Institute of Supernaturals: Savage Book 1
Chapters
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
1I slid onto the stool at the bar, waving the handsome bartender over as I pulled my leather jacket tighter around my shoulders.
“What can I get you?” the bartender asked, his deep blue eyes a few shades darker than my azure pair.
“Rum and coke,” I said smoothly, sighing as I crossed my legs. I played with the hole in my tights just over my knee, scowling at the millionth pair of leggings damaged thanks to my line of work.
My stiletto heels only added to my carefully selected outfit, and I was turning heads. Good.
I smiled as the bartender handed me my drink, and I could see the hope and desire evident in those eyes as he gave me another once over.
He wished.
Too bad he wasn’t my type.
I sighed as I sipped my drink, twirling a strand of delicate blonde hair around my finger as I scanned the bustling bar.
It reeked of men, beer, and cigarettes. The air was thick and heavy with their sweat and body odor, mingled with other various undesirable aromas. I was almost tempted to take off my jacket from the heat in here, but I didn’t want to draw all the attention to me.
“What’s a fine young lady like you doing in such a charming establishment such as this?” a bulky biker man drawled as he strode over from the nearby pool table. All his friends were grinning and undressing me with their eyes.
How charming.
“Not talking to men like you,” I retorted, giving him a sweet smile. He was built like a beast, tattoos lining those meaty arms and even his neck that was just visible over his stained grey tank. He had on a leather vest that looked like it had seen better days, and his jeans were torn, not in a fashionable sense.
His hungry dirt brown eyes rolled over me once more, before he actually interpreted my words. What a buffoon, with his balding head that glinted in the dingy lighting.
I kinda wished I’d worn some slightly better shoes so I could land a decent kick to the crotch if needed, but I liked my heels.
“Well, guess this little one has quite the wit,” he chuckled. “I like you.”
“And I don’t fucking like you,” I growled softly. The stench of cigarettes and beer wafted from his clothing, hell, it was like it came from his skin, and it made my nose burn from how close he was standing. How many cigarettes did he burn a day? A thousand? Fuck, he reeked.
“Well, that’s not nice,” he scowled, his mouth pulling back into a snarl, revealing his yellowing and stained teeth.
Yep, total charmer.
“Guess she’s not your type.”
My mouth pulled into a sly smile at the velvety smooth voice.
Finally, I’d been waiting in this shithole long enough.
“Let me guess, she’s yours,” the burly man growled as he turned to the newcomer.
I ran my eyes over the smaller, lean man and his dashingly good looks. Definitely my type right there, with that pale complexion and straight jawline. Those dark eyes were black as night, and as I gave him a once over, I focused on the dark black aura radiating off him.
Just the man I was after.
Those dark eyes turned and fixated on me, and that perfect smile curved into a delicious smirk as they rolled over me, and my lady parts reacted in a naughty way.
Yep, I could have this one.
“Well, the wee lady is off limits to a scrawny thing like you,” the burly man chuckled, and his crew of bikers behind him snorted and laughed with him.
“Thanks baldy, but I’m with him,” I quipped as I jabbed a thumb at the dazzling man.
Baldy grimaced at my words, and growled as he stepped towards me.
“Now, let’s not do that,” the handsome man murmured as he stepped before me.
I loved watching as the bigger man stopped in his tracks, hit by the deadly vibe radiating off this man. I could feel it from here, he was really working up his aura, sending off a dark vibe to the men around him.
Baldy hesitated before he shrugged and turned away.
“Little bitch ain’t worth it,” he muttered as he returned to his pool game.
I was almost tempted to say something, to start something that would get my blood pumping, but instead the lean man turned to me, his dark eyes trailing over me once more.
“Name’s Zac,” he said as he offered me his hand.
“Call me Sav,” I smiled sweetly and took his hand, intending to shake it.
He drew my hand up to his cool lips and planted a kiss on my knuckles.
“What is a fine lady like you doing in a dump like this?” he murmured, unable to take his eyes off me.
“Waiting for my prince charming,” I giggled. Delight and satisfaction spread through those dark eyes, and I smirked inwardly.
Gotcha.
“Well, how about we go somewhere a little nicer than this?” he suggested smoothly as he helped me off my stool.
“I’d like that,” I purred, allowing him to wrap an arm around my shoulders as he caught a peek down the front of my black crop top.
I’d have my way with him, just like he wanted.
And then I’d continue with my work like a good girl.
We pushed through the grimy door and out into the cool night air, and I drew the refreshing stench-free air into my lungs to flush out the foul odors that had infiltrated my nose.
“So, where would you like to go?” Zac asked, his voice low as he ducked his head to murmur into my ear.
My body reacted instantly, and I turned to look at him, biting my lip.
I tugged on his arm gently, wondering if he’d give in and allow me to lead him.
A devious smirk spread across his face, and I gave him a seductive smile as I led him around the side of the old brick building and into the alley.
I wanted to fuck him. That was the plan.
“I want to have you,” I purred once we’d slipped into the shadows.
“How so?” he asked, his voice laced with amusement.
I shoved him against the wall, pleased when he allowed me to do so. I wouldn’t deny that he was strong, but he seemed just as interested in me as I was him.
I caught that hungry mouth of his in mine, biting his lower lip aggressively and drawing a deep moan from him.
His hands tangled in my shoulder length blonde hair, and his desperate kiss made my legs shake as my body reacted in all kinds of ways.
I knew it was wrong, how my body always wanted more than it should. And yet I wanted to screw him until I was engulfed with utter bliss.
And I knew he could give me that.
I slid my hands down his toned chest. It was a shame he was so handsome, but it certainly made sense with what I knew. With his black top, denim jacket and jeans, he was a devilish little sight.
Fuck worthy.
I ran my fingers along his waistband, moaning as he moved from kissing my mouth to suckling on my neck. I focused so as not to allow my breathing to hitch.
“What are you?” Zac moaned as his hands moved down to my black denim shorts and began unbuttoning them.
Why did they always seem to ask that? What did it mean, anyway?
“A horny chick,” I growled. That should be good enough.
I felt him smirk against my neck, but then he was sliding my shorts down with my stockings and black panties.
Good, I was desperate for some action.
Next time, I’d wear a skirt and no stockings to make my life a hell of a lot easier.
I undid his jeans and unbuckled his belt, loving how his cool length bounced forth, desperate to enter me.
Don’t worry, that was the plan. I loved a good fuck before work.
