"Each book is better than the last ..."
Quinn moved with stealth toward a rusty railroad trestle ten feet high, which spanned a narrow creek feeding straight into the Chattahoochee River on Atlanta’s west side. The trickle of water barely qualified it as a creek.
He held up a hand for Devon, the Belador warrior following him, to wait a moment. His other teammates, Evalle and Tristan, were approaching along the river from the other side of the railway. He had to give credit to the murdering trolls.
They’d chosen well for a hideout.
They’d have remained hidden, too, if they hadn’t started killing adults and kidnapping children.
Giving Devon a hand signal, Quinn continued on, preparing to insert his team and rescue kidnapped human teenagers from dangerous preternaturals.
It would be simpler if Quinn and his people didn’t have to hide whatever happened from humans in the area.
Rush hour traffic had started hours ago, but still slogged along the interstate fifty yards away where six lanes crossed the river.
At least now it was dark. Between that and today being Monday, he had less chance of his team getting seen by some sporting enthusiast floating down the Hooch, as this part of the river was known locally. On the other hand, the city was enjoying warm temperatures for early April. Some adventuresome spring breaker might decide to get wet.
Eyeing the trestle ahead, Quinn shook his head. What had triggered this insane action?
The local trolls had to be out of their minds to harm any human, but to go after families of Belador warriors was suicidal. Beladors had even stopped a preternatural who’d been killing trolls last year.
Relations had been pretty decent, until now.
In the latest attack at a midtown home, a mother had been found dead, mangled, and her two teenagers missing. That made five attacks in two days.
Three dead and a total of eight teenagers taken.
Those two words twisted his gut. No child should fear being kidnapped.
What about my child? Who is watching over her?
Quinn’s chest tightened with pain. Weeks of searching for a child he’d learned of only recently, and he’d turned up nothing. He had a duty to save these teenagers first, then he’d go right back to hunting Phoedra.
Devon tapped his shoulder.
Quinn turned to see what the Cajun wanted.
Evalle and Tristan were Alterants, mixed-blood Beladors, with bright green eyes they hid behind dark sunglasses, but they had natural night vision.
Like Quinn, Devon was a full-blooded Belador with supernatural powers, but they had to utilize night vision monoculars. Quinn looked down at where Devon had located four-toed footprints heading toward the dark underpass. Each toe had a deep claw mark.
That confirmed the intel.
Nodding, he turned to move ahead. He and his team had finally gotten a break on today’s heinous crime, which led them to this location.
Good thing since Storm wouldn’t be back until later this evening. Evalle’s Skinwalker mate could track any scent, even a preternatural one, in his human form or as a black jaguar. He’d been in Roanoke, Virginia, for the last twenty-four hours helping a short-handed Belador team dealing with similar attacks there.
Six hours had passed since a Belador father here in Atlanta, just off patrol, had walked into his house expecting to find his family getting ready for a spring break trip.
Instead, the Belador had found food scattered around the kitchen island, his wife ripped into pieces and his two children missing.
Quinn continued moving slowly toward the underpass.
His team was exceptional, but they were also friends he didn’t want to see harmed. As their Belador Maistir, he ordered people into danger all the time, but everything about these attacks said this was not a normal situation.
He did a mental eye roll at that thought.
Talk about an oxymoron.
Everything Beladors confronted fell under the heading of abnormal.
Reaching the spot he and Devon were to watch for Evalle and Tristan, Quinn dropped into a crouch behind a small bush to scan the area. From the other side of the narrow rail bridge, Evalle removed her dark sunglasses, exposing her glowing green eyes. She blinked twice at Quinn to signal that she and Tristan were in place.
Quinn gave a hand signal of confirmation, then looked over his shoulder at Devon, who crouched close behind him. Quinn gave the signal to move out. Devon had limited telepathic ability, but the Cajun could move in this environment as silently as a lizard.
Speaking mind-to-mind would be simpler, but Quinn had been the one to caution against using telepathy unless they had no other choice.
Until recently, no one besides other Beladors or their Treoir rulers could communicate with a Belador telepathically. The one exception to this rule being select Beladors who could reach the VIPER liaison, Sen. But the Laochra Fola, an enemy group related to Beladors, had appeared in Atlanta recently with the ability to pick up their telepathic messages.
As if trolls weren’t enough to contend with?
