Cyberpunk/Urban Fantasy Fiction
Release Date: July 23rd, 2025
Publisher: Acorn Publishing
If you make a deal with the Devil, don’t forget to read the fine print.
Three operatives find themselves on the run after a corporate sabotage job goes awry. Now, their predatory employer, a heavyweight weapons-tech firm, wants its elite A-team dead at all costs. Jon is a smooth-talking charmer. Friedrich is a hacker prodigy. And Guion is the ice-cold tactician who keeps them all in line.
Backs against the wall, the men strike separate infernal pacts to stay alive. They vanish into the urban badlands of New York’s Five Hives, vowing to lie low and figure out why they’ve become targets. Meanwhile, Jon suspects there’s an insidious evil possessing his friends, and he wonders if they all got more than they bargained for.
Amid an escalating war between local gangs and the firm’s private shock troops, the fugitives uncover a conspiracy that threatens to destroy everyone they know and love. But can they stop the destruction before their inner demons seize control?
“Oh, that was never going to
happen, JonJon. Friedy has nothing to say about your immortal soul. You’re the
only one with agency in the matter.”
That wasn’t Friedy's voice. An
octave deeper and missing the lilting German accent, this was someone else.
Someone not them.
A man stood in the center of the
crossroads, dapper in his pearly, vested business suit and casual in the way he
held a smoldering cigarette between his fingers. Everything about him screamed
that he was out of place. His dress, his manner—he didn’t belong in this
situation.
“Besides, profess to love the man
as much as you want, we both know there’s no way you’d allow Friedy to
negotiate on your behalf for a pizza, let alone anything as important as your
soul.”
“Who are you?”
“Oh come on, Jon. You don’t really
need to see crimson skin and horns, do you?” The man spread a slow smile,
charming with a hint of malice, as he eased closer. “Our time's limited. Why
waste it on questions you know the answer to?”
“Guion—”
“You’re going to ask him to shoot
me, but you can’t because he’s not here.” His smile vanished, and a hint of
chill replaced some of the amusement in his tone.
A glance said the man was right.
Guion was gone. He didn’t see Friedy anywhere either. But the prison alarm
still screamed in the distance, and he could pick up the sounds of rotors in
the night sky. A.W.E.’s security forces were still out there, and they were
closing in.
Jon tensed, clenched his fists.
“What did you do to them?”
The man shrugged. “Nothing. They’re
standing right where they were a few seconds ago, looking at me, having a nice
conversation.” He sniffed with a hard wrinkle of his nose and his tone went
cold again. “You should know that neither of them is wasting time asking about
you. They both got right to business.”
“What do you want?”
“Closer,” he said with a nod. “But
still the wrong question. Really, Jon-O, you need to pick up the pace here or
you’re not going to make it.” He gestured to the horizon, where the beams of
headlights bounced as they sliced the dark. They all pointed this way.
The man sauntered in a slow circle
around Jon. “About now, they’ve managed to get a fix on this toy of yours.” He
touched the tac-pak in Jon’s hand. Unfortunately, Guion had the gun they’d
lifted. “And that drone flyover confirmed it.”
Jon looked at the screen again. The
black blips that represented “friendly” security forces did seem to be
converging in his direction.
“Quit wasting time, Jon-O. I’m
nearly done with Guion and Friedy, and I’m not going to stick around just for
you.” The smile returned. “I don’t like you that much.”
“Alright, make those security
forces vanish. Take us off the grid so they won’t find us. Give us what we need
to take care of our needs.”
The man chuckled. “Three wishes?
You have me confused with someone else. I’m not a genie.”
“What then?”
“Think of me as a talent agent.
I’ll match you with one of my people who has the skills you need.”
“Okay, then I need someone who can
hide me and my friends. He doesn’t have to do anything else but keep us
hidden.”
The suited man grinned wide. “I
know just the person. You’ll get along famously. You take care of his needs and
he’ll lend his particular talents to your cause, starting with getting you out
of here safely.”
The headlights clustered atop a
nearby hill. They certainly saw him in silhouette now. In his mind, Jon
imagined their radio chatter and the calls to close in.
“Okay, fine.”
“Excellent! If you were dealing
with me directly, there’d be all this paperwork to fill out, contracts to sign,
that kind of thing. But I’m just the facilitator, and I have a feeling Steve
will be happy to skip all that. You can probably move through the process
without having to seal it in blood.” He extended his hand.
Jon hesitated.
“Uh-uh, Jon-O, no time for second
thoughts.”
A helicopter soared overhead and
flooded the area around them with its spotlight.
Jon grabbed the man’s hand and lost
the world in a slow flash.
About the Author
At the age of four, Russell Anders started telling stories, often interrupting his mother during bedtime reading to ask, “Then what happened?” She always answered, “You tell me,” and his imagination conjured fantastical tales of dragons and dinosaurs.
He gravitated toward a career as a technical writer and writing coach for software companies. He also briefly served as a columnist for Dragon Magazine. One of his favorite hobbies includes tabletop role playing, especially as the game master. And yes, he's as cruel to the characters in his games as he is to the characters in his books; his players love him for it.
Russel lives with the constant canine companionship of whip-smart but goofy Sigurd, an English Mastiff (the best breed ever).
Daemones ex Machina is his debut novel.
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