“How should we do this?” he groaned as his fingers brushed against my inner thigh.
I turned away from him, bending over so he could have full access. I didn’t have to say a word as he slammed into me. I was just grateful I’d already been wet and horny as hell, otherwise that would’ve hurt.
I sighed in delight as I rocked back against him, loving the feel of him driving himself deep inside me.
He gripped my hips painfully, those cool fingertips bruising my skin as he pounded into me with soft grunts and moans.
I moved my hands to cover his, not sure what to really do with them right now.
I quivered as I felt my own bliss building up inside me, and then came the moment I was waiting for.
He gripped the back of my jacket and yanked me up, chuckling cruelly into my ear.
“You sure are a horny fuck, I’m going to hate to have to drain you,” he murmured against my ear.
I gasped as those fangs sunk into my neck, the orgasm ripping through me with violent trembles as he hammered into me still.
I bet he liked to have his girls fully before he killed them. Use them like toys, having his way completely until he was done.
I remained in his deadly grip, savoring the last of my ecstatic bliss as my body slowly ceased quivering and writhing. I loved getting a vampire to bite me, it brought on the climax so quickly.
But now it was time for work.
I whimpered softly as I pretended to claw pathetically at his arm around my waist. His other hand was wrapped around my chest, holding me in place as he drank.
My fingers found the hilt of my weapon under my tank top, carefully hidden from sight and sheathed up along my back. It was
squished against his chest, but I could still access it.
I tugged it loose, hearing Zac growl as he realized something was going on. Too bad he couldn’t seem to stop feeding. Vampires always loved me.
I slammed his arm up and over my head as I spun in his grip, his dick being yanked painfully out of me and now pressing into my hip.
“Sorry,” I smirked as I drove the blade through his ribs.
He shrieked as he released me and fell back against the wall, his undone jeans pooling around his knees making him trip.
I reached down and pulled up my panties, stockings, and shorts. I’d barely started doing them up as Zac exploded into a pile of ash. A soft breeze toyed with his remains, scattering them down the alley.
I knelt down beside the mess left of him, and plucked the silver kris dagger out of the ashes. Its wavy blade was littered with unique runes and hummed with a soft energy right after the kill.
A rare blade given to me by my father, capable of killing nearly anything.
Normally you had to properly stake or behead a vampire, but not with this blade. It could kill them if you struck them in the heart, bringing death instantly. Guess it was like staking them, although the belief was that it could only be a wooden stake. But I knew for a fact that silver worked too. Staking did take a little longer to kill them though, not instantaneous like my wicked little kitsune blade. That was what my father had called it when he gave it to me.
I dusted the ash off it and carefully slid it back into the sheath tucked away on my back.
I reached into my jacket pocket and plucked out my phone as I stood up and smoothed out my clothing.
At least I’d gotten a good orgasm out of him first.
I touched my neck where some blood was smeared, grimacing as I reached into my other pocket for the napkin I’d knowingly grabbed from the bar earlier.
My father didn’t know about my unique way of killing my prey, he was happy as long as it was done. I figured it wasn’t his business if I
screwed most of them first, depending on how dangerous I deemed them.
I dialed the number and waited patiently.
“Get him?” my father’s gruff voice greeted me on the other end.
“Yep, he’s dead,” I said nonchalantly.
“Good, he’s been murdering so many young girls lately, the supes are getting bolder,” he growled, and I could just picture him fuming.
I didn’t say a word as he muttered and then sighed.
“Good job,” he finally said. “Your brother is still dealing with a werewolf a few hours away. What will you do for the rest of the night?”
I glanced back at the way I’d come, contemplating returning to the bar. I scrunched up my nose and decided against it. I could just go back to my hotel and do some more research for supes in the area.
“I’ll head back, nothing else for me here,” I said as I glanced down at my stockings. Ugh, the vamp had ripped them even more. I was getting sick of having to always replace them.
“Good work, keep it up. If I catch wind of anything, I’ll let you know.” With that, he hung up.
There was never any ‘I love you, be safe.’
Guess that was partially because I wasn’t his real daughter.
Well, I wouldn’t get hung up on it.
Maybe if I went back into the bar, I could find some poor soul to return to my place with me? Nah. Humans were no fun, supes always got me off nice and quick.
Too bad I had to kill them.
I spun on my heels and headed back the way I’d come, leaving my night’s work in the alley.
My panties were a mess, but at least he hadn’t finished in me. Although, that was quite common for me. I orgasmed easy, and fucking my prey always made it so much more fun. Half the time they wouldn’t even finish before I ended them.
Why did I toy with death? Knowing that they were killers and I could be next?
I had no idea. Maybe it was that thrill it gave me, the risk. My father and brother had trained me well, and I was one hell of a fighter, but I could always best my brother in any combat. I was faster and stronger for some strange reason, so maybe that’s why I enjoyed putting my life on the line for a good screw.
I tightened my jacket around my shoulders, pleased with my success as I turned the corner out of the alley. Time to find something new to hunt and fuck.
2Leon.
“Wonder who got to him?” Wesley said as he knelt down beside me. My brother, Damien, stood behind me with Tristan.
The pile of ash was barely visible now, having been blown through the alley on a soft breeze.
“I’m guessing the huntress we were told to look out for,” Tristan muttered as he let out a loud sigh.
“Well, at least he’s dead. We don’t need him exposing supes. These rogues are getting more common,” I sighed as I pushed off my knees and stood up.
“Yeah, but she’s killed more than just rogues,” Wesley said with a scowl as he stood, his fiery red hair a vibrant sight in the darkened alley. Not to mention his bright red jacket. He really cared little for stealth.
“I know,” I murmured, testing the air again. There it was. That strange scent, barely there. I couldn’t place it, it was some kind of supe, but nothing I’d ever encountered before, which was saying something.
“Smells like sex,” Tristan smirked as he glanced around us.
“Probably the vamp, he liked to have sex with his victims while he drained them,” Damien finally spoke up.
“Did he do it with the huntress then?” Tristan snorted.
“Well, being a huntress, surely she knew who he was,” I murmured, shifting uneasily. Judging from the mingled scents of sex still evident, that was what it appeared like. But why, if she was hunting him?
Was it part of her hunting? Sex? No. That was absurd. He must have caught her by surprise, that made more sense. Forced himself upon her.
So why could I smell a female orgasm?
This was so strange.
“Well, Mr Oxley said we should find her and deal with her. She’s causing too many issues in the supernatural community,” Damien reminded me.
