Kris Starr used to be famous. Rock and roll. Sold-out shows. Literal magic. Empathic talents and screaming fans. But he has a problem or two. He's having a hard time writing new music. It’s Midwinter, which means he’s surrounded by depressing holiday cheer. And he's in love with Justin, his manager, who has a talent for rescuing almost- or once-famous bands ... and who’s hiding secrets of his own. Justin Moore, on the other hand, is very good at keeping those secrets -- he's had to be for years. One secret involves a demonic inheritance that would make him a target of suspicion. Another involves his past. And the third involves Justin’s feelings for Kris Starr, rock and roll icon and now his client ... and a powerful empath of his own.

A Demon for Midwinter

Justin had, he was pretty sure, worn a smoke-blue vintage Pictsies shirt a time or two. Pioneer punk. Classic.


He started humming, quietly. And then singing, once he’d got the words yanked out of his brain’s storage crates.


No instruments, no backing. No real plan. Flying with it. Himself and his voice and “Here Comes My Man,” and oh it felt right, it felt good, it felt—


Even when he tripped over a verse, even when he started again, he wanted to laugh. Filled up by light. Radiant.


He thought about Justin’s eyes, enormous and enthusiastic and richly textured as holiday treats. About Justin singing along with him, voices mingling and messy and matching, that morning.


“Outside there’s a wind that’s blowing, inside a fire waits for you…” Steve, on the other side of the glass, opened his mouth, shook his head, said nothing and made a go on gesture.


Chapter 9