Nether

One suburban night. One stubborn corpse. One golden opportunity.

Burklin had it all: a spacious two-story house, a shapeshifting wife, a wide open future. That is, until his father ripped out his soul and trapped it inside an opinionated dachshund. Now he’s lost everything, leaving him a slave on mop-up duty for a homicidal teenage demon. His father is sleeping with his ex, the possessed dachshund won’t stop talking, and the cleanup jobs keep getting messier. Burklin would give anything to have his life back–even if it means turning against his manipulative father and destroying their chance of winning the Nether’s Demon Lord Sweepstakes.

Opportunity knocks with a dead woman’s hand. When the demon’s latest victim won’t stay dead, the rules of life and death change. Freedom lies within Burklin’s reach, but to get it he’ll have to defy his father, the ex-wife he still loves, and the Nether itself.

Just how far is he willing to go?

Warning: This title contains sex, violence, human cuisine, a smart-ass dachshund, teenage demons, and fun with corpses.

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Excerpt

The black luxury car came to life with a tranquil purr. With the body secured in the trunk, Burklin tapped the accelerator and drove slowly through the alley, heading for the street. He checked his watch. Still two minutes ahead of schedule. Another successful pickup.

The dachshund sat inside her traveling crate on the passenger seat. Towels, stuffed animals and several squeaky toys populated the plastic enclosure. She pawed at the terrycloth and bunched it into a makeshift pillow. The crate’s metal grille rattled as she worked. “I know what you’re thinking,” she said. “I’m privy to tonight’s screw up du jour. I shouldn’t say anything.”

“Then don’t.”

“Too late.” Listening to Pearl talk was about as melodic as a Kim Carnes song played through an underwater speaker. “Giving you advice is a waste of my vocal talents. Your balls will shrink any minute now and you’ll say, ‘Damn it, my plan won’t work. Maybe next time.’ You’ll drive to the Dumpster and dispose of the body. Then we’ll go home and watch Cosby reruns.”

Burklin flipped on the headlights as they emerged from the alley. “You don’t know anything,” he said. “You think you’re so smart.”

“I am smart. And whose fault is that? I’m telling you, stick with Garrick’s plan. Drop the body in the Dumpster.”

“You don’t know what I’m thinking. You’re a–a tiny dog with an even tinier brain.”

“Ooh, good comeback, Gallagher. Did you spend all week coming up with that one?”

Burklin rubbed his eyes and turned onto a side street. He beat his fist against his chest.

“What’s wrong with you?” Pearl asked.

“What do you think is wrong with me? My stomach hurts.”

“You’re driving the wrong way, idiot. The Dumpster is farther north.”

“Don’t worry about it. I need antacids.”

“You can take antacids at home,” Pearl said. “After the job.”

“I need something to settle my stomach.”

“You’re stopping the car for that? With a corpse in the trunk?”

Burklin slowed and turned into a convenience store parking lot. Stopping the car, he scanned the area in the rearview mirror. A taxicab idled across the street, but other than that his was the only car in the vicinity.

He looked through the store window. “Okay, I don’t see anyone inside except the cashier. Sit tight. I’ll run inside and buy the pink stuff.”

“Blood?”

“What?”

“You’re covered in the Burger Clog manager’s blood, moron. You can either tell the cashier you got your period, or you can take off the blood-soaked sweatsuit.”