Blaze of Glory by John G. Hartness EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: John G. Hartness
- Language: English
- Genre: Paranormal & Urban Fantasy
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Who the fuck are you and what the fuck are you doing in my
apartment?” The voice coming from behind me was low and
gravelly, like somebody gargled with cheap bourbon every
morning after breakfast, and it sounded pissed. I had to get the next few
moments very right or I was going to have a bad day, maybe my last one
ever.
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“Technically it’s your uncle’s apartment, isn’t it?” I asked, not turning
around. I moved slowly, extending my arms from my sides so my empty
hands were visible. I was pretty sure he wasn’t going to blast an unarmed
man in the back, but he’d had a hell of a week, so I wasn’t taking any
chances.
“I own the building, asshole. They’re all my apartments. And you didn’t
answer my question.”
“Which one? Who am I, or what am I doing here?”
“How about we start with who you are and who you’re working for, and
we’ll decide if you live long enough to tell me what you’re doing?”
“I’m gonna turn around now so we can talk face to face. That okay?”
“I don’t give a shit if you stand on your head. If you don’t start giving
me some answers in the next three seconds, I’m going to turn you to ash
and leave you for the goddamn Roomba to take care of.”
I was pretty sure he wouldn’t actually do that, but not a hundred
percent. Like I said, he’d had a real shitty week, and he might be looking
for somebody to take his frustrations out on. I’m an appealing target for
that, since I’m so damn hard to miss. I turned around and got my first look
at the famous, or infamous, Quincy Harker, Demon Hunter.
He was skinnier than I expected. I don’t know why I thought he’d be
bigger, but maybe I expected him to look more like a badass. He was tallish,
a little over six feet, with kinda spiky brown hair, a couple days’ worth of
beard, and glowing purple eyes. Okay, that looked badass. I needed to see if
Skeeter could rig up some contact lenses that would glow in the dark or
something. He was dressed all in black—a long sleeve t-shirt, black jeans,
and black Doc Martens. I approved of his footwear choice. I liked my
motorcycle boots better for my line of work since the rubber soles were
better for blood-soaked floors, but Docs were good, too.
“You look good for a guy your age,” I said. “What’s your secret?”
“I moisturize,” he replied. “You’re that guy from Georgia, right? The
Hunter?” I raised an eyebrow and he continued. “Giant with a hick accent,
ponytail halfway down his back, and a fuckton of tattoos shows up in a
vampire’s apartment and there are only a few options. And since Luke
hasn’t pissed off any biker gangs lately, you must be the Southern Regional
Hunter.”
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