| Goodreads |
Description:
Dorian Lake spent years cornering the Baltimore hex-crafting market, using his skills at the hermetic arts to exact karmic justice for those whom the system has failed. He keeps his magic clean and free of soul-corrupting Netherwork, thus avoiding both the karmic blow-back of his practice and the notice of the Presidium, a powerful cabal of practitioners that polices the esoteric arts in America. However, when an unscrupulous Netherworker interferes with both his business and his personal life, Dorian’s disarming charisma and hermetic savvy may not be enough to keep his soul out of jeopardy.
His rival, a soul monger named Neil Osterhaus, wouldn’t be such a problem were it not for Carmen, Dorian’s captivating ex-lover. After two years’ absence Carmen arrives at Dorian’s doorstep with a problem: she sold her soul to Osterhaus, and has only two weeks to buy it back. Hoping to win back Carmen’s affections, Dorian must find a replacement soul without tainting his own. As Dorian descends into the shadows of Baltimore’s underworld, he must decide how low he is willing to stoop in order to save Carmen from eternal damnation… with the Presidium watching, waiting for him to cross the line.
—
Excerpt
When I answered the thunderous knock on my front door the following morning, the last person I expected to see huddled against the chilly morning air on my doorstep was Carmen. But there she was, without makeup, her hair pulled back under a ball cap, her eyes filled with some kind of nameless, but terrifyingly familiar dread.
“Dorian. I have to talk to you.”
I stepped aside immediately and stood limp as she brushed past me into the house. She pulled off her jacket and hung it on the coat rack. I watched her as she stepped directly into the kitchen, marveling at how easily she could slide right back into some kind of familiarity with the house she had lived in two years ago.
“What’s the matter?” I blurted as I tightened the belt to my robe and ran a hand over my hair.
She took a seat at my kitchen table and folded her arms in front of her. “I need your help.”
“I’m getting that. What kind of help?”
“Your kind of help.”
I lifted a brow and took a seat next to her. “You have my attention.”
She looked up at the ceiling and sucked in a ragged breath. Tears formed in the rims of her eyes, and I reached out to touch her hand.
“Jesus, Carmen. What’s going on?”
She pulled away, then sniffled as she wiped her eyes. “I’m in trouble, Dorian, and I don’t know how to fix it. I’m so fucking far over my head, here.”
“The club?”
“No, not the club. I just, forget about the club, okay?” She calmed down and took a breath. “I did something a while ago. Almost two years, now. It’s something I was told would be temporary, and that I could undo if I needed to.”
“What did you do?”
She sniffled again, and her face slowly crumpled into a wincing sob. I reached behind me to grab the paper towels from the counter, bunching one up and offering it to her.
Carmen daubed her cheeks and cleared her throat. She looked me square in the face with bloodshot eyes and said, “I sold my soul.”
From time to time, someone will tell me something so patently unbelievable that I manage not to understand the words as they’re spoken. This usually leads to my blathering something incredibly insensitive or incongruous which makes me look like a tremendous jackass. This was one of those moments.
“No you didn’t.”
Carmen held a breath and shook her head. “Yes. I did.”
“No, you couldn’t have. What do you mean you sold your soul?”
“You know what I mean, and I did it.”
I closed my eyes and held up my hands. “Wait, what the hell are you talking about? You didn’t sell your soul, Carmen. There’s no way you could be that stupid.”
“Thanks, Dorian.”
“Carmen!” I shouted, making her jump. “What the fuck?”
“It happened a couple weeks after we… after that happened. It got bad for me. I was losing everything, Dorian. My job, my contacts, my reputation. Everything that meant everything to me, all because…”
She let the sentence hang, but I followed her train of thought just fine.
“Because of me.”
She shook her head.
“No, I’m not going to let you take responsibility for my life.”
“You’re being kind. I know I really screwed you. I admit that. Never apologized for it, did I?”
“Well, it doesn’t matter now because I went with what I thought was my best option. That was my choice.”
“Your best option was selling your soul?”
She glared at me with a mix of patience, anger, and despair. I could tell she wanted to tear my head off, but she kept it reined in. She needed my help.
Only, I wasn’t sure there was anything I could do for her.
*~*
About The Author:
I am a storyteller, eager to transport the reader to strange yet familiar worlds. My writing is dark, fantastical, at times stretching the limits of the human experience, and other times hinting at the monsters lurking under your bed. I write science fiction, urban fantasy, horror, and several shades in between.
I am a husband and a father, living in the “wine country” of central Maryland. I’m surrounded by grapevines and cows. During the day I commute to Baltimore, and somehow manage to escape each afternoon with only minor scrapes and bruises. I am also a homebrewer and a certified beer judge. My avocations dovetail nicely!
Find J.P. Sloan Online:
0 Comments