“I know, there’s just something strange about all this,” I murmured as I frowned at the pile of ash.
“I really want to know what went down,” Tristan snickered.
“You can ask before we put her down,” Wesley shrugged as he smoothed his fiery red hair back. It had a mind of its own sometimes, almost like true fire. Guess that was just a part of the supe he was.
“Well, let’s get down to tracking her then,” Damien said, always the one to get straight down to business. He liked to do his job and be done with it. A straight cut and dry guy.
He drew in a deep breath, his nostrils flaring. Seeing his green eyes glow ever so softly in the darkened alley made my mouth curve up. And to think we were twins. Me with my golden locks and blue eyes, and him with his mess of raven-black hair and emerald eyes. Sure, our facial features were a little similar, but that was where our similarities ended.
We were nothing alike.
I sniffed the air as well, locking onto the scent of the huntress. She smelt sweet, like the forest and flowers mixed with something exotic and sensual. Great. I could already tell she was going to be a beauty.
“Start with all the motels, right?” Tristan said as he folded his arms. “That’s where most hunters stay while on their hunts.”
I nodded, ignoring his sly smirk. He was intrigued to meet this huntress and learn more about her.
Hell, even I was curious.
We headed back to the black Jeep, Damien taking the passenger seat while I climbed into the driver’s seat. As I started up my trusty little steed, I wondered just what would greet us when found this huntress.
3
I stepped out of the shower and dried my hair with the towel as goosebumps prickled my skin. Tonight was a little chillier than I would’ve preferred.
I wrapped my hair up and strutted out into my room, completely naked as I let myself air dry.
I sat down on the end of my dingy bed, flipping my laptop open. I had a police scanner app installed on my phone thanks to my dad, so I switched it on. This town wasn’t small, and the next one over was even bigger. Supes were getting careless lately, more and more of them popping up on the radar, murdering and leaving a trail. I was lucky, my father had said I came from a special line of hunters, which meant I could see the aura of supes. And depending on the color, I could distinguish what they were.
Black was normally a vampire, although if it had some ugly yellow streaks in it, that could also mean a ghoul. Yellow pulsing auras were werewolves, and all other shifters had a similar aura but less vibrant. Werewolves were the true shifters of the world. Occasionally I’d find a witch with their purple hue, but they were fairly harmless, so I ignored them. My father had even worked with them on occasion.
I trawled through deaths in the area, looking through police reports for any alarming notes.
Nothing so far, but the night was still young. I preferred to sleep during the day, what little I did sleep. The night was the best time to have fun.
And I wouldn’t lie, I had a sex drive on me that made me wonder if I was addict. I could never get enough.
The thought of capturing myself a vampire and chaining him up somewhere was tempting, but I chuckled and shoved the naughty thought away. Vamps were fun, their bites added to the euphoria, but all supes had their own special effect on me.
I wondered if it worked like that on other humans too?
I hummed softly as I continued my reading, only stopping to throw on some underwear and a tank top before sitting back down.
I shot my brother a quick text to see how his hunt was going. If he was having trouble, maybe I’d make the drive to help him out.
I bounced my foot impatiently as I flicked from report to report, praying for something to show up.
A drowning, a murder suicide, a gunshot wound to the head, hit by a car.
Mauled by a dog.
Finally, this one could be something.
I eyed the report, finding myself deflating when it stated the attack was seen by a neighbor. Their own doberman had turned on them, a pet for years. So unlikely to be a shifter.
I scowled as I closed my laptop and pursed my lips. Maybe I’d head out and find a nicer bar to pick up someone fun. He’d have his work cut out for him, I liked to go for the whole night if I could.
I smirked to myself at this. Rarely had I found a guy who could continue going with me, round after round of utter bliss.
Yep, I was definitely an addict.
We all had to have hobbies.
Mine was sex.
Well, that and combat, if you could call it a hobby. I loved practicing and training in deserted areas, such as skate parks at night. They were a favorite of mine.
My family, cousins of my father and brother, were renowned hunters, skilled and powerful. Apparently they had witch lines in them, giving them more of an edge. Not that I’d ever met a witch who could out power me.
I frowned as footsteps sounded outside my door, and I stiffened when they came to a halt outside my room.
Maybe fangy wasn’t alone.
Good. Maybe I could seduce them for a round before I killed them.
My eyes flicked to my dagger on the bedside table. I’d just given it a clean before my shower, but hell, if it had to be done, it had to be done.
I just watched silently, a smile playing on my lips as I heard someone trying to pick my door. Twatnugget. I hadn’t even locked it. It swung open as the dashingly handsome, tall supe tested the handle, smirking down at the glowingly gorgeous blond who was crouched down with his pick tools in hand.
All eyes fell on me, and I glanced down at my lack of clothing. My tank top was rather revealing, and my lacy black panties left little to the imagination.
Well, what’d they expect? Breaking into my room at night.
“Um…” The blond model looked completely surprised as I sat with my legs crossed on the end of the bed, watching them curiously. I sensed four of them before I even spotted the other two when they stepped into view.
Hell, I was under attack by some sexy band of porn stars. Yep. This was definitely a dream coming true.
How would they feel about a five-some? Was that what you’d call it?
“Should’ve tried it first,” I said as I stood up. “I rarely lock the door.”
“That’s pretty stupid,” the dark-eyed devil in the back said. He looked the slightest bit similar to the blond standing at the forefront, although he was taller than the blond.
Related maybe?
The fiery redhead with them was ogling my bare, slender legs, and the tall, dark and handsome man was undressing me with his eyes.
Yep, totally a fuckable bunch.
“You’re telling me this little blonde thing is the huntress?” the tall, dark and handsome guy smirked. Damn, he was a devilish sight to behold. His dark brown hair was slicked back and cut short on the sides. He was clean shaven, pulling off the one pierced ear look like a daring young biker from hell. And that slightly upturned nose only added to his hotness. A quick glance into that black and red aura revealed a tasty little treat.
Demons were monsters in bed. How fun.
Blondie and his dark-haired relation were ‘wolves, going by their vibrant yellow auras, although there was a strange white glow in there, something I hadn’t dealt with before. Interesting. They were both utterly delicious to look at. So different and yet so similar.
But it was the fiery redhead that I struggled to place. His aura was a golden burst with flickering flames. Now that was intriguing.
Just who were this merry band of supes?
“Of course it’s her, it’s her scent,” the raven-haired man growled to the blond.
