By Kelly Meding
They’ll by no means see her coming. . . .
When Evangeline Stone wakes up bare and bruised on a chilly slab on the morgue—in a stranger’s physique, without reminiscence of who she is and the way she obtained there—her issues are just simply starting. ahead of that evening she and the 2 different individuals of her Triad have been the city’s celebrity bounty hunters, mercilessly detoxing the town of the murderous creatures residing within the shadows, from vampires to shape-shifters to trolls. Then whatever bad occurred that not just rate all 3 of them their lives but additionally confident the city’s different Hunters that Evy was once a traitor—and she can’t even be mindful what it was.
Now she’s a fugitive, piecing jointly her reminiscence, attempting to deal a few critical justice—and researching that she has purely 3 days to resolve her personal homicide earlier than the reincarnation spell wears off. simply because in 3 days Evy will die again—but this time there’s no moment probability. . . .
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Additional resources for Three Days to Dead (Dreg City, Book 1)
I winced. She lay still, her chest slowly rising and falling. “So much for not scaring anyone,” I muttered. Chalice’s voice was deeper than mine. It felt powerful, like I could scream to wake the dead. No pun intended. I crouched next to Pat and checked her head, but found no gushing wound. Just a small lump. It’s not every day that someone sees a reanimated corpse. Likewise, it’s not every day a person becomes a reanimated corpse. My day was decidedly much worse, so I did the first sensible thing that came to mind.
Danika’s voice telling me to run. Three hundred dead. It was the price they paid for harboring a fugitive Hunter. Fugitive for a crime she didn’t even commit. I hadn’t understood it then, and I still didn’t. We’d been lured to Halfie territory and attacked. So why come after me less than ten minutes after I reported the assault? Why was I dodging the bullets of other Hunters, instead of working with them to learn who set us up in the first place? If I knew any of that before I died, it was lost to a well in the Swiss cheese mess of my memories.
The Department would file me away as Neutralized. Normally they allowed Triads to operate under our own rules, answerable only to our Handlers, who answered to the brass—three key people in the Metro Police. Until someone really, truly screwed up. The phone rang. I yelped and jumped back, slamming my elbow into the corner of the door. Needles lanced up my right arm, numbing the nerves. Fucking funny bone. Two rings, sharp and clear. I spun in a complete circle, halfway in the booth, surveying the surrounding buildings.