Evil continues to terrorize vampire hunter Anita Blake and all those she loves in this gripping new novel by New York Times bestselling author Laurell K. Hamilton.
Intrigued? Well read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Laurell K. Hamilton’s Slay, which is the 30th installment(!) in her Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter series and releases on November 7th. Be sure to add this one to your Goodreads and pre-order a copy!
The wedding of necromancer Anita Blake to Jean-Claude, the vampire king of America hits the next daunting challenge: her family. And with the malicious force that casts a shadow on St. Louis still lurking and threatening to destroy them all, not only will wedding bells not ring, but there may be no future at all for the vampire hunter…
The far door to the public part of the Circus opened again. Wicked put himself more squarely between the door and us, but it was a crowd of the security guards in their Halloween-orange shirts that read Circus of the Damned in big letters on the front with tiny letters saying Security underneath. Security in big letters was on the back. Three of them came through the door like an orange wall; they and the four guards behind them were all five-ten or taller with imposing physiques so they almost hid the equally tall figure between them, but the bright red cloak that covered him top to bottom was too eye-catching not to see. That was one reason Asher wore it for the opening of his part as ringmaster, but he didn’t exit his performance for the night still wearing it, surrounded by guards.
The last man through the door closed it and stood guard beside it. The moment he did that I knew there’d be someone else on the other side in the same stance. I also knew that something had gone very wrong.
“What has happened?” Jean-Claude asked.
Asher pulled his hood down, spilling all that wavy golden hair around his face, but the cloak kept the hair from falling free so that it mounded up, hiding most of his face except for glimpses of his pale blue eyes and the face that had made people paint him as Cupid and other Greek Gods centuries before I was born.
Jamie, one of the security guards who was so clean-cut All-American college kid that even I wanted to card him every time I saw him, said, “One of the people in the meet-and-greet hit him.”
Asher turned on him, snarling and showing fangs; for a second he was frightening, the beast showing through the beauty. “And is it not your job to keep that from happening?”
Jamie backed up, holding his hands up as if to show he was unarmed or meant no offense. “Yes, it is our job.”
The vampire’s power just folded away, and he was all beauty again, the beast gone so fast it was like a switch had been thrown—on monster, off leading man. “Then how did a human hit me hard enough to break the custom-made mask I was wearing?”
Jean-Claude grabbed Asher’s arm. “Are you hurt?”
He finally turned to face us and there was a cut on his cheek about two inches long; it wasn’t bleeding much yet, but it was there. An angry red line above where the holy water scars started. The Church fathers had tried to burn the devil out of Asher one drop of holy water at a time, but even those long-dead priests hadn’t been willing to damage his ice-blue eyes, the perfect line of nose to that kissable mouth. I had been wondering if one of the reasons they took him for torture and not immediate execution as they usually did with vampires back then was because one or more of the Church fathers involved had been attracted to his beauty. Attracted to it, so they had to destroy it, but too enamored of his face to be willing to ruin it completely.
Jean-Claude reached up to touch the small wound, but Asher grabbed his hand, saying, “I was cut where his fist broke the porcelain against my skin. What kind of master vampire am I that porcelain and human strength could slice my flesh?”
“The guy was huge,” Jamie said, “superstrong for a human.”
“Tell me about it,” one of the newer security said, turning his face to show off the swelling on his face right next to his eye. His name was Kirby, and I still wasn’t sure if it was his first or last name. “If I’d been human he’d have broken my orbital bone, or maybe worse.”
I almost asked what was worse than breaking the bone around your eye, but I already knew that you could pierce the eye itself and squish it like a grape. I’d done it once to save myself from being the unwilling star of a rape/snuff film. I was glad I’d been willing to do it and save myself, but it wasn’t a sensation I wanted to dwell on, and I hoped to never, ever do it again.
“Are you hurt anywhere else?” Jean-Claude asked.
“I am fine.” Asher sounded bitter when he said it, but it was more anger than physical pain.
I went to stand in front of him and look up into that amazing face. He moved his head just enough so I couldn’t see the scars on the right side. I hated that he was hiding from me again; he’d almost stopped. “Something else is wrong,” I said.
I asked, “I know you wouldn’t all be here if he’d escaped, but who’s holding him for the cops?”
“Claudia was walking the floor tonight to check on some of the new security additions,” Jamie said.
“Our would-be Hercules wasn’t expecting a six-foot-six Hispanic Amazon to show up. The look on his face was almost worth getting hit in the face.” Kirby grinned, then winced.
“He called himself a Spartoi,” Lelio said.
Excerpted from Slay by Laurell K. Hamilton Copyright © 2023 by Laurell K. Hamilton. Excerpted by permission of Berkley. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