“She’s small,” the redhead murmured, and I scoffed.
“That’s what she said,” I muttered to myself, and all four of them looked at me with a range of amusement to confusion. The demon was amused, his companions were more confused.
“So, before we get to the fighting and killing, anyone down to fuck?” I got right to the point.
Blondie choked as the demon snorted and muttered ‘I knew it’, while the raven-haired man looked out of place, and the fiery little guy couldn’t decide how to take my proposal.
“You screwed the vamp?” the demon asked.
“Why not? Vamps are good at sex,” I shrugged, noting how the demon’s dark chocolate eyes slid to the bite-mark on my neck. It would be healed up by the morning, I healed fast from supe related things. A special hunter line I guess.
“You killed him though,” the redhead said. He was the shortest of the bunch, with the demon being the tallest, then the raven-haired man, then blondie.
“He was killing, it’s my job,” I shrugged. Just like it was my job to kill them. Ugh. Four against one was going to be a pain. If I could lure them into bed, then I might even my odds a bit. Kill them off slowly.
“I can’t take you seriously with no pants on,” blondie said as he shook his head.
“I can take everything off.” I smirked, and the demon grinned widely at this. Yep, he’d be a lot of fun.
“I don’t understand what’s happening,” the raven-haired man said.
“Call me Sav, I’m a huntress. I’ll probably have to kill you all, but we can fuck first if you’d like?” I said as I sat back down on the bed and inspected my nails.
“What the fuck?” the redhead muttered.
“Name’s Tristan,” the demon said, earning him a punch in the arm by raven guy.
“So we’re sharing names now with the chick who wants to kill us?” blondie groaned, but he was frowning at me with the most stupefied look on his godly face.
“And fuck,” I shrugged as I caught blondie’s mortified eyes. Such strong facial features too. A perfectly straight nose, high cheekbones, strong jawline, clean shaven. Those bright blues eyes were whirling with utter disbelief at the situation. Yep, he’d be a good one to play with.
His dark-haired counterpart had the same facial features, but thinner lips than his blond companion, and he wore a sexy as hell stubble line along the edges of his jaw. His hair was a ruffled mess, while blondie’s was side-swept. And he looked like he was lost, uncertain as to what to do.
“So, you rape your victims before you kill them?” the red-haired man said. He looked to be the youngest of the bunch too, probably a year or two younger than me. I was twenty-three, so he had to be roughly twenty-one.
I scoffed as I shook my head. “Rape? Ha! As if they don’t want it. I’d never force it, but I will admit, I’ve never had a guy turn me down,” I smirked.
“I can’t believe you fuck and kill,” the redhead murmured.
“Most just fuck and run,” Tristan chuckled.
“Why the fuck are we talking to her?” Raven man growled.
So many fucks to give. I could enjoy these guys.
“So, any takers on the sex? My last guy tried to kill me before we could do a whole lot,” I sighed. “I promise not to kill anyone until afterwards?” I said with a soft pout. I doubted I’d keep that promise, as I’d like to even the odds, but sex with one of these guys sounded good. Hell, all of them would be amazing.
“How about you don’t kill us at all?” blondie shook his head in shock.
“Hey, I’m keen,” Tristan said as he pushed through the doorway and into my room.
“You dickhead,” Raven-haired man reached out to catch him by the back of his collar.
“What are you?” Blondie asked as he stepped into the room as well.
“I swear they all ask that,” I said as I shook my head.
“You’re a huntress?” the red-haired guy said, and I gave him a dumb look.
“You’re not human,” blondie said matter-of-factly.
“I am, I just come from a special line of hunters,” I shot back instantly. As if he’d understand.
“No, you’re supernatural, I can tell,” blondie argued as he crossed his arms.
“I think I’d know if I was,” I said with an eye roll. They were trying to get me on their side.
Like that would work.
Guess I wouldn’t be having sex tonight at this rate. Best to get this over and done with then.
“Let’s just kill her and go home, she’s murdered too many innocents,” raven-haired man said.
“Innocents,” I smirked. “You supes are killers, all of you.”
“That’s rich coming from you,” raven man growled.
I played with the hem of my tank top, hiding my eyes under my lashes as I glanced at my dagger. I could get to it before any of them crossed the room.
“We don’t kill innocent people, only rogues,” blondie said.
I flicked my eyes back to blondie curiously. Rogues? What was that?
Raven man started towards me, and I decided not to fuck around anymore.
I rolled backwards quickly, snatching up my dagger as I stood up on the far side of the bed, holding it at the ready.
The red-haired guy was moving towards me now, flames swirling off his hands as he leaped onto the bed.
Raven man was coming around the bed, while blondie was watching, and Tristan looked saddened by my supposed upcoming demise.
As if they could beat me, let alone kill me.
I shot towards raven man at speed that took him by complete surprise, planting my right foot on the ground as I brought my left foot up to land a brutal kick to his ribs. He rocketed backwards and into the wall, stunned and confused.
Damn, he looked sexy as hell like that.
My eyes flicked to the incoming fiery mess on the bed. An elemental perhaps? I’d never dealt with one before, but the flames surrounding his hands indicated as such.
I ducked backwards, bending hard at the waist as he shot out a fiery fist.
I brought up my dagger with swiftness that he barely managed to block, then followed it with a kick to the knee.
He cried out as he crumpled off the bed, and I spun back as blondie soared over the bed with a blade in hand.
I sidestepped quickly and landed a heavy blow to his ribs, hearing the satisfying crack as I busted them with my fist.
Red-haired guy was already on his feet, and I turned on him as he shot a fireball at me.
I cursed as I barely managed to dodge the flaming attack, the burning orb singeing my side and setting my top alight.
I patted at it as I leaped over the bed, scowling as I got down low.
Fire boy was already readying another fireball, and I took the opening with speed they couldn’t comprehend.
I flipped my dagger in my hand and hurled it at him with devastating precision, my lips curving upwards as it penetrated his chest. The flames in his hands died out, and he stood staring at me, surprised and shocked. He slowly glanced down at the hilt jutting from between his ribs. That should’ve hit him right in the heart, or damn near close.
And yet he was still standing.
He sputtered as he collapsed to his knees, and raven man snarled as he shot towards his friend.
A strange pang of pain tore through me, and I frowned. I’d never felt such a thing before. Hell, I’d almost even hesitated in throwing the blade.
“That wasn’t very nice,” Tristan said cooly, and I spun around with a snarl as his hand closed around my upper arm.
