StarCrossed 1: Demon Tailz

Prologue


Famous for the notorious witch trials of 1692, the small seaport town of Salem, Massachusetts had been trying to smudge out the horrible image of murder and injustice for centuries. In a complete turnaround, the town had begun welcoming anyone who was a self-proclaimed witch, and by the early 21st century, one in four Salem residents claimed either to be a witch or to know one.

It hadn't stopped there. The welcoming and nurturing attitude toward special residents had not gone unnoticed.

They lived undetected for years—vampires and were-creatures, angels and demons—stealthily and steadily filtering into the day-to-day lives of the humans. When the secret finally emerged, it had been to a handful of levelheaded individuals who recognized the potential for harmony . . . and chaos. A decision had been made to allow the supernaturals their continued, civilized co-existence with the caveat the secret must remain confined to Salem alone.

A fragile peace has existed ever since.


Chapter One

Halloween. Salem. The two went hand in hand. Salem transformed itself each October from a sleepy little town into the party of the year for a month-long festival of playful fright and mischief. Ghost tale tours, costumed ballroom dances, and street vendors all cashed in on the not-so-rosy history of the coastal New England town.

The night before the big day, the upscale bar named Tailz was hopping with thirsty guys, gals, and ghouls. The place teemed with new faces: some in costume, some come-as-you-are. The locals knew better. When October rolled around, Salem residents typically took to their homes and waited out the maelstrom of tourism, including the supernatural residents.

Jace Barton, on the other hand, thrived on the chaos. The handsome, dark- haired demon loved living in the thick of the mortal coil. He'd owned Tailz, along with his brother Konnor, for several years now and business had never been better. At midnight, patrons packed the bar to capacity, and a rowdy cheer officially welcomed in the holiday. Tailz buzzed in full swing, and Jace barely had time to breathe between pouring drinks. By a quarter to one, most of the visiting party hounds were beginning to trickle out, stumbling back to their hotel rooms to rest so they could do it again later that night.


Chapter Two

Cash Rowan had given up for the evening. The tip he'd gotten from a hunter in upstate New York had garnered nothing but a wasted wild goose chase. He'd slept in the car for two nights straight, lurking around the athletic field concealing the tainted ground of Gallows Hill. He'd had half a mind at one point to say fuck it, to head south to check out the old Lizzie Borden house in nearby Fall River. Too much time had passed since he'd taken out a ghost. If the rumors of that place being haunted by old man Borden and his second wife were true, then Cash would be more than happy to help them on their way. He'd seen the old TV movie rebroadcast at least a dozen times; Elizabeth Montgomery had been hot in her youth. Her image captured in that tacky bronze Bewitched statue in mid-town Salem, though? Eh, not so much.

When the apparitions failed to show at Gallows Hill after two long nights of patient surveillance, Cash decided to give up on that particular hunt, but the task driving him for the past ten years wouldn't let him leave without some extra nosing around first. He'd gotten a room at a small bed and breakfast, showered and changed his clothes.

A brief chat with the innkeeper led him to this place. Cash held open the door as a long line of costumed, happily inebriated folk paraded out onto the street. He kept trying to get in, but they kept coming out. One even tipped him as if he were the goddamn doorman. When a break in the procession finally materialized, Cash slipped into the bar called Tailz. According to the innkeeper, Tailz offered the best chance for finding a demon in these parts.



Chapter Three

With closing time rapidly approaching, Jace at last took a breather, and he strolled over to the jukebox to play something he liked. He'd had a whole night of Pussycat Dolls and Jonas Brothers crap, and while he wouldn't have minded sinking his claws into the latter, their music made the demon's stomach churn worse than a jigger of holy water. He punched in F-8, and the strains of Darkness, Darkness by The Youngbloods filled the room.

He was surprised to hear a man's voice, singing low and under his breath. "Keep my mind from constant turning, toward the things I cannot see now."

Jace turned around and watched as the man stepped up to the bar, pulled out a stool and slid onto the seat. With his fingers laced together on the shiny, polished bar top, the man tapped his thumbs on the wood in time to the beat.

The man looked up. "Good tune, man. Haven't heard that one in a while."

"It's a personal favorite of mine," Jace said. He hadn't heard the new guy come in, and he wasn't prepared for the devilish good looks now seated before him: handsome face, short brown hair gelled into short spikes, a slim build, and a killer smile. Jace unconsciously licked his lips. This one didn't look like the typical tourist. Something in his eyes seemed different. Darker. "What can I get for you?"

"Whiskey. American. Neat." The man kept tapping on the bar to the slow, steady beat. "This your place?"

"Yeah. Well, my brother's and mine."

The man scanned the room. "He workin' the back office?"

"He's not here tonight, but we usually work together. He goes camping every Halloween week, partly to get back to nature but mostly to get away from all the tourists. He's a bit more high-strung than me." Jace grabbed a bottle of his finest top-shelf Tennessee and poured them both a hearty three fingers. He passed one glass to his guest and raised the other. "Cheers."

"Cheers." The man touched his glass to Jace's and offered his right hand. "Cash Rowan."

Jace shook Cash's hand then took a swig of his drink. "Jace Barton. You don't strike me as the type of person here for the Candlelight Haunted Tour, Cash. Moving into Salem or just moving through?"

"Here on business," Cash said. "I have some free time, though, so I might stick around for a few days. Soak up some of the, ah, local color as they say. Maybe I'll get lucky and see a ghost." He grinned, hazel eyes twinkling. He downed the rest of his drink and set the tumbler on the bar. "Hit me again. Been a long couple of days, and I got me a nice little room well within staggering distance."