Demon Kissed
The Summoner's Mark Book 1
by J.D. Blackrose
Genre: Paranormal Romance
"This book is GOOD!" --Faith Hunter, NYT and USA Today bestselling author of the Jane Yellowrock series
My name is Rebecca, but everyone calls me Becs.
Years ago, a mark appeared on my inner wrist--The Kiss, they call it--and it makes me a summoner. I can summon, well, things…entities of power, including demons. Which, I did, until recently. I quit, because I summoned a demon on behalf of a client and things went south. I fixed it, but now I owe that demon a favor and I don't know when he's going to call it in, or, what he's going to ask.
One thing's for sure, it won't be kosher.
Now I work in a fae bar, trying to stay out of trouble, waiting for the hammer to drop. But trouble tends to follow me. And my upstairs neighbor, Ash, seems to be right in the thick of it. He's gorgeous, with sexy curls, kissable lips, and a body to match. I can't believe someone like him even glanced my way.
Things get complicated when a local mob boss wants my help, a warlock decides I'm next on the menu, and my six-foot-tall fairy friend can't find his way home.
What's a Jewish, bird-watching summoner with family and friends to protect, to do?
Praise
for Demon Kissed:
"A fantastic
protagonist, killer magic system, and a supporting cast you'll fall
in love with, J. D. Blackrose's Demon Kissed is a
fantastic new urban fantasy. I loved this book and can't wait to read
more!" --John G. Hartness, Award-Winning Author of The
Black Knight Chronicles
"This book is GOOD! Blackrose proves that a creative writer can grab you with an original twist." --Faith Hunter, NYT and USA Today bestselling author of the Jane Yellowrock series
"Magic, snark, a dash of romance, and a ton of action. Demon Kissed offers a compelling blend of fun and edge-of-your-seat excitement. Compulsively readable and highly recommended!" --David B. Coe/D. B. Jackson, author of Radiants and the Thieftaker Chronicles
"J. D. Blackrose's latest tale spins together demons, mobsters, fairies, and a kick-ass heroine under a curse that may end up being her salvation. *Chef's Kiss*." --Darin Kennedy, Author of Fugue & Fable and The Pawn Stratagem
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NO SOONER HAD the pixies left than a big guy in a rumpled suit walked in, made a beeline for me, and snapped his fingers at me, as if he were keeping time to a jazz band.
“Can I help you, sir?” I avoided his eyes. There was something about him that made my radar ping. I snagged a rag and wiped the bar top a second time.
“Gregory Adamos sent me.”
That made me pause and sent my tummy churning.
I said nothing, but continued pouring a chardonnay for a dwarf, taking pains to get a perfect six ounces. Then I took a deep inhale and tried not to heave the bar nuts I’d eaten a few minutes ago.
Rumpled Suit snapped at me again. Everyone was snapping their fingers at me today. “Did ya hear me, girly? Gregory Adamos sent me. He needs you to summon for him.”
“I have no idea, why, of all people, Gregory Adamos would want me, but I’m not summoning any more demons. In fact, I’m not summoning, period.”
“Because . . . ?” He drew out the word to make it a question. He seemed truly confused.
The memory froze me in place. The acrid smell of smoke and fire. The demon Valefar’s haunting laugh. I swallowed and shook myself back to the present. “I gave it up for Lent.”
Rumpled Suit protested, his voice a harsh rasp. “You don’t celebrate Lent, Rebecca Greenblatt.”
“Was that a Jewish joke?” I looked around to make sure no one was paying attention and then leaned in close, getting angry. “I gave it up, meathead, that’s all you need to know. Tell your boss I said no. Gregory Adamos is the last person on Earth I’d ever work for again.”
I backed away and passed the six-foot fairy with the droopy pink wings a thimble-full of honey mead. “Here, Pinky. Have at it.”
“Thanks, Becs,” he said, low and sad, as always.
An elf tapped the top of the bar. “Draft beer, human.”
I poured and slid it to him, frowning at the sideways glance he cast at Pinky, irritated at the way other fae treated the fairy.
Already off-kilter, I found it hard to keep my patience. I jerked my chin at the elf. “Hey, are you a Vulcan or something? I get my TV shows mixed up with my fae creatures. Anyway, here’s your beer. I didn’t even spit in it this time.”
The elf huffed off.
The suit ignored all of that, opening his arms wide in a magnanimous gesture. “Mr. Adamos says to tell you he forgives you. The past is the past. What matters is that you get results.” He sounded like a game show host. He pointed his finger at me. “He wants you and he’ll get you. Gregory always gets what he wants.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. Gregory always got what he wanted? Well, wasn’t that peachy for him? I wanted my damn locket back and to not owe a Duke of Hell a favor. But I didn’t say that. Gregory Adamos didn’t know the details of what I’d done to get his younger brother back, and I intended to keep it that way.
“Tell him to summon the freakin’ demon himself. Tell him to hire a warlock to make an ironclad circle and he can negotiate to his heart’s content. There’s one in the area that’s been advertising.”
“You’re the only one with the Kiss,” the paunchy rat said, stabbing his finger toward my left wrist, which I covered with a leather band two inches wide and engraved with protective symbols. “This is what you’re born to do.”
I whirled around, reached across the bar, and grabbed his forearm, pulling him toward me. Joey, who was suddenly there when I needed her, leaned into his back, holding him in place. I couldn’t have secured him without her because he was unexpectedly strong.
I inhaled, and one whiff explained his strength and how he’d found Joey’s fae-only bar in the first place. That, and with him this close, I could see his skin color. Slightly green.
“Okay, you pissant troll.” Plains troll, if my nose didn’t deceive me. “I don’t know what you’re doing working for a cobra of a human like Gregory Adamos, but you should run—not walk, not shuffle—run away. My answer is still no. It will always be no and won’t change.”
Before I’d traded in my locket for Nick Adamos, Nick had been in Hell under Valefar’s, ah . . . tutelage. Now, Nick was a grown man who slept with a nightlight and sucked his thumb. Since I’d fubar’d that complicated situation, I’d sworn off summoning, and I meant it.
The troll yanked his arm out of my grasp, pushed Joey away, and stomped out.
“Gregory’s an asshole, sending that guy in here for you,” Joey said, wrinkling her nose. “What a jerk.”
“Thanks for your help.”
“No problem. You did well keeping your temper with the pixies.”
“Sorry about the elf.”
“He deserved it. I don’t like when they’re mean to Pinky, either. Why don’t you take a break? Go sit on the other side and I’ll get you a beer. One drink. Relax, then you can get back to work.”
The Summoner's Mark is J. D. Blackrose's first series with Bell Bridge Books. Previously, she's published The Soul Wars, The Devil's Been Busy, and the Zombie Cosmetologist novellas through Falstaff Books. She's also published multiple short stories, enjoying the art of brevity now and then. She's always lived in her head and is often accused of not listening. To make up for it, she's mastered the art of looking interested. Follow her on Facebook and Twitter.
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