{"product_id":"the-hunt-isbn-9780451473363","title":"The Hunt","description":"\u003cb\u003eFrom the \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of the Chicagoland Vampires Novels—the hunter becomes the hunted in a New Orleans devastated by a Paranormal war....\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e When bounty hunter Liam Quinn discovered that Claire Connolly was a Sensitive and infected with magic, he should have turned her in to be locked up in the prison district known as Devil’s Isle. Instead, he helped her learn to control her power and introduced her to an underground group of Paranormals and humans who know the truth about the war and those who fought it.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Now the weight of Liam’s own secrets has forced him into hiding. When a government agent is killed and Claire discovers that Liam is the prime suspect, she races to find him before the government can. But she’ll discover proving his innocence is no simple matter. Their enemies are drawing closer, and time is running out....\u003cb\u003ePraise for the Devil’s Isle Novels\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Full of action....Any and every urban fantasy fan out there needs to read this.”—Vampire Book Club\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Truly a fantastic read....If you're a fan of Chicagoland Vampires, you will fall in love with \u003ci\u003eThe Veil\u003c\/i\u003e...and Claire and Liam.”—Literary Escapism\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Neill is truly a master storyteller!”—\u003ci\u003eRT Book Reviews\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Neill’s sequel to \u003ci\u003eThe Veil \u003c\/i\u003econtinues to prove her adept at world building and nonstop action. Claire’s honesty and straightforward attitude make her a great character for a harrowing time.”—\u003ci\u003eLibrary Journal\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “[Neill’s] postapocalyptic New Orleans is so rich and full of detail that I felt immersed in the characters’ struggle[s] right alongside them.”—A Book Obsession\u003cb\u003eChloe Neill \u003c\/b\u003eis the\u003ci\u003e New York Times \u003c\/i\u003eand \u003ci\u003eUSA Today \u003c\/i\u003ebestselling author of the Captain Kit Brightling, Heirs of Chicagoland, Chicagoland Vampires, Devil’s Isle, and Dark Elite novels. She was born and raised in the South, but now makes her home in the Midwest, where she lives with her gamer husband and their bosses\/dogs, Baxter and Scout.  Chloe is a voracious reader and obsessive Maker of Things; the crafting rotation currently involves baking and quilting. She believes she is exceedingly witty; her husband has been known to disagree. Learn more about Chloe and her books at: chloeneill.comCHAPTER ONE\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Early January\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e New Orleans\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e It had once been a lovely kitchen, with pale wood and granite, a      pretty view of a courtyard garden, and an enormous refrigerator      still dotted with photographs of what looked like a big, happy      family. Father, mother, daughter, sons, and an enormous black dog,      big enough for the kids to ride on.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e But they were long gone now, cleared out like nearly everyone else      in New Orleans when Paranormals flooded into our world, leaving      most of our city and much of the South in ruins.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I was searching through what they'd left behind, looking for a      diamond in the rough.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"There is a house in New Orleans . . .\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I winced at the throaty croak that echoed from the other end of      the kitchen. \"Like a frog being strangled,\" I muttered.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"They call the Rising Sun!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I leaned around the cabinet door. \"Moses!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Inside the pantry, something thudded, rolled. \"What? I'm working      here.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"The singing.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e A head, small and pale, with glossy black horns and irritable      green eyes, peered around the pantry door. \"What about it?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"It's not great.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He snorted, doubt written across his face. \"Says you.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Yeah, says me.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Moses walked out of the pantry, three feet of Paranormal attitude.      And, for the five weeks we'd been sneaking around New Orleans, my      best friend.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Someone might hear you,\" I reminded him.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He grumbled a curse, walked through the shadowed kitchen in my      direction. He held up a bloated silver can, its seams bursting      from age, heat, and rot. By the size, I guessed it was tuna fish.      Very gnarly tuna fish.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Jackpot,\" Moses said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"You aren't going to eat that,\" I said. \"It's spoiled.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Don't be persnickety.\" He sniffed at the metal, closed his eyes      in obvious pleasure. \"More flavor this way.\" He held it out. \"You      want a sniff?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e My stomach flipped in revolt. \"I do not. It would probably kill      me.