- N. N. Light
Raven's Moon by @JBDaneWriter is a Trick or Treat Bonanza pick #urbanfantasy #mystery #giveaway
Title: RAVEN’S MOON
Author: J.B. Dane
Genre: Urban Fantasy, PI Mystery Comedy
Otherworld evil is loose in the real world. Bram Farrell, Private Investigator, must track it down and destroy it before it destroys him.
Bram Farrell has starred in twenty bestselling novels by writer—and witch—Calista Amberson. Her fans love the tall, dark, and handsome PI who vanquishes supernatural bad guys using his magical powers. So, when Calista uses her magic to pull Bram from his fictional world into real-world, modern-day Detroit, she rocks both worlds.
Every supernatural being on Earth felt his arrival in this dimension. They don't trust Calie’s intentions and Bram doesn't either. When the supernatural community hands him the job of discovering who killed the beings in the real world that match those he killed in each volume of The Raven Tales, he takes on the task. It’s a job he’s done in twenty books—he’s up to the familiar challenge.
Bram’s investigation turns up a lot of suspicious characters grouchy bar-owning trolls, a thirsty vampire godfather, a couple of murderous x-cage fighters, a suspicious minister¬¬—and the Devil himself. Things are getting dicey: Bram could use some help with this job—but whom can he trust?
Day One, October 27:
Detroit – Real World Detroit
“You need to learn this world first,” Calie said. “In fact, I was about to send you out to explore.”
That didn’t sound too bad. In fact, I was anxious to venture out.
“Beelzie!” she called.
On the floor above I heard a hinge creak, then a scrambling of clawed feet and a thundering on the hardwood floor. The tip of a dark snout appeared, then the rest of the creature trundled into view as it lumbered down the stairs.
“A dog?” Seemed incredulous that she had one.
“More than merely a dog,” Delia said.
The pooch had traversed the staircase now and stood in a threatening stance, four paws planted on the rug, a growl emanating from deep in its chest. The creature was a deep space sort of black, his coat glistening with a sheen very like the moonlight of the evening before. His lower jaw was burnt caramel colored, but it was the eyes that weren’t right in the face of any dog that really drew attention. They were blood red. Floppy black ears, and a long curving non-feathered tail completed the picture. The beast would have been intimidating even without the low growl had it not been less than a foot tall, though far longer in length.
“A dachshund? You want me to take a doxie for walkies?” I demanded. A man had his reputation to think of. Well, at least to maintain the reputation he’d gained at the bookstore.
“Beelzebub is not a dachshund,” the ladies insisted in unison.
“He’s a hellhound,” Delia said.
“A modern hellhound,” Calie added. “Did you think they all looked like Rottweilers?”
I’d met a few in my years adventuring as The Raven, and every single one Calie’s pen had described looked more demon than any sort of dog, therefore the answer was simple.
“I’ve never run up against one like this as you very well know.” I stared at Beelzebub and he showed me even more teeth. “Has he been fed lately?”
“Beelzie has a special diet. He doesn’t eat snarling fictional heroes,” Calie said. It sounded a lot like a snarl when she said it, too.
“Does he know that?” I demanded.
“Beelzie. Leash,” she ordered. And like the good dog I doubted he was, the short-legged hellhound trotted off to the kitchen. I heard P.T. greet him with pleasure, giving the beast a gushing welcome that no doubt involved a tummy rub. She was cooing “who’s a good boy” and the damn pooch’s answering yip sounded anything but demon bred.
Of course, the fact that there was a demon on this plane sorta answered something I’d been wondering about – were there Otherworld beings in the real world? If the Hotdog from Hell was any indication, the answer was, yup.
“I’m sending Beelzebub with you to ensure that you come to no harm,” Calista said.
Me? Ah, Raven, remember?
“This isn’t your world,” she continued.
Damn right, it wasn’t. This one should be a hell of a lot tamer! Even if there were Otherworlders in it.
“And if anyone asks if those eyes mean he has a contagious disease?” I essayed.
“Birth defect,” she said. “He’s missing some DNA link or something. Babble anything that sounds like science. Most people will tune you out.”
Not rabid doxie owners, but the rest of the world – yeah, she was right.
“And how long should we be gone?”
“As long as the dog thinks you should be,” she said.
Well, I knew where I ranked on this scale.
