The Calling of the Well goes live in the 13 Club shop tomorrow, and I'm so excited to share it with you. This story has been such a long time coming. I started work on it all the way back in 2017, and it grew from four disparate ideas into one cohesive story that I'm still in love with eight years later.

I wanted to share an excerpt that's fun but won't spoil anything, and I found this little gem. If you've read the Not the Same River series, you'll remember Astaroth from the final book. Well, they're back with their usual ethereal charm.

Enjoy!

POV: Astaroth

Astaroth was not Jacob fucking Marley, yet there they were paying visits in the middle of the night to people who were old enough to know better than to make the life choices they did. It was a peculiar kind of penance, and one they were not sure they had done anything heinous enough to deserve.

The president had grumbled loudly about being woken up at two in the morning when an ethereal being had somehow managed to breach the White House, the security team nowhere to be seen.

“I’m only here to bring back the secret you gambled away,” Astaroth told the man, handing over the sealed purple envelope.

He leaned back against his pillows in his fancy monogrammed pajamas. “How do I know that Asian kid didn’t look at what’s inside?”

“You can see it’s still sealed, and you shouldn’t gamble what you can’t afford to lose, Mr President.”

“Did you look at it?”

“I don’t need to open it to know what’s inside, but I have no interest in inciting an international incident. The last time I did that, heads rolled. Literally.”

The president eyed them skeptically.

Astaroth sighed. “The only secret that has been divulged in any capacity is Montero’s secret, which was the location of an object rightfully belonging to Mr Kirkland. All other secrets remain just that—secrets.”

“How do you… know things? Are you God?”

Goodness, what a weighty topic for the hour. Astaroth was certain the man would never have uttered such a question in broad, uncompromising daylight.

“You’d better hope not, Mr President, because your reputation hangs on your good Christian persona despite there being so very little evidence of it.”

Astaroth left the man to his blustering, exiting the White House the way they came—through the wall.

Mr Baldy-whatever was trickier to track down despite the predictability of his routine. Still, Astaroth arrived at the brothel a full five minutes before the aristocrat. The man was in a jovial mood as he removed his hat and overcoat, but his expression soured the moment he laid eyes on Astaroth.

He crossed the public lounge swiftly, dropping into the seat beside them, hissing under his breath. “What in the blazes are you doing here?”

Astaroth smiled, waving a hand at their surroundings. “Having a good time. Is that not why you’re here?”

The aristocrat cleared his throat. “So… you’re not here to see me?”

“I didn’t say that,” they said coyly.

“Ah, well, you see… I’m not sure… I mean, do you have, ah… the right equip—”

“I’m not here to seduce you,” Astaroth promised, barely holding in a laugh. “I came to return something to you.” They placed the purple envelope on the table. “You can call off the hunt for Sunny Wyatt.”

The man’s eyes widened, and he quickly stuffed the envelope into his inside jacket pocket. “He hasn’t seen the contents?”

“No, he has not. Nobody has. I’m not sure how you managed to get into Montero’s game with such a banal secret.”

“How do you know it’s banal?”

“I know everything,” Astaroth said. “I see everything.”

“So, if I went upstairs with one of these fine ladies, you’d be able to…” He nodded repeatedly as he tried to make his tongue form the words, finally whispering, “see us?”

Astaroth wrinkled their nose. “I will do my utmost to block that out. Now, do I have your word that you’ll stop targeting Mr Wyatt?”

“Yes.”

“It might also be prudent to focus those attempts closer to home on the Health Minister rather than the PM.”

He leaned closer. “What do you know about that?”

“Enough to know you’re looking in the wrong place for the leak.”

He eyed Astaroth suspiciously, then groaned. “How did you even know I’d be here tonight?”

“You’re a man of habit.”

“But I wasn’t due to be here tonight. I came yesterday.”

Astaroth stood, patting the man on the shoulder. “That’s not what I heard, dear.”

***

Join my gang of paranormal Vegas runaways for a road trip turned quest that's a little bit Scooby Doo, a little bit Wizard of Oz, and a whole lot of trouble.