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Zusatztext Praise for Ilona Andrews and the Novels of the Edge “Ilona Andrews's books are guaranteed good reads.”—Patricia Briggs! #1 New York Times bestselling author “One of the brightest voices in urban fantasy...Ilona Andrews delivers only the best.”—Jeaniene Frost! New York Times bestselling author “Engaging.”— Publishers Weekly “A thoroughly entertaining blend of humor! action! misdirection! and romance.”— Locus Informationen zum Autor Ilona Andrews Klappentext Step into a whole new world in the first Novel of the Edge from the #1 New York Times bestselling author of the Kate Daniels series. The Edge lies between worlds, on the border between the Broken, where people shop at Wal-Mart and magic is a fairy tale-and the Weird, where blueblood aristocrats rule, changelings roam, and the strength of your magic can change your destiny... Rose Drayton thought if she practiced her magic, she could build a better life for herself. But things didn't turn out the way she'd planned, and now she works an off-the-books job in the Broken just to survive. Then Declan Camarine, a blueblood noble straight out of the deepest part of the Weird, comes into her life, determined to have Rose (and her power). But when a flood of creatures hungry for magic invade the Edge, Declan and Rose must overcome their differences and work together to destroy them-or the beasts will devour the Edge and everyone in it..."Rosie!" Grandpa's bellow shook the foundation of the house. "Why me?" Rose wiped the dish soap suds from her hands with a kitchen towel, swiped the crossbow from the hook, and stomped onto the porch. "Roooosie!" She kicked the screen door open. He towered in the yard, a huge shaggy bear of a man, deranged eyes opened wide, tangled beard caked with blood and quivering grayish shreds. She leveled the crossbow at him. Drunk as hell again. "What is it?" "I want to go to the pub. I want a pint." His voice slipped into a whine. "Gimme some money!" "No." He hissed at her, swaying unsteadily on his feet. "Rosie! This is your last chance to give me a dollar!" She sighed and shot him. The bolt bit between the eyes and Grandpa toppled onto his back like a log. His legs drummed the ground. Rose rested the butt of her crossbow on her hip. "All right, come out." The two boys slipped from behind the huge oak spreading its branches over the yard. Both were filthy with reddish mud, sap, and the other unidentifiable substances an eight- and a ten-year-old could find in the Wood. A jagged scratch decorated Georgie's neck and brown pine straw stuck out of his blond hair. Red welts marked the skin between Jack's knuckles. He saw her looking at his hands. His eyes got big, amber irises flaring yellow, and he hid his fists behind his back. "How many times do I have to say it: don't touch the ward stones. Look at Grandpa Cletus! He's been eating dog brains again, and now he's drunk. It will take me half an hour to hose him off." "We miss him," Georgie said. She sighed. "I miss him, too. But he's no good to anybody drunk. Come on, you two, let's take him back to his shed. Help me get the legs." Together they dragged Grandpa's inert form back to the shed at the edge of the clearing and dumped him on his sawdust. Rose uncoiled the metal chain from the corner, pulled it across the shed, locked the collar on Grandpa's neck, and peeled back his left eyelid to check the pupil. No red yet. Good shot—he would be out for hours. Rose put her foot on his chest, grasped the bolt, and pulled it out with a sharp tug. She still remembered Grandpa Cletus as he was, a tall, dapper man, uncanny with his rapier, his voice flavored with a light Scottish brogue. Even as old as he was, he would still win against Dad one out of three times in a swordfight. Now he was ...
