Rules for Fighting Demons: The Marshal of Magic Series

By Chris Lowry

He knew the fight club rules by heart

It was the same for fighting demons

 

Don't talk about it.

Because normal people would think you're crazy.

 

A lot of it's done in the dark.

That's where demons are the strongest.

 

But what do you do if you have one on speed dial.

And he calls to ask you for help?

 

If you're the Marshal of Magic, you never leave a buddy hanging

Even if that buddy is a son of the devil himself

 

When the Marshal rides to the rescue though

He might have bitten off more than he can

 

Because this is the kind of trouble that's almost cosmic in scale

And a family problem to boot

 

The worst kind.

 

The luckiest spell caster in the west is gonna have to cast fast if he hopes to make it out alive.

 

And maybe break a few rules to get it done.

 

Fans of Dresden and the Iron Druid are going to enjoy the Marshal of Magic urban fantasy series packed with a smart ass hero just doing the best he can to keep our world safe.

 

Grab your copy of Rules for Fighting Demons, book 5 in the series today.

 

 

Guns and Magic

Witch Blues

Big Easy Witch

Viva Witch Vegas

Rules for Fighting Demons

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chris Lowry
• Release date: Sep 6, 2019
• ISBN: 9798223280712

Chris Lowry

Chris Lowry is an author and adventure seeker who has traveled the globe exploring new worlds and writing about his thrilling experiences. With over one hundred thrillers, science fiction, and urban fantasy novels to his name, as well as more than a thousand articles published across various publications, Chris has established himself as a master storyteller and a leading voice in the world of action and adventure. Whether he's fighting off hordes of undead in a post-apocalyptic wasteland or braving the depths of outer space, Chris is always ready for his next thrilling adventure. Follow his journey as he battles against impossible odds and becomes the hero that the world needs.

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Chris Lowry

Rules for Fighting Demons

Copyright © 2022 by Chris Lowry

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

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Contents

1. CHAPTER ONE

2. CHAPTER TWO

3. CHAPTER THREE

4. CHAPTER FOUR

5. CHAPTER FIVE

6. CHAPTER SIX

7. CHAPTER SEVEN

8. CHAPTER EIGHT

9. CHAPTER NINE

10. CHAPTER TEN

11. CHAPTER ELEVEN

12. CHAPTER TWELVE

13. CHAPTER THIRTEEN

14. CHAPTER FOURTEEN

15. CHAPTER FIFTEEN

16. CHAPTER SIXTEEN

17. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

18. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

19. CHAPTER NINETEEN

20. CHAPTER TWENTY

21. CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

22. CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

23. CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

24. CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

25. CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

1

CHAPTER ONE

I need your help.

I tried not to jump and failed miserably. At least I didn’t let out a squeal of terror. More like a little squeak. Loud enough to elicit a snort.

Devil, I rolled my eyes.

Demon, he corrected.

It’s easy to carry on a conversation with a disembodied voice, but it can make one look crazy. I wasn’t so worried about the crazy part. Long winded education and philosophical discussions with a ghost made many people stare and then look away.

This time, even Elvis stared at me like I was taking a swim in the deep end of the insanity pool.

Guess he couldn’t hear the voice.

Tomato, potato, I waved a hand back and forth in the air.

From your perspective, the lecture started.

I headed it off at the pass.

I’m mortal, my time is limited, yada, yada, yada. What do you want?

Are you okay?

Beth, my friendly neighborhood bartender reached out and took my half empty bottle of craft beer off the top of the bar and watched me with worry in her eyes.

Just thinking out loud, I told her.

It wasn’t’ the first time I’d been caught talking to the air around me, but the look on her face said this time it was different.

I think it was the look on mine.

This particular devil was a minion of Hell, and even his voice carried the stench of sulfur and brimstone. I guess my nose was reacting to it, and my frown and squinted up eyes made me look particularly nasty.

All a reaction, of course.

Do I need to cut you off? she asked, tilting the bottle back and forth.

You can speak to me with your mind, mortal, the devil advised.

I waved my hands like a baby reaching for a rattler.

I’ll keep it down, I winked.

She thought about it for a moment, then set the bottle back on the bartop with a clink and shook her head.

I’d been coming here for years, so Beth was used to the shenanigans, but that didn’t mean I wanted to piss her off. She was the keeper of nectar, and I was a fan of craft brew, but if I started to impact business, she would kick me out faster than a nun blessing a sneeze.

Good one, the devil whispered.

What do you want? I thought.

Who are you talking to? Elvis said from my shoulder.

I half turned my eyes to the empty barstool beside me. That half of the bar was barren, the patrons choosing to congregate away from the spiritually colder air that accompanied my ghost companion.

I could see him stare at the bottle of craft with longing. Back when he had been a person, my watcher for the city of Memphis, we shared a couple hundred bottles together. And he missed it.

Hail, I muttered from the corner of my mouth, hiding my lips behind the bottle as I raised it for a sip.

Damn, said Elvis.

Damned, Hail answered the ghost.

The sip slid down my throat.

What do you want, I thought repeated.

I said, I need your help.

With what?

To find someone.

I don’t do missing persons, I rolled my eyes. Not my jurisdiction.

It’s my daughter, Marshal. Someone has kidnapped her.

Hell.

Someone kidnapped the devil’s daughter.

2

CHAPTER TWO

I dropped two twenty dollar bills on the bar and set the bottle on top so they wouldn’t blow away and then left without a word.

Outside, the temperature was a balmy one hundred degrees with humidity so thick it was like walking through cotton candy. August in Memphis could be miserable.

The air was thick with the dead fish and mud smell of the Mississippi River clinging like a physical presence in the corridors between the buildings downtown.

The bar was a couple of streets over from the stadium, and I could hear the crowd cheer as one team or the other did something to earn it.

I pointed my boots toward the river and headed for Riverfront Park.

The devil had a daughter. This was the devil with a small d, not the big D. His name was Hail and he was one of those immortal, all powerful beings that turned into a legend and myth at some point in history.

Or before recorded history.

Humans had been roaming around and upright for a couple hundred thousand years, telling stories about things that go bump in the dark, and Hail was one of them. Those tales and stories twisted and changed throughout the years, passed from campfire