There Be Demons
by M.K. Theodoratus
Publication date: September 26th
2017
Genres: Paranormal, Suspense,
Young Adult
BLURB
After her father remarries, Britt
Kelly’s life becomes a cesspit. She lives in her sister’s two-bedroom tenement
apartment with her mother, two brothers, and two young nephews. She starts a
new high school where she knows no one. And, even when Britt thinks she’s
making friends, the church where she studies in is torn down.
Then, the field commanders of The
Demon Wars draft her and her friends to aid the four Gargoyle Guardians who
fight the demons invading the city of Trebridge. The fate of the city hangs on
Britt’s ability to lead and learn enough self-control to manipulate the natural
magic of Grace. Meanwhile, she also needs to decide what to do about Cahal, her
chemistry lab partner who is as strong as her and may have interests more than
just protecting Trebridge.
“There Be Demons” is a
continuation of M. K. Theodoratus’ urban fantasy, “Night for the Gargoyles”. It
tells the tale of Gillen and his team of Gargoyle Guardians as they defend
Trebridge while teaching Britt and her friends – the untrained “reinforcements.
Along the way, Gillen and Britt learn things about each other to make them
stronger both together and alone.
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EXCERPT:
Britt
Kelly leaned against the jamb between the cramped kitchen and living room of
her new home in the projects. I feel like a sardine stuffed in a can.
Her
anger churned. If her father hadn’t abandoned his family for his bimbo boss,
she’d be back home in her own bedroom, chatting with friends about the new
school year. Instead, she was stuck in her older half-sister’s apartment.
Many
prized the apartments in St. Edmund’s Towers for their size, but Britt refused
to see it. She looked at the walls they had painted as a trap. Her mother and
sister were sleeping in each family’s respective bedroom. Her two small nephews
smeared jam on their faces in the living room as they waited for the cartoons
to start. Her two younger brothers, Carlos and Darin, whispered in the
bathroom, forgetting their argument over who got the sink first might wake
their sleeping mother.
Welcome
to another merry day in the projects.
The
teen huffed as she waited for her brothers to get ready to sneak away to go see
their father uptown. Her thoughts switched to getting revenge on her absentee
father. He’d missed his last two court-ordered visits, but she’d get him today,
even if her mother forbade them to annoy him. The court said he could see his
kids every third Sunday of the month. See them he would. Her brothers had a
right to visit him even if his new wife hated them like cooties. Britt was
going to make sure they did.
Wish
I could make him suffer for the visits he’s missed.
A
vision of Britt sticking him with a knitting needle in each hand like his
Granny Nan made her smile.
No.
That’s not vicious enough.
A
vision of a steamroller with thousands of pins on its roller popped into
Britt’s mind. In seconds, the machine squashed her father into the ground. When
he emerged from underneath, he was a bleeding mess.
A
low volume fanfare announced the TV news. Just as she was about to yank her
brothers out of the bathroom, her favorite reporter came on. Jessica Hawthorne
of the The Trebridge Channel wore a stunning form-fitting green outfit that
Britt coveted. The color would go as well with her dark hair as the reporter’s
blond, blue-eyed looks. Hawthorne took a deep breath, ready to deliver her
morning spiel.
Britt
swallowed hard. Before the Divorce, Britt had worn expensive clothes like
Hawthorne’s, not thrift shop junk like she wore now. When they lost their
uptown apartment after her mom got sick, the county sheriff had dumped all
their belongings on the sidewalk. Most of their stuff got stolen.
Dad
could’ve helped us. At least buy us some new clothes for school. He’s still got
plenty of money. Mom couldn’t help getting sick.
The
small living room swallowed Jessica Hawthorne’s breathy voice. Britt strained
to hear her over the bratbies’ sporadic giggles as they shoved pieces of toast
in each other’s faces.
