The Black Parade
The Black Parade Book 1
by Kyoko M
Genre: Paranormal Romance, Urban Fantasy
Two years ago, Jordan accidentally shot and killed a Seer: a person who can see, hear, and talk to ghosts with unfinished business. Her crime came with a hefty price, too. She has two years to help a hundred souls cross over to the afterlife or her soul is bound for hell. Tough break.
As if that weren’t bad enough, two days before her deadline a handsome pain-in-the-ass poltergeist named Michael strolls into her life. His soul is the key to her salvation, but the cost just might be more than she can handle. Solving his death puts her right in the crosshairs of Belial: a vain, bloodthirsty archdemon who won’t rest until she’s his slave. Can she rescue Michael and save her own soul, or will they both be dragged down into the clutches of the eternal black parade?
Ranked #5 in Amazon's Top 100 Bestselling Novels in the Occult Horror category and #9 in the Paranormal Demons and Devils category on June 19, 2014.
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The Deadly Seven
Stories From the Black Parade Series
It's been centuries since Michael stayed on Earth for an extended amount of time. Now he's here because of Jordan Amador--a Seer who helped him restore his life and memories and thwart the archdemon Belial from taking over the city. With Jordan on Belial's hit list, Michael decides to stick around and live out life alongside her as her friend and temporary bodyguard. But as the days pass, he finds it harder to resist the seven deadly sins that tempt all men. Especially as he and Jordan grow closer fighting the demons that want her almost as much as he does...
This collection takes place in the two month period in The Black Parade between Chapters 15 and 16. She Who Fights Monsters is the second novel in the series sequence.
Ranked at #3 in Amazon's Top 100 Bestselling Free Books in the Paranormal Romance Angels category and #9 in the Top 100 Free Books in the Multicultural & Interracial on June 21, 2014.
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She Who Fights Monsters
The Black Parade Book 2
When the shocking truth behind the murderer’s identity is revealed, Jordan begins asking herself if she is still fighting for the good guys or has she become one of the monsters she is desperately trying to stop?
She Who Fights Monsters is the second novel and third book in the Black Parade series. It follows The Black Parade and The Deadly Seven: Stories from The Black Parade.
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There was a stranger in my house.
I knew it wasn’t Trent and Marie. They had taken a father-daughter trip to the beach. My duties as a kindergarten teacher didn’t allow me the luxury of a three-day vacation, nor did the ridiculous cold I’d caught, and so I had stayed home by myself.
Normally, I would just shake it off as house-settling noise, but there was one slat in the kitchen’s hardwood floor near the stove that made an unmistakable creak if you stepped on it. No way in hell I could shake that off, not when I was home alone.
I slipped from beneath the comforter and knelt beside the bed, my fingers finding the cool metal of my trusty baseball bat. My daughter was only seven years old and I wouldn’t let Trent bring a gun into our home, so we had agreed to this as our form of protection. Ears straining, I opened the bedroom door, praying the hinges remained silent, and tiptoed to the stairs. Silence. A normal person would go back to their room and sleep, but there was a cold feeling in my chest that whispered something was wrong.
The carpet was soft under my bare feet as I crept down the steps one by one. The staircase spilled into the foyer and from where I could see, the front door was still locked. No broken glass or muddy footprints. I turned to the left and peeked around the corner to see into the living room. Every shadow looked like an intruder. I knew it was just my paranoid brain going into overdrive so I ignored it and carefully maneuvered past the den to the dining room. Nothing here either. That left the kitchen.
I pressed my back against the wall, closing my eyes and saying a quick prayer that I was just a hyper-vigilant crazy lady before darting around the corner.
The kitchen was empty.
I licked my dry lips and snuck over to the double doors that spilled out onto the patio and the backyard. I pushed the curtain aside. Darkness greeted me. Nothing more. False alarm. I was indeed a hyper-vigilant crazy lady.
I started to lower the bat and turn around, but then I felt something cold and wet on the bottom of my foot, between my bare toes. Confused, I knelt to touch it with my fingertips. As soon as I was close, the smell hit me even through my stuffy nose.
Then the floorboard creaked again.
I whirled around. A man stood there swathed in shadows and black clothing, but that wasn’t what caught my attention.
He was holding a gigantic scythe.
I screamed as he swung it at me and threw myself into a forward roll. The enormous blade crashed through the window in the back door, sending glittering shards all over the floor. I scrambled backwards on my hands and knees until my back hit the legs of the table and then got up.
I brandished the bat at the intruder. “Who are you? What are you doing in my house?”
His voice was so soft I almost didn’t hear it. “I am sorry, but your death is necessary for the safety of mankind. Please forgive me.”
Back To Black
The Black Parade Book 3
Back to Black takes place between She Who Fights Monsters and The Holy Dark in the Black Parade series.
