Hunt the Moon
Karen Chance
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Forty
Epilogue
TOUCH THE DARK
CLAIMED BY SHADOW
FROM NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR
NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR
NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR
“You definitely need to check out this series.”
—Literary Escapism
Praise for the Cassie Palmer Novels
Curse the Dawn
“A truly riotous ride.... Chance adds plenty of twists and obstacles to her first-person series that blends time travel, magic, vampires, and more. The pace is rapid and the exploits are wild. Chance aces another one!”
—Romantic Times
“Gunfights, explosions, magical catastrophes, rescue attempts, ambushes, and much more turn this book into the urban fantasy equivalent of a summer blockbuster . . . quite the satisfying urban fantasy adventure.”
—SF Site
“Outstanding. The characters pull you into their world and won’t let you go.... The dialogue is funny; the story is fast-paced, full of intrigue with really hot sex scenes.”
—The Romance Readers Connection
“A dark theme tempered with humor, action, and romance comes alive in Curse the Dawn, one of the best of the Cassandra Palmer series.”
—Romance Reviews Today
“Chance is outstanding in her punchy delivery.... Swift action sequences, [a] tight plotline, a memorable cast, some rather steamy and heart-thumping scenes, not to mention the occasional sweetness of dry humor amidst a lot of killing and death, are all reasons to love this book and indeed this series.”
—The Truth About Books
Embrace the Night
“Cassie is a well-rounded character, and the intensity and complexity of the plot puts her through her paces physically, emotionally, and psychically.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Quick pacing and imaginative use of some old mythologies blend into a captivating read that will leave readers clamoring for more.”
—Monsters and Critics
“Ms. Chance continues to expand her well-built world with time travel, fantastical beings, steamy romance, and the nonstop action her wonderful series provides. This is a fastmoving read that’s hard to set down.”
—Darque Reviews
Claimed by Shadow
“A nonstop thrill ride from beginning to end, a wildly entertaining romp with a strong, likable heroine.”
—Rambles
“Ms. Chance is a master . . . a series well worth getting hooked on.”
—Fresh Fiction
“A great writer of supernatural fantasy that is on a par with the works of Kim Harrison, Charlaine Harris, and Kelley Armstrong.”
—Midwest Book Review
Touch the Dark
“A grab-you-by-the-throat-and-suck-you-in sort of book with a tough, smart heroine and sexy-scary vampires. I loved it—and I’m waiting anxiously for a sequel.”
—New York Times bestselling author Patricia Briggs
“A really exciting book with great pacing and a huge cast of vivid characters. This is one of my favorite reads of the year.”
—New York Times bestselling author Charlaine Harris
“Exciting and inventive.”
—Booklist
“Fast and heavy on the action, Touch the Dark packs a huge story.... A blend of fantasy and romance, it will satisfy readers of both genres.”
—Fresh Fiction
“A wonderfully entertaining romp with an engaging heroine. Here’s hoping there’s a sequel in the works!”
—New York Times bestselling author Kelley Armstrong
“Karen Chance takes her place along with Laurell K. Hamilton, Charlaine Harris, MaryJanice Davidson, and J. D. Robb to give us a strong woman who doesn’t wait to be rescued.... The action never stops . . . engrossing.”
—SFRevu
“Combines humor, action, and the paranormal into a scintillating story that will leave readers begging for more.”
—Romance Reviews Today
And don’t miss Karen Chance’s New York Times bestselling Midnight’s Daughter series
Death’s Mistress
“Chance’s patented brand of political intrigue, wrapped around deadly danger and spiced with complex characterization, is a proven winner.”
—Romantic Times
“Engaging . . . a must read for anyone looking for an urban fantasy story that’s explosive, fast-paced [with] wonderful characters and a plot that will keep you guessing until the very end.”
—Night Owl Romance
“From the beginning until the ending, this story is nonstop chaos of the sort only the undead or Fey can deliver . . . high drama, indeed.”
—Huntress Book Reviews
Midnight’s Daughter
“Karen Chance doesn’t disappoint. Once again we have an action-packed adventure with a strong female character that, while tough as nails and a dhampir, is also very human.”
—SFRevu
“Karen Chance has done it again . . . a brilliant start to a new series [that] contains all the elements needed for a great urban fantasy.”
—Vampire Romance Books
“Karen Chance knows how to write. Not just the action scenes, or having the butt-kicking heroine throw out pithy one-liners, but the setup is clever, [and] the involvement of the various factions in the simmering war is well thoughtout, as are the repercussions to various actions characters take in the book.”
—Monsters and Critics
“There is plenty of action, a bit of romance, and a fascinating look at the Dracula brood.... Karen Chance is by far one of the best authors writing urban fantasies today.”
—Genre Go Round Reviews
BOOKS BY KAREN CHANCE
THE CASSIE PALMER SERIES
Touch the Dark
Claimed by Shadow
Embrace the Night
Curse the Dawn
THE MIDNIGHT’S DAUGHTER SERIES
Midnight’s Daughter Death’s Mistress
SIGNET SELECT
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First published by Signet Select, an imprint of New American Library, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
First Printing, June 2011
Copyright © Karen Chance, 2011
eISBN : 978-1-101-51551-8
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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To my editor, Anne Sowards, for otherworldly patience!
Chapter One
I hit the ground running—or stumbling or falling; it was kind of hard to tell when it felt like the earth was crumbling under my feet.
And then I realized that was because the earth was crumbling under my feet.
“Craaaap!”
