A Sin so great it cannot stand…
It’s not easy being the wittiest, sexiest, most devilishly handsome member of his elite team of Demon Enforcers, but Finn of the Syx has worked it his entire existence. The existence he can remember, anyway. While his fellow demons can recall their lives as Fallen angels–and the sins that got them condemned–Finn’s memory is a blank slate.
Which means his Sin was so horrible, not even the mind of a demon can handle it. Outstanding.
Now Finn is given his last chance for redemption: twenty-four hours to find an encrypted list of mortals marked for death. Unfortunately, the only person who can help him is Dana Griffin–the gritty, passionate, fiercely independent security expert who’s far more than she thinks she is, and definitely more than Finn deserves. Not to mention she’s being hunted by the worst of his kind.
Finn knows Dana is the key to his future and his past, but she’ll also be a dead woman if he can’t remember how to save them both before the clock strikes midnight on Christmas Eve. No pressure, though.
The life you’ve lost is all that can save you when you’re a Demon Forsaken.
Read an Excerpt
Moeller Mfg. Distribution Center
Kansas City, Missouri
Finn of the Syx, ultimate Demon Enforcer, hit the ground in the perfect superhero landing. One of his knees and one hand rested flat on the concrete floor, his other knee was bent, and his right arm was raised in a mighty thrust to ward off the ravening horde of demons who were ruthlessly poised to attack in all their howling, slobbering glory.
No one paid him any attention.
A quivering mass of bodies surrounded him, all right, but they were all undeniably human. Big, burly, poorly washed humans, pressing toward the front of the large warehouse room. They shouted and chattered excitedly, their beer-soaked laughter ricocheting off walls painted the color of despair.
Finn stood, wincing as some blowhard with a bullhorn started shouting over the raucous throng. “Climbing into the ring now isn’t Mack the Truck, as planned, but someone even better. Someone that will rev your engines and rock your worrrrrld!” boomed the powerful bass.
Beside Finn, Stefan of the Syx stood ramrod straight, hands on hips, his lean, muscled form tense and his scowl fixed. He also wasn’t paying any attention to the impressively flourished magnificence of Finn’s arrival. Instead, the slightly older, certainly prettier, and unquestionably more mature demon enforcer surveyed the assembly with an expression of chilly disdain. “Tell me this is a joke.”
“Which part?” Finn asked. “It’s not like we could say no.”
When a summons came for one of the members of the Syx, they went. As many of them as were required for a particular problem, with only the barest whiff of information to prepare them for what they were about to face. In this case, said information had been beyond sketchy. Finn squinted around the bleak space, trying to get his bearings, but he was as confused as Stefan.
“I thought this was a fight. A UFC fight.” Stefan’s eyes glinted red, betraying his irritation. “Like the one at the arena last week. With Kanye and Pitbull taking selfies and the women more bloodthirsty than the men—every one of them dressed to kill.”
“Yeah, well. This ain’t that,” Finn said. “These guys are maybe dressed to meet their parole officer, max.” He scanned the high ceilings and bare walls and stained concrete floors, the lights set up on rolling dollies blanketing the space. It barely resembled the mixed martial arts match they’d seen not two weeks earlier in Las Vegas, complete with high-tech screens and gleaming cages and easily ten thousand screaming fans hanging from the rafters of the glittering arena. No. This fight looked like it should be outfitted with prison wardens and body bags.
And that wasn’t the worst of it.
“How many demons we got here, by your count?”
Stefan exhaled a long breath, his gaze sweeping the room as well. “Not as many as the humans, I can tell you that, but they’re all crowded around the ring. And they’re definitely freshly hatched, which is interesting.”
Finn snorted. “Not all that interesting. This is exactly the kind of place that would appeal to a demon on his first day out of the slammer. Lots of low-hanging fruit.”
There was no question these demons were new to Earth either; the glamours that allowed them to appear human were almost harsh to behold. They were also too eager, too stupid. No wonder they’d tripped some mortal’s trigger hard enough for that human to pray to God for help.
Those kinds of prayers were exactly the kind the Syx answered.
Finn and the rest of the Syx had been demon enforcers for going on six millennia, charged with taking out the worst of their kind. A good job even when it sucked, really, since it allowed the team to hang around Earth more often than not, rather than rotting in their cell-like bolt-holes on the other side of the veil, which was where they should be serving out eternity in payment for their sins.
Humans had their own first line of defense when it came to demon hunting, of course. But despite all the good press exorcists got, it still took a demon to kill a demon, and archangels couldn’t be choosers when humans got desperate enough to pray for help. So, a human begged, the Archangel Michael heard, and one or more of the Syx were dispatched for cleanup.
Recently, however, the game had changed. Due to a series of deeply unfortunate events, a new horde of demons had been dumped onto the planet, as pervasive and deadly as trash in the Pacific. And unfortunately for Earth, demons were the plastic straws of celestial refuse: damned near indestructible.
Which explained why Finn and Stefan were standing ankle-deep in a particularly foul-smelling horde this fine solstice night in the heartland of America—along with a couple of hundred humans who had no idea how much danger they were in.
Just another day in paradise.