Even when Iām not chasing kidnappers, I donāt keep normal hours. Iām 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 canāt quit just because the sunās 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 wasnāt fast enough. By the time I arrived she was gone; vanished from within an impenetrable magical ward.
Now Iām running out of time to discover who took her and why. Thereās no time for sleep: The clock is ticking, my leads are thin, and the few confidants Iāve got arenāt playing straight with me. The monsters and thugs scurrying around the city wonāt make clue gathering any easier.
At the start, I was afraid that if I didnāt find her fast, sheād wind up dead. Now I know that if I donāt get her back in time, her death will just be the start.