Realm
Walker
Realm
Walker Series
Book
One
Kathleen
Collins
Genre: Urban Fantasy
Publisher: Carina Press
Date of Publication:
October 28, 2013
ISBN: 9781426896545
ASIN: B00E1V5S3S
Word Count: 76,000
Book
Description:
An estranged mate, a mangled body and a powerful
demon who calls her by name…
As a Realm Walker for the Agency, Juliana Norris
tracks deadly paranormal quarry using her unique ability to see magical
signatures. She excels at her job, but her friends worry about her mysterious
habit of dying in the line of duty without staying dead. That's only the first
of her secrets.
Most people don't know Juliana became the mate of
master vampire Thomas Kendrick before he abandoned her seven years ago. Most
people don't know the horrors she endured at the hands of the vampire he left
in command. Most people don't know her true parentage, or why a demon on a
world-threatening rampage has taken a personal interest in her…
Even as Juliana pursues the demon, it goes after all
she holds dear—including Thomas, who is back to claim her for his own. But if
she can't reconcile her past and learn to trust herself again, she will lose
him forever.
Available at Amazon
BN Harlequin Print
Realm
Walker Excerpt
Juliana Norris didn’t want to die in the cold
Canadian snow. Of course, she hadn’t wanted to die on the rain-slicked streets
of Bern, the cool sheets of her freshly made bed or the backwoods of Alabama
either, but that hadn’t stopped it from happening just the same.
Despite her grim thoughts, the odds of actually
freezing to death were low. The troll would kill her before she lasted that
long. She let out a laugh that sounded more like a snort. Gods, she was such a
pessimist. She blamed the weather.
Her breath formed a cloud around her face and ice
crystals in her nose. Her eyes burned, her fingers ached. For hours, she’d been
hunting the troll. Hours she was supposed to have been spending in the warm
Fiji sun drinking a Mai Tai and walking barefoot in the sand at a mermaid
coronation. The Agency called to tell her about the reassignment just as she’d
been ready to walk out the door. Damn, stupid flea-bitten troll.
Her only consolation was that she wasn’t here alone.
She’d conned her mentor at the Agency into coming with her by reminding him
that he still owed her for tracking down a band of feral pixies the month
before. Nathaniel West was a 150-year-old werewolf with an immunity to silver
and a wicked sense of humor. He’d taken her under his furry paw when the Agency
recruited her and he’d been looking after her ever since. Last she’d seen, he’d
been in full wolf form as he followed the troll’s path into the trees. All that
fur probably kept him warmer than she was at the moment.
She thrust her hands out in an angry gesture and
thought of fire. Flames sprang up before her in a thin line. Her spell,
mediocre at best, was enough to melt the foot-deep snow and harden the ground
beneath when it threatened to turn to mud. The warmth soaked through her jeans,
thawing her briefly before it disappeared, leaving the cold to seep into her
skin right to her bones. A brief thought of the idiot the Agency sent to Fiji
in her place had her gritting her teeth. She didn’t even know who it was, but
she doubted they deserved the sun and the sand more than she did. She always
pulled the crap assignments. Maybe if she quit being so cursed good at her job
they’d quit calling her.
Juliana needed to find her prey. She couldn’t go
home until she did and she didn’t intend to spend the night in the wilderness.
The beast had been making supper of the locals’ prize steers for months. Game
wardens had been looking for the troll with no success. After losing four cows
in a fortnight, the farmers complained to the right people and the Agency was
called in.
Once her target entered the heavily forested area,
it followed a well-worn game trail. The troll kept meandering off into the
trees, but she wasn’t even tempted to follow the three-toed tracks. She left
that to Nathaniel and his nose. Filling her lungs with crisp air, she forced
herself to relax and let her gift flare to life. Neon bands of color
immediately shrouded the landscape showing her the path of any creature
recently in the area. Apparently, there were a lot of gnomes in Eastern Canada.
Who knew?
Every being had a signature. A color uniquely
theirs. Juliana didn’t know anyone else who could see them. Which was why she
hunted the troll. It could cover its tracks all it wanted, but there was no way
it could hide from her.
