Grendel's Curse (Rogue Angel, Book 48)
Alex Archer, Steven Savile
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A sword of legend in the hands of an extremist…
Skalunda Barrow, Sweden, has long been rumored to be the final resting place of the legendary Nordic hero Beowulf. And there's something of Beowulf's that charismatic and zealous right-wing politician Karl Thorssen wants very badly. Intent on getting his hands on the mythical sword Nægling, Sweden's golden-boy politico puts together a team to excavate the barrow. A team that American archaeologist Annja Creed manages to finagle her way onto. She wouldn't miss this possible discovery for anything.
With Nægling at his side, Thorssen could be invincible…a Nordic King Arthur. What his followers don't know—and Annja is beginning to suspect—is just how far Thorssen will go to achieve his rabid amibitions. When Thorssen marks Annja for death, she quickly realizes that this is much more than a political game. And the only way to survive is to match Thorssen's sword with her own.
At what, she saw the red light on the side of the camera and fell straight into her on-screen persona. “As you can see from the mist clinging to the field, it’s a bitingly fresh morning here at the Skalunda Barrow, though no one here’s feeling the cold because today we get the first look inside the excavation. Volunteers worked tirelessly yesterday, driven on by the belief that this truly is the last resting place of a legendary warrior king, and they are part of something special. We all feel.
And down, wondering if it was safe to knock without incurring his wrath. “What is it, Mother?” he called out finally, putting her out of her misery. She coughed slightly, then asked, “Is everything all right, dear? You’ve been in there an awfully long time.” She didn’t open the door. “Yes, Mother. I am fine.” “Dinner has been ready for an hour,” she said. “It’s spoiling.” “I’ll be out shortly.” He could have said that he was busy. He could have told her he really didn’t care that dinner was.
Stretched the length of the living area. The view offered an unrivaled panorama of the city and the countryside for miles beyond. “He’s still out there.” “That he is,” Garin agreed. “But not necessarily hunting you. That’s the important thing here. He thinks he’s done his job. He could be out of the country by now. It’s what I’d do in his place with everything neat and tidy.” “That makes me feel even worse,” Annja said, staring out the window in the direction of the distant lake. “If he’s.
Leading up to the election and find out when he was vulnerable to an attack. There was a screen and a touch pad beside the gate. They got out of the car and went over to it. Annja hunched forward, trying to shield herself from the worst of the rain as it quickened. In the distance she heard a deep rumble. Thunder. She hadn’t seen the flash of lightning yet. Great, she thought as she hit the green button she assumed would call up to the main house. Garin stood beside her. A face appeared on the.
Metal to go on? Impressive. But then money can work miracles. “This is Annja Creed, Kalle. She’s from the television,” his mother said, reappearing in the doorway with a tray of exquisite teacups. “Ah, television, then I am afraid I will have to disappoint you. You should have made an appointment through my press officer. I’m sorry I can’t help you. I’ve got to be up in Stockholm in a few hours. Big debate tomorrow, going out live on national television.” That was interesting because she knew.