Genre: YA Urban Fantasy
Word Count: 81,000
Seventeen-year-old Caleb Dunnelly would rather spend the weekend at home, searching the net for clues about his parents’ disappearance. Which is why his best friend has to trick him into going out every Friday night.
The two end up at Confessions, local hotspot, and—apparently—the perfect place to be ambushed. When a couple freaks in robes set the club on fire, Caleb pulls his friend to safety, and smack into the middle of an ancient war being waged on modern streets. A group of religious radicals believes he possesses powers capable of enslaving mankind, and wants him dead. Caleb doesn’t want to ‘enslave’ anyone, but try telling that to the lunatics with the glowing swords.
While running for his life, he crosses paths with the literally explosive Scarlet, who’s fiery hot, but also eight kinds of crazy. She says he can raise the dead, which makes him a target for any number of supernatural forces, including the Seven Deadly Sins. The Sins haven’t been topside in a millennium, but they’ve crawled their way out of the pit just to pay him a visit. Between Hell’s generals, and a murderous secret society, Caleb just wants to make it to Monday with his soul in tact—and possibly ask Scarlet out—but the Sins have information Caleb is willing to pay any price for: they know what happened to his family.
Caleb learned long ago being friends with Martin MacMurtry required two things, inhuman patience, and a tolerance for impromptu fashion shows. The first remained a struggle, but the second he’d mastered by the fifth grade. Reloading a failed level of Angry Birds, he snickered as Martin left to change clothes for the fifth time.
“Worse than my sister. I mean, come on, we passed borderline ridiculous twenty minutes ago.”
“Hey!” Martin’s voice carried into the living room, along with the rustle of cloth and the clatter of hangers. “There is absotively nothing wrong with taking pride in one’s appearance.”
He hiked an eyebrow, glancing up from his battle against the international pig threat. Did he just say, “Absotively?”
Caleb shook his head, turning his focus to his phone as he stretched out over an expensive-ass leather couch. Martin called it Ashley, which worried Caleb before he found out it was a brand, and not his friend naming the furniture. “What I said still stands. What, were you a runway model in another life?”
“First I’m not just changing clothes. These are strategic choices.” Martin’s words preceded his reentry, his fingers fumbling with the leather belt around a pair of three-hundred-dollar tattered jeans. “Second, your sister wishes she dressed this good.” He held out his arms and struck a pose, the kind you find in magazines where it’s clear the guy takes himself and whatever he’s modeling way too seriously.