Quinn opened his senses wide as he picked his way over rutted ground that deteriorated further every time foul weather drove the water hard through here.
He smelled rotting foliage, but no trash.
Another sign this had to be the right place.
Trolls kept the area leading to their nest free of human debris.
Dirt had been piled against one shoulder of the underpass.
Using his telekinetic ability, Quinn pushed gently at the loose earth. The dirt shifted aside easily, meaning it hadn’t been in that spot very long.
As he used his power to quietly clear dirt out of the way, a rough-cut, wooden covering five feet across and six feet tall came into view.
It should lift away, but what waited on the other side?
Cutting his eyes around, he signaled Evalle and Tristan to watch their backs.
Quinn gave Devon a signal to take a position on the opposite side of the wood covering.
Devon moved with Belador hyper-speed.
Since they were somewhat hidden, humans shouldn’t see anything unusual that happened down here unless this turned into a battle of power and majik that exploded in bright bursts.
Letting out a slow breath, Quinn lifted his hands and nodded at Devon, who mirrored his moves.
They each raised one side of the wood hatch by using kinetic power and moved it an inch at a time until Devon took control of the cover and slipped it softly to the ground.
No one came flying out with a mouthful of sharp teeth, but trolls wouldn’t need to when they could wait in the perfect ambush spot.
Quinn squatted to look inside.
Stone stairs went down, disappearing into a black hole.
That could lead to a simple, large room if the trolls hadn’t been here long, or if they’d had more time, to a maze of tunnels.
He hated tunnels. Only one way in and one way out unless you had inside information.
The trolls would have an exit plan, but they’d also keep it well hidden, which made for a perfect trap if someone was crazy enough to break into a troll nest.
Schedule me for a psych eval as soon as this is over.
Quinn ducked his tall frame into the hole, glad he’d worn cargo pants for ease of movement. They were all outfitted in similar black clothing from neck to toe.
The air had a damp, sour odor to it the deeper he went, but he had no complaint about the solid rock steps.
No squeaking noises.
No sound at all.
His skin crawled with warning.
Trolls had never been a docile group, but for the most part the local ones kept to themselves. There had been one instance when Svart Trolls from another country invaded Atlanta with plans to take over the city. Other than that, the trolls tended to be good about policing their own community to avoid VIPER stepping in to do that for them. The VIPER coalition acted as a governmental body over all preternaturals in the human world.
With the exception of a select few, humans never knew what happened in the supernatural underbellies of cities across the country because VIPER did police its own. But trolls attacking the human families of Beladors threatened to expose the preternatural world if they didn’t put a stop to it.
Once humans discovered just what lived among them, it would be chaos.
Twenty steps down, Quinn moved aside to allow Devon to join him. Tristan followed with Evalle taking up the rear.
Quinn gave them a sign to wait, then stepped away to figure out what lay ahead of them. The area opened up into a wide hallway fifteen feet across and an easy eight feet tall, but maybe forty or fifty feet deep.
A light glowed way down at the other end, which outlined an arched opening into another room.
Giving a hand signal to move out, but be alert, Quinn lead them forward.
Halfway to the end of the tunnel, Quinn sniffed. Ah, the putrid stench of troll.
He looked around at Evalle, Tristan and Devon who all pinched their noses to let him know, yes, they smelled the nasty beings.
Quinn would have liked for Storm to be here, since the Skinwalker could discern just how many trolls they were going up against.
Devon touched Quinn’s shoulder. When he looked back, Devon pointed at Evalle who tapped her ear.
Quinn listened, and the faint sound a child crying reached him. Shit.
He nodded and moved ahead.
At the end of the tunnel, he peered into a cavernous area with a ceiling a little higher in here. Ripped roots dangled from where the trolls had hollowed out earth for their hideout. The barren space held two wooden tables and four beat-up chairs suitable for the dump. Two torches were mounted on each side of a room sixty feet across.
Quinn couldn’t determine the depth.
The room fell away into blackness.
The child’s whimpers were louder now. Was it real?
His instincts screamed trap.
Troll stench permeated the air. He was not leaving until he knew for sure whether the children were here or not.
He took it all in, trying to figure out what he couldn’t see. There had to be some kind of strong glamour hiding the true interior of this place and the number of people actually inside here.
A child whimpered again.
Stepping inside the room, he moved quickly to the right, leaving enough space for Devon to follow his lead and stand with his back to the wall as well.
