By C.E. Murphy
Joanne Walker has 3 days to profit to exploit her shamanic powers and store the realm from the unleashed Wild Hunt.No concerns. No strain. by no means brain the shortcoming of sleep, the complicated new expertise for therapeutic herself from deadly wounds, or the cryptic, conversing coyote who appears to be like in her dreams.And if all that is not undesirable adequate, within the 3 years Joanne's been a cop, she's by no means noticeable a useless body—but she's simply encounter her moment in 3 days.It's been a complain of a week.And it's not over but.
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Additional info for Urban Shaman (The Walker Papers, Book 1)
He had good teeth, clean and white and strong, like he hadn't ever smoked. They were probably false. "Never felt like I had to go chasing down some dame I saw from an airplane, nope. " I leaned against the window, eyes closed. " I could feel his gaze on me in the rear view mirror again. Then he grunted, a sort of satisfied noise. "All right, lady. " I glowered out the window. I wouldn't have been so annoyed if I'd felt more confident myself. The cabby—whose name was Gary, according to the posted driver's license, and whose seventy-third birthday had been three days ago—drove like the proverbial bat out of hell, while I clung to the seat and tried not to gasp too audibly.
She smiled the tight little smile of someone who knows she sounds crazy. It made me feel better. "This isn't the best place to talk about this," she said. "Why not? You just said the guy who was after you can't come here," Gary said. "No, but he can send people who can," I said before Marie could. She nodded. " I touched my cheek gingerly. It was still bleeding. "An emergency room might be a good place to go. " Marie extended her arms, palms up. Half a dozen cuts still oozed red as she looked at them.
That seemed like a pretty good idea. I looked around, silver catching my eye again. The knife she'd cut me with lay against the foot of a pew, a nice heavy butterfly knife. I picked it up and cut a piece off the altar banner, holding it to my face while Gary asked again what to do with the woman. "Um," I said, and then my face started to hurt. For a minute I was too busy blinking back tears to give a damn what Gary did. I croaked, "Hold her for a minute," and tried increasing the pressure on my cut to see if it helped the pain any.