The
Devil’s Jukebox
Marcel
Feldmar
Genre: Urban Fantasy / Paranormal
Pop Fiction
Publisher: Peabo Productions
(Self-Published)
Date of Publication: July 8th,
2014
ISBN: 9781495947469
ISBN: 9781310876769
Number of pages: 294
Word Count: 80,000
Cover Artist: Sam Soto
Book Description:
A group of friends are reunited
after twenty years to learn that their destinies are entangled with the
immortal Muses and a mysterious lost jukebox.
From Vancouver to a New Orleans
cemetery, roaming through Los Angeles to Las Vegas; it’s a supernatural road
trip laced with rock ‘n’ roll.
Available at Amazon
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The
Devil’s Jukebox - An Excerpt:
It
could have ended differently. But it ends like this.
Or,
more accurately, this is how the ending begins.
It
begins in the summer. It begins in Los Angeles.
Jonathan feels
like something not good is waiting to happen. He doesn’t always feel like this,
just on birthdays, holidays, and most of the days between. This is a day that
holds something bad. He’s been avoiding talking to Fortuna recently, since he
feels like he’s been working on these kinds of jobs long enough to be able to
find the right answers on his own. But this isn’t an ordinary case. This time
he’s going to need help.
He wishes that
he could tell Phillip what has really been going on with Pandora, but he can’t.
Not yet, perhaps not ever. Phillip has helped a lot, moving in and out of his
life like an older brother, no, like a good friend. Ever since Sebastian died.
Jonathan looks at his drink. He’s going to need more alcohol too.
Phillip wants
him to find Pandora, but that’s something he doesn’t think he can do alone.
That’s why he’s convinced himself that he should talk to Fortuna. He still
isn’t sure who Fortuna is or how she knows what she knows. Kalinda introduced
them one night in San Francisco, but he never learned where, exactly, she came
from. He is grateful that she doesn’t mind sharing her knowledge with him. He
had entertained thoughts that Fortuna might be involved with black magic, but
he knows he’s wrong.
She is beyond
good and evil.
Jonathan taps
his fingers on the bar. He’s hanging out at Swampland, while the DJ tears up
the vinyl, spinning through a mix of early ‘70s punk rock obscurities and
British Invasion hits. He turns to look but the DJ booth is shrouded in shadows
and dim red light. He thinks about saying thanks for the songs but decides he
doesn’t need another excuse to stay. “Right, let’s just get it done.”
It took him a
while to find Fortuna. She’s someone that even the dead don’t like to talk
about, and the dead love to talk. It took a few visits to Hollywood Forever, a
boom box, and an old Shriekback cassette. He felt like a gothic Lloyd Dobler,
but he finally got his answer. The Tropicana Motel on Santa Monica Boulevard,
Room 29. Now that he knows where she is, the trick is to work up the nerve to
go there. Jonathan knows he shouldn’t go. He doesn’t always listen to the word
“shouldn’t.” He shouldn’t be infatuated with a woman named Pandora who is the
next best thing to a vampire, and not a good one. He probably shouldn’t be
trying to track her down either. He knows Fortuna might be able to tell him
where she is; he kind of hopes that she can’t.
Clearing away
spirits is like tearing down the dusty latticework of old cobwebs accumulating
in a musty attic. That he can handle, though it gets a little dirty at times.
Vampires, though, they’re solid. Blood-sucking evil solid, and he isn’t looking
forwards to dealing with any of them. Not that Pandora is a real vampire, but
she’s close enough. He’s been running from her and searching for her at the
same time, and it’s getting old.
“D*mn you,
Phillip,” he grumbles as he leaves Swampland, wishing reality was like it used
to be. As far as he knows, Phillip’s the same as Pandora but, at least so far,
not evil. Phillip did help Jonathan get settled in Los Angeles.
Jonathan can
clean out a haunted dive bar in about twenty-four hours, he can exorcise a
possessed drum kit in the time it takes to listen to the extended mix of
“Fascination Street”, he can purify a stage from spectral remains before a band
returns for an encore. He just doesn’t know if he can take out Pandora. He
walks fast down the sidewalk, passing all of the faceless people, and then—
A dark-haired
woman moves past him with a sidewalking glare. She struts hard in high black
boots. She’s stalking the streets like a storm on the concrete, heels over
heartbeat, and Jonathan’s breath catches in a suddenly broken rhythm.
She’s a whiplash
girl twisting necks, and he feels the stirrings of a fever. He doesn’t even
care about the weather; he just knows it’s better when it’s hot.
This heat holds,
and slides out from between her steps. He watches her tight black dress, the
fabric painting eyes and stirring blood. Slick lick lips, thigh-high and
higher. She hits him with a flash of red, a slip of a smile, like some reptile
out for a spin.
Jonathan stops,
but it’s not her.
He still has
time. He needs to figure out how to get away from Pandora—for good. It feels
like they’ve been haunting each other for an eternity, though it’s only been a
few years. He needs to know where she is and how to stop her. The only person
Jonathan knows who might have answers is Fortuna. She always has answers. She
always freaks him out as well.
Jonathan waits
for his hands to stop shaking. He watches the sun set in the reflection of
skyscrapers, pulling the half moon to rest behind a closed curtain of brilliant
clouds. He connects the stars while walking between parked cars. Some quiet
frenzy slips inside him, and he hides it from the outside world. He already
knows what song she’s playing as he moves up the stairs. He can feel the rhythm
tracing taut lines around his veins with a wire’s kiss.
I am the fly.
Jonathan walks
through the cold night into Fortuna’s motel room.
About
the Author:
Marcel Feldmar was born in
Vancouver, moved to Boulder, ended up in Denver, went back to Vancouver, moved
to Seattle, and ended up in Los Angeles. He is married with three dogs, and
enjoys well made cocktails. He is also a coffee addict and an ex-drummer for
too many bands to mention. He recently traded in his drumsticks for a couple of
pens, and proceeded to complete his first novel. The Paranormal Pop Fiction
tale entitled The Devil’s Jukebox.
Tour
giveaway
5 signed paperbacks
I absolutely love the sound of this! not too many books like this are out there anymore.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Lori! I wanted to write something that could fall into the "Urban Fantasy" genre - but I wanted to stay away from the full on Supernatural Romance side and work on something that had a lot of music involved, and a more literary feel.
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