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Devil at the Crossroads
Devil at the Crossroads
Devil at the Crossroads
Ebook82 pages49 minutes

Devil at the Crossroads

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About this ebook

The devil covets more than his soul ...

Six years ago, Logan Hart sold his soul to the devil to become the greatest bluesman of all time—and now the devil has come to collect.

The irony is that Logan squandered his gift. High on fame, money, and drugs, he ignored his muse and neglected his music. And despite escaping showbiz in a moment of clarity, it’s too late to redeem himself. All that’s left is to try to go out with some dignity. Alas, the prospect of an eternity in Hell isn’t helping much with that goal.

But Farfarello, the devil who bought Logan’s soul, isn’t ready to drag him down to Hell quite yet. He’s just spent six years working his ass off to whip a bluesman into shape, and he refuses to let that—or the opportunity for more sinful pleasures with Logan—go to waste.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateAug 18, 2015
ISBN9781626490581
Devil at the Crossroads
Author

Cornelia Grey

Cornelia Grey is a student halfway through her creative writing degree with a penchant for fine arts and the blues. Born and raised in the hills of Northern Italy, where she collected her share of poetry and narrative prizes, she is now based in London, and she is thoroughly enjoying the cultural melting pot that is the City. Her interests vary from painting to photography, from sewing to acting; when writing, she favors curious, surreal poems and short stories involving handsome young men seducing each other. She loves collecting people's stories and re-discovering lost tales that deserve to be told. Her days are full and hectic. She reads, goes to flea markets, galleries and the theater, and of course spends most of her time writing. When she's at home, she likes to curl up with a book and the classic cup of tea and leaves chestnuts in the garden for the squirrel that comes around from time to time.

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  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    I got this as an ARC from Netgalley. M/M romance, with super hot devils. I really, really, really wanted to give this a five star review. The writing is amazing, just this side of poetic, without being purple prose. With lines like, "Even now, he could hear the dull, rhythmic thumps of dancing feet stomping on the wooden floor, mapping a tune he could feel all the way into his ribcage," Cornelia Grey expresses everything from the mundane to the fantastical, giving each one an equal sense of mystery, beauty, and wonder. Throw in a couple character who are incredibly well drawn, and well rounded, and I almost regret knocking down that half a star. Explanation under the page cut. But there is one flaw with this short story, and that's the Devil, Farfarello, is a little too... nice. His bargain is a little bit odd, and although this is somewhat explained in the end, I didn't quite buy it. Farfarello is a devil, and he shows the kind of patience that was not only unexpected, but quite frankly somewhat disappointing. I was more able to buy Logan's reactions at the end than Farfarello's. This is the story of Logan, a down-on-his luck musician who makes a deal with a crossroads devil to be a great bluesman, as well as to have money and fame. It’s told in alternating time between chapters - now and then. Then is six years ago, when Logan made the deal, and now ranges between Logan waiting for Farfarello to appear and claim his soul. The ending had enough surprises to keep me satisfied, while a little frustrated by the story Farafello tells at the end. It’s 72 pages, so I’d rank it as a short story rather than a novella, or novel, but a longer short. Because the world is set in the real world, and the modern world no less, the worldbuilding is limited to the fantasy elements and creating a place so real I felt as if I were the one choking on the coal and dirt when Grey got really descriptive. Very nicely done, and more effective than some of the worldbuildilng as far as the fantasy went because we get this from Logan’s point of view, and he’s never fully clear on what the rules of that world are. His conjectures are phrased gorgeously, but they’re clearly phrased as guesswork. However, the main impact is made through the characters, and their encounters, and I’m perfectly happy not knowing the rules of Farafello’s world, at least in this particularly story. If the world were to extend to more stories, I may be less patient if nothing more is ever revealed. Grey makes the most of the relatively short time we spend with Logan and Farafello. Even before they get it on, just the kissing is hot. I’m actually considering paying for this so I can have it on my Kindle. I certainly will check out more of this author’s writing, although I would love to see what she can do with a full length novel! Highly recommended.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    4.5 stars. Excellent writing. Really enjoyed the story. And it is hot as hell :-).

