Even when I'm not chasing kidnappers, I don't keep normal hours. I'm a journalist; late nights, burnt coffee, and energy potions come with the territory. When I get lost in a story or deep in pre-publication crunch time, I can't quit just because the sun's been down for eight hours.
So when my best friend called me well after midnight to say she was being followed, I was already halfway out the door before the call could be hexed.
I wasn't fast enough. By the time I arrived she was gone; vanished from within an impenetrable magical ward.
Now I'm running out of time to discover who took her and why. There's no time for sleep: The clock is ticking, my leads are thin, and the few confidants I've got aren't playing straight with me. The monsters and thugs scurrying around the city won't make clue gathering any easier.
At the start, I was afraid that if I didn't find her fast, she'd wind up dead. Now I know that if I don't get her back in time, her death will just be the start.
