Bloodring

“A bold interpretation of the what-might-be. . . .With a delicate weaving of magic and scripture, Faith Hunter left me wondering: What's a woman to do when she falls in love with a seraph's child?”—Kim Harrison

 
“Entertaining . . . outstanding supporting characters . . . the strong cliff-hanger of an ending bodes well for future adventures.”—
Publishers Weekly

 
“The cast is incredible. . . . Fans of postapocalypse fantasies will appreciate this superb interpretation of the endless end of days.”—
Midwest Book Review

 
“Hunter's distinctive future vision offers a fresh though dark glimpse into a newly made postapocalyptic world. Bold and imaginative in approach, with appealing characters and a suspense-filled story, this belongs in most fantasy collections.”—
Library Journal

 
“It's a pleasure to read this engaging tale about characters connected by strong bonds of friendship and family. Mixes romance, high fantasy, apocalyptic and postapocalyptic adventure to good effect.”—
Kirkus Reviews

 
“Hunter's very professionally executed, tasty blend of dark fantasy, mystery, and romance should please fans of all three genres.”—
Booklist

 
“Entertaining . . . a promising new series. . . . Steady pacing, dashes of humor, and a strong storyline coupled with a great ending neatly setting up the next adventure make this take on the apocalypse worth checking out.”

—Monsters and Critics

 
“Enjoyable . . . a tale of magic and secrets in a world gone mad.”—
Romantic Times

 
“The world [Hunter] has created is unique and bleak. . . .
Seraphs
is an action pick, exciting science fiction thriller.”—
Midwest Book Review

 
“Continuing the story begun in
BloodRing
, Hunter expands on her darkly alluring vision of a future in which the armies of good and evil wage their eternal struggle in the world of flesh and blood. Strong characters and a compelling story.”—
Library Journal

 
“This thrilling dark fantasy has elements of danger, adventure, and religious fanaticism, plus sexual overtones. Hunter's impressive narrative skills vividly describe a changed world, and she artfully weaves in social commentary . . . a well-written, exciting novel.”

—
Romantic Times

 
Host

 
“Hunter's world continues to expand in this highly original fantasy with lively characters where nothing can ever be taken for granted.”—
Publishers Weekly

 
“Hunter has created a remarkable interpretation of the aftermath of Armageddon in which angels and devils once again walk the earth and humans struggle to find a place. Stylish storytelling and gripping drama make this a good addition to most fantasy collections.”

—
Library Journal

 
“Readers will admire [Thorn's] sacrifice placing others before herself. ... Fans will enjoy reading about the continuing end of days.”—
Midwest Book Review

 
“With fast-paced action and the possibility of more romance, this is an enjoyable read with an alluring magical touch.”—Darque Reviews

The Rogue Mage Novels by Faith Hunter

BLOODRING
SERAPHS
HOST

ROC
Published by New American Library, a division of
Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street,
New York, New York 10014, USA
Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto,
Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)
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Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.)
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Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.)
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New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.)
Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue,
Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa

Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices:
80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

Published by Roc, an imprint of New American Library, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc. Previously published in a Roc trade paperback edition.

First Roc Mass Market Printing, November 2008

Copyright © Faith Hunter, 2006

ISBN : 978-1-1012-1289-9

All rights reserved

Some scripture quotations taken from the Amplified
^®
Bible, copyright © 1954, 1958, 1962, 1964, 1965, 1987 by The Lockman Foundation. Used by permission. (
www.Lockman.org
)

REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA

 

Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

PUBLISHER'S NOTE

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author's rights is appreciated.

To my Renaissance Man

Many thanks to:

My Renaissance Man, for encouragement and the right word at the right time.

Kim, for support, for friendship, for making three great suggestions, and for tea breaks.

Mary, Fazelle and Nova, and Kipper, for the stones and the great time “prospecting.”

Ben, for the martial arts stuff.

Matthew, for keeping my Enclave bearable.

Ken and Don Waldroup at Peoples Furniture and John Wellborn in Spruce Pine, NC.

 
My agents:

Lucienne Diver, for believing in me and in this bizarre world I created, and for saying, “This is the sexiest book. . . .”

Jeff Gerecke, for guiding me in the right direction.

 
Finally and profoundly, to my editor, Liz Scheier, for making me think—and write—darker, faster, and leaner. This has been the
most
FUN!

 
And the sound of the wings of the cherubim was
heard even to the outer court, as the voice of God
Almighty when he speaketh.

 
And I looked, and behold, four wheels beside the cherubim, one wheel beside one cherub, and another wheel beside another cherub; and the appearance of the wheels was like unto a beryl stone.

 
As for the wheels, they were called in my hearing, the whirling wheels.

 
And when the cherubim went, the wheels went beside them; and when the cherubim lifted up their wings to mount up from the earth, the wheels also turned not from beside them.

 
—Ezekiel 10:1, 5, 9, 13-14, 16

I
stared into the hills as my mount clomped below me, his massive hooves digging into snow and ice. Above us a fighter jet streaked across the sky, leaving a trail that glowed bright against the fiery sunset. A faint sense of alarm raced across my skin, and I gathered up the reins, tightening my knees against Homer's sides, pressing my walking stick against the huge horse.

A sonic boom exploded across the peaks, shaking through snow-laden trees. Ice and snow pitched down in heavy sheets and lumps. A dog yelped. The Friesian set his hooves, dropped his head, and kicked. “Stones and blood,” I hissed as I rammed into the saddle horn. The boom echoed like rifle shot. Homer's back arched. If he bucked, I was a goner.

I concentrated on the bloodstone handle of my walking stick and pulled the horse to me, reins firm as I whispered soothing, seemingly nonsense words no one would interpret as a chant. The bloodstone pulsed as it projected a sense of calm into him, a use of stored power that didn't affect my own drained resources. The sonic boom came back from the nearby mountains, a ricochet of man-made thunder.

The mule in front of us hee-hawed and kicked out, white rimming his eyes, lips wide, and teeth showing as the boom reverberated through the farther peaks. Down the length of the mule train, other animals reacted as the fear spread, some bucking in a frenzy, throwing packs into drifts, squealing as lead ropes tangled, trumpeting fear.

Homer relaxed his back, sidestepped, and danced like a young colt before planting his hooves again. He blew out a rib-racking sigh and shook himself, ears twitching as he settled. Deftly, I repositioned the supplies and packs he'd dislodged, rubbing a bruised thigh that had taken a wallop from a twenty-pound pack of stone.