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

David, upon extended inspection, was also older than Justin: not quite Kris’s own age, but late thirties, heading toward forty, he guessed. This answered at least three questions regarding Justin’sromantic inclinations, two of them promising but at least one in a way that utterly depressed his heart. Justin liked men, and older men; Justin was quite visibly not single.


“Sorry,” Justin apologized once more, pink-cheeked and breathless. His hair was falling over one eye, tumultuous sapphire against cinnabar and acorn-dust. “David is my, um, well, he’s my—”


“Boyfriend,” David cut in smoothly. If Kris’d possessed hackles, they’d be rising. “I brought you tea. I thought you could use a little pick-me-up, seeing as it’s likely to be a stressful day. Your receptionist remembers me.”


Kris looked at his own praline mocha offering. Resisted the urge to hide both coffees behind his back; didn’t know what to do with hands, elderly guitarist hands, holding disposable Witch’s Brew cups.


Chapter 11