As she followed the main path, she kept her eyes
locked on the landscape around her, searching for the troll’s earthy brown
signature or Nathaniel’s vibrant mix of yellow, brown and red that marked him
as a shifter. For a while she’d seen both paths intersecting as her friend
followed the trail laid by the beast, but she’d seen neither for some time.
Her line of sight shrank as the ground dropped away
over the edge of a hill. She paused and sucked in several deep breaths, wanting
to be in top form before she went farther. After a moment, she eased forward
again. Trolls were lethal opponents. If it snuck up on her, she’d be in more
trouble than a knight at a dragon rally. When she reached the top of the hill,
a clearing came into view below her. So did the troll.
Death’s
Daughter
Realm
Walker Series
Book
2
Kathleen
Collins
Genre: urban fantasy, paranormal romance
Publisher: Carina press
ISBN: 9781426898112
ASIN: B00GKBIR80
Word Count:
68,000
Book
Description:
Juliana Norris, Realm Walker with the Agency, is an
Altered. A fact that she runs up against every time she’s forced to work with
human police officers, and their species-ist commissioner, on cases they can’t
solve themselves. Which happens more than they would like to admit.
Her gift—the quality that makes her the best Realm
Walker in the business, without boast—is the ability to read magical
signatures. Whether the gift came from her father, the dark fae god of death,
or the mage mother she can’t remember, is anyone’s guess. And when Altered
children start going missing with only wild magical signatures as clues, her
heritage is the last thing on her mind.
She can’t afford such distractions, and she
definitely can’t afford to worry about the fact that her mate, master vampire
Thomas Kendrick, hasn’t spoken to her since she saved him from a demon—maybe
it’s because she had to stab him to do so. Because whoever is kidnapping these
children must be very powerful to wield wild magic. Very powerful, and very dangerous
indeed.
Available at Amazon
BN Harlequin Print
Death’s
Daughter Excerpt
In the warm afternoon light, a lone swing rocked
back and forth in a steady rhythm, its chains groaning a mournful dirge despite
the fact no one sat upon it. It hadn’t faltered once in the hour since the
child vanished. The fifth to disappear in three weeks. Each one taken in front
of at least a dozen witnesses who couldn’t recall a single thing later—no
details of when they’d last seen the child, nothing about any strangers hanging
around. They didn’t even recollect hearing a scream of protest. In this case,
every student and teacher on the playground had been distracted at the same
exact moment, but no one could remember by what when asked.
Police and technicians swarmed the steps of New Hope
Elementary and the courtyard in front. All of them instinctively avoided the
playground and the magic at work there. All except the figure that stood in the
far corner by the rusty swing set, hands in her pockets as the late-October
wind whipped around her, snatching at her clothes and carrying the scent of
burning leaves. Her hair was short but still long enough for her to catch an
occasional glimpse of the royal-blue streaks among the black as it blew into
her face. She tucked an errant strand behind one ear, but doubted it would stay
put for long.
A Realm Walker, an officer for the Agency, Juliana
Norris was here because the first policeman on the scene had called her
directly. This wasn’t the Agency’s investigation. Not yet, anyway. Her
involvement was strictly advisory until the commissioner climbed down from his
shiny pedestal long enough to admit local law enforcement wasn’t up to doing
the job on their own. While the victims thus far had been Altered, the perp
hadn’t been identified. Since it was possible a human was behind this,
Commissioner Phipps claimed jurisdiction. No one high enough at the Agency
cared enough to contradict him. Yet.
Her phone vibrated at her hip. She glanced at the
screen as she pulled it out—Ben Nichols, her boss. The initial kidnappings had
garnered so much attention in the Altered community he’d been forced to cut her
suspension short by a week—an action he hadn’t been happy to take at all. A
fact he reminded her of every day.
“Norris,” she answered and braced herself for
another reprimand.
“You haven’t filed a report. What’s your status?”
The clipped tone of his voice exhausted her. She was
tired of the daily conflict. “I haven’t filed a report because there is nothing
to report. We know nothing further than we did before.”
