Color me excited! She Marches Through Fire, the third and final novel of A.M. Manay’s November Snow trilogy, is just about to be released. I’ve already read an advance copy, and it’s mind-blowing. Here’s what it’s all about:
November attempted to join the fight, but it was like swimming in syrup. A burly, bearded vampire had his arm around her waist and a knife at her throat before she could even get the stake out of her boot.
“Drop it unless you want to lose the girl,” a gravelly voice warned Raina. “Nobody else needs to die here.”
November shot Raina an apologetic look. “Sorry. I was too slow.”
“Not your fault, chère,” Raina absolved her. “It’s the wound and the morphine.” She placed her weapon carefully on the bedspread. “What do you want?”
“Luka and whatever it is he’s here to get,” he replied. He turned to his blond companion, a twitchy beanpole with a crew cut who put November in mind of a teenaged delinquent. “Tucker, text Casey. Tell him we’ve got them, but we lost Marcia.”
Tucker laid down his crossbow and pulled out a phone.
“You have made a grave error in judgment,” Raina warned them.
“Whatever, lady,” Tucker snorted.
“How long have you been a vampire, son? Five minutes?” Raina retorted. “That your maker, there?” Tucker’s nervous glance at his leader answered both her questions. “What kind of a maker takes his newborn to go after the most powerful creatures on the continent? How many do you think he’s gone through before you? How long did Marcia last?”
“Ignore her, Tuck.”
Tuck nodded anxiously and worried at his lip as he completed his text and awaited a reply. “Frank, Casey says that if we don’t hear from him in 10 minutes, we should kill them.”
“Good luck with that,” Raina said, rolling her eyes.
Tucker picked up his crossbow and pointed it at Raina. “I’m pretty sure I’ll manage,” he retorted.
“Don’t know why you’d want to,” November piped up. “Frank, here, will probably just kill you after. That’s what he usually does after a big score. Gets rid of the babies, keeps their shares of the money. Make new ones before the next major job. Lather, rinse, repeat.” As she spoke, she slowly slid her hand into the pocket of her hoodie. “Isn’t that right, Frankie?”
“Shut up,” Frank growled. He pressed the flat of his blade against November’s neck. The silver burned her skin, but she didn’t even flinch. “She’s just making up stories,” he told Tucker.
“Probably why he sent Marcia in first. Cannon fodder,” Raina nodded, putting on a sad face. “Shame. You know who that is, there, right? That’s November Snow. The Oracle. She’s never wrong. Never.”
“The one Luka took? The one from D.C.?” Tucker asked, voice cracking. His head swiveled back and forth, bouncing from Frank to Raina and back again.
“Don’t listen to them,” Frank ordered. “Don’t worry about what they’re saying. I order you as your maker.”
Tucker’s face went blank, his eyes cloudy. After a moment, he shook it off, and his brow furrowed once again.
“See. He’s had so many progeny that he can’t even compel you. You make too many, you see, it dilutes your blood magic. You shook that command off so easily. Got to have been an awful lot of them, wouldn’t you say, Raina?” November asked.
“Oh, dozens. At least,” Raina agreed. “Maybe a hundred.”
Tucker’s crossbow now pointed toward Frank rather than Raina. He took a step toward his maker. “What are they talking about?” he demanded.
“Keep it together, Tucker. We won’t have to work for years if you just hold it together,” Frank urged. He pulled his knife away from November and pointed it at his offspring, but he kept a tight grip on his captive, careful to keep her body between himself and Raina.