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Jane Yellowrock, Tome 6

Description ajoutée par Gkone 2012-12-04T15:06:25+01:00


Jane Yellowrock is a shape-shifting skinwalker who’s always up for a fight—even if it means putting her life on the line...

The Master of Natchez, Mississippi has a nasty problem on his hands. Rogue vampires—those who follow the Naturaleza and believe that humans should be nothing more than prey to be hunted—are terrorizing his city. Luckily, he knows the perfect skinwalker to call in to take back the streets.

But what he doesn’t tell Jane is that there’s something different about these vamps. Something that makes them harder to kill—even for a pro like Jane. Now, her simple job has turned into a fight to stay alive…and to protect the desperately ill child left in her care.

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Classement en biblio - 19 lecteurs


Extrait ajouté par feedesneige 2016-04-05T04:10:40+02:00


Been There, Shot the Place Up

I threw my leg over Bitsa and slammed my weight down on the kick start. The engine fired up with the rumble only a Harley can boast. It should have made me feel better, that lovely roar, but it didn’t. I was too ticked off. Or something. I wasn’t big on introspection or self-analysis; I just knew I wasn’t happy and hadn’t been in weeks. It had started back at Christmas and New Year’s, which I’d spent alone. Well, as alone as a girl can be living with two men.

Previously, my new roommates—the Younger brothers—and I had spent days training, learning how to work together, wisecracking, and picking on one another. More recently, they had proven themselves good about giving me space and letting me hide in my room. My black mood had started when the Kid, the younger Younger, demanded a Christmas tree and gift giving. I have no idea why. But I’d been impossible to live with for weeks and I knew it.

Stretching back, I locked the gate blocking the narrow drive of my freebie house in New Orleans and took off into the dawn. It was chilly and damp, gray and miserable. Winter, Deep South style, suited my mood. I’d never been the emotional type—no weepy Wilma, not whiny, teary-eyed, depressed . . .

My inner self stilled, the wind buffeting me as I leaned over Bitsa and gunned the engine, heading out of the French Quarter. Smelling the now-familiar scents of Cajun food and water-water-everywhere. Thinking about that word—depressed.

Crap. I’d never been depressed before, but I was now. Classic case of it. Lack of interest in much of anything, sleeping too much or unable to sleep at all. Not eating enough or binging on protein. Staying in my room with the door closed, lying on the bed, staring at the overhead fan. Not shifting into my Beast-form to hunt in months had to be contributing to it. Not dealing with Beast’s little problem.

I’m a skinwalker, a shape-changer, sharing my physical form—and physical forms—with the soul of a mountain lion I’d accidently pulled into myself when I was five years old and fighting for my life. And Beast’s current little problem was a good reason not to shift, though it left her feeling ticked off, and a ticked-off big-cat isn’t a pretty thing.

The only thing I had been doing was riding my bike through bayou country all alone, sightseeing, trying to see how far away from New Orleans I could get before that Beastly problem made distance difficult. Or impossible. And I’d been working out, lifting weights. A lot of weights. I had put on twenty pounds of pure muscle. When I finally shifted into Beast again, she was going to have to accommodate the extra poundage. Somehow.

“I’m depressed,” I murmured into the wind, trying the words on for size. Yeah. Depressed. I felt a shadow lift off me just admitting it to myself.

I knew why I was depressed. I’d screwed up so bad, so often, in the past year that I’d lost friends, lovers, and, well, that was enough. Wasn’t it? Now that I knew what was wrong, I could do something about it. If I could figure out what to do. This moodiness was uncharted territory.

Letting that thought simmer on the back burner of my mind, I wended my way through the city, heading uptown, which meant upriver, as everything in New Orleans was about the Mississippi River—uptown was upstream; downtown was downstream (something new I’d learned about the city that was my temporary home). I needed to cross the river, and though I could have taken the newer Crescent City Connection, part of I-90, I took the older, narrow, dangerous, two-lane hell of the Huey P. Long Bridge. I liked the old bridge, maybe because it was so dangerous; it had character, like an old noir film, a bridge leading out of the Land of Shangri-la.

On the other side of the Mississippi, I headed through Westwego and then vaguely west, like the town’s name suggested. Unsurprisingly, I found myself headed to Aggie One Feather’s place, adjacent to the John Lafitte Preserve, a wilderness area where the Cherokee elder who was my personal shaman—and probably my personal counselor too, now that I knew my emotional state—lived. But I could tell that she was still out of town. No car in the drive, shades pulled, no smell on the still air of coffee or bacon cooking, and the sweathouse out back had no smoke seeping from the chimney.

I slowed to a stop and set my boot soles on the shell-based asphalt, thinking about going into the sweathouse by myself, but I’d had some difficult experiences going it alone in there and wasn’t ready to try that again, even with the depression to motivate me. Even though I had some really heavy stuff to deal with. And so did my Beast.

I thought about the mountain lion soul who lived inside me, but she was still asleep, curled into a tight ball, her nose under her long, thick tail. She had been sleeping a lot lately, angry because I wasn’t letting her out to hunt—because I was afraid she’d do something stupid, like track down the vampire Master of the City, roll over and show him her belly, and then lick his feet. My fear was caused by a silver chain that no one but Beast and I could see. It was in the place in my mind that Aggie One Feather called my soul home, and the chain was some kind of binding that curled from Beast’s leg across the floor to a shadow in the corner of my mind, a shadow that was Leo Pellissier, the Master of the City of New Orleans and the entire Southeast USA, with the exception of Florida. Leo was the biggest, baddest fanghead I’d ever met. He was also my boss, for now, because I couldn’t actually get away, or not for long, and Leo knew nothing about the magical binding that kept me in New Orleans, because it had been accidental. I was not about to let the MOC discover how deeply I was tied to him. The vamp was like the left hand of the devil and would use and abuse the binding to get his way in everything. Ev-ery-thing. Like me in his bed and as his dinner, and I’d stake him before I let that happen—and suffer the consequences. Heck, I’d stake myself before I let that happen. Yeah. I had lots to be depressed about. Beast’s little problem was at the top of my list.

