He can feel magic snapping in his mouth, sparking at his fingertips. It's electric, a crisp cloak of ozone suffusing his skin, as if waiting for lightning to strike. Pulsing beats, hollow vocals, and the raw-nerve static of guitar filter through to create the perfect set of songs for any of Stiles' witching-hour rituals, or as a resounding soundtrack for swinging into battle.

16 tracks