Evalle and Tristan did the same on the other side of the archway.
Tristan leaned forward and gave Quinn a signal that he had an idea.
Oh, hell. Quinn’s disconcertment must have shown because Tristan sent him an irritated look.
A bonus of being half-blood Beladors meant Tristan and Evalle could shift into gryphons. This would be the worst place for them to shift, though, with limited room for movement.
What else could Tristan be thinking? He sucked at hand signals.
Then it hit Quinn.
Tristan had once been given a special, majikally-spelled drink by a witch. A power highball, as Tristan described it, which had included the blood of immortal beings. He’d ended up with the ability for limited teleportation under the right conditions.
Teleporting here would be just as insane as shifting.
Tristan had no idea what area would be safe for landing.
Still, their dragon king had made Tristan his second in command, and since then Tristan had proven himself to be competent and loyal as hell. A real change from when Quinn had first met him, so Quinn gave him a nod to show Quinn what he had in mind.
Tristan blinked out of view and all hell broke loose.
Guttural voices roared and light shot from the middle of the room beyond where Quinn, Evalle and Devon remained.
What had happened to Tristan?
High-pitched screams sounded like kids, then deep shouts and bellows overpowered them.
Quinn rushed forward just as the glamour hiding all of that fell away.
Tristan appeared in the center of the space now, fighting two trolls. A third troll with black eyes and long spiked teeth stood in front of a series of large cages containing two terrified teenagers and three adults. With a horn sprouting out of his thick head, hair everywhere, and standing seven feet tall, the guard troll held a short axe in each hand. He looked ready to bludgeon anyone who dared touch the cages.
Devon said, “He’s mine.”
Evalle rushed over to help Tristan.
Using kinetics, Quinn knocked one of Tristan’s attackers backwards so Evalle and Tristan could battle one at a time.
The eight-foot monster troll Quinn had knocked away rolled and came up on his huge feet. He had linebacker shoulders if someone wanted a giant on the football squad. A vicious tusk jutted down each side of his mouth, where saliva drooled. When he charged Quinn, he opened a maw filled with needle-sharp fangs.
Shoving up a kinetic wall, Quinn prepared to drive the monster back.
But the troll opened his hand and tossed sparkling dust in the air that blasted Quinn’s invisible wall apart.
Those sparkles stank of burned limes. Noirre majik?
Screw being careful.
Quinn shouted to his people telepathically, They’re using Noirre. Don’t link and do whatever it takes to win.
That countermanded his original order of bringing in the kidnappers, or at least one they could use for intel. Right now, he was more concerned about all of his team surviving.
Fighting a troll had inherent risks for anyone.
Fighting one that wielded Noirre majik turned the odds against even a Belador.
Devon struggled with the shorter, black-haired troll who had been guarding the cages. His telepathy didn’t always work as well as the others so Quinn didn’t know for sure that Devon caught the message authorizing him to use deadly force.
Evalle had thrown her power in with Tristan to battle his adversary. They had their troll on the ground. As soon as one of them could get free to help Devon—
Monster troll roared and swatted beefy power hits at Quinn, but he connected with Evalle instead.
She went flying across the room backwards and hit a wall, bouncing to the ground with a groan, but still upright.
Tristan’s troll was back up and now had Tristan by the throat.
Quinn kept slamming kinetic hits at his big troll, hoping the miserable beast wasn’t schooled in how to use Noirre majik effectively. If so, this troll would have already done a better job of handling it like a weapon.
Growling, Evalle ran across the room, went up in the air and flipped, landing on the back of the troll choking Tristan. She lifted her spelled blade and reached around, shoving it through the troll’s forehead.
She shouted an order for the spelled blade to stay put.
Quinn got hit across the middle with an invisible bat. He blinked at the monster troll who drooled through a snarl. “Die, Belador.”
“Not yet,” Quinn said, gasping for air and catching his balance.
Tristan fell back, holding his throat and sucking in air.
Quinn’s troll pulled out another fist of sparkles.
Where was he hiding the bag of that crap?
Fuck this. Quinn would rather dive into sewage than enter the mind of a troll or a demon, but this one appeared to be running the show and had control of their Noirre supply.
When Tristan’s troll fell backwards, Evalle leaped away then yanked out her blade. She turned on Quinn’s troll who cocked back his arm to throw the Noirre at her.
