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Condemned and shunned for black magic, Rachel Morgan has three days to get to the annual witches’ conference and clear her name, or be trapped in the demonic ever-after . . . forever after.

But after centuries of torment, a fearsome demon walks in the sunlight—freed to slay the innocent and devour their souls. But his ultimate goal is Rachel Morgan, and in the fight for survival, even embracing her own demonic nature may not be enough to save her.

ISBN: 978-06-113806-5


Available just about everywhere, and a few places I'd never expect, but if you're having trouble:


For a signed copy, order from Nicola's. International is okay, but email them for a shipping quote first at nicolasbooks@tds.net

Pale Demon foreign edition covers.

When I find them, I'll drop them here. Have one to show me? I'd love to see it. Post a link to it on FB.



Pale Demon was originally published February 2011
through Harper Voyager
as a hard cover.

Pale Demon went on to be the top pick at B&N's
Best Paranormal Fantasies releases of 2011

Pale Demon Tour Pictures


I was at B & N's paranormal chat list taking questions about Pale Demon. The chat is over, but it's still there for your viewing fun. Come find me!

Daytona Beach News 3/20

Radio interview Sacramento, CA ( Capital Public Radio (Insight) 3/10 )

The Sacramento Bee 3/7

The Miami Herald 3/6

San Antonio Express 3/5

Live TV interview about Pale Demon KMOVTV in St. Louis.( Great Day St. Louis Archived TV 3/2 )

In depth radio interview in Cincinnati concerning Pale Demon ( The FlyPod (Cincy Interview) 2/25 )

Guest Post at LitFestMagazine 2/28
Guest Post at LitFestMagazine 2/21
Guest Post at LitFestMagazine 2/14
Guest Post at LitFestMagazine 2/7
Interview with Assignment X Pt one 2/25
Interview with Assignment X Pt two 2/25
BookPage Guest Post 2/22
Borders Babble Blog 2/20
Guest Post Borders Babble Blog 2/19
Guest Post at i09 2/15
Guest post at i09 2/9

Pale Demon Wallpapers three sizes, one use.  Enjoy!
Click on image to get to larger version, then grab for your own use.

Black Magic Sanction Medium Wallpaper

640 X 480 px

Black Magic Sanction large Wallpaper

800 X 600 px

Black Magic Sanction small Wallpaper

1024 X 768










     "Brown or green for the drapes, Rache?”
    Jenks’s voice slid into my dozing state, and I opened an eyelid a crack to find him hovering inches from my nose. The sun was hot, and I didn’t want to move, even if his wings provided a cold draft. “Too close. I can’t see,” I said as I shifted in the webbed lounge chair, and he drifted back, his dragonflylike wings humming fast enough to spill a red- tinted pixy dust over my bare middle. June, sunbathing, and Cincinnati normally didn’t go together, but today was my last day to get a tan before I headed west for my brother’s wedding.
     Two bundles of fabric were draped over Jenks’s arms, spider silk most likely dyed and woven by one of his daughters. His shoulder-length curly blond hair—uncut since his wife’s death—was tied back with a bit of twine to show his angular, pinched features. I thought it odd that a pixy able to fend off an entire team of assassins was worried about the color of his drapes.
“Well,” I hedged, not any more confident in this than he was, “the green goes with the floor, but I’d go with the taupe. You need some visual warmth down there.”
      “Brown?” he said, looking at it doubtfully. “I thought you liked the green tile.
     “I do,” I explained, thinking that breaking up a pop bottle for floor tile was ingenious. “But if you make everything the same color, you’ll wind up back in the seventies.”
      Jenks’s wings dropped in pitch, and his shoulders slumped. “I’m not good at this,” he whispered, becoming melancholy as he remembered Matalina. “Tell me which one.”
      I cringed inside. I wanted to give him a hug, but he was only four inches tall. Small, yes, but the pixy had saved my life more times than I had spell pots in my kitchen. Sometimes, though, I felt as if we were worlds apart. “Taupe,” I said.
      “Thanks.” Trailing dull gold dust, Jenks flew in a downward arc to the knee-high wall that separated my backyard from the graveyard. The high- walled graveyard was mine, too, or Jenks’s, actually, seeing that he owned the deed, but I was the one who mowed the lawn.
      Heartache took me, and the sun seemed a little cooler as I watched Jenks’s dust trail vanish under the sprouting bluebells and moss, and into his new bachelor-size home. The last few months had been hard on him as he learned to live without Matalina. My being able to become small enough to help him through that first difficult day had gone a long way in convincing me that demon magic wasn’t bad unless you used it for a dark purpose.
      The breeze cooled the corner of my eye, and I smiled even as I dabbed the almost tear away. I could smell the newly cut grass, and the noise of a nearby mower rose high over the distant hum of Cincinnati, across the river. There was a stack of decorating magazines beside my suntan oil and a glass of melted iced tea—the lull before the storm. Tomorrow would be the beginning of my personal hell, and it was going to last the entire week, through the annual witches’ conference. What happened after that was anyone’s guess.
      Nervous, I shifted the straps of my bikini so there wouldn’t be any tan lines showing in my bridesmaid’s dress, already packed and hanging in a garment bag in my closet. The witches’ annual meeting had started yesterday on the other side of the continent. I was the last on the docket—like saving the biggest circus act for the end.
      The coven of moral and ethical standards had already shunned me, tried to incarcerate me without a trial in Alcatraz, sent assassins when I’d




Revised:   08/01/2014     Copyright © 2010 by Kim Harrison.  All rights reserved.