Secret McQueen Books 1-4 by Sierra Dean

Author:Sierra Dean [Dean, Sierra]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sierra Dean
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Between the white-haired fae at the club, and the ogre’s dark pronouncement, I didn’t exactly feel like hauling the katana around the city with me for the rest of the night. If the fae of New York were all up in arms over my favorite weapon, it was probably for the best I just let the sword sit this one out.

After dropping the sword at home, I still wasn’t ready to face Calliope. The excitement of the evening was thrumming through me, and I needed to clear my head before I let the Oracle bombard me with any dark visions she might have had of my future with the vampires.

I found myself well out of my way for the second time that evening, wandering into Central Park, which was a favorite place for me to clear my mind. If I happened to stumble across a wayward creepy-crawly while I was here, well…Sig couldn’t really get mad at me if trouble found me, could he? I wasn’t exactly going looking for it if I was just taking a nighttime stroll. Holden thought I was spending the evening working with Keaty, so I was free to wander without my vampire shadow. Truthfully, my former warden was a little slack on his bodyguard duties. He knew I could take care of myself.

It was only nine o’clock, but the park was empty and deathly still in the frigid February air. We’d finally gotten snow on Christmas Day, and now a crystalline fog of ice clung to everything that held still too long. The towering giant of the Museum of Natural History looked like it had been dusted with sugar, glittering benignly in the light of the half moon.

The sound of shattering glass, however, was not part of the winter ambiance I’d set out to find.

I stopped walking and looked around. Considering I’d just been thinking about trouble finding me, it felt like Sig might pop out at any second and shout A-ha! I knew you were up to no good. It was hard not to feel like this was some kind of test.

There was more glass breaking, but no alarms sounded. I didn’t think that was possible in a museum as highly protected as the AMNH. Where were the guards? The alarm bells? I surveyed the back entrance of the museum like an invitation I was afraid to accept.

If the entire night staff of a museum were murdered by monsters, it probably wouldn’t bode too well for the reputation of paranormal creatures everywhere. Really, I was doing the council a giant favor by preemptively putting a stopper on what might be a huge scandal.

At least that was what I told myself as I traipsed down the steps to the recessed doors most commonly used for school field trips and tour groups. I pressed my face to the glass, my breath fogging up the space closest to my mouth. Inside, the giant Native American canoe loomed overhead, but the heavy wooden doors leading into the hall of the Pacific Coast Peoples were closed.

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