I plummeted straight over a cliff and into thin air, arms waving and feet still moving uselessly, screaming bloody murder. For a long moment, there was nothing but me and crystal blue sky and acre upon acre of sparkling, snow-covered land way the hell too far below. I knew I was supposed to be doing something, but the wind was roaring in my ears and my eyes were watering from the cold and the ground was rushing up to meet me at a pace that promised one very mushed clairvoyant in the very near future—
And then I was jerked back up, fast enough to cut off my breath, to leave me dizzy. Or maybe that was the feel of the hard arms around me or the harder body behind me. Or the stunning relief of Not dead, not dead yet—
Because that never gets old.
My name is Cassie Palmer, and I’ve cheated death more times than anyone has a right to expect. In the past two months, I’ve been shot, stabbed, beaten and blown up a few dozen times, and that doesn’t count all the magical ways I’ve almost been killed. I’d have been dead a long time ago if not for my friends, one of whom had just jumped off the cliff after me.
I’d have been a lot more appreciative if he hadn’t pushed me first.
My nose was running, I couldn’t see worth shit and my brain was still frozen in abject terror. So for a moment I just hung there, gulping ice-cold air and waiting for my heart to stop trying to slam through my chest. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see a small piece of what was holding us up, and it wasn’t reassuring.
It was almost transparent, except for a faint bluish tinge that was largely invisible against the brilliant sky. It had a dome-shaped top and a few filmy tentacles streaming downward to wrap around us, making it look vaguely like a jellyfish—if they were as big as a bus and had a habit of drifting around over the Colorado Rockies. What it was was almost as strange: an expression of one man’s magic, formed into a parachute that I didn’t trust at all.
On the other hand, I did trust the man. Although I really wished he’d caught me from the front instead of from behind. That way I could have kneed him in the nuts.
“You did that on purpose!” I gasped when I was able to breathe.
“Of course.”
“Of course?” I looked up, but had to crane my head back, leaving the features above me wrong-side up. The clear green eyes were the same, and, unfortunately, so was the spiky blond hair.
It didn’t look any better from this angle, I decided.
“You have yet to learn to react reliably under pressure,” I was told. “Until you do, you are vulnerable.”
I tried swiveling my head around, because glaring at someone upside down doesn’t work. But all I saw was part of a muscular shoulder in an army green sweatshirt. My sometimes friend, sometimes enemy, all the time pain in the ass John Pritkin wasn’t wearing a coat.
Of course he wasn’t.
It had to be subzero out here, and if it hadn’t been for all the adrenaline pumping through my system, I’d have been freezing to death—but a coat wasn’t macho. And if I’d learned one thing about war mages, the closest thing the supernatural community had to a police force, it was that they were always macho. Even the women. It was kind of scary.
Sort of like dangling about a mile above a lot of very pointy mountains.
“Your abilities will do you little good if you cannot learn to function under stress,” he continued calmly, as we slowly drifted closer to the pointy bits.
“Stress?” I asked, my voice cracking slightly. “Pritkin, stress is a bad hair day. Stress is gaining five pounds right before swimsuit season. This is not stress!”
“Call it what you will; the point is the same. Remember what we discussed. Assess—determine what is happening; address—decide which of your abilities can best deal with the problem at hand; and then act—quickly and decisively. You must learn to do this automatically, without freezing up, and regardless of the circumstances. Or you will suffer the consequences.”
“I’m trying!” I said resentfully. It was barely two months since I’d been pushed off another cliff, and the fact that it had been a metaphorical one hadn’t helped at all. I’d been declared—over my loud and sustained protests—Pythia, the chief seer of the supernatural world.
It was a job that some people were willing to kill for, as I’d discovered the hard way. For my part, I’d spent a good deal of those two months trying to give back the power that came with the office, only to find that it didn’t want to leave. After a number of very hard lessons, I’d finally accepted that I was going to have to make the best of it.
As a result, I’d been working my metaphysical butt off trying to make up for the lifetime of training the other candidates had received. It would have helped if Rambo up there hadn’t demanded that I learn self-defense, too. I agreed that I needed it, but one thing I didn’t know how to do at a time was enough.
“Try harder,” Mr. Complete Lack of Sympathy told me.
“Look,” I said, trying to reason with him despite extensive experience that this rarely worked. “This isn’t a great time. I have my inauguration—”
“Coronation.”
“—coming up, and I’m trying to raise my abilities from pathetic to just sad before then so I don’t totally embarrass myself in front of the people I’m supposed to be leading. And then there’re fittings for the dress they want me to wear, and about a ton of names to learn, and if I get a title wrong it could cause some kind of international incident—”
“I will make you a deal
,” he said, cutting me off.
“What kind of deal?” I asked warily. Wheeling and dealing was a vampire trait, something the other man in my life was much more likely to try. War mages ordered, threatened and bitched, depending on the circumstance. They didn’t deal.
Except for today, apparently.
“We’re directly over an area used by the Corps as a training ground,” he told me, referring to the formal name of the war mages. “Stay ahead of me for fifteen minutes, using any abilities you like other than time shifting, and I won’t bother you again for a week.”
I didn’t say anything for a moment. Because there were several types of shifting that came standard with my office—through space and through time. They might look the same to Pritkin, except that I moved from place to place instead of from era to era. But they weren’t. His boss at the Corps, Jonas Marsden, was the one training me in my newly acquired abilities and he’d told me so himself.
So if Pritkin didn’t specifically forbid me from spatially shifting, I could easily stay ahead of him—and buy myself a free week in the process. After the way things had been going lately, a little time off would be heaven. But it would be a bad mistake to sound like it.
