{"product_id":"flame-in-the-dark-isbn-9780451473332","title":"Flame in the Dark","description":"\u003cb\u003eSet in the same world as Faith Hunter’s \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling Jane Yellowrock novels, the third, thrilling Soulwood novel stars Nell Ingram, who draws her powers from deep within the earth.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNell Ingram has always known she was different. Since she was a child, she’s been able to feel and channel ancient powers from deep within the earth. When she met Jane Yellowrock, her entire life changed, and she was recruited into PsyLED—the Homeland Security division that polices paranormals. But now her newly formed unit is about to take on its toughest case yet.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA powerful senator barely survives an assassination attempt that leaves many others dead—and the house he was visiting burns to the ground. Invisible to security cameras, the assassin literally disappears, and Nell’s team is called in. As they track a killer they know is more—or less—than human, they unravel a web of dark intrigue and malevolent motives that tests them to their limits and beyond.\u003cb\u003e Praise for Faith Hunter’s Soulwood novels\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Urban Fantasy fans will love Nell Ingram and her unique way of handling life and those around her.”—Smexy Books\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Vivid storytelling, intricate plot, and high-stakes tension.”—\u003ci\u003eRT Book Reviews\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Faith Hunter does a masterful job in writing this suspenseful exciting story, and has created a wonderful new heroine in Nell, who continues to grow into her powers.”—The Reading Café \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “From start to finish, this book is packed with action.”—Will Read for Feels\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “An interesting and quite unique main character in an already fascinating and broad world.”—Fangs For The Fantasy\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Incredible world-building, complex, multi-faceted characters, and fast-moving plot create a book that begs to be devoured in one sitting.”—Romance Junkies\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Masterful storytelling that is rich and saturated with detail!”—The Genre Minx\u003cb\u003eFaith Hunter\u003c\/b\u003e is the \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of the Jane Yellowrock series, including \u003ci\u003eCold Reign, Shadow Rites\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eDark Heir\u003c\/i\u003e, and \u003ci\u003eBroken Soul\u003c\/i\u003e; the Soulwood series, set in the world of Jane Yellowrock, including \u003ci\u003eCurse on the Land\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eBlood of the Earth\u003c\/i\u003e; and the Rogue Mage series, including \u003ci\u003eHost\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eSeraphs\u003c\/i\u003e, and \u003ci\u003eBloodring\u003c\/i\u003e. One\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I walked the length of Turtle Point Lane near Jones Cove, my      tactical flash illuminating the street and the ditch, trying to      keep my eyes off the lawn and runnel of water and mature trees to      the side. I should be in the trees, not here in the street,      wasting my gifts on asphalt. I hated asphalt. To my touch, it was      cold and dead and it stank of tar and gasoline.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e But the K9 teams had dibs on the grass and were already in the      backyard, the mundane tracker dog and the paranormal tracker dog,      with their handlers, and lights so bright they hurt my eyes when I      looked that way. As a paranormal investigator, I had to wait until      the human and canine investigators were finished, so my scent      didn't confuse the Para-K9s. Standard operating procedure and      forensic protocol. But that didn't mean I had to like it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Armed special weapons and tactics team-SWAT-officers, on loan from      the city, patrolled the boundaries of the grounds, dressed in      tactical gear and toting automatic rifles. Knoxville's rural\/metro      fire department patrolled inside the house along with uniformed      cops, suited detectives, and federal and state agents in this      multiagency emergency investigation.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The PsyLED SAC-special agent in charge of Unit Eighteen, and my      boss-had put me to work on menial stuff to keep me off the grass      and out of the way until the dogs were completely done. As a      probationary agent, I did what I was told. Most of the time.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e My steps were slow and deliberate, my eyes taking in everything.      Crushed cigarette butts stained by yesterday's rain, soggy leaves,      broken auto safety glass in tiny pellets, flattened aluminum cans      in the brush and a depression: an energy drink and a lite beer. A      gum box. Nothing new, from the last twenty-four hours. I was      surprised at the amount of detritus on a street with such upmarket      houses. Maybe the county had no street sweeper machine, or maybe      the worst of the filth ended up hidden in the weeds, hard to see,      making the street appear cleaner than it really was. Life was like      that too, with lots of secrets hidden from sight.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I had already searched the entire street with the psy-meter 2.0,      and put the bulky device in the truck. There were no odd levels of      paranormal energies anywhere. A small spike on level four at the      edge of the drive, but it went away. An anomaly. The psy-meter 2.0      measured four different kinds of paranormal energies called      psysitopes, and the patterns could indicate a were-creature, a      witch, an arcenciel, and even Welsh gwyllgi-shape-shifting devil      dogs. I had nothing yet, but I needed onto the lawn to do a proper      reading. I'd get my wish. Eventually.