Cambion’s Blood | Tour and Giveaway

Cambion’s Blood
Erin Fulmer
(Cambion, #2)
Publication date: June 7th 2022
Genres: Adult, Urban Fantasy

Half-succubus attorney Lily Knight has blood on her hands.

Haunted by guilt, behind on her rent, and facing professional disgrace, Lily must figure out how to survive in the wreckage of her former life. To make ends meet, she accepts a contract job she never wanted but can’t seem to avoid—hunting another demon murderer. This time, the victims are human, and a shadowy government agency will reward Lily with a way out of her dire financial straits.

If Lily doesn’t solve the case before the news gets out, fear and hatred will put all demonkind at risk from the proverbial torch-carrying mob. But when a young succubus on the run from the authorities begs for her help, Lily faces a new conflict of interest—especially after the suspect, Eve, reveals her father is Lily’s old frenemy.

Now Lily must juggle the pressures of a high-stakes murder case, her complicated relationship with her “not-boyfriend” Sebastian, and responsibility for a wayward teenager as she races to find the real killer. Worse, the culprit isn’t just a demon, but a self-proclaimed goddess who will stop at nothing to carry out her bloody quest for justice. To stop the killings, Lily must confront that which she most fears: the truth about what went down with Eve’s father in the desert—and its consequences.

That is, if the goddess doesn’t get to her first…

Sequel to:

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Author Bio:

Erin Fulmer (she/her) is a public benefits attorney by day, author of urban fantasy and science fiction by night. She lives in sunny Northern California with her husband and two spoiled cats. When she’s not writing or working, she enjoys yoga, taking pictures of the sky, playing board games with friends, and napping like it’s an Olympic sport.
CAMBION’S BLOOD, the second book in her Cambion series and sequel to her debut urban fantasy CAMBION’S LAW, is out June 7 from City Owl Books.

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I frowned at the twin bell towers soaring into the foggy San Francisco twilight. Either someone was punking me, or some damned fool was about to try to exorcise me again. No matter how many times I explained to people that religious iconography didn’t work on cambions, they never seemed to take my word for it.

Under the circumstances, I supposed I couldn’t blame them. It was true that I didn’t care for houses of worship, but that had more to do with trauma from growing up in and around them while harboring a secret identity than some metaphysical susceptibility.

 “Stop me if you’ve heard this one,” I muttered to the incurious pigeon giving me side-eye from its cozy roost under the eaves. “A demon, a murderer, and a lawyer walk into a church. The priest looks up and says, what is this, some kind of joke?”

No one laughed, especially not me. The pigeon put its head back under its wing. I sighed, tucking back a dark strand of hair pulled loose by the cool Pacific breeze. The joke, of course, was that they were the same person, and all of them were Lily Knight: half-human, half-succubus, out-of-work attorney, and total hot mess, a.k.a me.

About six months ago, I blew up my life, and now I was living in the wreckage. Some of the shrapnel was probably still hanging out somewhere in the stratosphere waiting for its moment to come screaming down. I’d say I was waiting for the other shoe to drop, but quite a few boots of the steel-toed variety had already drop-kicked me right in the face since the initial explosion.

I hadn’t slept much lately, either, and my trains of thought tended toward the runaway mixed metaphor kind.

As for the murderer part, I did what I had to that night in the desert. I kept telling myself that. And yet Ariel’s last moments haunted me, my mentor and sometimes lover’s handsome, angular face crowned with blond curls and creased with pain, his angelic beauty marred with smears of dark blood as the light went out of his fierce golden eyes.

But I couldn’t afford to entertain those memories right now. I had to stay in the present. I had to move forward, if only somebody would give me the chance.

I checked the address the recruiter had sent me again, stabbing at my phone screen until it registered the touch of my gloved fingers. Unless someone had made a typo, I definitely had the right place.

The email didn’t mention a church, but here it stood, glowering companionably at the soft-focus evening sky in high Roman Gothic fashion. My current situation may have sounded like a comedy set-up in terrible taste, but those cupolas took themselves very seriously.

Well, what did I expect? No one in their right mind would want to hire me, not since my fall from grace from up-and-coming assistant prosecutor to lightning rod of scandal last year. After my unceremonious firing from the D.A.’s office, not to mention the pending disciplinary action on my bar license, every resume I sent probably traveled the direct-to-trashcan pipeline. With no income, I had given up my little apartment near Civic Center. Now I lived in the garret over my best friend Danny’s garage and paid rent when I could.

On the off chance this wasn’t a cruel prank or some bizarre demon-napping plot, I needed this job. I squared my shoulders under my blue silk blouse, smoothed my black pencil skirt over my knees, and scaled the steps to the building’s arched triple doors inlaid with ornate stained glass.

The leftmost swung open at my touch into a dim-lit vestibule decorated in rich gold, scarlet, and white. Someone with modern sensibilities and traditional tastes must have restored this place. The thick, pristine burgundy carpet absorbed my footsteps, and the soft lighting came from candle-like LEDs. A faint scent of incense tickled my nose.

“Hello?” I stretched out my demon senses for a hint of human energy, the synesthetic desiderata that allowed me to sample their needs and cravings. Whispers and scraps of energy from passersby drifted to me off the street, but inside the building, all lay silent and empty.

Maybe I did have the wrong address after all.

But in six months, only one potential employer had recruited me. I pushed open the inner wooden door into the nave.

Inside, it didn’t look like the churches of my childhood at all, but a gallery, with large canvases displayed beside each pillar and the transept where the altar would have stood blocked off by a tall painted screen. Richly upholstered couches and chairs sat in small circles throughout the main space around round tables laden with florals and classical busts. Lantern-style lamps along balconies to either side of me cast their soft golden glow downward and bright white spotlights illuminated each painting.

“Hello,” I called again, stepping further into the airy, high-ceilinged room.

“Lily Knight. Good, you came.”

The deep male voice came from behind me and to my right, and I whirled around to face the speaker.

1 Comment

  1. Giselle

    Thanks for being on the tour!


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