His hand gripped my arm like a vice, and I stared up at him with fury. I was just doing my job.
I quivered as his eyes flooded black, and a hellfire glinted in his pupils.
Oh hell no.
An energy wave pulsed through my body as he tried to possess me, but I fought him off.
I’d never allowed a demon to get so close to me that they could potentially possess me. I’d screwed up.
I shrieked as I pulled free from his grip, fear and adrenaline surging through me as I bounded over to the table and snatched up my keys. My skin seethed from his attempt to possess me, but somehow I’d dodged it. How? I had no idea.
Everything was moving so quickly, and the air had a faint hum and glow to it as I moved.
I was outnumbered, there was something about these boys that was throwing off my game.
I rocketed out of the room, dodging Tristan’s outstretched hand with lightning speed. At least I’d gotten one of them.
I’d deal with the others when this strange sensation wore off. It must be from Tristan trying to possess me.
Everything felt enhanced, strange.
I flew out to my motorbike, not caring that I was only in a tank top and my underwear.
I threw on my helmet, not bothering to clasp it up. Ugh, my clothes, hopefully I could come back for it all, my jacket, my heels.
The motorbike engine roared to life, and I shot a wild look at Tristan and raven man as they tore out of the room.
I winced as I put my bare foot down and spun my little black Ninja around, before hurtling it out of the parking lot and off into the night.
Energy pulsed through me, and I struggled to shake it. What was going on? What had that demon done to me? Everything was so vibrant now, I could see everything, every little detail. I needed to go home. My father would know what to do.
4
Tristan.
I’d never seen such a gorgeous woman before, so sassy and full of fire. But holy hell, was she quick on her feet, and deadly.
We’d seriously underestimated her, and poor Wesley copped the brunt of it when she stabbed him.
I recognized the kitsune blade, something our father had taught us about.
It gave me an idea as I drew up behind her. Time to find out just what she was.
She snarled as she turned on me, and I gripped her arm as I willed my inner demon to take over her body.
I was stunned when it got rejected instantly, a fiery pink and white energy blocking me out and searing through her.
Those blue eyes flickered, a vibrant deep pink speckling through those icy blue irises. She tore out of my grip, and a faint glow surrounded her as she moved around the room frantically.
I focused my mind, honing in on her aura.
Tails. It was tails I could see. Four of them, glowing a dazzling white and pink as they whipped around wildly behind her.
Holy fuck.
I’d never thought I’d meet one.
Leon and Damien were just as shocked, and I barely managed to drag my eyes from her to glance at Wesley, who had disintegrated into a pile of ash now.
Damn. That sucked ass for him.
She flew past me, and I attempted to catch her on her way past, but she dodged me with speed I’d never seen before. No other supe had moved as fast as she could, well, maybe vamps, but this was a different kind of speed. Like she was sensing my plans before she saw it, rather than dodging it.
I took off after her with Damien, leaving Leon to deal with the issue of Wesley.
Seeing the half naked woman climb onto her motorbike and hurtle off into the darkness would’ve been amusing and hot as fuck if I didn’t have a million questions floating around in my mind.
At least it explained the whole sex thing, but why the hell was she a huntress?
We had to inform father of this. He’d definitely have something to say about it.
“A kitsune?” Leon gaped as he held Wesley in his arms.
I couldn’t take my eyes off the mumbling little thing. God, this was always weird, whenever he died. It was also why he was the most reckless.
Still, those little chocolate-drop eyes looked pissed and confused all at once as it looked around at us.
“Why the fuck would a kitsune be hunting other supes?” Damien growled as we all milled around inside her room.
“She said we were lying, maybe she doesn’t know what she is?” I suggested. It would explain a fair bit.
“Why? Why would she be a huntress then? It’s not exactly something you get into. And surely her parents know what they are, why would they become hunters?” Leon chewed his lip as Wesley squirmed in his grip.
“Maybe she’s being forced?” Damien muttered, although I could see he was annoyed and frustrated with this whole thing.
Not that I blamed him. But damn, did I want that little vixen. The sight of her half naked had been tempting, and I had desperately wanted to take up her offer for sex.
“Why the sex?” Leon muttered, shaking his head in bafflement.
“Kitsunes are meant to have mates, multiples. They’re lustful creatures, and supes and humans are even drawn to them,” I said, remembering what father had told me about them. Kitsunes were rare creatures, almost extinct. Powerful beings with incredible strength and speed.
“From my understanding, the few that are around, are protected and cherished. They’re said to bring good fortune to those they hold dear, so getting on their good side is always a good idea,” I continued, trying to draw forth all the stuff I’d been told about them.
“Well, guess we’re in for a shitload of bad luck then,” Damien sniggered.
“Only you guys really attacked her,” I pointed out.
I checked my phone, frustrated that father hadn’t called back yet.
“Where do you think she went?” Damien murmured as he began searching around the room. The bathroom was empty save for clothes, we’d checked in there first to make sure she was alone.
I spied the messenger bag jutting out from under the bed, and reached down to tug it out.
Maybe we’d find some information on our little vixen.
I tipped the contents of the bag onto the bed as Damien checked all the drawers in the dresser and bedside tables, not to mention the cupboards in the small kitchenette.
“Did you check her clothes for a phone?” Leon sighed as I rifled through the makeup and and other bits and pieces. There was a lock picking set, a toiletries bag with other stuff, some biscuits, and bunch of scrunched up receipts.
My eyes fell on the red object that had fallen out, and I picked it up with a grin.
I flicked the button, and the rabbit vibrator whirred to life.
“Put that down,” Leon groaned as he stuck Wesley on the floor.
He sighed as he headed into the bathroom, and I switched the vibrator off as I chuckled and sat down on the bed.
I pulled the laptop close and opened it up, pursing my lips at the password lock.
“Damien, got the unlocky thingy?” I asked as Damien reached into the bar fridge and pulled out a chocolate bar.
He nodded and headed out to the car, while I clicked on the password hint in hopes she was one of those girls who just wrote it in there. No such luck.
‘Get fucked’ was the hint. I smirked at this. I liked her. Too bad she wanted to kill us. I’d take the compliment though that she
wanted to screw us first.
“Got a phone!” Leon called out from the bathroom, appearing in the doorway with her bundle of clothes and an iPhone in his hand.
“Passcode?” I asked, and he nodded. Ugh. Modern technology.
I bounced my leg as Wesley moved around on the floor, making annoying little sounds. Why’d she have to kill him and reduce him to that?
