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Amazon
The Seraph Contingency on Outskirts Press
Amazon
Category:
Humor
Publisher: Outskirts Press, Inc.
ISBN-10: 1478716991
Type: Fiction
Pages: 268
Copyright: Nov 27, 2012
ISBN-13: 9781478716990
A dark, funny fairytale of an adventure that blends, science, magic, and mythology with just a smidge of horror here and there.
What do a five year old and a ferryman have in common? What does a goddess have to do with a golf course? What's with all the artifacts in Hell? And what business could a seraph possibly have down there?
To find the answers, you have to start with a beautiful, bored angel sneaking out of Heaven and wandering into the one dive bar in Purgatory. Add abduction courtesy of a devious demonic Duchess with a checkered past looking to expand her wardrobe. Call in the Cavalry in the form of one powerful Transporter demon with interesting tattoos, an active libido, and a nagging conscience. Toss in a colorful cast of characters, including a violet haired vixen with a mind-bending condo near the beach, a cigar smoking witch and one amazing little boy, for good measure. Season the mixture liberally with science, laughter and magic. Stir until trouble rises, skip the ice and let it all boil over into the wildest party Hell has ever known.
Excerpt
Chapter Three
“Holy crap, it worked. it actually worked!”
Anael pries her eyes open, just now realizing they’ve been shut tight in the first place. A round face bearing black lipstick and multiple coats of Egyptian-inspired eyeliner stares back at her, flabbergasted. What is wrong with this kid? She shifts her attention to Gaap quickly, who is unconscious beside her in a chalk-drawn pentagram in the midst of what appears to be an empty warehouse. The snakes fuss and bother around him, determined to wake him so he can protect Anael from the fat thing with its black candles and incense.
“Do you have any idea how wrong it is to summon demons, not to mention defacing someone else’s property?” Anael chides, erasing the chalk lines from around the four of them with a slipper-clad toe.
The teen, torn between a love of shapely calves and deep concern over failed containment efforts, backs up a few paces on the cracked concrete floor. He points out that the hangar he’s been practicing magic in is part of a defunct Marine Core air station. No one really cares about the darned place anyway … and her boyfriend may be a demon, but she’s definitely not.
Gaap, who has roused to a sitting position after realizing they are not in the interdimensional safe house he’d been aiming for, carefully considers the boyfriend comment. Strangely enough, he doesn’t mind. Rubbing his neck, he points out the reason Crowley Jr. over there being successful has nothing to do with spell-casting abilities. He’s an amateur. The odds that some budding young Satanist would time his attempt at summoning with the few scarce moments when a demon was transporting are one in a million, maybe even a billion. The kid should be out buying a lottery ticket right now, not wasting his time drooling over a wingless angel like a dog that just dug up a dinosaur bone.
“What-ever,” the kid mumbles, scratching the back of his round neck defensively. “You’re here, aren’t you? And my name is Kyung Sam, not Crowley … Most of my friends just call me Sammy.”
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