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The trackless and dangerous God Realm is shaped by the will of the gods who roam it, and the creatures of darkness that inhabit it prey upon the doomed mortals who wander its shifting wastes… Even a mortal dark god may not survive its traps and treachery, and a Grey God is a beacon that draws the darkness. Kayos’ shield sphere may not protect him from a dark god with a Key… Views: 32
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Class is in, but Evangeline Hollis is struggling to get through the requisite training to be a full-fledged Mark. When her class goes on a field trip to an abandoned military base, passing the course isn’t just a matter of pride…it’s a matter of life and death. There’s a demon hidden among them, killing off Eve’s classmates one by one. As the body count mounts, a ragtag team of cable TV ghost hunters unwittingly stumbles into the carnage. Now keeping the Mark system secret competes with the need to keep the “paranormal researchers” alive. With Cain on assignment and Abel on an investigation, Eve must fly solo on her hunt to stop a killer before he strikes again. Views: 32
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One of the best-loved science fiction classics of all time, Logan has been adapted into an Oscar-winning motion picture, Logan's Run, a television series and a comic book series. Dell now brings the three complete novels into one combined paperback volume for the first time. Views: 32
A fallen kingdom, a captured queen, and an assassin who could save them both… His queen is the enemy king’s prisoner, but the Queen’s Blade refuses to serve his foe. Unless he slays those who plot against her, however, she will die. Cotti Princes will taste the assassin's blade to ensure her safety and win his freedom, but powerful men plot his demise and that of the infant queen. Views: 32
Meet Callaghan, a hard-drinking, drug-fuelled, womanising no-good son-of-a-bitch. He's the amoral hardcore photographer for Black & White, the tabloid rag that tells it as it is. Or at least, how it should be.Callaghan's in way too deep with Mia, his Mexican stripper girlfriend... and even deeper with Sophie, estranged wife to Vladimir "Vodka" Katchevsy, infamous Romanian gun-runner and self-eulogising expert at human problem solving. People start to die. And Callaghan's caught in the middle. A situation even his Porsche GT3, Canary Wharf Penthouse suite and corrupt politician contacts can't solve.At the nadir of his downward spiral, Callaghan is approached by a man: a serial killer who brings him a very unique and dangerous proposition...FOCUS ON -• A VIOLENT THRILLER• BLOODTHIRSTY ACTION• DISTURBING MURDERS• TWISTED URBAN FANTASYIF YOU LIKE SERIAL KILLERS INCORPORATED, TRY -COMPLICITY by IAIN BANKSTHE DAVINCI CODE by DAN BROWNTHE SHINING by STEPHEN KINGSERIAL KILLERS INCORPORATED is an EBOOK original novel by ANDY REMIC, author of Spiral, Quake, Warhead, War Machine, Biohell, Hardcore, Cloneworld, Theme Planet, Kell's Legend, Soul Stealers and Vampire Warlords. "Who kills the killers?"REVIEWS"Remic writes books that don’t hang about. His prose is solid and easy to read, it’s unlikely to win any literary awards but it’s perfectly suited to this kind of story. Violence, blood and sex are his forte and he uses them well... Did I enjoy it? Yes I did, the humour works, the violence is quite lovingly and inventively described and even the sex scenes are done well. If you like bastards doing bastardly things to each other with a smattering of sex and much use of profanity, then I think you’ll dig this."A Gathering of Opinions on Serial Killers Incorporated"Serial Killers Inc is a fast paced, high octane, no holds barred rollercoaster of a story that twists and turns like a rattlesnake on speed. This is a story not for the faint of heart, or those who are easily offended, as we are shown the seedier side of life in all its unadulterated glory... Overall a great story and I love the fact that none of the central characters are safe which keeps you on the edge of your seat. Go out and buy this. It's the closest you'll get to an adrenalin rush sitting in your living room."Geek Syndicate on Serial Killers Incorporated“This is a thoroughly enjoyable book, that is easy to read and relate to (not sure what that says about me). If you like fast paced action in a modern setting then this book will be right up your alley, and any book with a GSXR is off to a good start.”Tony's Views on Serial Killers Incorporated“I’ve read all of Mr Remic’s work and this is without doubt one of the darkest things he has ever written. It is brutal and