I hated it. Him being stuck like that, although it was amusing. Leon had to take on his care.
Damien returned and tossed me the small device and multi cords. I plugged it in, watching as it worked on decoding her password for us.
Having good witchy contacts was always useful.
Within two minutes, I was going through her files, looking for information on her. Mostly police reports, some erotic fan-fiction of supernatural, clearly labelled in a folder named ’Supernatural Erotica Fan-fiction’.
There was an album on it too of photos synced from her phone. That was a good start.
“I’ll get my laptop and we can try to figure out who she is,” Leon said as he strode past me and out the door.
There were photos of her with two men, one her age roughly, another older. Brother and father perhaps?
Photos of buildings, like she was scoping places out, including jewelry stores. Interesting.
Well, hunters didn’t get paid for their work.
Was our little vixen a cat burglar?
I left the photos of her and her family open as I looked through her documents. Nothing informative, just hunt details, notes. Nothing great.
“Try the phone,” Damien suggested as he sidestepped Wesley with a look of utter disgust.
I tugged the decoder out of the laptop and plugged one of the multi leads into the end of it.
I plugged the iPhone end into the phone, and waited as it unlocked.
Another random document with no related content on Scribd:
“The defects of the book lie on the surface. The author follows neither a logical nor a chronological order of treatment. But when due allowance has been made for these unfortunate short-comings, Mr Bannerjea’s realistic character-sketches are on the whole satisfying, critical and varied enough to attract American readers to a closer study of the Indian point of view.” B. K. Sarkar
“It is unhappily evident that Mr Bannerjea, for all the sedulous good nature and tolerance which he consciously or unwittingly affects, caters for the kindly enthusiasts who find the careful study of historical origins a bore and an impediment to their pious belief that all men are alike, that India is and always has been ‘ a nation,’ and that British administration is an oppressive and obsolete anomaly.”
In this tendency novel the problems of the modern woman are sympathetically discussed. Horatia Grant has taken a course in journalism at college and breaks away from her dull, respectable, middle-class home to make her own way. She shocks her relatives by
taking a desk at the Journal, a progressive daily of socialistic leanings with its editor, Jim Langley, socially under a cloud. She meets a new class of people, acquires new outlooks, faces new problems. Putting herself and her friends to the test she learns to discriminate between the real and the acquired instincts. She finds herself and she and Jim Langley find each other.
Booklist 16:345 Jl ’20
“The success of the story lies not in an original plot, nor even in an unusual manner of telling the story, but rather in a certain freshness and joy in the experience of it all.” D.
L. M.
Boston Transcript p10 My 15 ’20 750w
Ind 103:323 S 11 ’20 40w
“The book is so distinctly pleasing, and is written with such unmistakable sincerity, that one passes over the blemishes very trifling, after all and gives himself up to the quiet enjoyment of a work that maintains its interest throughout without any strain or outbreak of violent emotion.”
N Y Times 25:17 Je 27 ’20 400w
“Whether one does or does not think all the incidents probable, one cannot help enjoying the genuine American enthusiasm of Horatia.”
300w
“A bright and busy story.”
+ − + Springf’d Republican p13a My 2 ’20
The Times [London] Lit Sup p386 Je 17 ’20 90w
BARBOUR, RALPH HENRY, and HOLT, H. P. Joan of the island. *$1.75 Small
20–4709
“The story opens in an extraordinary way, by a sailor slipping overboard into the South Pacific ocean, just after killing the captain of the tramp steamer in which he sailed. The escaped sailor, who has taken with him no baggage save just a life-belt, is a strong swimmer and after some thirty hours of alternately swimming and floating, the fugitive reaches shore on an island of the South Sea. It is inhabited and the traveller lands just in time to save Joan, the heroine, from injury at the hands of an angry native. With such a beginning proceeds a romance of the Sulu sea and islands. Joan and her brother are the only whites in this vicinity and the brother is absent in another island, leaving his sister who is in care of a great Dane. The dog is poisoned by a treacherous native and Joan is barely saved from attack by the sudden entrance of the fugitive. Of course there are adventures without number, thrilling escapes from peril, a love episode and a pleasant ending.” Boston Transcript
“Fairly readable.”
Booklist 16:345 Jl ’20
Boston Transcript p4 Je 9 ’20 200w
“This is as good a novel of adventure as has appeared for some time, not only because there is a clean-cut story, but on account of the splendid lucidity with which it is related.”
N Y Times 25:308 Je 13 ’20 620w
“The story is hardly more than mildly interesting.”
Springf’d Republican p7a D 26 ’20 130w
BARBOUR, RALPH HENRY, and HOLT, H.
P. Mystery of the Sea-Lark. il *$1.75 (3c) Century
20–14289
Jack Holden and his chum George Santo salvage an abandoned sloop, the Sea-Lark, and fit her up for use as a ferry boat. Sometime before, Jack’s father had been forced to sever relations with his business partner, Simon Barker, under a cloud of suspicion and Jack is glad of the opportunity to help out the family finances. The venture is a success, but the boys are surprised at the sudden desire of two strangers to buy the boat. Then comes a series of strange midnight visits and finally both boat and boys are kidnapped and taken out to sea. They outwit their captors and in solving the mystery of the Sea-
Lark clear Mr Holden’s good name and restore the stolen money that had been the foundation of the trouble.
Booklist 17:77 N ’20
“What a boy will call a ‘dandy yarn. ’” Hildegarde Hawthorne
N Y Times p9 D 12 ’20 80w
“A capital story for boys.”
Outlook 126:600 D 1 ’20 30w
“The story is well told and the interest is cumulative.”
Springf’d Republican p9a O 31 ’20 170w
“A good mystery story which, refreshingly, is quite free from German spies.”
Wis Lib Bul 16:197 N ’20 100w
A strange story of reincarnation. Luke Sparrow is brought up in a foundlings’ home, where the only clue to his identity is the label found on him bearing the inscription “Glass with care ” on one side and on the other “Returned empty.” He is a lonely baby, and grows up to be a lonely man, with one queer trait: he has a passion for peering thru the windows of comfortable homes, as if seeking for something he cannot find. And then one day, he finds it in the home of a beautiful woman. She tells him the strange story that explains his life. In a previous incarnation he had been her husband, and at his tragic death, she had grieved so deeply that her love had called him back to this world to live again. But this great love, altho it brought them together, cannot keep them so, and she steps out of his life again leaving him infinitely richer, for the short remaining span of his life, for the contact.
