About The Demons of Chiyoda:
Occult private eye, Nora Simeon, and Eyre, her uncannily pretty boyfriend, are on another case on behalf of the Commission, the secret organization that controls financial sorcery in the Americas. This time they’re hunting down an investment-bank sorcerer who cracked when passed over for promotion and used a summoned demon to commit murder. Finding the murderer is easy, but he’s already dead, assassinated in a locked room.
The case’s ramifications quickly reach far beyond New York. From a murder scene in Queens, Nora and Eyre discover a tangled web of international corruption and sorcery linking crimes in Japan and the US. Traveling to Tokyo at the behest of the mysterious Onmyōdō Group, they run afoul of the even more deadly Ministry of Shadows. In the rural reaches of Fukushima province, Nora and Eyre discover a fateful secret that could shake the foundations of financial sorcery all around the world and come up against an old enemy whose malice poses a greater danger than any they’ve faced before.
Publisher: Mirror World Publishing; 1st edition (March 17, 2022)
Publication Date: March 17, 2022
Print Length: 199 pages
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When I got back to the living room, Eyre was sitting cross-legged on the floor, his hand on the demon’s gripper limb. The demon had recovered to the point of unlimbering their two stabby arms to speak again.
“I’m sorry,” Eyre said. “It’s not fair. I know you couldn’t disobey even if you wanted to. And I’m afraid that won’t matter to the Commission. But if you like, now you’re unbound so I can do a banishing ritual for you to send you home. You’d be safe from any other punishment.”
“Safe?” The demon played a discordant note. “No! I won’t go back.”
The demon rose once more to their feet, or their pointy things, whatever. “I’m sorry, too,” they played. “You’ve been very kind.”
They drew back one of their sharpened quadruped limbs, and as they struck, Eyre rolled out of the way. As the demon recovered from their lunge, he leaped to his own feet. The demon reared up like a horse and came down with their deadly forelegs aimed at Eyre’s torso, but my assistant caught both metal limbs in his hands before they could strike home. Advancing a step, Eyre forced the demon’s limbs apart and back; there was a grinding shriek of tortured metal and both joints ruptured.
“Yield,” Eyre said, “please. You’ll have another chance someday. We can work something out.”
The demon still had their centaur-arms free, the ones they had been using to speak, and they could have struck with those, but instead they played, “Never.”
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