No time left.
Quinn shouted at Evalle, “No!” He pushed inside the troll’s mind and shoved power hard into that thick skull. Dull pain slugged through Quinn’s head. This shit would hurt later.
The massive troll slapped his head with the hand holding Noirre crystals. He smashed the sparkles into his eyes and howled, jerking his head back and forth.
Evalle swung around with a what-are-you-doing? look.
Quinn gritted out, “Help Devon!”
“I’m on it.” She spun around and dove toward Devon, who was on the ground in a wrestling battle with the guard troll.
As long as Quinn had forced his way into his troll’s head, he might as well find out what was going on. But the deeper he pushed, the more it was like digging face first through a clogged toilet. Flashes of faces and names came through, but nothing he could grab hold of except ... get Belador children.
The harder Quinn fought with his mind lock, the louder the troll roared and finally ran himself head first into a wall.
Quinn jerked out of his mind a second before the troll’s head literally exploded. Murky-colored blood splattered everywhere, choking the air with a sewage odor.
Damn, that was too close. If Quinn had stayed in there, he might have suffered serious brain damage through the connection.
“Way to go, Evalle,” Devon complimented.
Quinn looked over to see Evalle standing over her blade shoved into another forehead. At close to six feet tall, with dark brown hair and wearing black cargoes and a long-sleeved T-shirt instead of her usual BDU shirt and jeans, she was the role model for badass women.
She cut her eyes at Devon and gave a half grin and shrugged.
Tristan walked up to Quinn, looking like a magazine model gone to war. He kept his tawny hair cropped in the messy look of today’s young men, and filled out his black ensemble with cut muscle. Coughing, he pointed at the exploded head and said in a hoarse voice, “There goes our intel.”
“Better to lose intel than any of you.” Quinn gave Tristan a long look. “How did you know you could teleport inside their glamoured area?”
“I didn’t, but it seemed like a good idea.”
Bloody hell. Quinn had seen Tristan go from a loner who cared for no one except his foster sister, to someone who had tried to sacrifice himself for Evalle and their cause as he fought alongside her. Tristan had helped Evalle and their new leader, Daegan, escape the Medb stronghold. Now this young man was their dragon king’s Rí Dtús. Daegan had come from an era where that title designated a right-hand man.
Taking Tristan’s new responsibility into consideration only made his teleporting stunt that much worse.
“What would I tell Daegan if we’d lost you?” Quinn asked.
“Shit happens?” Tristan lifted his arms then seemed to notice the odd quiet that had settled over the room. He frowned and turned around to face the cages.
Quinn peered at the enclosures, too.
All five humans were silent. Three were staring in wide-eyed shock.
He took in the red-haired pair of human teenagers who fit the description of the seventeen-year-old boy and fifteen-year-old girl missing from a Belador family. Those two were shaken up, but they wouldn’t be overly surprised to witness Quinn and his team battling trolls. Belador families were aware of the preternatural world, but kept its secrets.
The other three humans sat slack jawed, no doubt trying to process the battle that had just taken place.
Tristan whispered, “We should ask the humans a few questions before calling in Sen.”
Evalle walked up. “Why?”
Devon was right beside her. “Because, cher, they’ll tell us anything right now. We’re their saviors.”
Quinn said, “Good idea, Tristan.”
Tristan’s smile jumped to cocky, so Quinn added, “Much better than the one where you teleported into a pile of trolls that could have killed you. I would rather not have to share that detail with Daegan.”
That wiped the gloating off Tristan’s face.
“Hey, what the hell are you people?” a man in the last cage called out.
Devon murmured, “There we go.”
Quinn asked Evalle, “Would you go talk to the two children? Confirm they’re our Belador family?”
There were ten cages. The first one held both teens, then there was a gap before the last three. Quinn would like to think keeping them together had been out of consideration for the kids, but it was probably simpler not to listen to those two complain and whine if they were left apart.
Evalle opened the cage and slipped inside, squatting down to speak softly with them.
No one could come out of the cages until the cavern was cleaned up. Noirre sparkles scattered around still had the potential to harm a human. This place stank like crazy.
Tristan had stopped at the cages with the other two adults and tried to talk to the men. Both were around thirty and looked snatched straight from the ‘hood. They scooted back into the corners, as far away from him as they could. He shook it off and moved on to the guy who appeared anxious to engage.