“She has made a most appealing story which will interest readers who do not usually number Mrs Barclay among their favorite authors.” Cornelia Van Pelt
This sequel to “Danny the detective” is a book of short stories. The first is a wartime story in which Danny again appears as the captor of a German spy. The other titles are: Christmas eve; A sporting kid; A midnight adventure; The secret room; In mid-air; Dicky’s chance; The bishop’s story. Some of the stories are reprinted from The Wolf Cub, an English Boy scout publication.
BARCYNSKA, HÉLÈNE, countess.
Rose o ’ the sea (Eng title Pretty dear). il *$2 (2c) Houghton
20–17652
Eccentric Henry Eton was the only father Rose had ever known since he had rescued her from the sea sixteen years before. Now at his death, she determines to go to London to make her way alone rather than stay in the little village which is so lonely without him. She is fortunate in London to fall at once into a congenial occupation and among friendly people. Among her new acquaintances is Denis Mallory, a lovable, wayward boy, whose father, Lord Caister, is much worried about the lad. Rose’s sweet spirit and common sense so appeal to the father that he arranges an engagement between Rose and Denny hoping thus to keep the boy straight. They both try to enter into the arrangement honestly altho Rose realizes she is doing it for Lord Caister’s sake rather than for his son ’ s. But when she comes into a large inheritance Lord Caister’s pride releases her from the agreement, which Denis, by a hasty marriage with an actress, has already made impossible. There is now no barrier between Rose and Lord Caister himself except pride, and that is finally broken down by Denny’s tragic death.
“The heroine is remarkably artless; a little too artless, indeed, to seem real in this world, at all events. The author’s experience as a
writer of eminently readable fiction enables her thoroughly to enlist the reader’s interest in this wild-flower heroine.”
Ath p783 Je 11 ’20 110w
“A novel which many girls and women will like.”
Booklist 17:156 Ja ’21
“Rose in ‘Rose o ’ the sea ’ is a sort of female St Francis of Assisi. The novel may help an undiscriminating mind to while away a dull hour.”
N Y Evening Post p22 O 23 ’20 70w
N Y Times p23 O 24 ’20 350w
“It is a little story sure to delight every lover of impossible romance. ”
Springf’d Republican p7a N 21 ’20 160w
BARKER, ARTHUR.[2] British corn trade; from the earliest times to the present day. (Pitman’s common commodities and industries) il $1 (2½c) Pitman 338.1
The term corn trade in British usage includes “all trade not only in wheat, ... but also in any other cereal for which there is any
commercial demand, such as barley, oats, maize, rye or rice.”
Contents: The British corn trade and its units; The corn trade in old England; The English law on the “cornering” of wheat and other grain; Two hundred and fifteen years of wheat prices in England; The corn laws era; The growth and development of the modern corn trade; The effect of the great war on the corn trade. There are notes at the close and an index.
BARKER, D. A.[2] Great leviathan. *$1.75 (2c) Lane
20–22040
Tom’s life was regulated by principle. As a lad at Harrow his principles brought him into trouble because they ran counter to the rules of the school. Later they interfered with his adopting a settled career and he led a wandering life as a lecturer against social evils. Even as a child he had begun to look upon marriage as wrong, for he had witnessed his mother’s unhappiness, and free unions had become a matter of principle with him. He makes a convert of his beloved Mary. At first they are happy, but as little by little the great leviathan breaks her spirit, love goes and she leaves him. His other endeavors also meet with the world’s scorn and a complete nervous breakdown is the result. After his recovery he goes to India and there he joins a devout and aged Hindoo on his last pilgrimage and finds peace in the “glory of God” as taught by the Bhagavad Gita.
“For a first attempt it is a commendable piece of work, but it does not—if one may be permitted the expression—cut any ice. It is pleasantly written, and there are many happy touches, but we are never certain as to what it is that the author is after.” K. M.
“Mr Barker’s story is really very well told, he is greatly in earnest, and the ideals he handles are much ‘in the air’ just now, especially in England.” N Y Evening Post p18 D 4 ’20 170w
“A clever account is given of how he spoils his life by his experiment in evading the chains of matrimony. The end of the book is not quite so convincing.”
“Technically ‘The great leviathan’ is interesting as showing what Mr Wells’s technique may become in unskilful hands. But the book, though a failure, is an interesting failure. Mr Barker could not have written it without learning a good deal of the difficulties of novelwriting. He has things to say. His next book will probably be worth reading.”
The princess’s garden, The narrow glass, To snow, The garden on the hill, The wayfarer, The playmate, Lost gardens, On the river, Songs of the rain and the wind, are some of the titles from part 1 of this collection of poems. Part 2, containing the Songs in cities, is devoted to such themes as: The house; The portrait; Night, and the curtains drawn; Beyond knowledge; Old age; Twilight; To fire; The city; Harvest of dreams. A note says that some of the verses have been printed in earlier books by the author, now out of print.
“Mrs Granville Barker’s great technical accomplishment is the source both of her triumphs and of her failures. Sometimes she is simply exercising her ingenuity in the void, creating bubble-shapes of a tenuous and fleeting prettiness. But at other times, when she has good material on which to employ her skill, she produces finished and distinguished work.”
Ath p1137 O 31 ’19 70w
“Mrs Barker’s verse may not be for those who can ‘ see heaven in a grain of sand,’ but it has a quality that intelligence and taste can thoroughly enjoy.” W. S. B.
Boston Transcript p8 Mr 20 ’20 400w
Springf’d Republican p8 D 20 ’19 160w
(Reprinted from The Times [London] Lit Sup p595 O 23 ’19)
“These songs are quite short and slight little wisps of fancy, as it were. But one cannot read on without being truly moved by the passing thoughts so tenderly expressed.”
BARKER, J. ELLIS.[2] Economic statesmanship;
the great industrial and financial problems arising from the war. *$7 Dutton 330
(Eng ed 20–11567)
“The publishers have brought out a second edition of J. Ellis Barker’s ‘Economic statesmanship.’ When this book was first published in the autumn of 1918 the negotiations at Spa and Versailles were still in the future. The new edition accordingly includes about two hundred additional pages dealing with problems and movements which have come to the front during the last two years. About half the new material relates to the economic position and future of Russia and Japan.” Am Pol Sci R
“The descriptive and analytical features of the book are admirable; they contain a wealth of economic facts condensed in statistical form and ably presented to the reader, retaining his interest throughout with no sacrifice of accuracy and precision of detail. Mr Barker does not succeed so well in the development of the theoretical features of his book.” E. S. Furniss
“One may not agree with all Mr Barker’s conclusions, but there is no doubt that his book is a storehouse of important facts and figures.”