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Dying’s a bitch, and I would know.
To be fair, I didn’t actually remember what happened when I died. It was over a year ago, and the soul is a radically different entity from the mind. In case you’re wondering, yes, there is an afterlife, and no, I can’t tell you what it looks like. Sorry. Life is full of disappointments.
How then, Ms. Jordan Amador, you ask, can you say dying is a bitch if you don’t remember your own death? Well, I remember everything up until my death, and that was certainly a bitch. The archdemon Belial had kidnapped me with the intent of sacrificing me so that he could open a portal into the body of the archangel Michael, therefore allowing him unlimited power and access to influencing the innocent people of the world to do his bidding. Long story short, we stopped him, but I died in the process, and in excruciating pain, I might add.
Much like right now.
Ever had one of those out-of-body experiences? Not the kind that you’d see in the movie Ghost, but a true case of an otherworldly viewing of your own self. Detachment. Like someone plucked away the strings that connected you to yourself, and the byproduct was that you almost felt like the consequences of the world didn’t directly affect you.
That was me.
I was hanging from two thick, nasty braided ropes: each one at my wrist, cutting off circulation. A spotlight illuminated my body and its myriad of problems: broken ribs, fractured eye-socket, busted lip, cracked teeth, and what felt like severe internal bleeding. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to exist, really.
My current predicament came at the hands of a short brunette with matted curly hair, a pug nose, and pale skin courtesy of her father, Lamont Brooks. Mr. Brooks was a loan shark from Detroit who had swindled my estranged father and then tried to kill him. I took issue with that. My pseudo-brother, the archangel Gabriel—long story—and I busted Lamont and his whole operation several months ago, and sent her old man up the river.
And she took issue with that.
In my defense, these clowns got lucky. It was late at night, I was exhausted, alone, and under-prepared for six hulking guys in masks jumping me in the parking lot, beating me senseless, and dragging me into a van. I had no idea where we were, but I knew that no one was going to save me if I didn’t save myself.
I’d tried. The ropes were too tight and I had no use of my hands. Brooks’ daughter, Bridgett as I overheard one of the Mooks call her, worked me over for hours, and I had no energy left. Figures. I’d saved the world twice now and yet I was going to be delivered to fate by some snot-nosed bitch with Daddy issues. Life had a cruel sense of humor.
The Holy Dark
The Black Parade Book 4
Jordan's demonic opposition grows more desperate with each coin found, so they call on the ultimate reinforcement: Moloch, the Archdemon of War. Moloch puts out a contract on Jordan as well as her estranged husband, the Archangel Michael. Now Jordan and Michael will have to find a way to work together to survive against impossible odds and stop Moloch's plan, or else he’ll wage a war that will wipe out the human race.
The Holy Dark is the third novel and fourth book in the Black Parade series, following The Black Parade, The Deadly Seven: Stories from The Black Parade series, and She Who Fights Monsters.
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Myra worked at an office supplies store back in Tennessee, which paid alright, but neither of us were exactly swimming in cash. The hotel we chose was not of the highest caliber. The only benefits it boasted were cable television and air conditioning. I missed my thin pillows and slightly lumpy mattress back home.
We were behind schedule, but only slightly. Myra went to buy some dinner while I opted for a long, hot shower. It wasn’t a nice place to stay, but it had one admittedly awesome amenity—a handheld sprayer with plenty of settings. I stayed in until my fingertips were pruny, mulling over recent events and hoping that a clear solution would arise. No such luck. We were still on defense. I didn’t like it, not one bit. The weight hanging off my soul was starting to make my knees buckle. I had to fix this. I had to save the angels. I owed them. They had shed blood for me more than once. I wasn’t going to disappoint them, not again. Never again.
I finished rinsing out my hair and groped for the towel with my eyes closed to avoid getting any residual shampoo in them. Weirdly, my fingers hit nothing but the moist air near the rack. Frowning, I reached out farther. It wasn’t there. Had it fallen onto the floor?
I froze. A deep, mocking, dry-as-sandpaper voice. No. Please, God, let it just be my imagination.
I pried my eyes open and ducked my head around the shower curtain. There, in front of the sink, stood a tall, pale-skinned man with shoulder-length hair as black as soot and a smile as sinister as the devil himself. His eyes were the lightest hue of blue that existed and the pupils were thin and diamond-like rather than round. His features were vaguely European—small forehead, narrow nose, thin but sensual lips, arched eyebrows—but I knew he didn’t have an accent.
He clutched my towel in his long-fingered hand, the other tucked in the pocket of his easily seven-hundred-dollar black suit pants. I recognized his favorite dark color scheme—a charcoal grey button up shirt, black silk tie, and Gucci dress shoes.
“Looking good, my pet.”
The archdemon Belial was standing in my bathroom.
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