{"product_id":"bloody-bones-isbn-9780425221693","title":"Bloody Bones","description":"\u003cb\u003eFor the first time in trade paperback: the fifth novel in the #1 \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling series from Laurell K. Hamilton.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhen Branson, Missouri, is hit with a death wave 'four unsolved murders' it doesn't take an expert to realize that all is not well. But luckily for the locals, Anita Blake is an expert in the kinds of preternatural goings-on that have everyone spooked. And she's got an 'in' with the creature that can make sense of the slayings-the sexy master vampire known as Jean-Claude.“Highly-charged, well-written, no holds-barred… jaw-dropping.”—\u003ci\u003e\u003cb\u003eDenver Post\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Breathtaking.”—\u003ci\u003e\u003cb\u003eSt. Louis Post-Dispatch\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “What \u003ci\u003eThe Da Vinci Code\u003c\/i\u003e did for the religious thriller, the Anita Blake series has done for the vampire novel.”—\u003ci\u003e\u003cb\u003eUSA Today\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003eLaurell K. Hamilton\u003c\/b\u003e is a full-time writer and the #1 \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of the Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter series and the Merry Gentry series. She lives in a suburb of St. Louis with her family.1\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIT WAS ST. Patrick’s Day, and the only green I was wearing\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ewas a button that read, “Pinch me and you’re dead\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003emeat.” I’d started work last night with a green blouse on, but\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI’d gotten blood all over it from a beheaded chicken. Larry\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eKirkland, zombie-raiser in training, had dropped the decapitated\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ebird. It did the little headless chicken dance and\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003esprayed both of us with blood. I finally caught the damn\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ething, but the blouse was ruined.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI had to run home and change. The only thing not ruined\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ewas the charcoal grey suit jacket that had been in the car. I\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eput it back on over a black blouse, black skirt, dark hose,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eand black pumps. Bert, my boss, didn’t like us wearing\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eblack to work, but if I had to be at the office at seven o’clock\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ewithout any sleep at all, he would just have to live with it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI huddled over my coffee mug, drinking it as black as I\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ecould swallow it. It wasn’t helping much. I stared at a series\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eof 8-by-10 glossy blowups spread across my desktop. The\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003efirst picture was of a hill that had been scraped open, probably\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eby a bulldozer. A skeletal hand reached out of the raw\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eearth. The next photo showed that someone had tried to\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ecarefully scrape away the dirt, showing the splintered coffin\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eand bones to one side of the coffin. A new body. The bulldozer\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ehad been brought in again. It had plowed up the red\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eearth and found a boneyard. Bones studded the earth like\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003escattered flowers.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOne skull spread its unhinged jaws in a silent scream. A\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003escraggle of pale hair still clung to the skull. The dark,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003estained cloth wrapped around the corpse was the remnants\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eof a dress. I spotted at least three femurs next to the upper\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ehalf of a skull. Unless the corpse had had three legs, we were\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003elooking at a real mess.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe pictures were well done in a gruesome sort of way.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe color made it easier to differentiate the corpses, but the\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ehigh gloss was a little much. It looked like morgue photos\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003edone by a fashion photographer. There was probably an art\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003egallery in New York that would hang the damn things and\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eserve cheese and wine while people walked around saying,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Powerful, don’t you think? Very powerful.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThey were powerful, and sad.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThere was nothing but the photos. No explanation. Bert\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ehad said to come to his office after I’d looked at them. He’d\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eexplain everything. Yeah, I believed that. The Easter Bunny\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eis a friend of mine, too.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI gathered the pictures up, slipped them into the envelope,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003epicked my coffee mug up in the other hand, and went for the\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003edoor.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThere was no one at the desk. Craig had gone home.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMary, our daytime secretary, didn’t get in until eight. There\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ewas a two-hour space of time when the office was unmanned.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThat Bert had called me into the office when we\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ewere the only ones there bothered me a lot. Why the secrecy?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBert’s office door was open. He sat behind his desk,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003edrinking coffee, shuffling some papers around. He glanced\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eup, smiled, and motioned me closer. The smile bothered me.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBert was never pleasant unless he wanted something.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHis thousand-dollar suit framed a white-on-white shirt\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eand tie. His grey eyes sparkled with good cheer. His eyes are\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ethe color of dirty window glass, so sparkling is a real effort.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHis snow-blond hair had been freshly buzzed. The crewcut\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ewas so short I could see scalp.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Have a seat, Anita.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI tossed the envelope on his desk and sat down. “What are\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eyou up to, Bert?