“I took you off suspension to get results, Norris.
So far I’m not impressed.”
“No, you took me off suspension because you didn’t
want to get shredded by the press for keeping the Walker with the best record
out of the game while the Thief does his hunting. You know I’m the most likely
to find him.”
There was a stretch of silence. “I know you are.
That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
He hung up and she slipped her phone back into her
pocket. Her insistence she was the best Walker for the job had nothing to do
with arrogance and everything to do with her particular blend of talents.
She possessed a gift that enabled her to see the
unique signature of any living being. A signature was a spectrum of colors that
told her exactly what type of creature an individual was, no matter how
artfully they might try to hide it. She could also see the signature of a spell
cast on anyone, or anything, other than herself. Whether the gift came from her
father, the dark fae god of death, or the mage mother she couldn’t remember,
was anyone’s guess.
Activating her gift made her eyes glow several
shades brighter than their normal emerald, so she kept them hidden behind a
pair of dark glasses. She studied the muddy brown of the stasis spell used on
the swing. This particular shade of brown marked it wild magic. Dangerous
magic. It also meant that whatever cast the spell wasn’t using his own power.
Wild magic belonged to no one; it simply existed. And its signature was strong
enough she hadn’t been able to get a read yet on what was doing the casting. It
could be a mage, a fae, a god or anything else with any kind of magic ability.
Which narrowed the suspect list down to about nine-tenths of the Altered
community.
What she did know was the magic took great power or
skill to wield. While it was better for everyone if they did, power and skill
didn’t necessarily go hand in hand. Maybe luck would be with them for once and
one of the bastard’s spells would backfire and fry him.
The
Making of Michael Bishop
A
Realm Walker Short Story
Kathleen
Collins
Genre: urban fantasy, dark fantasy
Date of Publication: August 30, 2014
ASIN: B00N5YWPCE
Number of pages: 20
Book
Description:
Keep your distance. Don't look him in the eye. Feed
him and leave.
Michael D'Augustino is a priest in the time of the
Inquisition. Marked as weak for his refusal to torture those charged with
sorcery, heresy, devil worship or worse, he's given another task. Feed the
prisoner in the cell in the darkest corner of the dungeon. With the edict comes
a set of instructions.
Ever obedient, Michael does exactly as he is told.
Until the night his charge doesn't eat and Michael has to enter the cell to
find out why. Instead of the beast he believes to be imprisoned there, he finds
a man. A broken, tormented man who asks for help.
But all is not as it seems and, before the night is
through, Michael will be changed forever.
Available at Amazon and BN
The
Making of Michael Bishop Excerpt
An unlit torch hung on the wall beside the cell and
Michael took the flint from the table beneath it. His hands shook as he tried
in vain to light the torch. Finally, it sparked and flared to life. With
trembling fingers, he pulled it from the wall and reopened the door. Stepping
quickly inside, he shut the door behind him and pressed his back to it. He
could not risk anything escaping, animal or otherwise.
Darkness recoiled from the flickering flame and
receded before him. There along the back wall a huddled form. Michael’s pulse
raced and his palms grew slick with moisture. He adjusted his grip on the
torch. He both anticipated and feared the moment the creature revealed itself.
“I can smell you, priest,” it said, without lifting
its head. When Michael didn’t respond, it looked up, squinting its eyes against
the light. Michael was careful not to meet its gaze directly. His father told
him the creature could ensnare with a look.
He was struck by how normal the man—the vampyr, he
corrected himself—looked. Emaciated from his captivity perhaps, but otherwise
his blond hair and dark eyes could have belonged to anyone. Any human. This was
not the beast Michael had been led to believe was imprisoned here. Was this
another innocent falsely accused? No, Michael had heard it kill and eat the
animals he brought to it. Whatever it was, it was not purely human. He needed
to remember that.
“You’re the timid one. If they sent you, they must
intend for me to live another day yet,” its abused voice croaked.
The creature’s words had an echo of the bishop in
them. Pointing out Michael’s flaws, his inability to hurt another as if it was
something to be ashamed of. “Why do you say that?”
