NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER - MacKayla Lane and Jericho Barrons return in the epic conclusion to the pulse-pounding Fever series, where a world thrown into chaos grows more treacherous at every turn.
As Mac, Barrons, Ryodan, and Jada struggle to restore control, enemies become allies, right and wrong cease to exist, and the lines between life and death, lust and love, disappear completely. Black holes loom menacingly over Dublin, threatening to destroy the earth, yet the greatest danger is the one MacKayla Lane has unleashed from within: The Sinsar Dubh-a sentient book of unthinkable evil-has possessed her body and will stop at nothing in its insatiable quest for power.
The fate of Man and Fae rests on destroying the book and recovering the long-lost Song of Making, the sole magic that can repair the fragile fabric of the earth. But to achieve these aims, sidhe-seers, the Nine, Seelie, and Unseelie must form unlikely alliances and make heart-wrenching choices. For Barrons and Jada, this means finding the Seelie queen, who alone can wield the mysterious song, negotiating with a lethal Unseelie prince hell-bent on ruling the Fae courts, and figuring out how to destroy the Sinsar Dubh while keeping Mac alive.
This time, there's no gain without sacrifice, no pursuit without risk, no victory without irrevocable loss. In the battle for Mac's soul, every decision exacts a tremendous price.
"Bold and brilliantly layered, deeply emotive and all-consuming, the story curves full circle as Mac and Dani try to save the world. . . . Fans of the series . . . will love every moment, every page. As one now expects from the incredibly talented [Karen Marie] Moning, gasp-inducing surprises await."-USA Today
"Epic."-New Orleans Gambit
"Moning is one of the best. . . . [Feversong is] an exciting, pulse-pounding action-filled adventure that at times is dark and terrifying, and other times gloriously happy and romantic. . . . Another fantastic story."-The Reading Cafe
"[Feversong is an] epic ending to an epic series. . . . It's all feels."-The Review Loft
1 "The killer awoke before dawn, he put his boots on" A warehouse in a Dark Zone, Dublin, Ireland I rise. Or try to. Jada crashes into me with a muffled grunt then her hands are on me, everywhere, touching, patting and pulling, undoing my restraints, and the sensation is too much. My body is hypersensitive. Finally, she frees my hands. I push her away and open my eyes. Too fast, too much. Light thrusts cruel needles into my brain. I close my eyes swiftly. Scents assault me: the acrid odor of the Sweeper's minions, concrete and dust, chemicals and sweat. "Turn off the lights," I say. "Why?" Jada says. "I have a headache." I wait without moving as she hurries about the warehouse, extinguishing the blinding lights the Sweeper arranged for our surgery. Once I sense diminished brilliance beyond my lids, I open my eyes again. Tolerable. "Mac, what did you do?" Jada exclaims. "They're gone. Just gone!" Sound impacts the delicate structure of my ears as if she's taken a gong to a shield. Not gone. The Sweeper and his minions were displaced, still nearby. I say, "A simple spell of sifting-backward, not forward." No Fae has the power to fold things into the future, and only the king and I possess this small way to manipulate the past. In a matter of minutes the Sweeper will be here again, at our operating tables. But I intend to be gone. I. Intend. I rise. My body doesn't move as planned. It shudders, flops, and goes limp. "Stiff from being on the table so long," I tell Jada, who watches me with narrowed eyes. I contract my abdomen, bend at the waist, stabilize my upper body, rotate my hips and shift my legs as a unit over the side of the gurney and touch my feet to the floor. I stand. I AM. Desire. Lust. Greed. And the path I choose to supremacy. Master of adaptation and evolution, I slide more surely in my skin with each breath, enjoying the complex albeit imperfect elegance of what I possess. I inhale long and slow, swelling first my abdomen then lungs with air. Breathing brings an assault of unfathomable stenches, but I will acclimate. Everything MacKayla Lane experienced is filed in my meticulous mental vault, but during my incarceration in her body I couldn't see, I couldn't hear, I couldn't smell. I was-as she is now-trapped in a dark silent prison, my only connection to the world an attachment I forged to her central nervous system, through supremacy of will and relentless trial and failure. My existence was a smattering of complex electrical charges, intricate patterns without substance. Although I spied on her life as much as possible, I was able to seize use of her body, hands, and eyes only once, for brief duration. All else was diluted, secondhand perception absorbed from within except on that overcast rainy day I killed the Gray Woman and Mick O'Leary. The power. The glory. That was the day I knew I would win. Those clumsy, debilitating hours I rode a body for the first time. I require time to perfect control. I. Require. I draw myself up inside, gathering the enormity, the ancientness, the hunger and storm of my existence, and expand into the imperfect biological vessel I've claimed, saturating, possessing, every atom. I fill my blood, my bones, my skin. I turn the full force of my regard upon Jada, blink once, and reveal myself. My eyes, reflected in the stainless steel door of a commercial freezer unit behind her, fill with obsidian until no white remains. Around me the very air cools; I have such presence. She changes color. Fear impacts the nerves that connect brain to heart, constricting circulation. The blood vanishes from her face, leaving freckles upon snow. Her eyes widen, her pupils dilate and freeze. The scent of her body alters to one I find.
Autor Karen M. Moning
Größe 174 x 110 x 30 mm
Produktgewicht 276 g
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