By David Wellington
Selon les rapports officiels, tous les vampires sont morts. Mais Arkeley, ancien agent fédéral, sait que l'un d'entre eux est encore en vie et manigance le retour des siens. Aussi est-il tiré de sa retraite par le FBI pour enquêter, avec Laura Caxton, sur un contrôle de regimen qui a mal tourné... Les créatures qu'ils s'apprêtent à combattre sont de véritables machines à tuer.
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Extra resources for 13 Balles dans la Peau (Vampire Story, Tome 1)
It would do no good to escape. There was no shelter he could count on anywhere on Nal-K'am. Better to do as much damage as he could. Like the prisoner with his chained wrists. I'm not afraid, he realized. Not afraid of dying. His weakness was gone. Strength was flowing into him now, strength such as he had never imagined. In a way the sensation was like bathing again in the rivers of the void. Either he still retained some connection with it that the priests—that those who controlled the priests—had been unable to sever, or else the cure they had worked on him had done more than merely restore him to normal.
Either they die before the child is conceived or it does not survive to be born. So when our records showed no children born to victims of the Wasting Plague we assumed there were none. Hence, we were unaware of your existence. " The truth was there, still there, unmistakable in the other's voice. But couldn't you hear the truth in her voice when she was praying in the Place of the Ritual? It was a trick, so she could kill you! "Had we known you for what you were—had we even suspected that one such as you might exist—you would never have been forced to confront Janesha in the Ritual of Knife and Cup.
He could see them with unnatural clarity, their forms leaping out at him with no blurring or loss of detail, and this too made him doubt their reality. The one on the right appeared human, except for its great size and the two gnarled growths protruding from its skull where a human's ears would have been. The growths curved gently upward until they stood upright like the weathered trunks of trees and, indeed, they seemed to be topped with thick foliage. They were miniature trees with curved trunks, and though the air of the arena was still their boughs whipped back and forth as though tossed by a strong wind.