I did it! I’m free. Well sort of. Freedom isn’t as cut and dried as the word implies. In this case, I’m at the top of Death’s Worst Reaper Ever list. What it signifies remains to be seen. I broke free from Death because there wasn’t any other way out of Reaping Vampires. She refused to let me off the hook or consider other arrangements. I’d have been content leaving it at that, but word about my choice got out. Other Reapers clamored for independence too. Death’s fury expanded another notch with every defection until nowhere is far enough away for me to run to. If I was only fighting her, it might be manageable. Toss in Vampires who hate my guts, a phalanx of dark gods who want my hide, and a bunch of bigoted mortals who’ve decided magic is holding them back. Pah. Humans are their own worst enemy, but they’re the least of my problems. It’s been a rocky journey. Along the way I’ve uncovered allies and even a man who loves me. Will we be enough to slam the gates and send darkness packing? We have to be. No prisoners. No choices.

Come fly with me. Catchy, huh? It works for airlines. Maybe it will work for the dead once I launch my own Reaping business. Except my new tagline will be, come die with me. Back when my life was simpler, I thought all I had to do was hold gateways for the dead to pass through. Silly me, I actually enjoyed Reaping. Almost like a drug or fine, old whiskey, it made me high, filled me with delight, and left me glowing with the rightness of providing a last bit of compassion. Good little Reaper that I am, I never examined any of it too deeply, just crafted portals, exactly as Death trained me. Ha! She neglected to mention I command way more magic than she’d let on in Reaper school. Death smiled pretty to my face, and then lied to me. Used me. Me and all the other Reapers. I can’t not Reap. It’s hardwired into me. But I can tell Death I quit. Big words. I have no idea if I’ve got the guts to follow through, or what Death would do about open insubordination. I’ve always liked to live on the wild side, though, so I guess I’m about to find out.

If you like ’em dead. This is the urban fantasy series for you. Over 900 pages of edge-of-your-seat Reaper action. Vampires too. Shadow Reaper The dead are restless, and a whole lot less cooperative than they have been. That was true even before I drew the short straw and ended up with Vampire duty. Since then, Reaping has taken way more time. So much, I’m worried I’ll lose all the clients from the career that actually feeds me. I run a small private pilot school. It pays most of the bills and means I don’t have to keep regular hours. Death wants me to remain in one piece. She’s bailed me out often enough, she’s all but ordered me to find other employment. I just smile and nod after our little talks, and then I climb back into a cockpit. Our last toe-to-toe didn’t go so well. She went and assigned Vampires to me. That’s when Reaping turned into a million-hour-a-week job. I can almost hear the Reaper who was stuck with them before, laughing his head off. I shepherd souls to the other side. Vampires have zero interest in leaving, but I have a quota to fill. Means I have to trick them, but it didn’t work for long. They’re onto me. Damn Death, anyway. She painted a target on my back, and now the Vamps are out for blood. In more ways than one. Rebel Reaper Come fly with me. Catchy, huh? It works for airplanes. Maybe it will work for the dead once I launch my own Reaping business. Except my new tagline will be, come die with me. Back when my life was simpler, I thought all I had to do was hold gateways for the dead to pass through. Silly me, I actually enjoyed Reaping. Almost like a drug or fine old whiskey, it made me high, filled me with delight, and left me glowing with the rightness of providing a last bit of compassion. Good little Reaper that I am, I never examined any of it too deeply, just crafted portals, exactly as Death trained me. Ha! She neglected to mention I command way more magic than she’d let on in Reaper school. Death smiled pretty to my face and then lied to me. Used me. Me and all the other Reapers. I can’t not Reap. It’s hardwired into me. But I can tell Death I quit. Big words. I have no idea if I’ve got the guts to follow through, or what Death would do about open insubordination. I’ve always liked to live on the wild side, though, so I guess I’m about to find out. Untamed Reaper I did it! I’m free. Well sort of. Freedom isn’t as cut and dried as the word implies. In this case, I’m at the top of Death’s Worst Reaper Ever list. What it signifies remains to be seen. I broke free from Death because there wasn’t any other way out of Reaping Vampires. She refused to let me off the hook or consider other arrangements. I’d have been content leaving it at that, but word about my choice got out. Other Reapers clamored for independence too. Death’s fury expanded another notch with every defection until nowhere is far enough away for me to run to. If I was only fighting her, it might be manageable. Toss in Vampires who hate my guts, a phalanx of dark gods who want my hide, and a bunch of bigoted mortals who’ve decided magic is holding them back. Pah. Humans are their own worst enemy, but they’re the least of my problems. It’s been a rocky journey. Along the way I’ve uncovered allies and even a man who loves me. Will we be enough to slam the gates and send darkness packing? We have to be. No prisoners. No choices.