Ath p224 F 13 ’20 180w
“Neither in the views expressed nor in the compilation of statistics is there much matter of importance for the American student: moreover, many of the chapters are inevitably out of date.”
Springf’d Republican p6 Jl 20 ’20 200w
BARNETT, EDWARD DE BARRY. Explosives.
*$5 Van Nostrand 662
(Eng ed 20–6748)
In this volume of the Industrial chemistry series “the author has endeavoured to give a clear but concise account of the manufacture of explosives, together with an outline of the methods used for investigating this class of substance.” (Author’s preface) Contents: Introduction; Gunpowder; Explosive compounds; Smokeless propellants; Blasting explosives; Safety coal mine explosives; Percussion caps, detonators and fuzes; Matches, pyrophoric alloys and pyrotechny; Explosive properties; Sensitiveness and stability; Conclusion. A brief bibliography follows the introduction. Other references come at the chapter ends and there is an index.
BARNEY, DANFORD. Chords from Albireo.
*$1.50 Lane 811
This is the author’s second volume of poems. “Dust of stars” was published in 1916. “The present collection includes the work that Mr Barney has done since the publication of his first volume, and hence covers the varied periods before his enlistment, during his service in France, and since his return and discharge.” (Foreword) The four sections of the book are headed: 1917; France; 1919: By the sea. The foreword is by Lawrence Mason of Yale university.
Reviewed
by W:
S. Braithwaite
Boston Transcript p6 Ag 14 ’20 600w
“‘Chords from Albireo’ is a worthy successor to his ‘Dust of stars.’ It marks a deepening of the poetic instinct and a firmer grasp of technique. Mr Barney’s work is important because of its spontaneous evocation of moods, its impressionistic appeal to the senses. ”
N Y Times 25:16 Je 27 ’20 240w
“My complaint against Mr Danford Barney is that my understanding is a horse which he overworks and starves. All this would not have been worth saying in this place, had Mr Barney been destitute of poetical capacity.” O. W. Firkins
Review 2:519 My 15 ’20 280w
20–11320
“When I sat down to begin these pages, somewhat at random, my intention was to write an autobiography, accompanying it with such comments as might suggest themselves. Looking continually to the right and to the left, I have lost my way, and this book is the result.” (Epilogue) The result is a collection of aphoristic, partly whimsical, partly cynical, always sincere sketches of the author himself, his personality, his beliefs, his literary opinions and inclinations, the main facts of his life. The translation from the Spanish is by Jacob S. Fassett and Frances L. Phillips with an introduction by H. L. Mencken who says of the writer that he is more Spanish than most of his famous contemporaries. The contents are grouped under: Fundamental ideas; Myself, the writer; The extraradius; Admirations and incompatibilities; The philosophers; The historians; My family; Memories of childhood; As a student; As a village doctor; As a baker; As a writer; Parisian days; Literary enmities; The press; Politics; Military glory. The appendices are: Spanish politicians; On Baroja’s anarchists; Note.
Booklist 17:60 N ’20
“Baroja is a Latin: lucid reasoning and clear patterns of thinking teach him to gauge and adapt life.” Stark Young
Nation 111:693 D 15 ’20 370w
“The book is annoying and at the same time distinctly fascinating. The pages that are worth while are immeasurably fewer than the
N Y Call p11 S 12 ’20 190w
“He is wilful and headlong, but sometimes discerning in his literary judgments.”
− worthless ones; but these are so worth while that the book’s existence is justified.” C. W.
Review 3:322 O 13 ’20 330w
BARR, MRS AMELIA EDITH (HUDDLESTON).
Songs in the common chord; songs for everyone to sing, tuned to the C major chord of this life; introd. by Joseph C. Lincoln. *$1.50 Appleton 821
20–1986
“From among the hundreds of poems I have written during forty years I have saved enough to make a small volume which some day I may publish.” So Amelia E. Barr is quoted in the introduction to this, the promised small volume. Among the titles are: The great happiness; The old piano; Lost flowers; The empty purse; At fifty years; Quiet hours; An old street; Harvest song; A country place in heaven; The tree God plants; At the last; A writer’s question.
Booklist 16:233 Ap ’20
Boston Transcript p9 F 21 ’20 320w
“Mrs Barr frankly was content with fireside narrative and easy injunction, with good deeds and cheerful rhythms. Her rhythm occasionally cantered too fast, so that her cheeks flushed and her bonnet bobbed; but there always was a halt somewhere, with no real effect of a runaway. ” M. V. P.
Nation 111:247 Ag 28 ’20 150w
“Mrs Barr was no master of the flaming phrase, to be sure, yet she had her felicity of line. What she looked at she saw clearly, and there was something of the folk quality in the best of her work.”
N Y Times 25:245 My 9 ’20 700w
BARRETT, WILTON AGNEW. Songs from the journey. *$1.25 Doran 811
20–5607
Among the contents of this book are poems reprinted from Poetry, the Forum, Contemporary Verse, Boston Transcript, McCall’s Magazine, and “Victory,” Mr Braithwaite’s anthology of peace poems. The author employs both free verse and regular meters. Titles are: Songs from the journey; A New England church; To a pair of scarlet tanagers in the square; Soldiers, behold your beauty; The valley and the shadow; The holiday; A song of fulfillment.
Booklist 16:336 Jl ’20
“Mr Barrett is one of the quieter young American poets who is not likely to be very much talked about, but who will leave an influence upon his readers wherever his book finds them.” W. S. B.
Boston Transcript p6 Jl 7 ’20 550w
“Novel conceits of fancy expressed with appealing grace and fraught with the glamour of dreams.”
Cleveland p85 S ’20 30w
“Once only, in ‘Songs from the journey,’ does Mr Barrett touch authentic poetry—in the suave and colorful ‘The vase. ’ The book is not distinguished verse. ”
N Y Call p11 Ag 1 ’20 210w
“Mr Barrett is a poet of great promise, a spirit clear-eyed and keen.”
N Y Times 25:193 Ap 18 ’20 160w
“He has mastered the not too recondite, yet also not too facile, secret of expressiveness in free verse. ” O. W. Firkins
Review 3:171 Ag 25 ’20 100w
BARRON,
