Death Match (The Dead Man, Book 13) by Christa Faust, Lee Goldberg, William Rabkin

By Christa Faust, Lee Goldberg, William Rabkin

Whereas investigating a grisly and eerily frequent homicide, Matt Cahill is drawn into the violent international of underground cage struggling with. He consents to assist Stacy Barnett, hot-headed younger grappler whose ally and fellow girl fighter has long past lacking. Stacy’s buddy seems to be greater than a pal and the kinky fetish wrestling fits she’s concerned with turn into whatever way more sinister. As Matt uncovers layer after layer of twisted horror, he reveals himself locked right into a no holds barred struggle to the death—and beyond—that will go away him wondering every little thing, together with himself.

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No obvious sign of trauma on initial visual examination, though there appears to be blood around his nose. ” Barry Landrieu. That name was maddeningly familiar, but my frozen brain didn’t want to tell me why. “The witness who found the body is in the shack,” he continued before sliding the notebook back into his shirt pocket. “The BMW-Z4 belongs to him. ” This was why I adored Officer Gordon. He saw the loose threads and checked them out without being told to do so. One of these days he was going to be a fantastic detective.

Not hell—these weren’t the demons of any sort of religious mythos, and the reason they were even called thus was lost to history. There were twelve species—or levels—of demons, and the higher the level, the more powerful they tended to be, both physically and in their ability to use and shape arcane power. And above the twelve levels of demons were the demonic lords—beings more on the level of demi-gods—who ruled the demon realm. Generally speaking, one did not summon a demonic lord without extensive preparation, planning, and loads of arcane power, since the lords had an annoying tendency to slaughter anyone who dared do so.

Jill stood silently and patiently while I opened myself as much as possible to any arcane sensations. Nothing. It was simply woods. Sunlight fought to break through the clouds, scattering mottled shadows onto the carpet of leaves and pine needles. A branch scraped against a neighboring tree and droplets of moisture pattered down onto the picnic tables and the limp ashes in the barbecue pit. I sighed and gave her a wry smile. ” She chuckled. ” I fell into step with her as we made our way back up the trail.

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