Magic Lantern (Rogue Angel, Book 36)
Alex Archer, Mel Odom
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In late 1700s Paris, a young but promising illusionist dabbles in the arcane art of phantasmagoria. But at his moment of greatest triumph—unveiling a magical lantern said to open a door to the Chinese spirit world—he is violently struck down by a vengeful phantom….
On assignment in London, archaeologist Annja Creed is hunting down a man who claims to have discovered the Jekyll and Hyde potion. On the trail of one curiosity, Annja finds herself pulled toward another mystery…the origin of a strange, old-fashioned projector once used by eighteenth-century illusionists. As Annja delves into its rich history, a dark past begins to emerge. And someone wants to harness the power of this cursed artifact…risking everything for the treasures it promises.
But Annja has a little magic trick of her own. One that she wields with deadly accuracy….
turned to gravel. The biggest of his three companions started forward. He knotted his hands into fists, his intention clear. Unable to sit back, Annja slid from the bar stool. She took one step forward, hooked her hand in the man’s shirt collar from behind and yanked at the same time she kicked his supporting knee. The big man fell with a squawk. Annja stepped back at once, already aware of a second man setting himself and throwing a punch at her. She slipped under it, then twisted and caught
Fiona touched the photograph. “She has a network set up. Phone lines and websites. She has a local television show and does private consulting in her office.” Fiona laid another photograph on top of de Brosses’s. A tall building in downtown Paris. “That building has considerable security and manpower.” Fiona tapped the photograph of the old woman. “This is Bui Thi Trinh.” “Vietnamese?” Annja studied the picture. “Yes.” Edmund leaned in. “I wasn’t aware that the Vietnamese went much in for
manila envelope. “I’ve provided paperwork that will show all of you as consultants for an investments business that I’m associated with in Shanghai.” Fiona regarded him with interest. “Doing a bit of piracy, are you?” Georges smiled. “You’ve got a suspicious nature, Ms. Pioche.” “Only when I’m around suspicious people.” “Rest assured, the business I’m doing with these people will not reflect onto you. Your trip should be uneventful, and I’ll keep hoping that you find whatever it is you’re
French was not the speaker’s native tongue. “Can you hear me?” He blinked until he could see Puyi-Jin. The Asian warlord was in his fifties, a grim-faced man with hazel eyes. His black hair was graying at the temples. “I hear you.” Laframboise licked his lips and tasted blood. “Where is Annja Creed?” “She dove into the water. The tunnel’s submerged.” Laframboise didn’t want to answer, but he didn’t want to die, either. You will never see the treasure. He tried to screw up the courage to
didn’t appear to have any real order. “Hurry.” With deliberation, Annja trailed her fingers over the obelisk. Some of the stones seemed more deeply set than others. “If the treasure is still here, Dutilleaux might have set a trap. You might want to consider that.” “There is also the chance that someone heard the gunshots in this tunnel. If someone else arrives, I will have you and your friends killed at once.” Annja considered the problem and tried to put herself into Dutilleaux’s mind. “He