The story of urban witch, Tsara Faa, and her journey through Hell and back to master her elemental powers.
Where the story begins:
My name is Tsara Elizabeth Faa, and I have a demon problem.
My ex-best friend has summoned an incubus, and left me to deal with him. Now he’s after my soul.
Thing is, the more time I spend with him, the more I want to give it to him.
Demons. Can’t live with ’em. Can’t kill ’em.
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Curious about the story behind the story? Click for a gallery of sketches I did while I was writing Neon Blue.
Having banished the incubus, Jou, Tsara Faa is hoping for a return to normal life, or at least a quiet Christmas. But it’s not to be:
A shape-shifter’s been murdered by the Charles. The shifters claim it was the vampires, and the vampires claim they’re innocent. Now they’re all looking to me to find the real killer.
Trouble is, I think the real killer may already be looking for me. And the demon who could protect me, is the demon I just banished back to Hell.
Demons. Can’t live without ’em. Can’t unSummon ’em.
Here’s a taster from the first chapter:
I can’t say from personal experience, although if my night gets much worse I might find out. There’s a pretty major disadvantage to being the only human in a room with several unhappy vampires.
“This was not one of us,” the vampire’s speaker, Hill, says again. I can feel the irritation roll off him in waves. It has a sour smell, like old sweat.
I shift uncomfortably in my chair and wish I had a cup of coffee. Any flavor would do right now. Just something to warm me in this chilly, formal room. In the artic environment of anger and distrust between the four vampires and the handful of shifters who are staring at them.
But there’s no coffee. Nothing to eat or drink, in fact. It’s the first wake I’ve been to where there wasn’t any food. But then, shifters do things differently.
I don’t want to commit the faux pas of summoning a cup of coffee if there’s a reason that there’s nothing to eat or drink, but I’m in need of comfort. It’s been a long day. Toby’s wake has been hard. I rub my thumb over a strand of beads circling my left wrist. Sometimes touching them makes me feel better. But not tonight. I’m drained, and I want something to hug. Something more than a memory. So I reach. A cream and gold-streaked lizard, no bigger than my cupped hands, appears in my lap with a puff of steam and the whiff of sulfur. Wizard, my familiar, turns three circles in my lap, his tiny claws prickling through my pants, and settles down with a grumble that sounds vaguely like a purr. I stroke the soft, scaly curve of his body. Touching him makes me feel better instantly. Warmer. More relaxed.
“Are you suggesting this was one of the clans?”
My calm only lasts a moment. Then Ana’s question makes me tense again, because it’s not really a question. It has the flatness of an accusation. Ana’s usually more diplomatic. But since it’s her foster-son, or what’s left of him, who is lying in the casket at the far end of the room, I guess her lack of diplomacy is understandable.
Ready for more? Read Blood Yellow here.
The conclusion of the Neon Blue trilogy.
As above, so below.
War is coming, to both our planes.
Here’s a short excerpt from Burning Bones:
Jou’s warden and brother, Fulsome, waits for us in the central courtyard that Jou uses as a reception hall. Fulsome is the most beautiful creature – human, demon, fae, whatever – that I’ve ever seen. He’s a Renaissance sculptor’s marble angel made flesh. The ruddy light from the lava fountain in the center of the courtyard glows on the smooth curves of his face and body, paints red-gold highlights in the nimbus of his hair.
I control a shiver and look away. I have difficulty meeting Fulsome’s eyes. Because I know what’s behind them. I’ve touched the cold wasteland of his soul. It’s not a place I want to visit again.
“The pissant’s in her garden,” Fulsome says to Jou as we approach. Fulsome’s mouth’s as foul as his face is fair. And Jou’s siblings who haven’t quite warmed to me always refer to me as ‘her.’ Even when they’re speaking to me.
Jou nods and alters course, past the lava fountain, towards the shimmering archway that’s really a fixed gate connecting my garden to the fortress.
“You could put me down now,” I point out.
“Could do,” he agrees, continuing to carry me across the courtyard.
I glance over his shoulder at Fulsome, who has followed us, and who is glowering at Jou’s back.
Fulsome’s glaring at you, I say into Jou’s mind, since I don’t want his brother to overhear me and demon hearing is frighteningly acute.
Let ‘im. He and Zef need to get over it.
I don’t have an answer to that, so I rest my head against Jou’s shoulder and try to ignore Fulsome’s burning gaze. I’ve watched the tension grow between Jou and his siblings since my arrival. I’ve tried to make peace with Fulsome and Zeifyr. But I still don’t understand any of the demons very well, except Jou, and we’ve had some spectacular misunderstandings. Every gesture I make only seems to disgust Fulsome and irritate Zeifyr.
Jou stops in front of the gate and waits until the magical portal reaches out a shimmering tentacle. It strokes his horns, slips down over his face like a caress, then opens for him. Jou’s relationship with the fortress gates is very peaceful. And he’s taught me to open them the same way. But everyone has their own approach to the gates. The gate will close immediately behind us and Fulsome will attack it in the wrathful way he does until it opens for him. Why the gate touches Jou and yields, but won’t open to Fulsome until he assaults it, I have no clue. The magic of Hell is still mostly a mystery to me.
My garden opens in front of us as we step through the gate and I take a deep, grateful breath. This is a place whose magic I understand perfectly. This is magic redolent with moisture and the rich smell of soil, of green and growing things. This is my magic, the magic of Earth.