Showing results by author "Meghan Ciana Doidge" in All Categories

On my way to investigate my aunt’s untimely death, I chance upon a teenager with purple eyes. Her destiny is so vibrant, so intertwined with the essence that fuels all our lives, that I cannot stand to see her caged and crushed. What I don’t know is that rescuing the teen isn’t chance or happenstance at all. It isn’t just another random bit of destiny I can fix it. It’s a snag in the weave of the universe that unravels … everything.

For 12 years, I had managed to separate my personal life from my professional life, becoming one of the best reconstructionists in the world - and proving to myself that I could do so on my own merits. Then I’d been forced into contact with my family, reuniting with someone I thought I’d lost forever, and rescuing my best friend. Now I had to savor what little time I had left before the contract with the Conclave came due and my future was wrenched from my control. Except there was one last case to solve. One last set of puzzle pieces to collect, then assemble again.

I had new cupcakes to bake, a new treasure to hunt, and a new dragon in town—literally. Who wouldn’t be ecstatic filling their days with chocolate, trinket collecting, and martial arts training? Yeah…me.

The Collective was already done. I’d destroyed them more than eight years ago. But apparently, some of those who’d survived now needed a reminder of their demise. When it was done, I would walk away with everything that was mine to have and to hold. And what I couldn’t outright destroy? I would absorb or claim for myself. Because Emma Johnson was stronger than Amp5 had ever been.

If you’d asked me a week ago, I would have told you that the best cupcakes were dark chocolate with chocolate cream cheese icing, that dancing in a crowd of magic wielders—the Adept—was better than sex, and that my life was peaceful and uneventful. Just the way I liked it. That’s what 23 years in the magical backwater of Vancouver will get you—a completely skewed sense of reality. Because when the dead werewolves started showing up, it all unraveled—except for the cupcake part. That’s a universal truth.

Concerned that we hadn’t heard from her in more than a year, Fish had dragged me all the way into the middle of Russia to follow up a lead on the whereabouts of our telepathic team member, Amanda, a.k.a. Bee. But what was supposed to be a simple reconnaissance mission—gathering intel so we could formulate a plan that might need to involve the rest of the team—went sideways within 24 hours.

I wasn’t even remotely interested in collecting the third instrument of assassination. It was far better for everyone involved—and for Warner, specifically—if I just let it be. And since I was the only one who could retrieve the artifacts, I figured it was my call to make.