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I searched the area around a Lexus. Then a short row of BMWs. I      took photos of each vehicle plate and sent them to JoJo, Unit      Eighteen's second in command and best IT person, to cross-check      the plate numbers with the guest list. The air was frigid and I      was frozen, even though I was wearing long underwear,      flannel-lined slacks, layered T-shirts, a heavy jacket, wool      socks, and field boots. But then, along with uniformed county      officers, I'd been at the grounds search for two hours, since the      midnight call yanked me out of my nice warm bed and onto the job      at a PsyLED crime scene. Field examination was scut work, the bane      of all probie special agents, and we had found nothing on the      street or driveway that might relate to the crime at the Ÿberfancy      house on a cove of the Tennessee River.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e To make me more miserable, because I had drunk down a half gallon      of strong coffee, I had to use the ladies', pretty desperately. I      stared at the Holloways' house, trying to figure out what to do.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I just went to the back door and knocked,\" a voice said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I whirled. I'd been so intent that I hadn't heard her walk up. A      young female sheriff's deputy grinned at me. \"Sorry. Didn't mean      to startle you,\" she said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Oh. It's okay.\" But it wasn't. I was jumpy and ill at ease for      reasons I didn't understand. There were woods with fairly mature      trees all around, water in the cove nearby, and well-maintained      lawns the length of the street, all full of life that should have      made me feel at home. Instead I was jumpy. All that coffee maybe.      \"I'm Nell. Special Agent Ingram.\" I put out my hand and the woman      shook it, businesslike.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"You don't remember me,\" she said, \"but we met at the hospital      during the outbreak of the slime molds back a few weeks. You gave      me your keys and let my partner and me get unis out of your      vehicle. I never got the chance to thank you. May Ree Holler, and      my partner, Chris Skeeter.\" She pointed to a taller, skinny man up      the road.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Your mother escaped from God's Cloud of Glory Church, like I      did,\" I said, referring to the polygamous church I grew up in. \"I      remember. Her name was Carla, right?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e May Ree grinned at me, seeming happy that I remembered. \"That's my      mama. Hard as nails and twice as strong.\" She indicated the dark      all around. \"Us females always get it the worst on these jobs. The      male deputies can just go in the woods, but it isn't so easy for      women. The caterer let me in to use the bathroom. Even gave me a      pastry.\" May Ree was short and sturdy with a freckled face, brown      hair, and wearing her uniform tight, showing off curves. She had a      self-assuredness I would never achieve. Her hair was cropped short      for safety in close-combat situations, but her lips were full and      scarlet in the reflected glare from my flash, and she was fully      made up with mascara and blush, even at the ungodly hour. \"Go on.      And if they offer you something to eat, bring me another one of      those pink iced squares. I missed supper.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I will. Thanks,\" I said. If I couldn't get her one I'd give her a      snack from my truck when I came back out, presuming the bread      wasn't frozen. Still moving my flash back and forth, covering my      square yard with each pass, I walked from the street, up the      drive, and to the back door, where I snapped off the light. I      thought about knocking, but I had learned it was easier to      apologize than to get permission. Not a lesson I had learned at      the church where I was raised, but one I had learned since coming      to work with PsyLED. I might get fussed at or written up, but no      one would punish me for an infraction, like the churchmen did to      the churchwomen.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Opening the door, I slid the flash into its sheath and stepped      inside. The warmth and the smell of coffee hit me like a fist. I      unbuttoned my jacket so my badge would show and blinked into the      warmth. My frozen face felt as if it might melt and slide off onto      the marble tile floor. I breathed for a few moments and tried to      unclench my fingers. My skin ached. My teeth hurt.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The arctic front had no regard for global warming. It had hit,      decided it liked the Tennessee Valley, and decided to stay. This      was the second week of frigid temps. Snow I liked. This, not at      all.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Once the worst of the personal melting was done, I looked around.      The kitchen was empty, a room constructed of stone in various      shades of gray on the floor and the cabinet tops and the      backsplash. The owners must have taken down a whole mountain to      get this much polished rock. The ceiling was vaulted with whitish      wooden rafters and joists. Cabinets with the same kind of treated      whitish wood rose ten feet high. A ladder that slid on a bronze      rail was in the corner. The stove was gas with ten burners and a      copper faucet over the stovetops, which looked handy unless one      had a grease fire and thought to use water to put it out. There      was a commercial-sized coffeemaker with a huge pot half-full, two      big, double-glass-door refrigerators, and a separate massive      two-door freezer. I spotted the small powder room off the kitchen      and raced into it before anyone could come in and tell me to get      outside and use the trees.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I was one of maybe twenty-five law enforcement officers and      investigators from the various law enforcement branches and      agencies called in to the shooting at the Holloway home. The FBI      was here to rule out terrorism because a U.S. senator had been at      the private political fund-raiser when the shooting started.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e PsyLED-the Psychometry Law Enforcement Division of Homeland      Security-was here because a vampire had been on-site too. The fire      department was here because there had been a small fire. The local      sheriff's LEOs were here because it was their jurisdiction.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Crime scene investigators were here because there were three dead      bodies on the premises, though not the senator-he was shaken up      but fine. The grounds search was because the shooter had come and      gone on foot. It was complicated. But dead and wounded VIPs meant      a lot of police presence and a shooting to solve, especially since      the shooter got away clean.