Cronin’s Key

Cronin’s Key

Cronin’s Key Cronin’s Key, Book 1

NYPD Detective Alec MacAidan has always been good with weird. After all, his life has been a string of the unexplainable. But when an injured man gives him cryptic clues, then turns to dust in front of him, Alec’s view on weird is changed forever.

Cronin, a vampire Elder, has spent the last thousand years waiting for Alec. He’d been told his fated one would be a man wielding a shield, but he didn’t expect him to be human, and he certainly didn’t expect that shield to be a police badge.

Both men, strong-willed and stubborn, are still learning how to cope with the push and pull of being fated, when fate throws them another curveball.

Rumors have spread quickly of turmoil in Egypt. Covens are fleeing with news of a vampire who has a talent like no other, hell-bent on unleashing the wrath of Death.

Alec and Cronin are thrown into a world of weird Alec cannot imagine. What he learned in school of ancient pharaohs and Egyptian gods was far from the truth. Instead, he finds out firsthand that history isn’t always what it seems.


Detective Alec MacAidan ran through the dark and wet backstreets of New York City. The rain added a silver-scape to the buildings, dulling the stench of rubbish-littered alleys, and added an eeriness to what had been a weird night. Shadows seemed to move and follow him as he ran, the hairs on the back of his neck prickled, but he never quit running. Chasing.

He was one of the fittest guys in his department, and at only twenty-nine he was younger than most. His jeans were wet to his knees and water streamed down from his soaked brown hair to his coat, his senses alert. The only sounds he could hear were his own heart pounding in his ears and his boots on the pavement.

He’d chased down ice addicts before, and this one was no different. Unnatural strength and speed, ashen faces and wide eyes, and manic highs and lows made these people unpredictable and dangerous. But as he navigated his way, chasing this guy through the back alleyways, around corners, over fences, barely catching glimpses of the guy’s dark coat before it disappeared again, the shadows got closer. Alec had the creeping realization that he wasn’t chasing someone at all.

He was being chased.

Followed. Hunted.

Despite the burn in his lungs and in his legs, he pushed himself harder, faster, and as he rounded the corner of a building, the guy he was chasing approached the eight foot brick wall that fenced the back of the alley.…


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