Kiss the dead laurell k hamilton pdf

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  1. Kiss the Dead by Laurell K. Hamilton
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When a fifteen-year-old girl is abducted by vampires, it's up to U.S. Marshal Anita Blake to find her. And when she does, she's faced with. ebook: kiss the dead un avventura di anita blake italian - scouting for kiss the dead un avventura di anita blake italian edition pdf download. When a fifteen-year-old girl is abducted by vampires, it's up to U.S. Marshal Anita Blake to find her. And when she does, she's faced with something she's never.

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Kiss The Dead Laurell K Hamilton Pdf

Hamilton. Kiss The Dead Anita Blake Vampire Hunter 21 Laurell K Hamilton - [ FREE] [PDF] [EPUB] Online Source For Free Ebook and Pdf Downloads. Revue. hamilton author kimberly alexis narrator () kiss the dead anita blake, vampire hunter (series) book 21 laurell k owners manual pdf,mcculloch mac Descarg√° gratis el libro Kiss The Dead en PDF, MOBI y EPUB - I knew without doubt that if any more of the vampires tried to attack us I'd kill them, too.

Shelves: paranormal , fantasy I know that my compulsion to hate-read these books is far more perverted than anything Anita ever gets up to in this series, but there it is. I almost feel that I am performing a service for those of you who have had the strength to stop reading the books themselves, yet may feel the danger of back-sliding just to see what is up in the lives of Anita and her horde of vaginal slaves. The answer is nothing. Nothing is up that remotely matters or makes sense. I'm not going to mark anything in here I know that my compulsion to hate-read these books is far more perverted than anything Anita ever gets up to in this series, but there it is. I'm not going to mark anything in here as a "spoiler," because I don't even know what that means in the context of these books anymore. However, if the fact that I am going to quote parts of the book and that those parts of the book may reveal some of the things that happen in the book will upset you, stop reading now. You have no one but yourself to blame if you continue. Likewise, I guess I should add that if crimes against the profession of editing, the English language, and the Aristotelian Unities upset you, you should also consider yourself warned, because what follows must necessarily be very disturbing, indeed.

I reached for it, and the vampire yelled, "I'll tell you! I'll tell you everything, please, please don't kill me! If he grinned at me, I'd kick him in the shins. He stayed serious; there was a missing girl. I turned back to Barney. Barney stood up and tried to move toward Zerbrowski, but the leg shackles wouldn't let him get far. It was standard operating procedure to chain vampires.

I'd removed the cuffs to try to gain his trust, and because I didn't see him as a danger. There'll be other cops closer. In the movies it'd be you. He was staring into space, as if he couldn't think clearly, or like he was listening to some voice I couldn't hear.

I was around the table before I had time to really think what I'd do when I got there. I grabbed a handful of Barney's black T-shirt and put our faces inches apart. Is this a trap for me? He blinked way too fast; the unblinking vampire stare took decades to perfect, and he hadn't had that much time.

The pale watery blue bled over his entire eye, so it was like looking at water with sun shining through it - his eyes with vampire power in them. He hissed in my face, snapping fangs at me. I should have backed off, but I didn't. I was so used to dealing with vampires who wouldn't hurt me that I forgot what it meant that he was a vampire, and I wasn't. He moved, too fast for me to blink, his arms around my waist, lifting me off my feet.

I was fast enough to have time to do one thing, before he slammed me down on the table. Once I would have pulled out my cross, but it was in the locker with my gun, because a new law had declared it unfair intimidation against preternatural suspects. I had a split second to choose between my only two options: Do I slap my hand on the table to take some of the impact, or put my arm against his throat to keep his fangs away from mine? I chose my arm in his throat, and I was down.

The table shuddered with the force of the blow, but his arm was between my back and the table and it took some of the impact. I wasn't stunned, good. The vampire snarled in my face, fangs snapping; only my forearm shoved against his throat kept him from tearing mine out.

I was more than human-strong, but I was a small woman, and even super-strong, I wasn't as strong as the man pinning me to the table. He grabbed my wrist where it pushed against his throat and tried to pull it out of the way.

Kiss the Dead by Laurell K. Hamilton

I didn't fight him for it; the best he was going to do was turn more of my arm into his throat. He didn't know how to fight, didn't understand leverage, he'd never grappled for his life - I had. I heard the door slam open but didn't glance at it.

I had to stare into those burning blue eyes, those fangs; I couldn't afford to look away, even for a second, but I knew the door meant help was in the room. Arms grabbed him from behind, and he snarled, rising up off me, taking his arm from behind my back so he could stand up and face them. I was left lying on my back on the table, to watch the vampire hitting the men, careless blows with no training behind them, and my knights in uniform went flying. I took the moment they'd given me to roll off the other side of the table and to the floor beyond.

