By Cheyenne McCray
Meet Nyx. This half-human, half–Drow deepest eye investigates paranormal crimes via day and is an elite Tracker of demons by means of evening. She prefers operating solo—and taking part in tough. So while a terrifying strength starts off murdering blameless people and paranorms, and leaving unusual demonic symbols burned into their constructions, it’s a case Nyx takes very personally…Meanwhile, Nyx’s fellow Trackers are being killed one via one—and a pretty new Tracker named Torin is shadowing her each flow. Torin has powers Nyx can’t learn, and occasionally she wonders whose part he’s on. Nyx’s instincts inform her something’s brewing within the city’s meanest supernatural streets, and that it’s able to unharness hell in the world. Who can she belief? Now it’s 5 mins to everlasting midnight…and Nyx’s final probability capability risking everything—even her personal lifestyles.
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Extra resources for Demons Not Included: A Night Tracker Novel
What about the color of my skin? I charged out of the office and into the cool September evening, and the breeze lifted my hair from my shoulders. "I've got to run up to my apartment real quick before I go," I said to Adam. " I almost bolted for the stairs in my high-heeled Ferragamos. His "See you later," sounded hesitant. No blue hair. No blue hair. No blue hair. Please. This was the closest I'd come to blowing everything and shifting into my Drow form in front of a human. A human I really, really liked and didn't want to scare off.
She smacked his hand. I barely listened to Caprice and Jon's banter. Every muscle in my body suddenly burned as that bad feeling I'd had earlier overrode the smell of weed and the enjoyment of good company. " Caprice's emphasis of her nickname for me jerked my attention to her. " I realized I was holding my hand to my belly. I forced a smile and glanced around the room. " She laughed. " I rolled my eyes. " Caprice was definitely holding back a big smile. " I started walking toward the doorway with Caprice.
His eyes, the color of dark brown alder wood, focused on me as he moved forward and took one of the chairs in front of my desk. He was a model of masculine grace and strength. " For a big guy, he had the cutest little smile when our eyes met, and he had a dimple in his left cheek. Insert schoolgirl sigh. Did I mention he was gorgeous? In a typical guy way of sitting, he slouched his six-two frame in the chair, knees wide, feet planted on the floor. He was just as delicious as he was gorgeous—like a football quarterback.