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He waved off the concern. \"I've done this tons of times. Maybe I      just have a stronger constitution than you, Claire.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Hmm,\" I said noncommittally. Better to avoid going too far down      that rabbit hole.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Moses was supposed to be locked up in Devil's Isle, the prison for      Paras and anyone else touched by magic. Some Paras had wanted our      world for their own; others, like Moses, had been forced to fight      via magical conscription. Unfortunately, the Paranormal Combatant      Command, the federal agency in charge of Paras, didn't much care      about that detail.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I was a Sensitive, a human affected by magic that had seeped in      from the Beyond. That magic gave me telekinesis, but at a cost:      Too much magic would destroy my mind and body. Keeping that      balance was a trick I was trying to master.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I'd kept my power secret until a cult called Reveillon-people who      believed magic in any form, including the city's remaining      Paranormals, should be eradicated-had attacked Devil's Isle. I'd      had to use my magic to bring down Reveillon's founder. The PCC now      considered me its enemy-and didn't get the irony.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e There were signs the PCC might eventually come to its senses,      acknowledge that magic wasn't all bad and not all Paranormals had      been our enemies on purpose. It had even authorized temporary      leave for a select few Paranormals who'd fought in the Battle of      Devil's Isle.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Sensitives like me hadn't gotten the same consideration. We      weren't Paras, and we weren't humans. We were different. Paras      couldn't become wraiths-the pale, skeletal monsters into which      Sensitives transformed if we failed to control our magic, to      balance all that heady power. If we weren't careful, the magic      would corrupt us, turn us into twisted creatures obsessed with      absorbing more and more power. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e So despite my efforts in the battle, there'd be no pass for me. I      was too unpredictable, too dangerous, too untrustworthy.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Moses, having already snuck out of Devil's Isle and having skipped      out again during the battle, didn't need a pass. He was already on      the lam.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e We'd tried playing the game, helping Containment, the PCC unit in      charge of Devil's Isle, track down Reveillon and fighting on their      side. And except for the few token passes, nothing had changed.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e So we'd been sneaking around New Orleans, working to avoid      Containment. And since they were treating us like criminals, we      figured we'd might as well act like criminals. We'd decided our      job was to challenge the PCC and its refusal to acknowledge the      truth about magic, about Paranormals, about Sensitives.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Along with the other members of our crew, which we called Delta,      we'd been covering Reveillon's antimagic billboards with our own      messages, using contacts outside the war Zone to rally the rest of      the world to our side and gathering supplies for the Devil's Isle      clinic.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The facility-and the wraiths secured there-weren't on      Containment's priority list. Reveillon's attacks had put a big      crimp in the PCC's supply chain, so even if the clinic had been on      that list, consumables were getting harder to come by. We were in      this house to gather up what we could for delivery to Lizzie, who      ran the clinic.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Moses walked toward the kitchen island with his slightly sideways      gait, then slung a mesh bag of equally swollen cans onto the      granite countertop and added his newest find to it. \"You find      anything?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e It took me a moment to reorient. I closed the cabinet, held up a      carton of sea salt and a tin of tea bags. \"Salt's half full, and      the tea bags still smell mostly like tea.\" No small feat, given      they'd been stewing in heat and humidity. \"Still,\" I said, \"you'd      think there'd be more here.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"It's a nice house,\" he said, glancing around the room. \"It would      have been one of the first ones sacked after the war-or during the      battle.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Yeah,\" I said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Reveillon had ransacked Devil's Isle-and every neighborhood the      members had blown through along the way. They'd been like a      hurricane scouring their way across New Orleans. Not the first      storm the Big Easy had faced down. But over time, hell and high      water took their toll.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Reveillon's members had hurt the city and those who lived here-and      some, including Liam Quinn, didn't live here anymore. The bounty      hunter I'd fallen for had been hit by magic, and he'd left New      Orleans to fight his resulting demons.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I hadn't heard from him since.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I knew Liam was with his grandmother Eleanor in what Malachi      called the \"southern reach,\" the bayous and marshes of southern      Louisiana, where small communities of Paras worked to stay out of      Containment's crosshairs-and out of Devil's Isle.