The Soul Stealer. Alex Archer
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Название: The Soul Stealer
Автор: Alex Archer
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Морские приключения
Серия: Gold Eagle Rogue Angel
isbn: 9781472085801
isbn:
“So, what is this Khosadam thing anyway?” Annja asked.
“She’s a Siberian goddess,” Bob replied.
“As in a deity?” Annja shook her head. “You realize how ludicrous that sounds. They actually think there’s a goddess stalking them?”
“That would be my impression, yes.”
“What—did she get bored with heaven or Olympus or wherever she was hanging out?”
“She was kicked out of heaven, actually,” Bob said. “By her husband, of all people.”
Annja grinned. “One step forward for women’s rights.”
“Don’t misunderstand it. Ec banished her for being unfaithful. She liked to cavort with the lesser deities and sometimes even mortals. She has another name as well,” Bob said, leading them into the nearby café.
A wall of heat slammed into Annja as she walked through the door. She could smell burned coffee and some other scents she didn’t recognize. Despite her unease with the entire situation, her mouth watered and she realized she was ravenous. “What’s her other name?” she asked.
“Eater of souls.”
Titles in this series:
Destiny
Solomon’s Jar
The Spider Stone
The Chosen
Forbidden City
The Lost Scrolls
God of Thunder
Secret of the Slaves
Warrior Spirit
Serpent’s Kiss
Provenance
The Soul Stealer
Rogue Angel™
The Soul Stealer
Alex Archer
Special thanks and acknowledgment to Jon Merz for his contribution to this work.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Epilogue
1
She was being followed.
Again.
Annja Creed sighed with an almost nonchalant grin as she felt the familiar feeling wash over her. As many times and as many places as she’d been, she could tell–without even turning around to confirm it–that someone was taking more than a passing interest in her.
Even here, she thought. Even in this remote industrial complex where the concrete was as gray as the cold sky overhead, she hadn’t managed to escape the eyes and ears of the locals.
The question, as always, was who was following her? Since arriving in Moscow and then taking the Siberian railroad to the northeast reaches of the former Soviet Union, Annja had kept what she thought was a low profile. She’d paid cash for her transactions. She’d used her new fake passport and booked her travels under a fake name. She’d even tossed her schedule out the window and lingered in several stops for far too long.
But it hadn’t worked.
She ran down the list of people in her head who might wish her harm and then frowned. The list was long and growing longer. Every new adventure seemed to add dozens of names to the roster of folks who thought the world would be a better place if perhaps Annja Creed wasn’t inhaling any more of its oxygen.
She passed the plate-glass windows of a department store advertising fashions so outdated that Annja wondered if anyone actually came in and requested them. She paused, however, and used the reflecting surface to look behind her.
Nothing.
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