The
Dark Choir
Book
2
J.P.
Sloan
Genre: Urban Fantasy
Publisher: Curiosity Quills Press
Date of Publication: February 26, 2015
ISBN (eBook): 9781620078228
ISBN (Paperback): 9781620078235
ISBN (Hardcover): 9781620078242
ISBN (Smashwords): 9781620078259
ASIN: B00QEQN1XC
Number of pages: 346
Word Count: 99,400
Cover Artist: Conzpiracy
Digital Arts
Book Description:
The
one person standing between Hell… and an innocent girl… is a man without a
soul.
A regular life isn’t in the cards
for Dorian Lake, but with his charm-crafting business invigorated, and the
prospect of a serious relationship within his grasp, life is closer to normal
than Dorian could ever expect. In the heat of the Baltimore mayoral campaign,
Dorian has managed to balance his arrangements with Deputy Mayor Julian Bright
with his search to find his lost soul. Dorian soon learns of a Netherworker,
the head of a dangerous West Coast cabal, who might be able to find and return
his soul. The price? Just one curse.
Sounds easy… but nothing ever is
for Dorian. A dark presence arrives in the city, hell-bent on finding Dorian’s
soul first. Innocents are caught in the crossfire, and Dorian finds it harder
to keep his commitments to Bright. When the fight gets personal, and the entity
hits too close to home, Dorian must rely on those he trusts the least to save
the ones he loves. As he tests the limits of his hermetic skills to defeat this
new enemy, will Dorian lose his one chance to avoid damnation?
Available at Amazon
Excerpt:
I knew this
wasn't going to be the typical meeting with Julian Bright when, instead of the
usual political organ-grinders at the campaign headquarters, I found a soccer
mom duct taped to a chair, foaming at the mouth. Her grunting and growling
echoed off the bare sheetrock walls of Julian's office, vacant except for the
three of us.
I peeked through
the blinds covering the locked storefront to make sure none of volunteers were
back from the morning rounds. Satisfied we were alone, I turned to Julian.
He waved his arm
at the woman in a lazy circle. "So, this is why I called."
"Who is
she?"
"Her name
is Amy Mancuso. You know her?"
I shook my head.
"She's a
volunteer. Her team was working Cold Spring by Loyola when she started swearing
and spitting at the residents. By the time her team captain called me, she'd
kicked someone's dog. Terrier, I think. Or one of those purse dogs."
I winced.
"Remind me not to hand out yard signs for you. Jes*s."
"It's not
like we do background checks on volunteers. I figured she probably missed some
meds or something."
"But you
called me instead of the paramedics."
"Right."
"Why?"
I asked as I took a step toward her.
Amy's grunting
halted as she straightened in her chair. Her head swiveled slowly in my
direction, and her eyes sent the creeping chills up my neck.
With a
nerve-rattling tone she growled, "Is that Dorian Lake I smell?"
I'd never
enjoyed the sound of my own name less.
Julian turned a
shoulder to me and whispered, "That's why."
"Gotcha."
I slowly
approached Amy, pulling my pendulum from my jacket pocket in a slow,
non-threatening motion. Last thing I needed at that moment was to send a crazy
person into a panic. I assumed she was crazy. My pendulum would determine
whether she was unnaturally energized or the usual cat-shaving flavor of
lunatic.
Her eyes were
dilated; her mouth twisted into the most unsettling smile one could imagine on
the face of an otherwise average woman.
"Have we
met?"
"Poor
little Dorian lost his soul."
Okay, this was
probably a legitimate problem.
I dangled the
pendulum in front of Amy. The little nugget of copper spun from the end of its
chain in a perfectly Newtonian fashion. Nothing pulled it contrary to the laws
of Nature. I couldn't even feel a tug on the chain.
She continued,
"Lost his soul, he lost his soul. Dropped it down a rabbit hole."
About
the Author:
J.P. Sloan is a speculative
fiction author ... primarily of urban fantasy, horror and several shades
between. His writing explores the strangeness in that which is familiar, at
times stretching the limits of the human experience, or only hinting at the
monsters lurking under your bed.
A Louisiana native, Sloan
relocated to the vineyards and cow pastures of Central Maryland after Hurricane
Katrina, where he lives with his wife and son. During the day he commutes to
the city of Baltimore, a setting which inspires much of his writing.
In his spare time, Sloan enjoys
wine-making and homebrewing, and is a certified beer judge.
Web page: www.jp-sloan.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/JPSloanAuthor
Twitter: @J_P_Sloan
Tumblr: http://jpsloan.tumblr.com/
Tour
giveaway
5 Digital copies of The Curse
Merchant, Book 1 of the Dark Choir series
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