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Malachi, another of my Paranormal friends, had told us that much      when he'd returned from reuniting Liam and Eleanor.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e But that was all I knew about Liam's location or the effects of      the magical hit he'd taken. It was a point of pride that I hadn't      asked Malachi for any more details, for updates as one week after      another passed. I'd tried to force thoughts of Liam to the back of      my mind, giving him the time and space he apparently needed. In      the meantime, I'd focused on Delta, on our new work for New      Orleans, on controlling my magic. Because even though I knew why      he'd gone, it still hurt to be left behind.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I put my hands on my hips and sighed as I looked at our meager      harvest. \"Oh, well. You add it to the bottled water, the aspirin,      the radio. That's something.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"It's something,\" he said. \"You know they don't take things for      granted.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e They hadn't. If anything, they'd been too grateful, and that      didn't make me feel any better about Containment or our situation.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Oh, found one more thing,\" Moses said, pulling something from the      bib of his denim overalls. He'd found the overalls during a      previous scavenger hunt. They were way too big for him-the pants      rolled up at the bottom-but he loved that front pocket.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He moved toward me, offered his hand. In his small, meaty palm sat      a silver robot with a square body perched on blocky feet. Probably      three inches long, with a canister-shaped head topped by a tiny      antenna. A metal windup key emerged from its back.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"It was wedged behind a drawer,\" Moses said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"It's old,\" I said, taking it gingerly and looking-as my father      had taught me-for a manufacturer's mark or date, but I didn't find      anything. \"Probably from the fifties or sixties.\" That was much      older than the fancy cabinets and countertops in there. \"Must have      missed it when they renovated the house. Let's fire it up.\"      Carefully, I cranked the key, listened to the gears catch and      lock, then set the toy on the countertop.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The gears buzzed like hornets as it moved forward, its feet      rotating in sequence, the little antenna bobbing. We watched      silently as it marched to the end of the countertop. Moses caught      it before it reached the end, turned it around, and sent it back      in my direction.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Huh,\" he said, monitoring its progress with surprising affection      in his eyes. \"I like that.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Yeah,\" I said, \"so do I.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e We wound it again and let the toy repeat its parade across the      granite.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Shame they missed it when they left,\" he said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"What did they miss?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e We both turned sharply, found a man behind us.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Malachi was tall, over six feet, with the broad shoulders of a      soldier. He looked like an angel: tousled blond curls that reached      his shoulders, a square jaw, luminous ivory wings that folded and      magically disappeared while we watched, and eyes of shimmering      gold. That gold was a signature of some Paranormals-and it was the      color I'd seen in Liam's eyes after he'd been hit and before he'd      run.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Malachi had been a general in the Consularis army-the caste of      Paras who'd ruled the Beyond before the war, the same Paras who'd      been magically conscripted to fight us by their enemies, the Court      of Dawn.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e We hadn't heard the usual thush of wings that signaled Malachi had      alighted-and apparently walked right through the front door. He      wore jeans, boots, and a faded Loyola T-shirt.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Malachi smiled at Moses, then let his gaze linger on me. My heart      met that look, delivered by a man beautiful enough to be carved in      marble and preserved for eternity, with an answering thump. It was      an instinctive response, triggered by the sheer power of his gaze.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Paras had very different conceptions of romance and attraction. We      were just friends-even if we'd become better friends over the last      few weeks-but that didn't make his power any less potent.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"They missed our new toy,\" I said, answering his question. I wound      it again and set it to work.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Ah,\" he said, then picked it up to study it. \"An automaton.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Or humans' sixty-year-old idea of one. How'd you find us?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"We followed the sound of mating cats,\" Malachi said, sliding a      sly smile to Moses.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Moses lifted his middle finger. \"I got your mating cats right      here.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I guess the gesture translated. Good to know. \"We?\" I asked.