Night Whispers: ShadowLands, Book 1 Read Online Free Page A

The burning wasn’t to make sure the things stayed dead, but more out of concern over the infectious, untreatable virus the Shadows transmitted through their bite. No one had, as far as Jules knew, ever contracted the sickness from a dead Shadow, but overkill was the name of the game, until someone could develop a vaccine.
    Jules made the sign of the cross as she passed the building that had become the Shadows’ final grave. In the parking lot, she took a minute to spray her blade with flammable liquid and struck a match. The blaze licked along the long blade, cleansing it and purging it of impurities. She had a gun, but she had always preferred the efficiency and security of steel. You could run out of bullets, but you couldn’t run out of a blade. Plus, bullets only worked against the Shadows if they went right in the brain. Hardy little bastards could still attack while they bled out from other, less mortal wounds. She hit the switch on the side of the handle. With a couple of clicks, the blade folded up into the leather hilt.
    She had disturbing fantasies of dousing entire cities with fire, destroying the Shadows completely. Sick, horrible fantasies she chalked up to her messed-up mind.
    Practically, she knew that would also kill her mission objective, which was, as James had reminded her, search and rescue with a side dish of combat. Plus, if they took out a few of the Shadows, all the better, but this first stage of protecting their race was all about getting their feet back under them. TPTB wanted the remaining infrastructure intact whenever possible, for humankind’s triumphant return to civilization once the threat was eradicated.
    Every day she wondered more and more if that would ever happen.
    She was about to get into her large utility van when she made the mistake of glancing back at the library.
    Calling herself all kinds of foolish—she still needed to find a safe place to rest for the night, and the sun would set soon—she jogged back inside. Pulling the Frost book from the shelf, she tucked it under her arm and dashed back to her van. Traveling light was a necessity in her world.
    Touch them.
    She pushed the book gently into her sack before starting the engine.

Chapter Two
    James flexed the fingers on his right hand, wishing, not for the first time, that he could actually feel what Jules felt. Her voice rang in his head, that inexplicably beautiful voice, melodic and soothing. He loved hearing the reverberation and rise and fall of her tone. When she’d stroked her fingers over the book, the calluses and scars had caught his eye. The hands of a killer and the voice of a poet.
    James shook his head to get rid of the fanciful thought. He’d been having far too many of them in the last few weeks. Months. Year.
    He certainly didn’t banter or flirt with any of the other intelligence agents. There weren’t many—his resources were limited insofar as creating surveillance equipment, and very few people, understandably, were comfortable in going off to explore on their own. Still, he had about half a dozen or so agents here in the Northeast whom he’d actually met at Camp David. There were even a couple of attractive females around his age.
    But, no, he had to go and fall for the scrappy girl who had been one of a few running daring and borderline suicidal rescue missions for West Coast’s Sanctuary when they’d reestablished communication.
    Jules could deny it, but she did have a hero complex. They’d learned that the Sanctuary residents had a very Wild-West style, don’t-ask-don’t-tell policy in place, so not much was known about any of their backgrounds, Jules included. From working with her so closely, he knew she’d had a troubled past that had been marred by violence. There was a reason she could fight Shadows harder and better than most men who had been trained as soldiers. Only someone who had personally fought in the streets could be that adept and comfortable with their fists and