my dearly departed mother was way worse. Emerald green where mine were ruby red. My vision grew red and hazy. Gooseflesh broke out along my skin, and magical energy raised every single hair on my body.

I fought back the superhuman Rage that was both strength and weakness for a Fury, sending a brief prayer skyward that this would not be the time I lost the battle. Bit by bit my vision cleared, and my pulse slowed its thunderous crashing. For now, I got to keep my mind—and soul.

First of all, Nessa would never have done that to her family or friends.

She patted my shoulder again. I blew out a breath and ran fingers through my hair. Who else indeed? Furies served as the investigators—and often judge and jury—of crimes committed by or against supernatural beings. Since coming out fifty years earlier, we Furies had become the bridge between mundanes and arcanes, thanks to the fact that we started out as mortals before manifesting our magical abilities and pledging ourselves to the Sisterhood of Furies.

Now, many of us juggled our duties for the Sisterhood with the jobs we had taken serving on the mortal police forces. Not unless a Mandate came down from on high. I hissed in realization. How to explain a Mandate—with a capital M —to a mortal? Especially a self-proclaimed atheist? A Fury working under a Mandate is compelled to work that case until the crime is solved. I rolled my eyes. Mortals had such a gift for understatement. They almost always go out when a Fury is murdered. Since there were no visible wounds on the corpse, there had to be enough blood inside for me to work my mojo.

I paced around the corpse, tracing a circle in the sand.

GPS Failed

Something sharp bit into the ball of my foot, and I cursed under my breath. Nemesis and Nike no, not like the shoes hissed again, this time in pleasure at the magic pounding through all three of us.


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Electric-blue light danced in the air, increasing in brilliance and size until not even the mundanes could miss it. Several moments passed, moments that felt an eternity, and then magical Hell broke loose.

Urban Dictionary: Taysean

Agony raced along every magical and physical nerve ending. I screamed in shock, scrambling to ground myself more solidly and funnel skittering energy into the earth. Never, not even as a punk-nosed apprentice, had I experienced anything like this. Magic did not rebel against a well-placed spell. Trinity shouted in the background, ordering the uniforms to stay back and then trying to pierce my veil of pain. Nemesis and Nike added their strength to my own, and we fought against the magic coursing through our veins, thrusting it along the cord of energy connecting us to the earth.

Bit by agonizing bit, the magic obeyed our combined wills, flowing through that channel in a white-hot flood of light and dissipating harmlessly. I dropped to hands and knees, panting as nerve endings continued to roar in protest. Trinity fell to the ground beside me, hands brushing my hair back and asking urgent questions.

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