April 15, 2019

#BookReview for Black City Dragon (Black City Saint #3) by @RichardAKnaak @Pyr_Books

Synopsis: A historical urban fantasy set in Prohibition-era Chicago, which combines action, mystery, and romance against a backdrop of gangland wars and the threat of supernatural horror.

For sixteen hundred years, Nick Medea has guarded the gate between our world and Feirie, preventing the Wyld--the darkest Feirie of all--from coming into Chicago to find human prey. But since he defeated Oberon, more and more Wyld have been slipping through. Nick and his Feirie companion, the shapeshifter, Fetch, have been busy hunting them down.

Nick keeps coming across the Dacian Draco, the sign of his ancient enemy Galerius, including a tattoo worn by a human thug. Unfortunately, every trail ends as if years old. Claryce, Nick's reincarnated love, has narrowly escaped two attempts on her life, and when Nick sees her wearing a broach with the Draco on it, he knows they must look more deeply into her former lives. 

With Wyld and gangsters wreaking havoc in Chicago, Nick and Claryce must confront the secrets of their pasts if they are to have any hope of finding out Galerius's plans before it's too late to stop them. Nick will need the help of all his friends, both human and Feirie, and the powers of the dragon within him, to keep Galerius from endangering the gate, Chicago, and all of humanity.

About the Author:  
Richard A. Knaak is the New York Times- and USA Today-bestselling author of The Legend of Huma, WoW: Wolfheart, and nearly fifty other novels and numerous short stories, including Black City Saint, Black City Demon, and works in such series as Warcraft, Diablo, Dragonlance, Age of Conan, and his own Dragonrealm. He has scripted a number of Warcraft manga with Tokyopop, such as the top-selling Sunwell trilogy, and has also written background material for games. His works have been published worldwide in many languages. His most recent releases include Shade--a brand-new Dragonrealm novel featuring the tragic sorcerer--Dawn of the Aspects--the latest in the bestselling World of Warcraft series, and the fourth collection in his Legends of the Dragonrealm series. He is presently at work on several other projects.

Rating: 🌟🌟🌟🌟
My Review: This series has been one of my favs since I picked up the first book a while ago.  I and die hard in love with the uniqueness that this series gives us readers and I just could not put it down.  This one has to be the best yet I mean it has more DRAGON!!  And who could say no to that one?  The story was so good it had some great twists and turns that I didn't see coming and I thought that the pacing was really good.  The only thing that bothered me in this one was that some of the plot points of the mystery aspect of this story were kind of off.  I was very confused by the end and can't wait for another one to tie it all together. 

If you are like me and die hard love the 1920's and fantasies then check this one out! 

Go Into This One Knowing: Urban Fantasy, Fae, Dragons, Catholicism, the Prohibition Era, Relationships, Twists and Turns


“Mind your head, Master Nicholas! He’s got himself to the ceiling!"

I’d lost my head once. It’d been horribly painful for the brief moment before death had saved me. I’d sworn I’d never let it happen again.I managed to bring Her Lady’s gift above me just before the inky whip-like appendage reached me. Instead of my head being severed, a good three feet of the Wyld’s limb went flying. I might’ve been happier with that result if not for the other five appendages already shooting for me.

I was saved from one of those limbs by a familiar four-legged shape. Fetch tore into it with his usual gusto, teeth and claws ripping it apart. He might’ve looked like some cross between a greyhound and a wolf, but those similarities were only superficial. Once, he’d been a servant of Her Lady, executing her enemies in Feirie at her command. His one failure had been me and for that she’d condemned him. I’d ended up saving his life when he himself had been condemned and he’d been a loyal associate—for the most part—since then.

Fetch’s attack made the Wyld hesitate just a little, which was all I needed. I turned the gleaming blade toward the center of the black mass that was the Wyld and sliced off the ends of two more limbs.

The Wyld withdrew all its appendages. It quickly spread over the ceiling, no doubt seeking escape. I couldn’t let that happen. It hadn’t been on this side of the Gate very long, but it’d already claimed a night watchman before the warehouse owner had contacted the advertisement in the Chicago Daily News about “ghosts.” He thought the man had fled out of fear, but it’d taken me only a moment to recognize what’d happened. There’d never be any trace found, so I’d chosen to let the flight story pass. What I couldn’t do, though, was allow the Wyld to have another chance to feed.