Bundled together for the first time! Over 1200 pages of riveting vampiric urban fantasy. Harsh Line My very existence is under attack. I’ve kept a low profile, told myself the craziness sweeping the world would pass me by. Yeah, it was wishful thinking, actually an outright lie, but it’s kept me sane. I’ve been hiding out forever in one guise or another. Currently, I run a nightclub. Ascent is an “ask me no questions, and I’ll tell you no lies” haven. For everybody. I’m a Vampire. Far be it from me to judge. My closest ally is a shapeshifting dire wolf. I adopted him when he was a scrawny puppy, but I’m getting ahead of my tale. The fragile détente between supernaturals and humans has crashed and burned. I can’t avoid the truth any longer. Lucky for me, mortals don’t know exactly what I am. When I moved to Seattle, some vampiric sixth sense urged me to play my cards close to my vest, but I’m done burying my secrets. And my power. Warped Line I chose stasis—a long sleep—for me and two of mine. Hard to time these things, but we woke in the eye of a cyclone. When I went to sleep—to avoid being drained of magic and blood by dark Sorcerers—Vampires weren’t exactly on the endangered species list, but not many of us are left. No one ever accepted us. Not mortals and not others with power, either. At least one of those dams has developed a few cracks. Supernaturals aren’t quite welcoming, but they’ll take help from any quarter. Mortals have declared war on magic, and they won’t rest until we’re all sitting in iron-clad prisons. What a bunch of cowards. If they weren’t hiding behind false humanitarian walls, they’d be honest about their intentions and do their damnedest to kill us outright. Cracked Line Vampires don’t fall in love. Except I did. Not the best decision of my long life. I definitely cracked an unspoken line, but Ariana trounced me as far as line-crossing went. Very few acts constitute crimes in Vampire circles. Hers was the worst. I fled to the Old Country to buy myself thinking time. I still loved her, but what she’d done was so vile I couldn’t set it aside. We face huge problems, but I’m tackling them one by one. I’ll return to Ariana’s side, but perhaps only as her comrade-in-arms. Time will tell if we can be more to each other. Time and circumstances. In a world without magic, Vampires will wither along with every other magic-wielder. I cannot let that happen. Broken Line In all my years as a Vampire, hundreds of them, I never imagined humans would be anything other than food. Rich, pure, delectable blood. Prey that fought back never posed a problem. Mortals couldn’t stand against those of us with supernatural ability. That world still exists, but it’s taken a backseat to humans who’ve joined forces with turncoat mages. Mortals were never meant to wield power. Over the long haul, they’re sure to be very sorry for the choices they’ve made. Maybe someday I’ll be a humble innkeeper again, but it’s so far in the future I can’t even think about it. Nope. For now, all I see is blood. Rivers of it, and not running down my gullet, either. On the plus side, I have good friends, powerful allies, and a Vampire who loves me. We have to come through this unscathed. Have to. I’m Ariana Hawke, and I take care of what’s mine.

Learn magic they said. Or at least shore up your paltry skills. Talk is cheap, and that edict has cost me dearly. I had a comfortable life, once upon a time. A quiet life. One where I’d carved a realistic niche for myself. No more. Power is seductive, and a bitch of a mistress. Once I pulled the cork out of that bottle, a million genies sallied forth. None of them were nice. No one offered me three wishes, or any wishes at all. I’ve been working my fanny off for the last two years. Most days, I slog along from dawn to dusk and beyond. Sleep has turned into a distant memory. When I do lie down—or fall on my face, which is what really happens—my mind whirls in circles as I relive the failures du jour. And the very occasional success. I am stronger. So much stronger it scares me. My talent sparkles, flowing bright and clean. Soon, I’ll leave the well-hidden spot that’s allowed me time to claim what’s mine. Whether my crash course in sorcery was wise remains to be seen.

Power is intoxicating. Anyone who says you can overdo it is either incompetent or a very good liar. I’ve chased down every scrap of additional magic that crossed my path, drained it, and started the hunt anew. My obsession hasn’t made me much of a companion. I wouldn’t have blamed my bondmate for leaving, but the snow leopard has stuck by my side. It pains me to admit he’s my sole connection to my better nature. He tempers my penchant for blowing holes in the world and asking questions later. Not that he has a soft side. He doesn’t, but we’ve taken care of each other for all the years in my memory. Information just fell into my lap. Critical material I should have picked up on if I’d been paying attention. My next stop is Grigori, the werewolf who heads up a gang of paranormal assassins. Once I was part his Circle, but I left to sharpen my seer skills. No matter how adept I became, scrying the future—or the past—didn’t augment my power, so I moved on. Flitting from this to that to the other has been the story of my obscenely long life. No more. It’s back to the Circle for the leopard and me. We’ll remain as long as we’re needed.

I chose stasis—a long sleep—for me and two of mine. Hard to time these things, but we woke in the eye of a cyclone. When I went to sleep—to avoid being drained of magic and blood by dark Sorcerers—Vampires weren’t exactly on the endangered species list, but not many of us are left. No one ever accepted us. Not mortals and not others with power, either. At least one of those dams has developed a few cracks. Supernaturals aren’t quite welcoming, but they’ll take help from any quarter. Mortals have declared war on magic, and they won’t rest until we’re all sitting in iron-clad prisons. What a bunch of cowards. If they weren’t hiding behind false humanitarian walls, they’d be honest about their intentions and kill us outright if they could. The world turned into an alien place while I slept. Not much point returning to my clan house in Italy. It’s probably long since disbanded. Besides, fate tossed me squarely in Ariana’s path. She’s like me, a Vampire, but I hunger for her in a very un-Vampirelike way. She’s done her damnedest to chase me away, but I’m tough to dissuade. She doesn’t know it, but I won’t back off until she’s mine. No matter what it takes.