“You feed me, heal me. You have never injured me.”
The voice sounded so pained, Michael cringed in sympathy. The creature detected
it, though it misinterpreted the cause. “You have no reason to fear me. You
have done me no wrong.”
“I am uncertain of that,” Michael said. “If I were a
merciful man, I would not continue to bring you food.”
The vampyr’s dark eyes studied him, the flickering
flame of the torch reflected in their depths. “Why do you say that?”
“They only heal you so they can torture you afresh
on the morrow. If I did not feed you, you would not heal and perhaps they would
leave you be. For a day at least.”
“Do you honestly believe that?”
Michael shook his head. If it didn’t heal, the
bishop would only torture it further to find out why. “Abomination you may be,
but no one deserves an existence of endless torture.”
The vampyr chuckled, a low sound, halting as if he’d
forgotten how to laugh. “Don’t be so sure of that, timid one. I can think of
many who deserve the punishment I have been given, even if I am not one of
them.”
Blood
Slave
Realm
Walker Series
Book
3
Kathleen
Collins
Book
Description:
Can she find a killer in a town where the basest
desires are allowed to run free?
There are zombies in the Dead Zone and Juliana
Norris is sent to take care of the problem. And for there to be zombies, there
had to be bodies. When vampires are found to be the culprits, Juliana is sent
undercover in the red light district of Kansas City. Lying to her mate, Thomas
Kendrick, isn’t something she wants to do, but she’s in another vampire’s
territory and Thomas would not be pleased. Besides, she’s more than capable of
doing the job and she needs to prove it to everyone. Most of all herself.
Charles Morgan is in control of the Kansas City
area, making a rich living off his various enterprises. Juliana goes undercover
at the strip club Lust and gets sucked into his dark, decadent world. More
victims turn up and the Agency is positive they’ve got their man, but Juliana
is not so sure. When the Agency refuses to listen, she reluctantly turns to
Thomas for help. He intervenes but finds Juliana unaware of the danger she is
in and discovers she may just be too deep for him to save.
Available at
Amazon
BN iTunes
Excerpt:
The zombie Pomeranian yipped at Nathaniel in between
growling and tugging at the leg of his jeans. Juliana pulled her foot back to
kick the creature away from her friend and made ready to bring her sword down
on it as soon as it was clear.
“Don’t,” Nathaniel protested as he held up a
still-clawed hand. “You might hurt it.”
Her brows arched up into her hairline. “That would
be the general idea.” The thing growled again and she looked down at it where
it was doing its utmost to gnaw a hole through Nathaniel’s jeans. And she
wasn’t entirely sure it would stop when it got to skin. I realize you have a
particu-lar kinship with all things canine, but it’s gnawing on your leg.”
“Just my jeans.” Now back in fully human form, he
bent and disengaged the dog from the denim.
“Easy there, boy. Good dog.” When the Pomeranian
continued to express its displeasure with the situation in general and
Nathaniel in particular, he lifted the beast above his head, looked at it nose
to nose and growled back. Evidently recognizing an alpha even in its altered
state, the dog curled in on itself and whimpered before darting its tongue out
to lick Nathaniel’s nose. Juliana grimaced. Zombie breath couldn’t be pretty.
“See, he doesn’t mean any harm,” her friend said as
he tucked the abomination under one arm. Their scruffy brown hair made them
look surprisingly similar.
She blinked at him in disbelief before taking
another look at the creature in question. When she bent closer, it growled and
she straightened with a huff. “She.”
“What?”
“She. Name tag says Fifi. Last time I checked that
was a girl’s name.”
Nathaniel snorted in derision. “Fifi. What a prissy
name.”
“Hate to break it to you, partner, but that is a
prissy dog. And it smells like mold.”
About
the Author:
Kathleen Collins lives and works in Missouri. By
day, she labors in the local prosecutor's office. At night she writes while
surrounded by her husband, two boys and two loveable mutts. She is constantly
thinking of her next project and loves to connect with her readers. You can
find her most often on Facebook or on her website.
@kathy_collins
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