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374 pages, Paperback
First published August 27, 2014












This was the real blues, down-home raw and ragged, drenched with sweat and sex and the bloodied edge of a switchblade. Out on the dark and silent street, his music still echoed in the back of my mind, floating and fading like a dream that slips away on waking.
“Yeah, I was familiar with demonic posession. The drug coursing through my veins, hauling me through flashes of stark memory, forcing me to feel it all over again. Creatures of toxic waste burrowed like maggots in my brain, pissing behind my eyeballs, sratching bone and carving filthy graffiti inside my skull.”
“Calypso’s hands played the guitar like it was a lover’s body. Like they only had one night left in the world together and every second, every aching, wailing note had to make up for a lost lifetime. This was the real blues, down-home raw and ragged, drenched with sweat and sex and the bloodied edge of a switchblade.”