This was too good to pass. I know it’s the second book in a Series, and I strongly advise to go get the first one (which is on sale, btw) too because it’ simply too much fun. It reminds me of Wild West, the movie with Kevin Kline and Will Smith, only with more drama, layers, and complications. And the covers deserve a hat-off for how ballsy they are.
Welcome to the birthplace of the Devil’s Revolver, where untold danger lurks for Hettie Alabama and her companions…
The second book in the epic, magic-clad Devil’s Revolver series follows Hettie and her sister south of the Wall into Mexico, where they must unmake Hettie’s infernal mage gun while confronting a magic- and land-hungry army and a monster from hell drawn to the powers of the weapon. Hettie wants nothing more than to break her bond to the cursed Devil’s Revolver and find a way to keep her sister safe — but Abby’s indigo powers are growing stronger, and in the gated, walled village where they take refuge, nothing is exactly as it seems. Pursued by the Pinkertons, left without allies or guardians, Hettie has to rely on her own grit and determination to do the right thing, no matter the cost.
This second installment of V. S. McGrath’s sweeping and high-stakes saga draws its truly unforgettable gunslinger heroine to her limits and ends with a satisfying bang.
“Hettie, I’m thirsty.”
“We all are, Abby.”
“I’m really thirsty. And hungry.”
“I know.” Hettie pressed her cracked lips together. Her sister was pale as chalk except for her sunburned, feverish cheeks. The head covering she’d fashioned from one of Walker’s shirts hardly kept the sun off her. “Try to think of something else.”
Abby slumped in the saddle in front of her. Hot, dry air filled the momentary gap between their bodies, the sun searing the front of her dark, heavy dress. Beside them, their loyal, dust-covered mutt, Cymon, whined.
“Don’t talk so much,” the man they called Uncle grumbled ahead of them. “You’ll dry out your mouths.”
“It’s been nearly two weeks. We can’t keep up this pace.” Walker beat the red dust from his black hat. “We could’ve been at the Wall days ago. These detours will be the death of us. D’you hear me, Jeremiah?” The bounty hunter kicked his horse, Lilith, and she grudgingly caught up to Uncle. Jezebel, the old gray-white mare the old man rode, snapped at Walker’s mount. She was irritable on the best of days, and the heat didn’t help her mood. Even Hettie’s mount, Blackie, who was a good three hands bigger, kept his distance from the old mare.
“We have to keep moving.” Uncle’s voice was like sand. “Between the Pinkertons and the army, anyone could pop a remote Zoom on us.”
“With all the circles you’ve run us ’round, plus the hide spells you’ve cast, I’d think that if they’d known our whereabouts, we’d be in manacles by now.”
“I’m thirsty,” Abby whimpered again.
Uncle slouched in his saddle. Hettie didn’t know how the old sorcerer could still be riding in his weakened condition. Two weeks ago, he’d been drained of his powers and nearly dead from lack of sleep and food. They’d barely escaped the Division of Sorcery’s army at Sonora station and had been on the run ever since.
“Uncle, we have to stop,” Hettie said. “Abby’s gonna get sick. The horses can’t take this much longer. Surely there’s a town—”
“No contact with other folks till we cross the border,” he snapped.
Walker huffed. “We need water and rest, JB. Being dead ain’t better than being caught.”
“That’s what you think,” the old sorcerer grumbled. He shaded his eyes and pointed. “There. We’ll ride to those boulders and make camp.”
- An autographed set of THE DEVIL’S REVOLVER and THE DEVIL’S STANDOFF in the fine first edition (with color interior)
- 3x ebook sets of THE DEVIL’S REVOLVER and THE DEVIL’S STANDOFF