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Ultimately, all books by Linzi Basset are about passion. To her, passion is the driving force of all emotion; whether it be lust, desire, hate, trust, or love. This is the underlying message contained in her books. Her advice: “Believe in the passions driving your desires; live them; enjoy them; and allow them to bring you happiness.”
A Very Sprouty Business
Anika Willmanns
Urban fantasy romance
Between hunting vampires, training, and frequent appointments at the nail salon – someone should really invent a nail polish that doesn’t chip off when you punch a bloodsucker in the face – Quinn Delacroix is a very busy woman.
When she gets sent out on a mission to retrieve the Sprout of Alyria she thinks it’s a night like any other. But it’s the Winter Solstice, the longest night of the year and someone is turning innocent humans into monsters.
Quinn must find out who she can trust before it’s too late and monsters start sprouting on every corner.
Chapter One
“Did you guys know your bouncer was a werewolf?”
Every head in the bar turned in my direction. I knew what they saw: cute girl in tight-fitting, hip-hugging jeans, blood-spattered pink tank top. I looked like I’d break a nail trying to lift my designer handbag. Soft blond curls framed a pretty face. I was dressed to party. Well, I was, but not the kind of party you’d expect. Eyes strayed to the severed head I’d dropped onto the floor with a loud, sickening thump. They tried to connect the two images in their minds and failed.
The blaring music shut off abruptly. My eyes scanned the crowd. Mostly male, mostly vampires - as anticipated - and wasn’t that interesting? Another werewolf. That explained the wet dog odor. Guess the rumors that they’d died out were false.
Good for them, I suppose. Not being extinct was certainly a plus. Bad for me, though. My experience with killing them was practically non-existent. I finished my scrutinization of the crowd. My mark was nowhere to be seen. A giddy feeling formed in my belly. I loved challenges.
“I’ll kill you, you…,” the werewolf snarled, sniffing the air. Unlike his recently deceased littermate who’d worn his locks pulled back into a greasy ponytail, this one had his hair shaved in a buzz cut. Probably to show off the tattoos on the side of his head. Charming. Bet he got all the girls with those. “Witch!”
“And huntress.” I examined my nails, allowing my words to sink in. They’d been recently manicured in the awe-inspiring shade of Rose Petals to match my shirt. I was dismayed to see that the paint was already chipping off some of them. Hazards of the trade. “Oh man, my nails... Listen, I’m on a tight schedule, so tell me where I can find the vampire Marcus Redmond.”
“Now why the hell would I do that?” the Buzz Cut asked me and snorted incredulously. Several of his pals joined in for some laughs.
A sardonic smile stretched my lips as I stopped picking at a particularly stubborn piece of dried blood under one of my nails and pulled my gun, pointing it straight at him. Being underestimated was a gift. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you like your head where it is? Attached to your neck? I mean, me, I’m fine splattering your brains all over these walls.”
Buzz Cut didn’t like to be threatened. He snarled, and fur started sprouting out of his skin. I heard bones cracking, and I willed my breakfast to stay put. A person doesn’t transform into a whole new shape without disgusting noises, I suppose.
I sighed and shot, guiding the bullet with my magic. It was a good shot, right between the eyes, and the wolf went down with a whimper. Easier than I’d thought. But then again, I’d chosen the night of the Winter Solstice for this exact reason. While vampires, and apparently werewolves, were stronger during the longest night of the year, my power, the power to control shadows was at an all-time high.
Fangs bared. Several vampires decided this was their cue to charge. The odds were most definitely in their favor. I was outnumbered ten to one, the exit blocked. Oh, woe poor little me. They definitely thought they got me.
What they didn’t anticipate were my speed and strength. I was a sixth-generation huntress from the revered Delacroix line, unmatched in skill in my class at the academy. Strong magic flowed in my veins. But as the vampires attacked, I kept my magic firmly locked away. I was here for more than just ridding the world of a few bloodsuckers.
Still, I grabbed my stakes, one in each hand, and braced myself. Ducking a fist meant for my face, my hand flashed out, burying the stake in a brunette vampire’s chest. Fangface tried to grab my hand, but it was too late. He keeled over backwards. Not hesitating, I kicked a screaming female vampire’s legs out from under her, sending her into the afterlife with a swift strike of my stake, and whirled around to punch a tall blond guy in the face, hearing his nose break with a satisfying crunch.
I was well aware of the movement behind me, of the vampire sneaking up on me. In fact, I was counting on it. I never saw his fist coming, but lights exploded in my head as I felt it connect to the side of my head. The floor reared up to greet my face. Before I could feel the impact, everything went mercifully dark. All according to plan.
Chapter Two
I woke up to blinding light, my head pounding as if it had been split open. Sucker did not hit like a girl. Ouch.
My hands tied to my back; I was seated on a hard chair in some back room of the club. I wriggled experimentally. I wasn’t going anywhere. At least not through conventional means. A delighted grin spread on my face as I recognized the copper haired, pale face in front of me. A glance around confirmed that we were alone. Good.
“Redmond! Just the man I was looking for.”
That got me a raised eyebrow. “So, you found me. Dare I ask who—”
“Ugh, really?” I interrupted. I angled my body a bit, indicating my right back pocket. “Listen, there’s a note in my jeans.”
Curious, Redmond stepped forward, his hand sliding into the tight compartment, his eyes never leaving my face. I blushed as I felt his fingers brush over my hip through the thin fabric of the pocket. In hindsight I should’ve put the letter elsewhere.
“Quinn Delacroix, Sprout of Alyria, Hawthorne Agency,” he read out loud. “What is this?”
