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Jun 03, 2008
| ISBN 9780425222478
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Jun 03, 2008
| ISBN 9781440638787
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Jun 03, 2008 | ISBN 9780425222478
Jun 03, 2008 | ISBN 9781440638787
Found wandering in a field as a child, Lee Ross was given a name by the state and put in a foster home—without anyone realizing she wasn’t entirely human. All her life, she’s tried to forget the odd dreams that have plagued her, of monsters creeping through the night and a man fighting demons by her side. But the bruises she wakes with are all too real to ignore…
Then the man from her dreams appears—in the flesh. His name is Kalen—and he insists that her destiny lies in his world, the world of her dreams. To save their people, he must convince Lee to give up everything she knows, follow her heart, and cross over into the Under Realm—even though once she does, she’ll never be able to return…
Shiloh Walker is the national bestselling author of many novels, including Hunting the Hunter, Hunter’s Salvation, and Hunters: Heart and Soul.
A Letter from Lee Ross, heroine of Through the Veil
Sleeping problems? Sleeping problems don’t even begin to describe what my trouble is.
My name is Lee. I’m a graphic artist. I’m a fairly normal woman-mostly. I have a job, a home, bills to pay, friends-basically, just your normal life. Except I don’t sleep very well. And when I do sleep, I wake up with these God-awful bruises. It’s like somebody beats me while I sleep. Don’t ask me why. I can’t give you an answer.
After all, no doctor has ever been able to give me one. They tell me that I do it to myself while I sleep, but the one time they tried to do a sleep study on me, I didn’t move the whole night…well, I did-no, sorry. Forget I said that. I don’t want to talk about that.
I don’t want to talk about my sleeping problems at all.
I guess I could talk about him—this guy. He’s my other problem. That fact that he isn’t even real, well, that’s probably a sign of a deeper problem. Therapy. I’m telling you, what I need is lots and lots of therapy.
This guy, he shows up in my work constantly. He’s not real, though. He’s nothing more than a figment of my imagination, caused by too many restless nights and too much loneliness. I’ve never seen anybody like him-never met anybody like him. His face haunts me. When I look at him, I feel like…no. You’re going to think I’m crazy.
Hell. What does it matter? I think I’m crazy. When I look at his face, I feel something. Like he’s calling me. Like he needs me.
So tell me, how crazy is that?
Hope you sleep better than I do—
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