behind him, having leapt in through the shattered window.

behind him, having leapt in through the shattered window.

"Yeah," Gomez said with satisfaction. "I got him." He looked down at the necromancer's inert form.

"That was for Paulie, you son of a bitch," he said.

Someone started pounding furiously on the wall. "That's it!" A voice shouted from the neighboring

apartment. "I'vehad it with you people! I'm calling the police!"

Darkness in

Santa Fe

The Pueblo Indians called it the Dancing Ground of the Sun, but now and evil forece from the dawn of

time threatens to turn this peaceful city into a place of eternal darkness. With the coming of the Second

Thaumaturgic Age magic has returned to the city, and it is here that adept Paul Remirez hopes to pass on

the old knowledge he has gained from the legendary Merlin Ambrosius. Soon, however, he'll find himself

tracking down a vicious killer—and in league with a beautiful burglar, a drop-out worlock, a cockney

punk possessed by spirits, and a tough-talking one-eyed cat named Gomez. He'll need all the help he can

get . . . on a Santa Fe trail of necromancy fast turning into a blood-soaked Festival of the Damned!"

Joe Loomis sat in his office, putting the finishing touches on his report. There were a lot of people waiting

for it, important people, people who wanted answers. They would get their answers, answers that they

could accept, even if they weren't honest ones. It was not the first time he had ever left anything out of a

report, but it was the first time a report that he had written was almost a total fabrication.

He lit up a cigarette and sat back to read it over. The Bureau agents got almost all the credit for solving

the case. He gave Rosowitz and Stanley credit for using their abilities as adepts to dispatch the demon in

the plaza, when they hadn't even had time to throw a single spell. Both men knew that his report was

nothing but a load of shit, but neither of them was stupid enough to dispute it. They both knew what this