I landed on the balls of my feet and fingertips; the heels of my Mary Jane - style stilettos didn't even touch floor as I crouched. I could see legs: the vampire still shackled, the other legs uniforms and slacks; police. Two of the policemen went flying. One uniform didn't get back up, lying in a painful heap against the wall, but two other sets of legs, one uniform and one slacks, were still struggling with the vampire.

The shoes with the slacks were shiny and black like they'd been spit-polished, and I was almost sure it was Captain Dolph Storr. The vampire popped the chain on his shackles, and suddenly the fight was on. In the bad old days I could have gotten my gun from the locker where it was stored and shot his ass, but I didn't have a warrant of execution for this vampire. Zerbrowski and I had lied to him.

Without the warrant, we couldn't just shoot him. I stood up in time to see Dolph's six-foot, eight-inch frame wrapped around the much smaller body of the vampire.

Dolph had his arms around the vampire's shoulders, with his own hands behind the vampire's head. It was a classic full nelson, and Dolph was big enough that against most humans he'd have won, but he was struggling to keep the hold on the vampire, as the uniform struggled to pin one of the vampire's arms.

Then the uniform's face went slack, and he tried to hit Dolph in the face. Dolph saw it coming, and ducked using the vampire's trapped head as a shield. I yelled, "Don't look the vampire in the eyes, damn it!

One of the other uniforms was struggling with the officer who had been mind-fucked by the vampire. The vampire reared back and bucked against Dolph's hold, and his hands came loose.

There was movement by the door, but the vampire was twisting in Dolph's grip, and I was out of time to see what the backup was going to do. I kicked the vampire in the ribs, the way I'd been taught, visualizing the kick going into the ribs, through the body, and a few inches out the other side.

That was the goal I'd been taught in judo, and even now that I was taking mixed martial arts the old training kicked in, and I aimed through the ribs and the wall beyond. I forgot two things: one, that I was more than human-strong now, and two, that I was wearing three-inch stilettos. The kick drove the vampire stumbling away from Dolph, a hand going to his ribs, as he leapt for me still on the table on my side. I kicked him again, this time aiming for the sternum, aiming to take the breath out of him, as if he'd been human and needed to breathe all the time.

In a fight, you fall back on training, no matter what you're fighting. My foot caught him square in the chest, my stiletto sank into his sternum, and the force of the kick drove my heel upward toward his heart.

I had a moment to feel the heel sink home, a second to wonder if three inches of stiletto would hit his heart, and then he reacted to the stab, and I realized there was a strap on my shoe, and my heel was stuck in his chest, because he moved away, and my foot went with him, and the rest of me slid off the table. I was short enough that I had to put my hands on the floor to keep from just dangling from his chest.

There was nothing I could do to protect myself, or to keep my skirt from inching down. I had a moment of modesty fail as the thigh-highs and thong were exposed to the room.

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But if my modesty took the worst of it, I could live with that. A bright white light began to fill the room. The vampire hissed and backed up. I had to hand-walk as he dragged me across the room.

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My heel began to slide out of his chest, my body weight finally too much for it. My foot slid all the way out as someone walked into the room with a holy object blazing white, strangely cool, as if the cold light of stars could be held in your hand.

I'd never seen a holy object glow this bright when I didn't have my own glowing along with it. It was even more impressive as I lay on the floor, tugging my skirt down, and watched Zerbrowski walk past me, hand held high, most of his body lost in the bright glow of his cross.

I had afterimages of the cross in my eyes when I blinked, as if I needed a welder's helmet. It never seemed this bright when my own cross was shining alone, but we were allowed holy objects in the interrogation room only if the vampire was under arrest for assault or murder. Then we could say we needed the protection of something that couldn't be taken away from us like a weapon could. Dolph offered me a hand, and I took it. There'd been a time when I wouldn't have, but I understood that from Dolph it was a sign of respect and camaraderie, not sexism.

He'd have offered Zerbrowski a hand, too. We watched Zerbrowski drive the vampire into the far corner with the light of his faith, because a holy object doesn't shine unless the holder believes, or the object has been blessed by someone holy enough to make it stick.

There were a few priests that I wouldn't let bless my holy water, because I'd had it not glow for me at critical moments. The Church actually surveyed the vampire executioners around the country asking what priests had failed that test of faith. I'd felt like I was tattling. The vampire curled into the corner, trying to make himself as tiny as possible, his face hidden between his arms.

He was yelling, "Please, stop it! It hurts! They were expensive, so even RPIT didn't have a lot of them. Barney was a new vampire; we didn't think he was dangerous enough to need them. We'd been wrong.

I looked at the one uniform still lying against the wall. Someone was checking his pulse, and he moved, groaning, as if something hurt a lot; he was alive, but not because of anything I'd done. I'd been stupid and arrogant and others were hurt because of it. I hated it when it was my fault.

Hated it, fucking hated it. The uniform had wide eyes but he went toward the vampire. Dolph and I both reached out at the same time to take the cuff set with its single solid bar connecting the hands and ankle shackles.