raw and I was immediately caught up in it. Characters suffer physically and psychologically, no-one walks away unscathed. The secrets that are exposed have lasting effects and repercussions. I think it’s fair to say I was totally unprepared for where the novel ended up… A word of advice, this is not a novel for the faint of heart as it deals with some very adult themes. The violence is graphic and unrelenting, the sex is explicit and the language is enough to make my mother blush. I should point out that my mother has a mouth on her like a sailor on shore leave.” The Eloquent Page on Serial Killers Incorporated"Remic's books are not read, they are experienced, and when you get out the other side you feel like you've just parachuted yourself out the back of a plane... Serial Killers Incorporated is a no-holds-barred novel; massively entertaining, scary, exciting and brutally nasty. I defy you to read it and not have a grin on your face when you're finished."Morpheus Tales on Serial Killers IncorporatedAbout the AuthorANDY REMIC is a larger–than–life action man, sexual athlete, sword warrior and chef. His exploits have garnered him acclaim in the Guinness Book of Galactic Records, and he once worked as a biomod technician pioneering illegal nano–tek for underhand government agencies. His writing has picked up numerous esoteric awards for visceral hardcore action, clever plotlines, black humour and a willingness to push the boundaries of science fiction and sexual deviancy, all in one twisted whiskey barrel. When kicked to describe himself, Remic claims to have a love of extreme sports, kickass bikes and happy nurses. Once a member of an elite Combat K squad, he has retired from military service and claims to be a cross between an alcoholic Indiana Jones and a bubbly Lara Croft, only without the breasts (–although he’d probably like some). Remic lives in Lincolnshire and enjoys listening to Ronan Keating whilst thinking lewdly about zombies. You can find out more about ANDY REMIC at www.andyremic.com. PRAISE FOR ANDY REMIC “Hard–hitting, galaxy–spanning, no–holds–barred, old–fashioned action adventure.” The Guardian on War Machine “Loud, brash and so in–your–face that it’s actually gone right through and is stood behind you, giving you a good kicking when you least expect it.” Graeme’s Fantasy Book Review on Biohell “It’s been so long since we had Robin Hood, or Conan the Barbarian floating around, and Gemmell – he updated them with class. For me, Gemmell revived my favourite heroes and gave them a good kick in the pants… Mister Remic looks like he could do this, too.” Lateral Books on Kell's Legend “Violent is really not the right word for this spare–no–detail fantasy monstrosity. Insane? Maybe. Really, the only way to describe Remic’s Kell’s Legend is with a phrase: a bloody, violent, fantastic journey through carnage, terror, and a downright epic tale that makes Underworld and every zombie movie look bad… Remic is the Tarantino of fantasy, and if that isn’t a compliment, then I don’t know what is.” Fantasy & SciFi Lovin’ on Kell's Legend “My favourite science fiction novel of the year. Yes, you heard correctly: Peter F. Hamilton, Neal Asher, Richard K. Morgan... War Machine topped them all, and no–one is more shocked than I am! I loved every testosterone–fuelled second. And the sequel is easily one of my most anticipated new releases...” Fantasy Book Critic on War Machine Links: www.andyremic.com www.anarchy–books.com Views: 32
Legion: The Many Lives of Stephen Leeds, is #1 New York Times bestselling author Brandon Sanderson's novella collection of science fiction thrillers that will make you question reality--including a never-before-published story.
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Stephen Leeds is perfectly sane. It's his hallucinations who are mad.
A genius of unrivaled aptitude, Stephen can learn any new skill, vocation, or art in a matter of hours. However, to contain all of this, his mind creates hallucinatory peopleStephen calls them aspectsto hold and manifest the information. Wherever he goes, he is joined by a team of imaginary experts to give advice, interpretation, and explanation. He uses them to solve problems . . . for a price.
His brain is getting a little crowded and the aspects have a tendency of taking on lives of their own. When a company hires him to recover stolen propertya camera that can allegedly take pictures of the pastStephen finds himself in an adventure crossing oceans and fighting terrorists. What he discovers may upend the foundation of three major world religionsand, perhaps, give him a vital clue into the true nature of his aspects.