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Someone wanted to talk.\" He glanced back as footsteps echoed on      the hardwood floors at the other end of the shotgun house.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e A man stepped into the doorway, his figure only a shadow in the      harsh sunlight behind him.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e For a moment, I was lost in memory, back at Royal Mercantile, my      store in the French Quarter. Or it had been, before I'd been      forced to abandon it. In my mind, I was in an antique bed on a      rough-hewn floor, a slip of a breeze coming through the windows      and a man sleeping next to me. Dark hair. Blue eyes. Body lean and      honed like a weapon.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The man I'd fought beside.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The man who'd left.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Then he took a step forward. Memory faded, putting another man in      the doorway. Similar to the one who'd left, but not the same.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Gavin,\" Moses said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e This wasn't Liam, but his brother. But it was still surprising      that he was standing here with Malachi. I hadn't seen him since      the battle.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Claire. Mos.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"What are you doing here?\" I asked.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Gavin didn't waste any time. \"Jack Broussard is dead.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Broussard was a Containment agent, and a generally despicable      human.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"No loss there,\" Moses said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Maybe not,\" Gavin replied. \"But they're saying Liam killed him.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e CHAPTER TWO\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Liam's not in New Orleans,\" Malachi said simply. \"He couldn't      have done it.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"There's supposedly physical evidence he did,\" Gavin said. \"And      Liam and Broussard had a bad history. That seems to be enough.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Liam was a bounty hunter, or had been, and Broussard had been his      handler before their relationship had soured. Because Liam      understood Paranormals weren't all our enemies, Broussard believed      Liam was a traitor to humankind. That was the kind of attitude      Delta was fighting against.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Tell us what happened,\" Moses said, crossing his arms.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Broussard didn't show up for a shift at the Cabildo,\" Gavin said.      Containment headquartered in the historic building on Jackson      Square. \"Containment sent someone to take a look, and they found      him in his house. It was bloody. His throat had been slit.\" He      paused, seemed to collect himself. \"The knife was one of Liam's-a      hunting knife I gave him. Had an engraved blade. And 'For Gracie'      was scrawled on the wall-in Broussard's blood.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The silence was heavy, mixed with eddies of horror and fury.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Gracie was Gavin and Liam's late sister, a young woman killed by      wraiths. Her death had haunted them, and that was one of the      obstacles that had stood between me and Liam.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Moses narrowed his eyes. \"Someone's setting your brother up.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"That's how it reads to me.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Bastards,\" Moses spat. \"Scum-sucking bastards for using your      sister like that.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Yeah,\" Gavin said, running a hand through his hair. \"I can't      argue with that.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Why set Liam up?\" I asked. \"Containment doesn't have anything      against him-or didn't. Do they know he has magic?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Not that I'm aware of,\" Gavin said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Maybe Containment didn't arrange the frame-up,\" Malachi said.      \"Maybe the killer did. He or she could have a vendetta against      Liam, or may not care who's blamed, as long as it's directed away      from him or her.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Yeah,\" Gavin said with a heavy sigh. He looked tired, I realized,      his skin a little paler than usual, his eyes shadowed with      fatigue. \"I lean toward that. Containment's issued a bounty for      him.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Gunnar wouldn't do that.\" Gunnar Landreau was second-in-command      at Containment, and one of my best friends.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"He wouldn't have a choice,\" Gavin said. \"An agent's been      murdered, and the evidence points to Liam. Gunnar's hands are      tied. Containment's already been looking for him. Now that the      bounty's issued, the search is going to get more intense.      Containment is also looking for Eleanor.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"For leverage,\" I said, sickness settling in my belly.","brand":"Berkley","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46300638904549,"sku":"NP9780451473363","price":15.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780451473363.jpg?v=1767739872","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/the-hunt-isbn-9780451473363","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}