First a quick note–I have been informed that we may not see copies of Personal Demons in bookstores until the second week of April or so. Which makes me sad. But you will still see it!
And on to our excerpt:
Megan has just had an unsettling experience at a group therapy session run by wimpy local therapist Art Bellingham. She’s arranged to have Greyson Dante meet her afterward, in an attempt to get to the bottom of things…
“I thought you wanted to help me. To keep me safe from all those stalkers following me around? Yesterday you were my hero, today you don’t even want to talk to me. Not that I care. I just find it odd.”
“I changed my mind.”
“Why did you come, then? Why not stand me up? Do you want to talk or not?”
He sighed. “No. Well, I did, but now I don’t. You lied to me.”
“I did no such—”
“You did. The other night you promised you wouldn’t accept any other offers. Then you agreed to go work for Arthur Bellingham and his little gang of deviants. Sounds like a lie to me.”
“I didn’t agree to work for him. I just agreed to go to a session. One of my patients asked me to.”
“Does Bellingham know that? I bet he told them all you’d be working for him, didn’t he?”
“No, he—” She stopped. He had said that, hadn’t he? She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter what he thinks. I don’t work there, I’m not going to work there. In fact, I’d be much happier if I never set foot in the place again.”
“Actually, yeah, it—that’s none of your business.”
“It is. You promised me first.”
“Oh my God, what are you, a Klingon? So I went there. So I accepted an offer and I said I wouldn’t. So what? What are you going to do, cut out my tongue?”
“Unfortunately, no. I’m not allowed.”
“Excuse me?” Megan reached for the door handle as unobtrusively as she could. She could probably jump out at the next stoplight. Dante seemed to have the devil’s own luck with the lights, though—they were all turning green as soon as the car got within braking distance.
“I’m not allowed to hurt you. In any way. I’d be punished if I did.”
“Punished?” Her fingers tightened on the door handle.
The headlights from cars going in the opposite direction washed over his face, casting it into light and then shadow, shadow then light. “It’s some stupid new public relations push. We aren’t allowed to physically hurt people anymore. Bad for our image, or something. Can you imagine?”
What are you talking about? Whose image?”
“Demons.” He made another right turn. They were already in her neighborhood.
Megan thought carefully about how to phrase her next sentence. “You’re telling me you believe you’re a demon.”
“I don’t believe anything,” he said. “And I’m not one of your patients. Don’t speak to me as if I am.”
“You might want to consider getting some psychiatric help, if you think you’re a demon.”
“I don’t think I am, I know I am. And you need to know it, too.”
This should be good. “Why?”
“Because a considerable number of us are after you.”
I did a real live phone interview last night, with Kimi from TaleChasing.com. I’ll let everyone know when they can listen to me drone on, as soon as I have the date!
I’m blogging about blogging today over at Shelley Munro’s blog. Shelley is a heck of a hot writer, and an great person. So stop by and say hi!
Don’t forget to blog about, tag, or add Personal Demons to your wishlists! There’s prizes and stuff!