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHis smile widened. He usually didn’t waste the smile on\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eanybody but clients. He certainly didn’t waste it on me.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“You looked at the pictures?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Yeah, what of it?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Could you raise them from the dead?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI frowned at him and sipped my coffee. “How old are\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ethey?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“You couldn’t tell from the pictures?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“In person I could tell you, but not just from pictures. Answer\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ethe question.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Around two hundred years.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI just stared at him. “Most animators couldn’t raise a zombie\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ethat old without a human sacrifice.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“But you can,” he said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Yeah. I didn’t see any headstones in the pictures. Do we\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ehave any names?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Why?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI shook my head. He’d been the boss for five years,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003estarted the company when it was just him and Manny, and\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ehe didn’t know shit about raising the dead. “How can you\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ehang around a bunch of zombie-raisers for this many years\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eand know so little about what we do?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe smile slipped a little, the glow beginning to fade from\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ehis eyes. “Why do you need names?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“You use names to call the zombie from the grave.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Without a name you can’t raise them?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Theoretically, no,” I said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“But you can do it,” he said. I didn’t like how sure he was.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Yeah, I can do it. John can probably do it, too.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe shook his head. “They don’t want John.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI finished the last of my coffee. “Who’s they?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Beadle, Beadle, Stirling, and Lowenstein.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“A law firm,” I said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe nodded.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“No more games, Bert. Just tell me what the hell’s going\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eon.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Beadle, Beadle, Stirling, and Lowenstein have some\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eclients building a very plush resort in the mountains near\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBranson. A very exclusive resort. A place where the wealthy\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ecountry stars that don’t own a house in the area can go to get\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eaway from the crowds. Millions of dollars are at stake.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“What’s the old cemetery have to do with it?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“The land they’re building on was in dispute between two\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e3\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003efamilies. The courts decided the Kellys owned the land, and\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ethey were paid a great deal of money. The Bouvier family\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eclaimed it was their land and there was a family plot on it to\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eprove it. No one could find the cemetery.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAh. “They found it,” I said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“They found an old cemetery, but not necessarily the\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBouvier family plot.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“So they want to raise the dead and ask who they are?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Exactly.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI shrugged. “I can raise a couple of the corpses in the\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ecoffins. Ask who they are. What happens if their last name\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eis Bouvier?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“They have to buy the land a second time. They think\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003esome of the corpses are Bouviers. That’s why they want all\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ethe bodies raised.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI raised my eyebrows. “You’re joking.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe shook his head, looking pleased. “Can you do it?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I don’t know. Give me the pictures again.” I set my coffee\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003emug on his desk and took the pictures back. “Bert,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ethey’ve screwed this six ways to Sunday. It’s a mass grave,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ethanks to the bulldozers. The bones are all mixed together.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI’ve only read about one case of anyone raising a zombie\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003efrom a mass grave. But they were calling a specific person.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThey had a name.” I shook my head. “Without a name it\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003emay not be possible.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Would you be willing to try?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI spread the pictures over the desk, staring at them. The\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003etop half of a skull had turned upside down like a bowl. Two\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003efinger bones attached by something dry and desiccated that\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003emust once had been human tissue lay next to it. Bones,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ebones everywhere but not a name to speak.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCould I do it? I honestly didn’t know. Did I want to try?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eYeah. I did.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I’d be willing to try.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Wonderful.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Raising them a few every night is going to take weeks,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eeven if I can do it. With John’s help it would be quicker.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“It will cost them millions to delay that long,” Bert said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“There’s no other way to do it.”","brand":"Berkley","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46302359683301,"sku":"NP9780425221693","price":22.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780425221693.jpg?v=1767722814","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/bloody-bones-isbn-9780425221693","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}