Getting Familiar with Your Demon

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This book is dedicated to all of my awesome readers out there. You guys are the whole reason I’m able to do this job I love. Also to my Zombie Smuthound posse—Kyla, Kelly and Bea. You guys might be even crazier than me. Okay, probably not. But you make my life—and Twitter stream—so much fun.

Last, but never least, to my amazing editor, Sasha. You truly are the Abbott to my Costello. The Tony to my tiger. The puffer to my fish…

Samael Gorasola grimaced as the blaring strains of It’s Raining Men pounded through the speakers recessed in the walls of his prison cell. There weren’t many things that made him yearn for a quick, merciful death. Not even the three-centuries-old demon currently torturing him. Disco music on the other hand—where was a damn bullet to the brain when he needed one?

Right on cue, Toran joined in on the chorus with a piercing falsetto that was akin to sharp toothpicks jabbing into Sam’s corneas. Sam gritted his teeth. Fucking. Kill. Me. Now.

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