Book preview

Devil at the Crossroads - Cornelia Grey

Riptide Publishing

PO Box 6652

Hillsborough, NJ 08844

http://www.riptidepublishing.com

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Devil at the Crossroads

Copyright © 2013 by Cornelia Grey

Smashwords Edition

Cover Art by Jared Rackler, http://jaredrackler.wordpress.com

Editor: Sarah Frantz

Layout: L.C. Chase, http://lcchase.com/design.htm

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher, and where permitted by law. Reviewers may quote brief passages in a review. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Riptide Publishing at the mailing address above, at Riptidepublishing.com, or at marketing@riptidepublishing.com.

ISBN: 978-1-62649-058-1

First edition

September, 2013

ABOUT THE E-BOOK YOU HAVE PURCHASED:

We thank you kindly for purchasing this title. Your non-refundable purchase legally allows you to replicate this file for your own personal reading only, on your own personal computer or device. Unlike paperback books, sharing ebooks is the same as stealing them. Please do not violate the author’s copyright and harm their livelihood by sharing or distributing this book, in part or whole, for fee or free, without the prior written permission of both the publisher and the copyright owner. We love that you love to share the things you love, but sharing ebooks—whether with joyous or malicious intent—steals royalties from authors’ pockets and makes it difficult, if not impossible, for them to be able to afford to keep writing the stories you love. Piracy has sent more than one beloved series the way of the dodo. We appreciate your honesty and support.

The devil covets more than his soul . . .

Six years ago, Logan Hart sold his soul to the devil to become the greatest bluesman of all time—and now the devil has come to collect.

The irony is that Logan squandered his gift. High on fame, money, and drugs, he ignored his muse and neglected his music. And despite escaping showbiz in a moment of clarity, it’s too late to redeem himself. All that’s left is to try to go out with some dignity. Alas, the prospect of an eternity in Hell isn’t helping much with that goal.

But Farfarello, the devil who bought Logan’s soul, isn’t ready to drag him down to Hell quite yet. He’s just spent six years working his ass off to whip a bluesman into shape, and he refuses to let that—or the opportunity for more sinful pleasures with Logan—go to waste.

To my very own favorite bluesman,

who is, as always, my greatest inspiration.

About Devil at the Crossroads

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Dear Reader

Also by Cornelia Grey

About the Author

More like this

Logan Hart never imagined death would find him this way—alone in an old hotel room, a Marlboro in his mouth, his soul heavy in his chest, waiting for the devil to come rip him to shreds.

The room was quiet and dusty, its floorboards marred by charred lines, telltale signs of cigarettes dropped by careless sleepers. The smell of smoke saturated the heavy curtains, the worn bedsheets, the faded wallpaper.

Logan sat on a moth-eaten, red velvet armchair. On the small table beside him, among piles of old newspapers, rested a bottle of whiskey—barely half of it left. He had every intention of finishing it, and soon.

If what he feared was truly going to happen . . . he would sure as hell need it.

For most of his life, he hadn’t thought about his own death at all. Even during the last six years, he’d pushed it to the back of his mind—buried it under bright lights and expensive drugs, sweaty bodies and too-loud voices. In the last month, though, he’d thought of little else. He had concocted an array of scenarios, all involving alcohol and dangerous places. A tall building in a gray city, an even grayer street down below, cold tarmac ready to catch a falling body. A bottle shattered into an infinity of fragments. A chair kicked to the floor under the ceiling fan in a presidential suite, an empty minibar, and dangling feet. A heavy car sinking in a lake, muddy water rising in the locked cabin. Anything to get ahead, so to speak—just to avoid finding out exactly what sort of death the devil had in mind for him.

Somehow, he hadn’t gone through with any of his plans. Maybe he lacked the exact measure of madness he needed to believe that the devil would actually show up. Or maybe he just lacked the knowledge of the exact measure of cruelty the devil possessed and, if he knew—really knew—how creative the devil could be . . . if he knew the exact measure of pain a human body could withstand before succumbing to a merciful death, maybe he’d swallow rusty nails with that whiskey and throw himself through the window, smiling all the way down.

Maybe he just lacked imagination.

There was a chill in the air, a sibilant breeze that filtered through the cracks in the walls, howled and hissed on the tiled roof. It seeped into the room like a thin silver thread; it sneaked under Logan’s clothes and brushed his skin with icy fingers. The day had been stifling hot and damp, but, as darkness came, with it had crept that slithering cold, like fractures appearing in old bones. It had muted birds and crickets and paralyzed the murmuring

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