Let me burn him! demanded the voice in my head. Eye will burn him!
“And the rest of the warehouse, too,” I muttered, as I maneuvered under the Wyld. “No.” I’d once granted him complete control over us. People of Feirie still called that the Night the Dragon Breathed.
Humans called it the Great Chicago Fire.
Eye would take care, he insisted, his voice now beguiling. He had had no concept of names before becoming part of me, and so without any body to call his own he had chosen to title himself after that part of him I relied upon most. Eye would be most cautious, Eye promise!
I ignored him. All I wanted from him was what he’d just granted me. My own eyes had given way to narrow, burning reptilian ones that viewed the world in emerald. They enabled me to see what remained invisible to the mortal world, especially the Wyld.
“Ungh! I think I’m going to upchuck!” Fetch blurted, slipping into a bit of the human slang he’d grown so fond of since being exiled to this side of the Gate. “Tastes like rotted fish!”
Such poetry in his language, the dragon mocked as we move toward the other end of the warehouse.
“Quiet.” The jeweled sword glowed crimson, the only thing in the dragon’s world that wasn’t colored emerald. It could sense the nearby Wyld, sense it and hunger for it. There were times when Her Lady’s gift seemed almost alive, a thought that didn’t comfort me.
Fetch suddenly stood beside me. “We charge him, Master Nicholas?”
I’d long given up trying to make Fetch just call me “Nick”—which wasn’t my original name, anyway—but being of Feirie, he insisted on calling me by a more formal title. Kravayik was the same. I didn’t like their deference, but they refused to change.
“No. Cut it off, Fetch. We can’t let it get out.”
“And how!” Fetch race forward, moving a lot faster than any wolf or dog.
I didn’t wait for him to reach the far end. I estimated the distance to the ceiling. The tall crates stored here would only get me halfway up, but that was a start.
I thrust the Feirie blade back into my overcoat, where it disappeared into that pocket world only I could draw it from.
At least let me give you a hand . . . or two, my unseen companion suggested.
As much as I hated it, he had a point there. “All right.”
I didn’t look at my hands as they twisted and reshaped. I’d seen that transformation and so much worse many times over the sixteen hundred years since I’d become guardian of the Gate. I’d learned never to trust even the smallest shift, including the eyes. It didn’t matter whether we were in the midst of danger; the dragon would always be seeking an opportunity to seize command.
Still, I couldn’t argue with how fast I was able to climb to the top now. I positioned myself, willed my hands back to normal, and then drew Her Lady’s gift.

It glowed brighter, the closer proximity to its target stirring it. Something shook the crate.
I lost my balance. Still clutching the sword, I toppled back over the edge.
My entire body shook as I hit the floor and something cracked loudly. I grunted in pain, my world spinning for a moment.
“’Ware, Master Nicholas! ’Ware!”
I fought back the tears of pain blinding me just in time to see two black appendages converging on me. I didn’t know how the Wyld had managed its trick with the crate, but if it thought I’d be senseless after that fall, it didn’t know how much pain I’d learned to suffer over the centuries.
I had the sword pointed up as it struck. This time, I didn’t attempt to slice off the tip of either limb. Instead, I plunged the tip as deep as I could into one of the appendages.
The Wyld’s howl filled the warehouse. I might’ve been concerned about discovery, but no one outside would hear even so much as a whisper from this struggle. There were both benefits and drawbacks to being guardian of the Gate.
Her Lady’s gift pulsated. It now had a strong hold on its prey. It now could feed.
The howl nearly deafened me. I didn’t care. All that mattered was holding tight while the sword finished the job.
The Wyld’s body twisted like taffy. It began seeping from the ceiling into the glowing blade. I managed to get back on my feet, then braced myself.
The last of the inky creature peeled away from the ceiling. It poured like a stream into the blade until nothing remained outside. For a brief moment, Her Lady’s gift was as black as the Wyld . . . and then the blade returned to normal and the glow faded away.

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