As Quinn joined them, he was surprised at the candor of the human speaking.
This guy looked closer to forty, thin brown hair that had been cut nicely but looked ratty right now. He’d been captured wearing a suit that was now dirty and sweaty.
Shoving a wary gaze to Quinn and Devon first, the man turned to Tristan and said, “What are you?”
“That’s rude,” Tristan said. “Most people ask names first.”
Quinn barely managed not to roll his eyes at Tristan.
“Oh, uh, I’m Marty.” He wiped his mouth with a shaky hand, but his eyes said he had a thousand questions. “What’s your name?”
“Tristan.” Pointing at Quinn, Tristan said, “This one is the boss. His name is Quinn, and that one is Devon. The woman with us is Evalle. How’d you end up here?”
“Those things ... uh, sorry, I don’t know what to call them. I don’t want to insult anyone, but, are you guys ... aliens?”
“No. We were all born here on earth. Those were trolls.”
“No shit? Trolls really exist?” Marty’s eyes bugged out when he stared at the closest troll. He sank onto the single broken chair against the wall in his cell. Evalle’s blade remained buried in its head. Marty’s attention returned to Tristan. “I’m a freelance reporter. A lot of my articles make the local news. I’ve been following wild stories about trolls, witches, warlocks, and demons. I’ll be honest, I thought it was all a hoax until one of those ... trolls caught me one night and knocked me out.”
“He hit you and you survived?” Devon asked in disbelief.
“No. I mean he put some kind of mojo on me and I just passed out.”
“Oh, yeah, that makes more sense.”
Marty said, “I woke up in this cell.”
“Did you hear anything they said?”
“I always heard them, but they didn’t always speak English. Sometimes it sounded like maybe Swedish or Nordic or hell I don’t know. Weird.” He caught himself, quickly addressing everyone. “I’m not calling anyone weird. I don’t judge.”
Quinn noticed Tristan’s eyes twinkling.
The Alterant was enjoying this. Quinn might have too if not for how bad this place smelled between the Noirre majik, troll BO and stinking blood.
Marty had quieted for a moment, concentrating on something.
If Quinn had to bet, he’d say the reporter was thinking about how much he should share. He probably thought he was going to get an exclusive on this.
Devon must have read the same thing. He scratched his jaw and his next words came out sounding like a Cajun from the back woods of Louisiana instead of the Ivy League graduate Quinn knew him to be. Devon was a warrior who knew to use any method at his disposal for withdrawing intel.
“I can understand a human bein’ too terrified to get anything useful from a troll,” Devon said.
Affronted, Marty sat up straight. “I’m an award-winning journalist. I’ve been in the middle of military operations that would turn your hair white and I’ve gotten exclusive interviews with world leaders. My network didn’t expect me to come back alive from those campaigns.”
Tristan said, “I’m impressed. We work for a top-secret arm of the government to protect humans. It’s imperative that you share anything you heard so we can find the other missing humans.”
Devon coughed to cover his choked laugh.
Quinn managed not to smile.
Tristan remained dead serious while he faced Marty.
“I understand. I want to help save others, too. The troll you fought was called Arto. The big troll that Quinn fought was called Gils,” Marty said. He glanced at the third one, which had guarded the cells. “I don’t know his name. He said very little and just did whatever Gils said. Right before you showed up, Arto was trying to convince Gils to grab their stash and run. He said they’d end up dead if they didn’t.”
Quinn looked at Arto. He’d been right.
Evalle joined them. She whispered, “Those are our kids and they’re good.”
Thankfully, Quinn could now face the warrior who hadn’t expected to get any of his family back, and return his children safe and sound.
Marty said, “Gils argued they’d made a deal for, uh, something that sounded like no-war-ay.”
Tristan nodded. “Noirre majik.”
“Right.” Marty frowned in thought then continued. “Gils contended they had to make good on their end of the bargain. If they backed out now there would be nowhere to hide from some goddess. He also called her a queen.” He looked up at all three of them. “Do you have a queen?”
Tristan turned to Quinn, letting him answer.
“Yes, we do, but not the queen the trolls were talking about.”
“Oh, man. Do these goddesses and queens have powers?”
Marty’s face exploded with enthusiasm as if he’d just found the Holy Grail. “I thought I was going to die, so this sucked at first, but now it’s gonna be amazing.”
