Title: GYPSY SOUL REAVER
Genre: Urban Fantasy
Percent Complete - A third of the way done.
Dear Potential Critters:
Dyad Gypsy Rue Maddox thought her life was tough enough, having to share body and soul with the demon that almost killed her.
Daily yoga classes, a lifetime of stubborn will, and a steady dose of hot chocolate have brought her closer to being able to cope with the darkness growing inside, but only the soul of an angel can bring permanent balance and relief from the monotony of her rituals.
When Rue moves away from her caravan to the otherworldly territory of Mavra, she starts her new life as the owner of a tea and tarot shop. When the bills start piling up, she’s forced to take a second job and ends up working for the Mavra Inspection Agency, collecting un-collared demons.
Soon, word about her rare heritage, makes it outside the walls of the MIA and she becomes a target for an undead soldier fighting on the frontlines of a war that’s headed to the trenches.
He kidnaps her and uses her, first, as a living demon detector and then as the Ziploc bag for its soul that he’ll need to contain it.
Rue wants to take the demon back to Hell, but the soldier needs it and he’ll do whatever it takes to stop her if he can.
The alpha male of the local feline shifter pride is her only hope of escaping the truth.
If she doesn’t get away, she’ll have to decide if the risk of helping the cause is worth the risk of losing what’s left of her soul.
GYPSY SOUL REAVER, an urban fantasy, has a projected word count of 70,000. Thank you for your time and attention.
Eli Robert’s black eyes gave me the willies.
It wasn’t because he was a snake shifter, it was because we had the same eyes. He was born with his — mine were as unnatural as the platinum in a box blonde’s hair. I got them courtesy of the demon fused to my soul.
I didn’t stop arranging the canisters of Earl Grey tea until the entire row was pulled neatly to the edge of the shelf, then I put the extras in the cardboard box at my feet as Eli walked towards me.
“I need your help Rue,” he said. Not even a smile.
“Hello to you too? And help with what?”
When he didn’t answer me right away, I shook my head. “The answer is no. That’s no. Big. Fat. No. Helping you means trouble.”
He held his hands up in the air. “Woah. Be fair. What happened last time wasn’t my fault. This time is important.”
I stared at him, mouth gaping. “Are we talking about the same situation? Because the last time I helped you out, I ended up inside a Mavra jail cell with a power drunk pixie puking her margherita on my lap right before her excess magic surged in my face.” I glared at him. “She singed my hair! I had to cut it.”
He stood up to his full height, which brought him up to my shoulders. "You were in jail for less than a day, and it grew back. Don't be so dramatic."