Devri
Walls is the best-selling author of six YA fantasy novels. She is a theater
major with a flare for the dramatic and wishes more than anything for a magic
wand. Devri is from Boise Idaho where she lives with her husband, two kids and
the cutest mutt of a dog the world has ever seen. When she’s not writing she
can be found teaching voice lessons, trying to resist the urge to sell her two
beautiful children to the circus, and cooking. Because…. food. Mmmmmmm.
Connect with the Author here:
"Six
years ago, Grey Malteer was attacked by creatures he thought couldn’t possibly
exist. They repeated a word, calling him a name he’d never heard
before…Venator. Since then, his life has been a hellhole of secrecy—hiding old
pain alongside strange new abilities.
Rune
Jenkins has an itch, as she calls it, but it’s more than that. It’s an anger
that builds up like the inside of a boiler whenever she’s around anything
remotely supernatural. The pressure is growing steadily worse and she can’t
understand why. All she knows is—her control is slipping.
By
order of an unknown council Grey and Rune are pulled through a portal in the
St. Louis arch, landing them in an alternate dimension where creatures of myth
and legend exist. A realm that calls them, Venators.
Made
up of centuries old fae, vampires, werewolves, elves and succubi the council’s
corrupt nature becomes obvious as they seek to wield the newly returned
Venators as weapons. Wedged in an impossible position, Grey and Rune must
decide their fate—do they go against the council’s wishes and help the
innocents of this unforgiving land, or face the possibility of execution by the
council."
Snippets:
The terrain started easy enough, with gentle rolling hills
dotted at the top with shrubs and masses of wildflowers, then ringed at the
base with a wide variety of trees. But the soothing up-down rhythm of the hills
soon gave way to a flat expanse that was then abruptly broken by a perfectly
straight line of trees stretching for miles in each direction. One moment there was
grass, and the next, a wall of trees reaching into the sky like dark sentinels.
Tate strode in.
Grey and Rune both
hesitated at the edge, looking down the row of trees, understanding each other’s
thoughts without saying a word. Something wasn’t right about this place…but what
else could they do but follow Tate?
They stepped past the
tree line. Within a few steps, the forest grew inexplicably dark, despite the
sun blazing overhead. Grey peered up through the branches, not understanding.
It was like an invisible sponge over the canopy was sucking in the rays of
light.
A shiver ran down Grey’s
spine.
“Do you hear that?” Rune
whispered.
He did. Over the rustle
of branches and the chirps and titters of both insects and birds, the faint
lilt of foreign music tickled Grey’s ears. It was intoxicating, even at such a
low decibel. It seemed to move and coalesce inside him, calling him towards the
source. He knew enough about fae music to be grateful it was faint. The desire
was there, but manageable—he had no wish to dance until his feet were nubs and
he’d lost the will to live.
The deeper they moved
into the forest, the stranger things became. Rocks rolled into their path on
their own accord. The wildlife became strange and malformed—like a band of
children’s toys torn apart and reassembled. Birds with the legs of a monkey,
woodpeckers with saws for beaks, an owl with glowing red eyes like two marbles.
Branches seemed to purposefully rip at his clothes, and he finally took his
trench coat off after it had caught on every bush and tree he passed.
A small man, the size of
a garden gnome statue with a receding hairline and a rotund belly, darted
across the path, hissing at Tate. In response, Tate pulled a knife and hissed
back. The little man scuttled away, disappearing as fast as he’d appeared.
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