The Sorcerer Heir (Heir Chronicles)
““Shaken, not stirred,” he told the barista, but she just rolled her eyes and gave him a standard one. He ordered a cinnamon bun, too, but it tasted like cardboard. The fault was not in the bun, but in himself. Every time he loosened the leash on his mind, he saw images of Leesha buried under a mob of ragtag undead.
Hey! he’d shout. Over here! But they couldn’t seem to hear him, intent as they were on Leesha. Just like that night in the Flats.
Who were they? And what did they have to do ...with Jonah Kinlock and Gabriel Mandrake and the Anchorage? Were they allies or enemies? And what about Emma? Where did she figure in?
Minutes crept by. Fitch finally decided that he might as well make use of the time. He suspected he had an online test waiting for him that he hadn’t touched. He staked out his table with a large coffee and went back out to his car to get his laptop out of the trunk.
Though it wasn’t quite five, it was already nearly dark—one of those short December days when the light begins to bleed away almost as soon as it arrives.MoreLess
Hey! he’d shout. Over here! But they couldn’t seem to hear him, intent as they were on Leesha. Just like that night in the Flats.
Who were they? And what did they have to do ...with Jonah Kinlock and Gabriel Mandrake and the Anchorage? Were they allies or enemies? And what about Emma? Where did she figure in?
Minutes crept by. Fitch finally decided that he might as well make use of the time. He suspected he had an online test waiting for him that he hadn’t touched. He staked out his table with a large coffee and went back out to his car to get his laptop out of the trunk.
Though it wasn’t quite five, it was already nearly dark—one of those short December days when the light begins to bleed away almost as soon as it arrives.MoreLess
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