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e When I came back out, the kitchen was still empty and I decided a      bit more of the \"ask permission later\" was called for. Most      anything was better than going back outside to search the road and      paved areas for clues into a crime I had not been informed about.      Two automatic dishwashers were running softly. The pastries were      taped under waxed paper, including little pink iced squares. May      Ree would be disappointed. There were four ovens, and all but one      was still warm to the touch. I inspected the planters under the      windows. At first glance they appeared to be full of herbs-basil,      rosemary, thyme, and lemongrass-but the leaves were silk. Which      was weird in a kitchen that looked as if someone loved to cook.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Trying to look as if I belonged, I wandered through a butler's      pantry, complete with coffee bar, wet bar with dozens of decanters      and bottles, and wine in a floor-to-ceiling special refrigerator.      Beyond the butler's pantry, stairs went up on one side and down on      the other, proving that the house had multiple levels, not just      the two obvious from the outside. Picking up on the smell of smoke      and scorched furnishings was easy here.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I stayed on the main level and meandered into a formal dining room      on one side of the entry. There was more stone here too, and wood      in the vaulted ceilings. The twelve-foot-long dining table was set      for a party, though I didn't recognize any of the food except the      whole salmon and the tenderloin of beef. It seemed a shame to let      the food go to waste when May Ree was hungry, but there was blood      on the floor in the doorway, leading from the back of the house to      here. Since there was blood, the food itself might be evidence, so      I kept my hands to myself and stepped carefully.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I had seen EMS units racing away as I drove up, so I knew there      had been casualties, but seeing blood was unsettling. My gift rose      up inside me, as if it was curious. Not trying to drink the blood      down, not yet, because I wasn't outside, my hands buried in the      earth, but more like a mouser cat who sees movement and crouches,      trying to decide if this is something worth hunting.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e A formal living room decorated with a Christmas tree and presents      and fake electric candles in the windows was on the other side of      the entry. It had real wood floors and a ten-foot ceiling with one      of those frame things set in the middle to give it even more      height. Maybe called a tray ceiling; I wasn't sure. Life in the      church hadn't prepared me with a good grasp of architectural      terminology. The entire room felt stiff and uncomfortable to me,      maybe due to the fact that all the plants were fake. Fancy tables,      tassels on heavy drapes, carved lamps, furniture that looked      showroom-fresh. This wasn't a place to kick up your feet.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The room was full of people in fancy dress, and oddly, I knew two      of them, Ming of Glass, the vampire Master of the City, and her      bodyguard, a vamp I knew only as Yummy. Yummy flashed me a grin,      one without fangs, which was nice, but she mouthed, Opossum, at      me, which was a tease I didn't really need. I mouthed back, Ha-ha.      Not. Yummy laughed.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e All but three of the partygoers in the room looked irritated-two      vamps and a human. Vamps tended to expressionless faces unless      they were irritated or hungry, both of which were a sign of      danger. The human was sitting on an ottoman, and he looked      devastated, face pale, his tie undone, a crystal glass in one      hand, dangling between his knees. I figured he was the husband of      one of the dead. There was blood spatter on his shirt and dark      suit coat. A man who didn't belong in the expensively dressed      crowd stood beside him, taking notes. A fed, I figured as I      slipped away, before I got caught, to wander some more.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I passed uniformed and suited LEOs here and there, two I      recognized as local and one unknown wearing a far better-fitting      suit. Probably another fed. The firefighters left through the      front door, big boots clomping, and gathered on the street. Two      crime scene techs raced into the room off to the side, carrying      gear. No one paid any attention to me except to note that I had a      badge on a lanyard around my neck. I hooked my thumbs into my      pockets and moseyed over, probably a failure at looking as if I      belonged.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The action was in the game room and the stench of fire grew      heavier. Inside was a pool table, comfy reclining sofas, and a TV      screen so big it took up most of the wall over the fireplace. On      the opposite wall were antique guns in frames behind glass. Cast      metal that might have been machine parts was protected within      smaller frames. What looked like an ordinary wrench was centered      on the wall in a heavy carved frame as if it was the most      important thing hanging there. People commemorated the strangest      things.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e There were also lots of old, black-and-white photographs of      stiff-looking people wearing stiff-looking clothes. Their hats and      the way the women's clothes fitted said they were rich and      pampered. The men's mustaches and thick facial hair made them look      imposing, at least to themselves; they had that self-satisfied      look about them, the expression of a hunter when he was posing      with a sixteen-point buck. However, their expressions also made      them look like their teeth hurt. Dental care was probably not very      common back whenever these were taken.","brand":"Ace","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46302553243877,"sku":"NP9780451473332","price":7.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780451473332_64111354-2a85-4eb4-9709-071e1dd22d29.jpg?v=1742928070","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/flame-in-the-dark-isbn-9780451473332","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}