A review of Laurell K. Hamilton’s ‘Guilty Pleasures’ chapter fourteen

Hey guys, just a note – the blog will be on hiatus until Friday. I’m going to Rome for three days with my housemates as a mini-break before my third year. Obviously, I will not be updating from a internet cafe in a piazza so I’ll see you all again at the end of the week! Dottie x

Anita has exited the sewers into a bright technicolour display. The Circus of the Damned where the city’s most powerful vampires live and are unable to think originally.

A man leaned against the door. He was tall and slender, dressed like a riverboat gambler. Royal purple coat, lace at the neck and down the front, straight black pants and boots. A straight-brimmed hair shaded his face, and a gold mask covered everything but his mouth and chin. Dark eyes stared at me through the gold mask.

Oh god, it’s the vampiric version of Gambit. And I love Gambit. And this guy is going to turn out to be evil, I can just tell.

“I don’t intend to harm a hair on her head – tonight.” The gloves lifted the mask away. The left side of the face was scarred, pitted melted away. Only his brown eye was still whole and alive, rolling in a circle of pinkish-white scar tissue. Acid burns look like that. Except it hadn’t been acid. It had been Holy Water.

It’s like someone forced together Gambit and the Phantom.

This vampire was burnt by Anita and was the guy who caused most of the scars she keeps talking about. She thought she had killed him. Evidently not. Luckily, because Miss Nikky has decreed it so he is forbidden from hurting Anita. He does force her to show the scars he made. He likes to get his rocks off on hurting women it would seem. Anita was sent to kill him and his nest after they butchered 23 people. It’s hard to feel sympathy for him, Mister Valentine, as all the vampires must have very gender ambiguous names.

Anyway, after a very, very long night Anita finally drives home.

I wasn’t questioning my motives tonight, so I was still a vampire slayer, still the name they had given me. I was The Executioner.

That is a poorly constructed sentence.


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