“Not if you don’t have more to tell us, Marty,” Tristan said in a mild warning tone.
That snapped the reporter back to the moment. “Got it. Arto argued that they didn’t have everything the woman wanted and the longer they stuck around, the less time they had to hide from her. Arto would have a made a much better leader,” Marty mused.
“What else?” Quinn asked, trying to move this along. He was ready to call in Sen for cleanup, plus he had a child of his own to find and no decent leads. The only positive point about his child was that few knew of her existence and no one knew where she lived.
He hoped that was the case since he hadn’t been able to find her even with his considerable resources.
“Gils flat out said no,” Marty continued. “He said he’d rather cut out his own heart with a dull knife than face what that woman would do if they ran without delivering on their end and she caught them. He said they had plenty of food and could finish this the right way.” Marty’s eyebrows dropped low over his eyes in a look of deep concentration. “You know what, I never saw them bring in any food.”
Tristan snorted and covered his mouth to hide his reaction.
Poor Marty didn’t realize he was sitting in the cupboard.
Evalle asked, “How did they catch the other people?”
Marty stood up and dusted off the minute he realized she had noticed him.
Smoothing his wild hair to now be neat, but grimy, Marty said, “Hi. You’re really amazing.”
Evidently he found spiking trolls in the forehead with her blade hot.
Evalle quirked an eyebrow at the obvious flirt. “Thank you. My mate would agree.”
“Mate? What kind of mate?”
“He’s a Skinwalker. He turns into a jaguar about this tall.” Evalle held her hand level with her chest, which wasn’t an exaggeration. “He killed a troll bigger than these because it hurt me.”
Marty swallowed and toned down the charm.
Sounding pleasant, Evalle encouraged, “You were telling us how the trolls were getting humans.”
“Oh, yeah. The two guys over there were following ads offering money for information on paranormals.”
Tristan tensed. “What kind of ads?”
“That’s the crazy thing. There are two ads. They look identical and I’ve seen the one from the guy in Atlanta who has been hunting paranormals for a long time, but I think the trolls copied it and put out their own.”
Muttering a curse, Tristan told Quinn, “I know people at the company he’s talking about. They’re legit humans and only one woman there knows about us, but she keeps our secrets. Until we get this troll problem handled, I’ll see about having their ads pulled, then we can go after the phony ad.”
“Good.” Quinn recalled Evalle mentioning that Tristan had met a young woman with that group. The damned ads had apparently become a chum line for trolls.
Marty snapped his fingers. “Hey, I want to interview each of you and get pictures.”
Evalle snickered. “That’s not going to happen.”
“Okay, forget the pictures. I can appreciate you want to remain anonymous like Batman, but this is huge.”
“Batman?” Tristan scowled. “We’re real.”
“Of course you are,” Marty said, rushing ahead. “Look I’m ready to get out of this cell.”
“It’s too dangerous for you to walk around the Noirre majik,” Devon warned him. “You get that stuff on you and hoo-man, that’d be bad.”
Marty’s eyes widened when his gaze dropped to the floor, searching it as if man-eating scorpions would jump out of the cracks. “Okay, I understand.”
Tristan sighed and suggested, “We might as well call in Sen. Time to wipe their minds.”
“What?” Marty started looking back and forth, immediately agitated. “No. You can’t do that ... can you?”
“Yes and it’s for your own good,” Evalle pointed out. “You don’t want to be involved in any of this. You’re lucky you didn’t get eaten.”
She nodded. “The trolls were trading those two teens, but you three were rations.”
Marty went from excited to frightened to disappointed all in ten seconds. “I’m glad I didn’t get eaten.” He shivered. “But this is the story of a lifetime.”
“We’ll make you a deal. If we ever go public, we’ll let you do a story,” Devon offered.
“Thanks. I appreciate that potential story, but do you really have to wipe my mind?”
“Well, shit. At least tell me this. Is there really a dragon?”
Everyone froze and looked at him. Quinn posed the question, “Why would you think that?”
“Arto said he’d do his part for that woman’s event, but he was leaving the minute the dragon showed up because he didn’t believe that she could keep them safe.”
Belador Cosaint will be released in print, ebook and audio by September 28, 2017. Preorders available for ebooks on all channels by July 2, 2017.
Print book - Will be available to order on September 15th to allow print readers to receive their books on time, too.