“Before you leave, is there anything you need?” Calie asked.
Oh, so tempting to say “my head examined” or something equally glib and clichéd, but I had given this some thought.
Everything around me was yelling to be touched, felt, tasted. The sheen of a tabletop, the petals of the flowers in a vase on the sideboard, and because whether I was human or not, I was male, P.T. was on the list as well.
Even if she was more inclined to rub hellhound tummies than mine at the moment.
As though he knew I was thinking decidedly unfriendly thoughts his way, the beast returned with a leash in his mouth. Practiced little monster that he was, he didn’t even trip on the dragging ends of the thing.
Calie had turned aside to a cabinet.
“Here. Five hundred should take care of any desires you develop along the way this afternoon. If you need more in the future, help yourself from the drawer,” she offered.
“No security protocol?”
“Whisper your name to the lock.”
“My name,” I repeated. “Which name?”
“Whichever you feel is most likely to do the trick.”
And if I picked the wrong one, would I go up in an impressive plume of smoke?
But I knew Calie. Knew how she thought.
Raven it was then. Still, I did wonder what happened to anyone who hadn’t been programmed into the system. And what security firm used spell technology rather than depend on things shot from Silicon Valley schematics.
She handed me the greenbacks then stooped to attach the leash to Beelzebub’s collar. I shoved them in my pocket. The idea of a dog protecting me grated. I was supposed to be a predator. The predator who preyed on predators, as a pseudo glib reviewer once remarked. Not today though. Unsure of whether I had arrived with the regular arsenal of power at hand, I was the man being taken for a walk by an animated sausage.
Beelzebub cranked up his low-pitched growl again. Great! The hell cast mutt could read minds. Just my luck.
“Be back before dark,” Calie requested.
“Yes, Mom,” I snarled.
“I was talking to the dog, Bram,” she said. “Both of you keep a sharp eye out though.”
Nice hierarchy we had in the “family.” I really was royally screwed.
Buy Links (including Goodreads and BookBub):
If you could dress up as anything or anyone this Halloween, what or who would it be and why?
Oddly enough, I haven’t been to many Halloween occasions where costumes were worn. In fact, there are only three that I recall – the first in kindergarten and the second when as an adult I worked in the office at JCPenney and a coworker threw a Halloween Party. Both times I went as a cowgirl. Mostly because I owned the hat and boots, though in kindergarten I had a cap six gun and holster, too—it was the Fifties. All kids had them back then. When I was an adult cowgirl, I lived in the Southwestern Desert, though I lacked the pistol by then. The final “costume” was when I worked at the UNLV library and we all dressed up. I happened to have a black dress and hit the fabric store for a yard of black lace to drape over my head. Otherwise, I pinned a note to my dress that said: “Golf Widow”. Oddly enough, my husband at the time didn’t play golf. I won one of the prizes for that costume though! These days I have a jean heavy wardrobe so it would be back to being a cowgirl.
Explain why your featured book is a treat to read:
RAVEN’S MOON is set in the days running into All Hallows and on the 31st, Bram needs to save a woman from having her body stolen during a ceremony in a meadow under the full moon. Everything about the story leans heavily on the spookiest time of the year. What better way to kick off the first novel length story in The Raven Tales series? So, if you want seasonal atmosphere, this is the tome to provide it…and quite a few laughs along the way to it, too!
One lucky reader will win a $75 Amazon gift card.
Open internationally. You must have a valid Amazon US or Canada account to win.
Runs October 1 – 31
Drawing will be held on November 1.
J.B. DANE is a pseudonym of a multi-published, multi-genre novelist who goes by many names. Not because she is in Witness Protection. Really not in Witness Protection. Really. She may start hiding from citizens of Detroit since her Raven Tales urban fantasy comedic mysteries have populated their fair city with neighbors who might be supernatural, paranormal or legendary beasts…or not so beasts…but probably ARE beasts. They could be hungry, too. She has also tampered with the lore of the Claus family, you know the one at the North Pole, and hopes this does not land her on the Naughty List, even if Nick Claus has landed on it frequently himself. She might be found at www.4TaleTellers.com, but leave a message to be picked up by a disguised courier and delivered to a secret location.
Social Media Links:
Facebook.com/JBDaneWriter or @JBDaneWriter on Twitter