Even when Iâm not chasing kidnappers, I donât keep normal hours. Iâm a journalist; late nights, burnt coffee, and energy potions come with the territory. When I get lost in a story or deep in pre-publication crunch time, I canât quit just because the sunâs been down for eight hours.
So when my best friend called me well after midnight to say she was being followed, I was already halfway out the door before the call could be hexed.
I wasnât fast enough. By the time I arrived she was gone; vanished from within an impenetrable magical ward.
Now Iâm running out of time to discover who took her and why. Thereâs no time for sleep: The clock is ticking, my leads are thin, and the few confidants Iâve got arenât playing straight with me. The monsters and thugs scurrying around the city wonât make clue gathering any easier.
At the start, I was afraid that if I didnât find her fast, sheâd wind up dead. Now I know that if I donât get her back in time, her death will just be the start.