Free Sinful Magic by Jennifer Lyon

us in the signing room?”
    “The fertility witch?”
    He checked on Roxy again, saw her still talking to a cop, her bodyguard next to her. He answered Ailish, “Nope. Name’s Tyler, just met him today.”
    “So mysterious, dragon boy. Okay, we’ll be there in a few.”
    “Later.” He hung up and looked at Tyler standing by him. “She’s on her way.”
    “Thanks, Mr. DeMicca.”
    “Call me Key.” Then he sobered and gave the boy fair warning. “You might not be thanking me after you go one round with her. She won’t go easy on you, but if you really want to learn, Ailish will teach you.”
    His own memory of learning to fight came back to him. Phoenix had found Key on the ground getting the shit kicked out of him and then beaten the hell out of the group of boys and sent them packing. Furious, he’d brutally yanked Key off the dirt and asked him if he was too dumb or too scared to fight.
    Don’t know how. All he knew how to do was not show pain.
    I’ll teach you.
    And he hadn’t been nice about it. But Key learned. No one knew that, not a single soul. Phoenix had his faults, hotheaded, hardheaded, always spoke his mind, but he never told anyone about that scene. Ever. He’d call Key pansy-ass artist, comic boy, dragon lover, all day long, but he’d never humiliate him with that story.
    Tyler looked him directly in the eye. “I want to learn.”
    “Good man,” Key said. They’d find out more about this boy, what his situation was. If he needed real help, they’d get it for him.
    He stowed his phone and walked toward Roxy.
    But she was gone. Again. Damn it, losing her was getting to be a bad habit.
    Roxy was exhausted, and the herb tea she’d sipped hadn’t done anything for the throb in her left cheek and eye. She’d just concluded her last meeting and had a little time to herself. She’d sent her bodyguard, Joel, on a break so he could get something to eat and walk around a bit. She would call him to meet her before she left the café. Her stomach rumbled and she thought about ordering dinner.
    She opened her jaw, winced, and decided to wait. The place was full, but she had the booth, and had paid for several rounds of drinks and food for the people she met with. First she’d had discussions with some key merchandising people about current projects, and she’d just concluded a meeting with Perry and Nina Jenkins, who assured her the dramatic rights were available. She really liked them and loved their series of Eternal Assassins. She could visualize it as a movie, beginning with the murder of the first assassin and Aya, Empress of Shadowland, offering the shocked soul a deal for revenge. The soul would have no idea of the true cost.
    The overarcing story question will be Is there a way out of the eternal contract? Fighting against a trick of nature, or supernatural beings, appealed to her on so many levels. She loved themes like this, where each choice mattered, where the characters played an important role in the universe.
    She picked up her pen, jotting down all the information she’d need for a profit and loss statement to include in her pitch to her dad. Then they’d come up with an offer and contact the agent
    Someone sat down across from her.
    Looking up, Roxy fought back a groan. It was the man in the Bart Simpson costume. He’d been following her around the signing, repeatedly pitching his “Groundbreaking animated series about a family
    ”
    She’d told him politely that she wasn’t interested the first two times, then more sternly the third time, and after that her bodyguard had chased him off. She thought he’d gotten the message.
    Apparently not. That plastic head with the frozen cartoon expression was disturbing. His voice came through a hole in the mouth. “Since you’re not busy now, I’ll finish what I was telling you about my project. It’s X-Men meets the Munsters.”
    She’d had enough of this. “I’ve told you no. You need to leave or I’m calling my bodyguard.” She reached for her phone.
    His shoulders snapped back