The Devil’s Jukebox
Marcel Feldmar
Genre: Urban Fantasy / Paranormal Pop Fiction
Publisher: Peabo Productions (Self-Published)
Date of Publication: July 8th, 2014
ISBN: 9781495947469
ISBN: 9781310876769
Number of pages: 294
Word Count: 80,000
Cover Artist: Sam Soto
Book Description:
A group of friends are reunited after twenty years to learn that their destinies are entangled with the immortal Muses and a mysterious lost jukebox.
From Vancouver to a New Orleans cemetery, roaming through Los Angeles to Las Vegas; it’s a supernatural road trip laced with rock ‘n’ roll.
Available at Amazon iTunes BN Smashwords
If you order the paperback version of The Devil’s Jukebox
through CreateSpace between now and August 31,
you’ll get 20% off!
Just use the following discount code: RR5RTBTN
…and the magic will happen.
excerpt
The
coffee, the smoke, the music, the air. They connect the future in some twisted
roadside frenzy, and Annie knows she’s been here too long. The songs in the
café move and she gets lost somewhere in the sound. Suddenly she feels the
downbeat smooth across her cheek. She remembers that drumbeat, close as
Sebastian’s heart was when he told her that he loved her. His voice, warm
across silk sheets.
She
remembers crying as the bass line slid through empty air after he was gone.
She’s
not going to cry anymore. She walks out of the cafe with a backwards wave
towards the barista. She walks, and all of the sunset junkies walk past her.
Crowding her off the sidewalk with tired eyes, searching for just one beautiful
thing to hold onto. Annie wishes she had that one thing. It only lasts a
second, and it’s gone. Mistaking repetition for inspiration and emptiness for
satisfaction, leaving her alone to drink in the hideous magnificence of the
slowly lowering night. Like wine spilling over, stained by ocean and moon.
Annie
shakes the strange vision from her head and finds herself falling into another
one, but this time it’s right there. A woman hidden in a mess of hair and
moonlight, crossed by shadows and pale skin. The street is dark, but the woman
almost glows.
“I
didn’t mean to startle you. At least,” she smiles, “not much.”
Annie
is flustered, scratched by a sharp edge of Déjà vu as she hears echoes of
something Phillip said to her a long time ago. This was someone like him… but
definitely different. “Oh, no, I mean… it’s okay. I’m sorry.” Annie wonders why
she’s suddenly apologizing.
The
woman’s gaze is sickly sweet, and it lasts a little longer than Annie likes.
She starts to step away, but a hand falls on her shoulder. She’s behind her,
still smiling, and Annie didn’t even see her move. The streetlight flickers, a
flash of darkness and Annie is suddenly aware of all the silence. She’s
suddenly aware of the fear as well.
Annie
thinks about running, or screaming, or both.
“Don’t.”
And
she finds that she can’t. The fear moves into desperation, then a slow resignation.
“Who are you?”
“My
name is Pandora.”
“What
do you want?”
Pandora
laughs lightly, and it sounds like glass.
“I
want you to be very careful.”
“What
do you mean? What did I do?”
“It’s
what you are going to do that concerns me.”
Annie
stutters against her fear. “I-I’m not going to do anything.”
Pandora
shakes her head. “Sometimes I forget how little you humans see. Consider this a
warning. You didn’t listen the last time I warned you, and I do not like
repeating myself. Don’t follow your friends.”
Annie
stares, nervous and confused. “What do you mean the last time? I don’t remember
you at all.”
“Of
course you don’t.” Pandora fixes her eyes on Annie and it feels like lightning.
“But remember this. This is not three strikes and you’re out. This is it. Leave
the jukebox alone, or you leave this life.”
Pandora
stands tall, pale, menacingly elegant, and Annie imagines that this is how
flies must feel when they suddenly hit a web. The dark magnificence of the
spider moving towards another meal. Except no spider could move like this. She
narrows her eyes and Annie’s blood shivers within her skin. “Sebastian didn’t
listen to me. Maybe you should.”
The
woman releases her gaze, and before Annie can let a breath escape, she’s alone.
She turns in a full circle—nothing. No one. She’s shaking.
All
Annie wants is a drink, so she heads towards the Viceroy, where she’s supposed
to meet Martin. It’s a small bar, but quiet. The drinks are strong and the
music is decent, but Martin isn’t there yet. Annie sits near the back and faces
the door behind a vodka martini. A slight touch of safety. She tries to clear
her mind, to relax. She tries to not think about what happened. It doesn’t
work. All she can think about is Sebastian. Who is Pandora? What did she do to
Sebastian? Was she there when the accident happened? Annie can barely remember
that, but she knows it was bad, and that maybe it’s best not remembered. And
how did Pandora vanish so quickly? She sips her drink, knowing that Pandora is
not like most people in this world. She is something that probably shouldn’t
exist but is too strange to believe, so Annie covers it with more alcohol and
comforting thoughts of illusions and hallucinations. She’s frightened by
shadows of what might happen, and Pandora’s words echo in her head…
“You
humans…”
This
isn’t happening, Annie insists to herself and proves it by getting another
drink. The music plays against the night, and Annie feels a memory shivering
somewhere between the song and her cigarette. There was a time, long before she
met her high school friends, when she believed in magic. There was a time,
before nicotine nights and empty alcohol, when she would sit in her room and
stare out the window and hope for something amazing. Something wonderful to
sweep in out of the night and take her away. There was a time when she wasn’t
scared.
Another
drink. It stains her tongue with silence. Her nails dig a little too deep into
her arm, and she stains her skin with violence. Sometimes it feels better to
bleed than to need.
She
places her hands on either side of her glass, not touching it, and tries to
relax her thoughts. Her eyes slide heavy across the smoke of the room. Another
sip and a slow thought of Sebastian slides in alongside. It feels like red wine
time, but Annie knows she’s not going to start drinking that, not now. They had
a history, lined up in empty glasses and faded labels, but that’s all it was.
History. And sadness.
She
sighs, skipping over the wine like smooth stones sailing across the ocean, but
that doesn’t mean she’s not drinking. She’s drinking to remember how to hang
onto that space between cigarettes that can last almost as long as the silence
between songs. Sometimes Annie forgets that all it takes is a quarter to break
her heart, as the jukebox spits out another sad song. Sometimes she forgets how
small the world really is.
About the Author:
Marcel Feldmar was born in Vancouver, moved to Boulder, ended up in Denver, went back to Vancouver, moved to Seattle, and ended up in Los Angeles. He is married with three dogs, and enjoys well made cocktails. He is also a coffee addict and an ex-drummer for too many bands to mention. He recently traded in his drumsticks for a couple of pens, and proceeded to complete his first novel. The Paranormal Pop Fiction tale entitled The Devil’s Jukebox.
August 18 Interview
Shut Up & Read
August 18 Top Ten Songs on the Jukebox
Darkest Cravings
August 19 Guest blog
Roxanne’s Realm
August 19 Interview
Eclipse Reviews
August 20 Spotlight
Books and Tales
August 20 Interview
The Creatively Green Write at Home Mom
August 21 Interview
Pembroke Sinclair.
August 21 Spotlight
Lisa’s World of Books
August 22 Guest blog
Mythical Books
August 22 Spotlight
Deal Sharing Aunt
August 25 Interview
The Word at My Fingertips
August 25 Spotlight
Fang-tastic Books
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment