Dati Amon wants to be free from his satyr master and he hates his job—hunting human children who display demon balefire. Every hunt has been successful, except one. A thwarted attempt ended up as a promise to spare the child of a white witch, an indiscretion Dati hopes Master never discovers.
But Master has devilish machinations of his own. He needs human-demon hybrids, the Daimonion, to raise the Dark Lord to the earthly realm. If Master succeeds, he will be immortal and far more powerful.
The child who was spared is now a man, and for the first time in three hundred years, Dati has a reason to escape Master’s chains. To do that, Dati makes some unlikely alliances with an untrained soulless witch, a self-destructive shape shifter, and a deceitful clairvoyant. However, deals with demons rarely go as planned, and the cost is always higher than the original bargain.
J.P. Jackson © 2017
All Rights Reserved
Dati is most definitely the main character in Daimonion, however I struggled a little with this because at one point, Alyx (Dati’s human) was given just about as much page space. That slowly morphed over time and Dati won out. But if I could tell this story again, it might be from Alyx’s point of view. This little chunk is the first time we’re in Alyx’s head, and he has just seen Dati the demon for the first time (except he has no idea who or what Dati is…not like that’s going to stop him).
Mom dragged what had appeared to be a homeless man into her consultation office. I couldn’t help but think that after a good scrub-down, the homeless guy would have been pretty hot. It was close to the end of my shift, but I wasn’t going anywhere until I’d had a chance to interrogate Mom on the arrival of her sudden “guest.” And those eyes! I’d heard of people with two different-coloured irises, but I’d never seen it in person.
Selecting an old clothbound book from the pagan gods section, I plopped myself on the stool behind the cash register and read several chapters. The book wasn’t that intriguing, so being a little bored, I walked around the store, tidying up, and glanced out the shop’s window to see if anything interesting was happening out front. The streets of downtown always had something going on. Except now.
I waited some more, then glanced at the time on my phone, gave up, and read a few more sections of the book.
What on earth could she have been doing for so long in the back with…whoever that man was?
The shop had been extremely quiet since the appearance of the stranger. I was flipping through the pages of my chosen book when Mom startled me with a touch to my cheek. I glanced up at her and smiled.
“You were in there forever,” I said, dog-earring the tome. I jumped off the stool and scratched at my cheeks, digging through the beard. That always felt good.
“A complicated issue,” Marta said. “But never mind now. It is done.”
“Who was that, Mom? I’ve never seen him in here before.”
“Never you mind. You forget you saw him.”
At this point, the topic was over. Mom could be stubborn at times.
“Okay,” I lied a little. “Do you need me to do anything else? Lydia has tickets to a play for later tonight. I need to run home and get ready to go out.”
“You go. Have fun.” She patted my cheek and then frowned. “And shave this off.”
“Never, no way.” I had grown the beard so that I didn’t look like I was twelve years old, and besides, it was a great beard. Just twenty and my facial fur was thick—much fuller than any of the other guys. And it got me dates and stares from both guys and girls.
I was particularly interested in the stare from the guy who had gone back with Mom. His eyes were crazy cool, one icy blue, the other a steely grey. The clothes he wore were trash, but I could tell he was muscular. His coat was tight around the arms. His scruff was almost as thick as mine. And those shoulders, man, he reminded me of a linebacker. And the way he stared back at me…. Wow. If he wasn’t as into me as I was to him, then I had no idea how to pick the gay guys out.
Even though Mom had said I should forget about him, that was the last thing I planned to do. I had to find this guy again.
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J.P. Jackson works as an IT analyst in health care during the day, where if cornered he’d confess to casting spells to ensure clinicians actually use the electronic medical charting system he configures and implements.
At night however, the writing happens, where demons, witches and shape shifters congregate around the kitchen table and general chaos ensues. The insurance company refuses to accept any more claims of ‘acts of the un-god’, and his husband of almost 20 years has very firmly put his foot down on any further wraith summoning’s in the basement. And apparently imps aren’t house-trainable. Occasionally the odd ghost or member of the Fae community stops in for a glass of wine and stories are exchanged. Although the husband doesn’t know it, the two Chihuahuas are in cahoots with the spell casting.
J.P.’s other hobbies include hybridizing African Violets (thanks to grandma), extensive travelling and believe it or not, knitting.
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