Because I’ve been talking about my love of rock lately, how about a 12 Sentence Saturday all about the band in my book, the Sons of Pandemonium? After all, we haven’t really seen much of J.K. Asmodeus yet.
The Twelve:
J.K. had never understood drummers, but he had to admire a guy who would attack the drum kit as if he was bent on destroying it before the concert was over.
Each member of Sons of Pandemonium was dangerous-looking and played with an insanity that bordered on genius. They were better than just good, better than amazing, but they were missing one crucial element.
J.K.’s toes just barely nudged past the wings. That was all it took. Leviathan launched into an intricate pattern of beats that blended into a long roll. The others picked up on the change as one: the bass throbbed like a hard screw against a wall and Baal’s guitar screamed and wailed as if torn between agony and ecstasy. The sound grew into a long, musical scream as J.K. strode to center stage. A self-aware sneer twisted his lips when the kids in the front row realized that their anti-hero was with them. The combined buzz of their mindless pleas and shouts blended with the noise from the band. As the stage lights burst to life Baal launched into the guitar intro to ‘Tempt Me Down’. The spots swept across the stage and illuminated them in a dizzying, unearthly tableau.
Live like a rock star.
Dance ‘til you die.
Are you in?
What kind of a rock star lives in a small town in the middle of nowhere and plays at weddings and funerals? That’s what Jeremiah Kensington is thinking after an unsuccessful bar gig one night. Then Jack Scratch comes into his life, ready to represent him and launch him to stardom. Jack can give him everything: a new band, a new name, a new life, a new look, and new boots…although they aren’t exactly new. They once belonged to The One, a rocker so legendary and so mysterious that it’s urban legend that he used black magic to gain success. But what does Jeremiah care about urban legend? And it’s probably just coincidence that the shoes make him dance better than anyone, even if it doesn’t always feel like he’s controlling his movements. It’s no big deal that he plunges into a world of excess and decadence as soon as he puts the shoes on his feet, right?
But what happens when they refuse to come off?
For more in the red, including full excerpt and buy links, click the pic!
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