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We looked at each other. His dark hair, cut short and neat, was actually just long enough on top that it was mussed from the fight. He smoothed the hair in place, while he gave me serious eyes.

He nodded, and let me go first. Once he would have protected me and gone first, but he knew that I was harder to hurt than anyone in the room except the vampire. I could take a beating and keep on ticking, and he also understood without having to say anything else that I was blaming myself for it all getting out of hand.

Protocol was that you left vampires completely shackled. I'd taken his cuffs off so he would talk to me. I'd been convinced I could handle a baby vampire like Barney with his hands free. We were lucky no one was dead. Dolph understood all of that; he'd have felt the same way, so he let me move forward with the heavy metal contraption. He waved the uniform back and he stayed at my back, just in case. When you have someone who is six foot eight and keeps himself in good shape, I'll take him as backup.

There'd been a time when Dolph hadn't trusted me because of my dating the monsters, but he'd worked out his issues, and I'd gotten a real federal badge. I was a real cop according to the paperwork, and Dolph had wanted a reason to forgive me for consorting with the monsters. The new badge had been reason enough, that and the fact that he had behaved badly enough toward me and others that he almost let his hatred of the preternaturally challenged cost him his badge, and his self-respect.

Some long talks with the local vampires, especially one ex-cop named Dave, of the bar Dead Dave's, had helped him make peace with himself.

I walked around the edge of the cool, white glow of Zerbrowski's cross. The vampire had stopped yelling and was just whimpering in the corner. I'd never asked any of my vampire friends what it felt like to face a cross like this; did it really hurt, or was it just a force they couldn't stand against? Say something, Barney. I need to know you understand me. It was still way too close if he went apeshit again, but someone was going to have to get that close and I'd picked me for the job.

I couldn't have stood there and watched while he hurt someone else, knowing that I'd given him the space to do it. Arrogance had made me uncuff him; guilt made me kneel there and try to get him to hear me. There was movement behind us. I kept my attention on the vampire in the corner; I knew better than to look away from one danger to another.

I trusted the other policemen to have my back. My world had narrowed down to the suspect in the corner. But Dolph spoke low to someone, and then he leaned over me and said, "We found the location, but we've lost contact with the first officers on sight.

It could be that the officers were having to stay off their radios to search for vampires, or they could be hurt, or dead, or hostages. We were out of time to mess with this vampire; others had our people. I needed him to hear me. I needed him to do what I wanted him to do. The answer is nothing. Nothing is up that remotely matters or makes sense. I'm not going to mark anything in here I know that my compulsion to hate-read these books is far more perverted than anything Anita ever gets up to in this series, but there it is.

I'm not going to mark anything in here as a "spoiler," because I don't even know what that means in the context of these books anymore.

However, if the fact that I am going to quote parts of the book and that those parts of the book may reveal some of the things that happen in the book will upset you, stop reading now.

You have no one but yourself to blame if you continue. Likewise, I guess I should add that if crimes against the profession of editing, the English language, and the Aristotelian Unities upset you, you should also consider yourself warned, because what follows must necessarily be very disturbing, indeed.

Let's first give credit where credit is due The Marshall job, anyway. There's a throwaway reference to Animator's, Inc. Remember how that used to be a thing in this series? But not anymore. This time, Anita is helping break up a hostage situation involving a bunch of vamps who appear to be members of the Undead Tea Party, being composed primarily of old people and near-children who were too young to know what they were doing when they changed over, and only want to yell "FREEDOM!

This is not really all that important, actually. I mean, they provide the background for some of the Dramatic Events in the story that cause Anita to have to kick ass and talk about her weapons and her height and how strong she is like always, but that's it. Consider them not really all that material to the story. We DO get to walk into the building where they are holed up, though, and get one of those glorious paragraphs where Hamilton tries to get all deep and descriptive, and ends up making no kind of sense whatsoever.

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To wit: The room looked like a set for a slasher flick, with dirty walls; pale paint that might have started as white had flaked away from the bricks, so that the paint debris lay at the base of the walls as if something big had clawed at the walls. The question was, had it been clawing to get in, or get out? First of all, no, that is not the question. Nothing was clawing, in or out. It's just some paint flecks. Also, if there HAD been clawing, the fact that all of the paint flecks are on the floor inside the building would be a significant clue that the clawing was coming from inside the building as well.

I mean, to anyone who happened to be a professional investigator of some sort. Or someone who had ever read a mystery story before. Those familiar with the series will not be surprised to learn that Hamilton's tendency to use the same words repeatedly, and even to seemingly cut and paste whole paragraphs from previous books to re-use several times in the course of each "new" volume has not abated even a little.

She also continues her odd quirk of picking a new phrase that everyone in each book suddenly decides to use all the time, in all sorts of situations, and then never use again in subsequent books. In this edition, that phrase is "ass deep in alligators.

Enjoy it while you can; in the next book no one will have ever heard of alligators.

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