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

Triumph, a weary raised-arms salute after a long black night, rose up and sang along as well, deep in his soul. He looked at Justin, now breathing soft and slow.


Exhausted wild exultation scampered down his spine. He was more tired than he could remember having been for ages, but in a good way, a cleansing way, and he knew he wouldn’t sleep.


He put the guitar away carefully. He did not get out a drink, though he could’ve used one or six. He satwith Justin as the night crept steadily toward day. Justin, framed by dark sheets and pillows, did not wake. The fire-blossoms of his hair had calmed into still embers, napping, too.


Justin stayed asleep for several hours. Kris watched him for a while, became aware that watching someone sleep was about as exciting as Reggie’s discourses on grape cultivation in drought conditions, and continued for a bit longer out of perverse determination and a mild sense of transgressive guilt at how closely he was gazing.


Chapter 30