My cell jangled out a reggae dance number and buzzed in my pocket, and I jerked my attention out of my own mind and back into reality. I unzipped my leather jacket to pull out the phone. It was snugged right next to my shoulder-holstered Walther PK380, loaded with standard rounds. The .380 had less stopping power than a nine millimeter, but it was perfect when collateral damage—hitting humans—was possible. That one single-action semiautomatic and the short-bladed knife strapped to my thigh were my only weapons, which was really stupid. I was a target to some of the blood-servants and blood-slaves in the area, and while vamps needed nighttime to roam free, their minions could attack me anywhere, anytime. Or maybe being depressed made you unknowingly lax about self-preservation. Yeah. That.

I flipped open the cell to see Reach’s new icon—Darth Vader with a fanged happy face in place of his mask. I slid the cell up under the helmet to my ear. “You’re up early,” I said. “I’m not paying for this call.”

“No. A vamp is. I have a gig for you, for a vamp with deep pockets. Remember the name Hieronymus? A Master of the City who was attacked by de Allyon?”

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Commentaire ajouté par lianne80 2016-07-05T10:30:56+02:00

Jane et les frères Younger, maintenant bien rodés, voyagent jusqu'à Natchez contre l'avis de Leo, pour aider un maître de la ville qui essaye de gérer le contrecoup de ce qu'il c'est passé dans le tome précédent. Sa ville est infestée de vampires Naturaleza, anciens liges du vampires dont ils se sont débarrassé et ils n'ont pas l'intention de laisser la ville à Big H, le maitre légitime de la zone. Les disparitions s'enchaînent et notamment celles d'un bon nombre de sorcières de la zone. Jane est personnellement touchée lors qu'une ancienne amie disparait aussi, laissant à Jane le soin de s'occuper de sa fille de 5 ans, malade.

Un tome que j'ai trouvé un peu en dessous de la moyenne des autres.

Pour une fois on a moins de progression dans l'histoire de Jane, l'action étant vraiment ciblée loin de la Nouvelle Orléans et donc loin de Leo aussi. On a pour une fois pas à enquêter de comment il va réagir, bien qu'il se soit opposé au fait que Jane s'en aille il n'a pas pu l'empêcher et elle va sans doute le regretter une fois rentré.

Ils aurons bien sur besoin de coopérer avec les forces de l'ordre de la zone, incluant bien entendu ceux qu'on connait depuis plusieurs tomes, Rick inclus. La situation se complique quand Bruiser débarque aussi, envoyé par Leo qui n'a pas l'intention de laisser Jane provoquer des catastrophes en étant laissée seule, pour servir de palier entre les vampires et elle.

J'aime beaucoup la relation d'amitié que Jane développe avec les frères qui la suivent maintenant. C'est vraiment une équipe soudée maintenant, à tel point qu'ils décident de partir dans une association plus sur le long terme, les frère Younger devenant associés au lieux d'être payés pour faire le boulot.

Jane sors un peu de sa phase déprime du tome précédent, elle reprend du poil de la bête, c'est un plaisir. Elle se retrouve donc à devoir gérer les différents parties en cause dans l'histoire, trouver lesquels des vampires de Big H l'a trahis et ou se terrent les 20 naturaleza. Le tout en jonglant entre les sorcières, les enfants laissés à sa charge, ses anciens amours lui tournant autours et bien sur une mamie qui se prend pour un super héros et qui part tuer des vampires toute seule.

On en apprend un tout petit peu plus sur les instincts de Jane par contre, car il y a toujours un passage lié à son passé, même si il est moins important dans ce tome que dans les précédents.

On comprend mieux son envie de protection et sa façon de se mettre entre ses amis et le danger, surtout si celui ci est surnaturel.

Je suis rassurée aussi sur le point de ses amitiés, les gens commencent à ouvrir les yeux et a arrêter de lui mettre tous sur le dos juste parce qu'elle a dévoilé ce qui était mal et caché. Bon, tout n'est pas rêglé mais c'est en bien meilleur voie qu'avant, au moins un point positif après tout ce qui c'est passé, c'est un soulagement pour Jane.

Sur le papier ce tome avait tout pour me plaire, comme les précédents, mais pourtant je l'ai trouvé en dessous. Non pas qu'il y ai des points que je n'ai pas aimé, mais c'est juste que l'intrigue principale m'a moins captivée. Elle était moins complexe en fait, ils n'y avait que peu de fait qui venaient des tomes précédents en dehors des personnages, et on avait l'impression que rien n'avançait à mesure que les indices et les pistes menaient à des points morts.

En résumé j'aime toujours Jane mais ce tome n'est pas mon préféré, l'intrigue m'a moins intéressé. Malgré tout on retrouve notre ambiance habituelle et nos protagonistes qu'on apprécie toujours autant, une nouvelle fois dans une intrigue pleine d'action et de vampires toujours aussi flippants mème si on commence à s'y faire un peu.


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Date de sortie

Jane Yellowrock, Tome 6

  • USA : 2013-04-02 - Poche (English)

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Les chiffres

Lecteurs 19
Commentaires 1
Extraits 1
Evaluations 2
Note globale 8.5 / 10


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