Uprising: Vampire Federation
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A gruesome ritual murder has stained the Oxfordshire countryside. It's just the first incident in a chain of events awakening Detective Inspector Joel Solomon to his worst nightmare-and a dreadful omen of things to come. Because Joel has a secret: he believes in vampires.
Alex Bishop is an agent of the Vampire Intelligence Agency. She's tasked with enforcing the laws of the global Vampire Federation, and hunting rogue members of her race. A tough job made tougher when the Federation comes under attack by traditionalist vampires. They have a stake in old-school terror-and in an uprising as violent as it is widespread.
Now it's plunging Alex and Joel into a deadly war between the living and the unloving-and against a horrifying tradition given new life by the blood of the innocent.
he drew in huge gulps of the cold night air. It wasn’t until he was sitting at the wheel of the Rolls, fumbling with the key, half blinded with sweat, that his guts heaved all the way over and the vomit burst down his front. Chapter Twenty-Two Canary Wharf, London 9.29 p.m. ‘Thanks, Rudi. See you later.’ Alex snapped her phone shut. The night breeze ruffled her hair as she leaned on the rail of her apartment balcony. A human would have been shivering in the November chill, but she loved
the house opposite. For a terrifying fraction of a second he thought he was going to hit it, go smashing right through the brickwork like a missile and end up as a pile of dead meat in someone’s living room. He tucked in his knees and elbows, ducked in low behind the dials, and then somehow he was safely through the gap and roaring onwards up the street after the frenziedly accelerating McLaren. They were heading towards the outer limits of the village now. A roadsign whipped by, almost too fast
arrived. Stone recognised him as one of the Elders, a creature whose age couldn’t easily be counted. The tall, thin figure was draped from head to foot in a hooded robe. Stone got to his feet and bowed formally as he entered the chamber. The robe’s sleeve fell away from a long, bony hand as the Master gestured for him to stay seated. The clawed fingers reached up and slowly peeled back the hem of the hood. The pale, translucent, blue-hued skin of the Master’s bald skull was lined with veins and
Solomon had seemed deeply unhappy about their presence, nervous and on edge and impatient for them to leave. His father had said the old man resented them – but young Joel had never believed that. It had seemed to him that he was the only one who could see the sadness in his grandfather’s eyes as they said their goodbyes. As the years passed and the visits to the isolated cottage became more frequent, Joel had always felt that the growing bond between him and his grandfather was the only thing
inside startled him. A large rat clawed its way out from among the clothing and dropped down to the floor with a soft thump. Joel followed it with the torch beam as it scuttled away to escape under the bed. Where had the animal come from? The wardrobe had been empty just moments ago. Joel shone the light back inside the wardrobe and saw the small hole in the back panel. The rat must have come from there. But that didn’t make sense. There should have been solid wall on the other side. He put