Demon
Fare
The
Spawnstertown Chronicles
Book
One
Cory
Dale
Genre:
Urban Fantasy
Publisher:
Karen Duvall
Date
of Publication: 12/20/2014
ISBN:
13: 978-0692342633
ASIN:
Number
of pages: 324
Word
Count: 86,000
Cover
Artist: Karen Duvall
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Book
Description:
In
an alternate history New York City—one hundred and fifty years
after an earthquake from hell nearly destroyed the planet—the
twenty-first century clings to an industrial age. Steam engines rule,
and demon-powered technology is the up and coming thing. Henry Paine,
a half-demon taxi driver, is the go-to guy for just the right demon
to possess your machine and automate any mechanical gizmo with or
without an engine. The creatures are tame as pets. Or at least they
have been… until now.
Wanda
Snow is an exorcist who grudgingly admits to having a few drops of
demon blood herself. She's come to New York to rid the city of
demonic vermin as well as any other demons that get in her way. Wanda
and Henry are naturally at odds, but the two are forced to become
partners in a mutual goal to round up the rogue demons biting the Big
Apple and take down the sinister tyrant who started it all.
Excerpt:
Wanda
Snow fastened a row of buttons on her coat. Damn, it was colder than
a banker’s heart out here. She studied the park across the street,
watching leafless branches waggle their twiggy fingers in the fog.
Drawing back a sleeve, she checked her watch, its large, visible
gears a weight around her wrist. Four in the morning. Two hours until
sun-up.
Leaning
against a lamppost, she gazed up the street, her senses tuned in to
the demon energy flowing through the city. She sensed a Bringer
coming her way.
Unclasping
the tin choker from around her neck, she opened it just wide enough
to let the voices in. Eyes closed, she focused on the whispered
thoughts of a hundred demons that confirmed the identity of the
Hellspawn she waited for. He was the Bringer, and although he didn’t
know it yet, he would help her stop the evil that conspired to take
over New York City.
“How
doin’?” A real voice came from the foggy dark, the words sounding
burned as if by coal dust. She knew that sound. The raspy voices of
coal-digging Spawnsters had filled the patch towns of her Kentucky
home. She still heard them in her sleep. “Spare a dime for a man
down on his luck?”
Wondering
if she’d been followed, she turned to face him, her spine stiff and
booted legs poised to kick what would hurt most. Wanda welcomed some
trouble if it would warm her up. But the half-breed was a head
shorter than her six feet, and his top hat had no top, his gloves had
no fingers. The only threat he posed was the stink coming off him in
waves strong enough to choke a skunk. Her gaze raked him up and down
as she said, “I’m poor as you, mister. You won’t hear no coins
clinkin’ in my pocket.”
“I
be a pig’s uncle. You’s a woman, ain’t ya?”
“Last
I looked.”
He
chuckled. “You dressed too manly to be one of Hell’s Belles. What
you doin’ out in Central Park all by your lonesome?”
“Waitin’
for someone. How ’bout you?”
His
brown-toothed smile spread his mouth wider than normal for a human.
He was a Spawnster, all right. And a drunk one at that. “Makin’
new friends.” He took a swig from a bottle wrapped in a paper bag
and held it out for Wanda. “Wanna be my friend?”
She
grimaced at the smell of rancid olive oil that was like a hundred
proof grain alcohol to a Spawnster. Pushing the bottle away, she
shook her head. “I’ll pass, thanks anyway.”
He
frowned, his dark eyes starting to glow. Just her luck. A drunk
Spawnster with a temper.
“I’m
sure you’re a nice guy and all, but I ain’t interested. Share
your oil with someone who can enjoy it, ’kay?” She turned toward
the street.
Venom deepened his voice. “You think you’re better ’an
me?”
Strong
fingers gripped her arm above the elbow and tried to spin her around,
but she didn’t budge. The drunk yanked again and she took her time
turning to face him. “You don’t wanna do this.”
He
swung back a fist, aiming his scaly knuckles at her face, but she
stopped the blow with one open palm.
“Not
that I’m a lady, you understand, but you still shouldn’t go
’round beatin’ up on people. It ain’t polite.” She smiled
down at the unconscious Spawnster who was too dumb to be a spy. Even
if he were, she’d left a clear message for whomever he worked for.
His hat lay in the street about ten feet away. She picked it up,
dusted it off with the sleeve of her coat, and set it on the ground
beside him. He didn’t move. “Have a nice night.”
As
she crossed over into the park, twin headlamps from an oncoming car
forced her into the shadows.
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About
the Author:
Karen
Duvall, who wrote Demon Fare as Cory Dale, lives in the Pacific
Northwest with her husband and four incredibly spoiled pets. Karen is
represented by Elizabeth Winick Rubenstein of the McIntosh & Otis
Literary Agency. Her Knight's Curse series was published by Harlequin
Luna in 2011 and 2012, and her post apocalyptic novella, Sun Storm,
appeared in Luna's 'Til The World Ends anthology in 2013.
Karen
is also a professional graphic designer who designs book covers and
book interiors for self-published authors, and creates original 3D
graphics for computer gaming. Demon Fare is the first book in her
Spawnstertown Chronicles.
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