Praise for
CAMERON HALEY
and the Underworld cycle
âFast pacing, pungent wit, surprise twists, thoughtful discussions of morality and escalating, cinematic battles keep the pages turning.â
âPublishers Weekly (starred review) on Mob Rules
âWith so much urban fantasy currently on the market, itâs hard for a reader to find anything that feels âfresh.â Mob Rules feels fresh. I read it with the same sense of enjoyment and discovery that I felt when the first Tanya Huff and Laurell K. Hamilton fantasies came out years ago.â
âFresh Fiction
âMob Rules is exciting and fresh, with a complex and conflicted heroine who grabs your attention and doesnât let go. This book will make you fall in love with urban fantasy all over again!â
âDiana Rowland, author of Mark of the Demon
âGangsters and vampires, ghosts and sorcerers, and the mean streets of L.A. Add to the mix a woman who can definitely take care of herself, a plot full of twists and some clever magic, and youâve got Mob Rules. And a whole lot of fun.â
âJohn Levitt, author of the Dog Days series
âDomino is a new and interesting character for the urban fantasy world and I want to seeâ¦even more horrible, horrible things happen to her. Because she is the most interesting when horrible, horrible things are happening.â
âDreams and Speculation on âRetributionâ in Harvest Moon
âHaley is definitely an author to watch!â
âRT Book Reviews on âRetributionâ in Harvest Moon
It was raining when Terrence Cole buried his soldiers. A late summer downpour was the rarest of miracles in Los Angeles, and I watched as the fresh mounds of earth beside the open graves slowly turned to mud.
Terrence stood in the center of the small, black-clad crowd, his head bowed and his hands clasped in front of him. He didnât have an umbrella, and the rain glistened on the coffee-colored skin of his shaved head. It trickled down his forehead and along his temples, and the wetness on his cheeks almost looked like tears.
The service drew to a close, the coffins were lowered into the damp earth and the mourners quickly dispersed. I wasnât sure if they were fleeing the elements or the sense of helplessness and despair that hung over the gathering. Probably both. I went to him when Terrence stood alone by the graves.
âDomino,â he said, âI appreciate you being here.â Stylish narrow sunglasses covered his eyes, but his head remained bowed and I didnât think heâd looked up as I approached.
âIâm sorry about your guys, Terrence. I just found out about it today.â
He nodded, not at me but at the graves. âThese two here were my nephews.â
âJesus, Terrence, if Iâd known, maybe I could haveââ
âTheir moms was my favorite sister. Used to be. Now she just want to see my funeral.â
âYouâre not responsible for this.â
Terrence took off the glasses and lifted his head. There were dark circles under his eyes, and he had the look of a man on the run who knows heâs all out of places to hide. âI brought them in. Thought it was the best way to keep them safe, thought I could protect them.â He shook his head and the corner of his mouth twitched.
âWhat happened?â
âThey didnât even have any juice. Mobley put a posse on them just to send me a message.â
Francis Mobley ran the largest Jamaican outfit in the city. Heâd been aligned with Terrenceâs former boss, but now he saw the outfit Terrence had inherited as a target, an opportunity to expand his territory. Mobley was brutal, but I knew the executions hadnât just been a message. The hits would have given Mobley a lot of juice and heâd be planning to use it for something even worse.
It was old-school gang warfare. With magic returning to the world in force, the stronger outfits had more juice than they knew what to do with. Back in the day it hadnât been like that. There hadnât been enough magic to go around, and the L.A. outfits fought for whatever piece of it they could get. Theyâd used tactics like thisâone seemingly pointless act of violence feeding juice to the nextâto move against their rivals. It was like a game of leapfrog played with murders.
My outfit was the strongest in the city and we didnât have to resort to those tactics to take care of business. But there was still something in it for a smaller, weaker outfit, as long as the guy calling the shots didnât let anything like conscience get in the way. Iâd never heard Francis Mobley had much of a conscience.
âYouâre my ally, Terrence. Give the word and Iâll crush that motherfucker like a bug.â
âThen what, Domino? You gonna move on the Koreans? Word is they want a piece of me, too.â
I hadnât known about the Koreans, but Terrence was right. As much as I liked the idea of hitting back at Mobley, he was a symptom and not the disease. Taking him out wouldnât make the problem go away. The problem was Terrenceâs outfit was too small and too weak to protect itself. It wouldnât survive for longâand never mind that it was weak mostly because of what Iâd done to it a couple months ago. If it wasnât Mobley, someone else would move in to cull the herd. Thatâs the way it worked, and if I put my personal feelings aside, I knew thatâs the way it should work. There was no room for weakness in the underworld.