Freefall |

Spellkeepers at war — the city’s not big enough for the four of them

A trapped soul dwindling away. A battle for the magic of flight. A killer who can hide within anyone’s mind.

Mark will do anything to bring back the woman he loves. The puppetmaster has stalked their lives searching for the secrets of magic her family has hidden. Now every night Mark leaps over the city streets, hunting the hunter’s own keys to the power of possession—the only hope of freeing his love from the body she’s trapped in. But how can Mark’s flying magic track down an enemy who never needs to show his face?

Even stopping the gang leader Rafe is tainted by the killer’s shadow. Mark and his allies could risk their lives to stop the crew of levitating criminals from taking control of the skies… but only Rafe has glimpsed the enemy’s plans and survived. Mark may have no choice but to try to save him, at any cost.

Through it all, the one he fights to save is still his greatest ally, closer than his vengeful partners or the “innocent” targets of the puppetmaster’s latest schemes. But as the killer’s powers tighten and hope grows fainter, can he even trust her?

Can he trust himself?

FREEFALL continues the Spellkeeper Flight series on its heart-stopping journey above the streets of urban fantasy. Step into the sky today.

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Sample

“Hands! Hands up, bastard!”

The cop’s eyes and gun locked on him.

Mark flung himself backward around the corner, one move sending him into the cover he should have stayed behind. He slammed back against the wall, then scrambled to his feet. Magic pulsing, he skipped up the corridor in two giant leaps, straight toward the hole he’d left in the window out.

SHREEE!

The screech blasted through the night outside, and he caught one glimpse of the small gray form darting straight across the dimness beyond. A warning.

Somehow, Mark twisted his step to pivot away from the window and still keep his balance, his hand catching at the doorknob of the last room in the row. He wrenched the door open, darted inside, and swung it shut to close himself in darkness.

Heart pounding, he held his breath, trying to listen. No sound of the cop charging upstairs, so far. Mark’s elbow brushed something in the black, and he remembered the empty shelves; it would be all open space in here, nowhere to hide if anyone looked in.

The cop’s low snarl came from beyond the door: “You see him climbing out yet?”

Some muffled answer came. Through the cop’s radio.

That’s from more police out in the street. They’re watching the windows, that that warning said not to use!

A door rattled open, down the hall, and he heard the cop take a step inside. He was searching the rooms, one by one. Was that four doors he had left before Mark’s, or three?

Mark stared at the crack of light below his door, and struggled to think of options. Just dive out the window and hope they’d be slow to shoot? Grab the cop and slam him to the floor with magic—or get shot trying?

A second door creaked open.

He could press himself to the ceiling to hide; even if the cop looked up, the sight might make him freeze for that one instant Mark needed to move. Hell, he could stay on the ceiling and show the cop, show the whole police force, what they were really facing—no, not with this cop furious about his partner being hurt…

Through the hush came another sound: another bird cry, right outside again but smoother, less harsh.

Trust it; it’s the best signal I’ll get. The third door rattled, the room next to him—and Mark opened his own door.

For two whole heartbeats he moved it slowly, holding it tight to keep the hinges quieter than the cop’s foot taking that one step into the next room. But when the door was clear of his path, clearing the corridor only took a single lunge.

He dove through the window, into freedom.