The Banshee & the Blade

By Seana Kelly

Half-demon Dave is searching for his banshee girlfriend Maggie. The two men who knew where she was being held have both died quite horribly. With information from a certain sea wicche and a priceless weapon from his father, Dave begins a quest to a forgotten castle with far too many secrets.

• Language: English
• Publisher: NYLA
• Release date: Jun 23, 2023
• ISBN: 9781641972697

Seana Kelly

Seana Kelly lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with her husband, two daughters, two dogs, and one fish. She’s an avid reader and re-reader who misses her favorite characters when it’s been too long between visits. She’s a USA Today Bestselling Author and is represented by the delightful and effervescent Sarah E. Younger of the Nancy Yost Literary Agency.

Book preview

The Banshee & the Blade

THE BANSHEE & THE BLADE

SEANA KELLY

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the writer’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

The Banshee & the Blade

Copyright © 2022 by Seana Kelly

Ebook ISBN: 9781641972697

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

No part of this work may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without prior permission in writing from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

NYLA Publishing

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http://www.nyliterary.com

Contents

1. Daeva, but you can call me Dave. And I Don’t Drone

2. The Sea Wicche

3. I’m Trying Not to Be an Dick

4. Home, Sweet Inferno

5. Fate is a Fickle Fuck

6. Well, Fuck Me

7. Fee-Fi-Fo-Fuck

8. Riddle Me This

9. What’s Wrong with Your Face?

Excerpt from BEWICCHED: The Sea Wicche Chronicles

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ONE

Daeva, but you can call me Dave. And I Don’t Drone

Two weeks. Two weeks and still no Maggie. What was killing me—or really, what was making me want to slam my fist into every face I saw—was that the two people who knew where she was had both been unmade. Olivier and Sitri. Demons were immortal, unless they did something even Hell rejected. That was the case with these two. They’d pissed off my father and were stripped of their powers, their long lives unraveled into nothingness.

I was positive Olivier was the one who had taken Maggie and hidden her from me. Maybe it was with Sitri’s knowledge. Didn’t matter. Both demons were beyond beating the shit out of to get answers.

Maggie was imprisoned and no one knew where. She could be hurt, starving, anything, and I wouldn’t know. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. I was losing it. I’d been searching the way my father had suggested. Using the powers he’d returned, I’d been searching sorcerers all over the world, scanning their minds for what I needed. Nothing.

It was that damn chess set of Sam’s that had me thinking in a new direction. Sam was my sort-of boss, the werewolf owner of The Slaughtered Lamb Bookstore & Bar, where I used to cook for San Francisco’s supernaturals. I supposed I still worked there. The job market for half-demons was limited.

Anyway, Sam had found a magical chess set in England, one that reflected the key players who were working for and against the fae queen in the eternal struggle for power between Gloriana and her envious husband. If Maggie was hiding in Faerie, I thought I could use the chess set to search for her. I’d already tried the doorway to Faerie in The Wicche Glass Tavern. It was closed to demons. Sam had mentioned the chess maker was a Corey wicche, as was my mother. Maybe that link would allow me to use the set as a portal to search—mind or body—in the fae realm.

When I stomped down the stairs into The Slaughtered Lamb, Sam’s face lit up. Dave, you’re back! It was written all over her face. She thought I was returning to work because I’d found Maggie.

I gave a quick shake of my head. Her expression clouded over and her gaze dropped back to the cup of tea she was pouring. Sam was an open book. Every fucking emotion she had was right there. Too bad she didn’t play poker.

George Fyr, our newest employee and a Welsh dragon, nodded to me warily. We hadn’t spent much time together and what he knew of me was pretty damning. The last time I’d been here, I’d burned Sam’s hand badly. I hadn’t meant to, but I’m a demon—half, anyway—and I’d been raging. She should have known to leave me the fuck alone. Instead, she’d grabbed my arm and that was that. Third degree burns, pain, and yet another reminder why I had to watch myself if I was going to live in the human realm. I’d grown up in Hell and had no desire to return.

Pushing through the kitchen door, I found Fergus, Sam’s new Irish Wolfhound puppy, drinking water from his bowl. He trotted over and sat in front of me, tongue lolling to the side. It was always the same. Animals loved me. A little gift from my wicche mother.

I picked up the dog and held him so we were eye to eye.

What?

His tail wagged as he strained forward, desperately trying to lick me.

No.

No what? Sam came in, wearing one of her ridiculous t-shirts. This one read I went to Hell and all I got was this lousy t-shirt. And burns and agony, but that was it. It was true. She had. Clive, her husband and Master vampire, probably had it made for her.

She watched us and said, Come on! How could you not cuddle my little buddy? She held out her arms and I plopped him into them.

He’s not that little anymore. He’s gotta be at least thirty pounds now. I leaned against the counter and crossed my arms, watching Sam rock Fergus like a baby, one of his long legs smacking her in the face.

She kissed the dog’s snout. I know. He’s my fierce warrior, but he’ll always be my little buddy. She snuggled him and then put him down so he could trot back to the bar to patrol his territory.

I need a favor, I began.

I see. She leaned against the opposite counter, waiting to hear what it was.

Things had changed between us. Old Sam would have agreed to help before I asked, probably would have tried to hug me too. New Sam, who knew what I’d done to her mom—knew and mostly forgave—was