By CS Goto
There's full-on house Marine motion within the notable sequel to "Warrior Brood"! the long-lasting house Marines blast into motion with all weapons blazing in CS Goto's most recent novel. The sequel to "Warrior Brood" explores the Deathwatch house Marines and their remit to seek down the foul alien creatures that besiege mankind from all fronts. Warrior Coven sees the Deathwatch being compelled to best friend with these they've got sworn to ruin. Can they carry their fanatical hatred in cost to avoid an even bigger evil from getting into the universe? This action-packed novel from the writer of "Dawn of conflict" brings the awful darkness of the far-future to existence in an epic SF story with an explosive climax.
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Additional info for Death Watch #2: Warrior Coven
It just poured out of him, as though it ran through his veins and eased out of the pores in his skin. It was the only one of the aliens that did not hide its face behind the armoured panels of a helmet. Instead, a heavy hood shaded the features of its face, and a long cloak plumed out behind it as it walked. For a moment, Dhrykna wondered how the rest of the mon-keigh could live knowing that superior specimens like this existed in their midst. The blind fools could not even see the brilliance in its soul.
Octavius stared. His mind was accustomed to experiencing the horrible and the terrible of the galaxy. He had watched his battlebrothers die; he had seen aliens torture his brethren, and he had tortured them in return. He had gazed into the inexplicable and infinite evil that lurked in the eyes of a tyranid hive tyrant and he had seen entire worlds burn. But the sight of Ulthwe was not something for which any of his terrible memories could have prepared him. With his helmet tucked under his arm ready to lead the landing party, Octavius stared, unblinking, and his complex blue eyes sparkled with awe.
They would not keep out the most determined of spying devices, but he had any number of more painful ways to deal with anyone or anything that actually dared to breach the integrity of his chambers. Taking two weary steps, Seishon joined Vargas at the table, lowering himself stiffly into the chair opposite his old friend, watching him rattling a glass against a crystal carafe as he tried to pour himself some wine. A cunning thought occurred to him at that moment, and he kicked himself mentally for not having thought of it before: perhaps all of this bumbling innocence was just a front?