Legion: The Many Lives of Stephen Leeds includes Legion, Legion: Skin Deep and the brand new, shocking finale to Leeds' story, *Lies of the Beholder. * Views: 32
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.She was being followed.Again.Annja Creed sighed with an almost nonchalant grin as she felt the familiar feeling wash over her. As many times and as many places as she'd been, she could tell—without even turning around to confirm it—that someone was taking more than a passing interest in her.Even here, she thought. Even in this remote industrial complex where the concrete was as gray as the cold sky overhead, she hadn't managed to escape the eyes and ears of the locals.The question, as always, was who was following her? Since arriving in Moscow and then taking the Siberian railroad to the northeast reaches of the former Soviet Union, Annja had kept what she thought was a low profile. She'd paid cash for her transactions. She'd used her new fake passport and booked her travels under a fake name. She'd even tossed her schedule out the window and lingered in several stops for far too long.But it hadn't worked.She ran down the list of people in her head who might wish her harm and then frowned. The list was long and growing longer. Every new adventure seemed to add dozens of names to the roster of folks who thought the world would be a better place if perhaps Annja Creed wasn't inhaling any more of its oxygen.She passed the plate-glass windows of a department store advertising fashions so outdated that Annja wondered if anyone actually came in and requested them. She paused, however, and used the reflecting surface to look behind her.Nothing.She kept moving rather than give away the idea that she suspected she was being followed. No sense altering the hunters.Annja knew that professionals never allowed themselves to be seen when they followed you. So the fact that she hadn't spotted anyone in the shop window might mean she wasn't dealing with amateurs.On one level, that was good. Amateurs in this part of the world tended to be thugs and rapists who would brutalize you and then sell you off into some sexual-slavery den.At least the professionals just killed you and got it done with.She smirked at the thought. How my life has changed, she mused.She turned a corner and strolled up a narrow street. Ahead of her, she could make out an outdoor market area filled with a smattering of produce, imported electronics goods and bootleg DVDs. Annja knew the mafiya controlled these impromptu bazaars. But she hoped she could use them to lose her tail.Unless, of course, he worked for the very same gangsters who ran the marketplace. She pondered that for a moment. But she couldn't worry about that for long. Not when she had a pressing appointment to keep with Robert Gulliver, known to his friends as Biker Bob and to the rest of the world as the cycling archaeologist.Gulliver liked riding across the world on his favorite all-terrain bike. It was how he had scouted so many famous dig sites. Before he went in to any place with loads of equipment, he would casually assess the environment from the comfort of his bicycle. So far, Gulliver had crisscrossed the globe numerous times, although this was his first outing in Siberia.Gulliver had sent Annja an e-mail from a cybercafé in a town just outside Minsk, asking if she would join him on a scouting mission. Annja, bored with her self-imposed exile back in Brooklyn, had jumped at the opportunity.But even she was somewhat disgruntled by the location. So far, the dour city of Magadan had failed to impress her. The entire city was formed of cookie-cutter buildings set into neat rows. The streets were all evenly paved with ancient cars zooming down them at breakneck speeds, unconcerned if they hit pedestrians. In contrast, she occasionally spotted a sleek new Lincoln Town Car that proclaimed its driver as belonging to organized crime. Poverty was rampant, and Annja had already doled out some of her money to several children who looked closer to being scarecrows than human beings.Gulliver had promised her a spectacular adventure, but Annja couldn't see it. Not in a city so utterly drab and awash in human misery.Still, the fact that she had someone following her at least meant that there might be a little excitement before the day was done.She ducked under the low awning and entered the marketplace. Immediately, her ears were accosted by the sounds of techno music infused with Russian street rap. Annja spoke a smattering of Russian, but she knew better than to try to translate the music lyrics that blasted out of the nearby speakers.And she wasn't there to listen to music, anyway. Ahead of her, the narrow corridor seemed to twist and turn. Elderly shoppers, their heads wrapped in heavy hats and scarves to ward off the first taste of winter in the air, pushed past her, intent on finding something valuable in the midst of chaos.One of the vendors called out to her and held up an iPod. Annja smiled but shook her head no. She knew they made the cheap knockoffs in China and shipped them north through Mongolia before they ended up here. Besides, Annja had her own iPod back at the hotel. She frowned. Unless someone had broken in and stolen it, she thought. She glanced back at the iPod hawker but he was already gone.Her unpredictable turn had prompted a man thirty feet back to stop awkwardly and turn his head.Annja smiled.First mistake. Maybe she wasn't dealing with professionals after all.She hurried on, aware of a pungent stench of rotting fish assailing her nostrils. Three stalls of dead fish bedded on ice bracketed the next turn. Annja glanced at them. Even the fish were gray.She had a decision to make. She could allow her tail to continue his surveillance, or she could turn the tables on him and find out who he was. The first choice was annoying because it meant she'd never be alone. The second choice was the more dangerous of the two. Confronting a tail was always a risk. He might be following her because he wanted to harm her. Possibly, he might even kill her.Annja closed her eyes for the briefest of moments, confirming that Joan of Arc's sword—her sword— was accessible. She could see it in her mind's eye, hovering as it always seemed to. All she had to do was reach out and grab it.She ducked under a low-hanging portal filled with cheap polyester tapestries done up in gaudy golds and bright reds. She could see the fraying edges and knew that the quality of the material only looked good to those who knew no better and had never had anything better in their lives. To some in this remote outback of Russia, polyester was the fabric of dreams.She risked a glance back and saw the man clearly. He had no interest in any of the wares being hawked by the vendors. His face was as dour as the rest of the city. But Annja could see the deep lines etched in his face and knew that he had a past—probably that of a hired killer. She knew finding one in this part of the world was easy. And they were always competent.If they weren't, they simply didn't survive. Annja made her decision. She rushed ahead and instantly heard the yells behind her as her pursuer bumped into one of the fish stalls. Ice slid everywhere and the dead fish followed, causing several shoppers to fall.Annja ran.More voices joined the fray. If her pursuer was with the mafiya, most likely he'd be able to enlist some help. But if he wasn't, then he was risking their wrath by upsetting one of the chief places they made their protection money.Annja spotted an exit and took it. Fresh air smacked into her face and she saw the narrow alley ahead of her. Grateful that she'd worn her hiking boots instead of her sneakers, Annja raced down the asphalt street.Behind her, footsteps pounded the pavement. He was close.Annja skidded into the alley and saw that it was filled with trash. The smell of urine hung heavy in the air. She could smell cheap vodka and the aroma of body odor. Makeshift corrugated-cardboard-box homes dotted the edges of the alley. Annja had entered a town of sorts for homeless people.She pressed on, dodging the clotheslines that hung between two buildings. Bits of spattered cloth, remnants of winter coats and shirts hung from the lines. Steam from several grates issued forth with a sharp hiss.The entire alley seemed eerily quiet. Behind her, at the entrance of the alley, the footsteps stopped.This was where it would get hairy.Annja ducked low, aware that her vision was being compromised by the crowded nature of the alley. The steam, trapped by the many laundry lines and the clothes they held, seemed to hug closer to the ground, making the alley feel more like a moor drowning in early-morning fog.Her pursuer would have moved into the alley by now. But he'd move slowly, aware that any one of the boxes might conceal his prey. He might walk right past her. Or she might ambush him.Annja glanced ahead. Bricks. She frowned. A dead end.Her heart hammered in her chest. She closed her eyes and tried to reach for the sword. But when she opened her eyes, it wasn't in her hands. She tried again and then it hit her.The alley was too narrow to swing a sword.She almost yelped when the disembodied hand grabbed her around the ankle. She yanked her leg away and shot a kick into the hand. Someone on the ground grunted and she saw the hand retreat.This was not a place she wanted to stay any longer than necessary.The air around her grew heavy. Annja could feel his presence now, looming and drawing down the distance between them. She ducked down by the closest cardboard box and waited.The steam played tricks with her eyes. She thought she could see his body parting the mist like some ship on the sea. And then she saw his feet.Without even thinking about it, Annja launched herself at him, screaming as she did so. She collided with him, knocking him to the ground. He grunted and Annja felt a breath of air come out of his mouth as the wind was knocked out of him.She winced. Judging by the smell, he was a fan of onion bagels.He brought his hands up and twisted, trying to push her off him. She could see his left hand reaching for something in his coat. Annja chopped down with her fist onto his forea... Views: 32