“Enough
about the underage Crown Prince of Andor getting caught in a strip joint when
he should have been at school. Closer to home and our thought for the day. The
Guarda assures the citizens of Trebridge the new curfew will end the vandalism
and muggings. Stronger measures are needed, I tell you. Scores of people appear
at hospitals with the most dreadful wounds and can’t remember how they got
them.”
The
reporter blathered on, an earnest expression knitting her brows. “We need more
guarda on the streets, especially in the river districts. These hoodlums need
to be stopped.”
Britt
concentrated harder, not daring to turn up the volume while her mother slept.
She worked the swing shift now and didn’t get home until four in the morning.
Someday I’ll look that polished again, I swear. Granny Nan would bawl Dad out
for how we live now if she were still alive.
Britt
shut her complaints down, feeling embarrassed at how proud she had once been to
be called her daddy’s ‘little princess’.
“While
the guarda say their investigations are ongoing, I don’t see any results. Why
have so many people disappeared? The police haven’t a clue.” Her lip curled.
“You’d almost think we’re being invaded by demons and our fine protectors are
too scared to investigate.” Her contempt poured from the screen.
Britt
tapped her foot, wishing her brothers would stop giggling. She wished she lived
uptown where she still had a room of her own. Granted, they didn’t live on the
streets, but four people stuffed in one bedroom in her half-sister’s apartment
was torture. Her father deserved to be kicked in the ass. Britt wanted revenge.
Her father needed to pay for abandoning his family and her.
The
noise in the bathroom grew louder.
Those
buttheads better not wake Mom up.
Britt
twitched the draped folds of her new V-neck blouse wishing she had the boobs to
fill it out. It did have a designer label, just the thing she needed to sneak
into the posh condos where her father now lived.
Just
like the boys can’t wear their grubs today.
“I
want to wear a T-shirt to Dad’s, Britt.”
Quarrelsome
Darin whined behind her, making her jump. He had become a total pain since
their parents’ divorce. Britt hoped seeing their dad would stop his constant
bitching. Britt didn’t feel any guilt for disobeying their mother’s orders. The
boys deserved to see their cockroach of a father. His ice-blooded new wife
could just tough out their visit.
Britt’s
muscles tightened in the cold, funny way they did when something bad was going
to happen. She shook her head, forcing herself to ignore the bothersome feeling
that was happening too often for comfort.
Glancing
at the closed bedroom doors, she put a finger to her lips. Mom’s going to
blister our ears if we wake her.
Darin
opened his mouth. Lifting her hand to smack him, she brushed back the thick
fall of hair across her eyes instead. If she hit him, Darin’s screams would
wake their mom and Pietra, their half-sister.
Keeping
her voice low, she said, “Get your butt in gear. You’re wearing what you’re
wearing. End of questions, comments, and complaining.”
Darin
did not give up. “My tees are clean. Dad don’t like fancy either. He sat in
front of the TV with his shirt and shoes off all the time. In summer, he only
wore his boxers. Remember? Mom always got mad at him for leaving beer cans on
the coffee table. Always.”
“Shh.
Don’t wake Mom or Pietra.” Britt held a finger to her lips. “Get your shoes on,
and we can talk in the hall.”
“I
don’t like dress shirts either.” Carlos, her older, calmer brother, carefully
left the bathroom door partly ajar. “It’s not fair to make us wear them. You’re
just a kid like us even if you’re taller. Being a high school freshmen ain’t no
bigger deal than being in fifth grade.”
“Stop
being buttheads, both of you.” Britt jerked the apartment door open. “You
begged to visit Dad. I’m doing the best I can to see you do, so shut up and move
your ass before Mom wakes up.”
Her
mother did her best to push their father out of their lives. Britt refused to
let her have her wish. Since the messy divorce and his marriage to the
Ice-Bitch, Timothy Kelly had seldom spent more than an hour with them. Their
dad mostly offered excuses when his visitation weekend came.When he did see
them, they barely ate a fast lunch before he sent them off to a movie on their
own. The last time was three months ago. Britt missed him and his compliments
terribly.
He’s
not going to escape today.
Britt
remembered their one visit to the posh high-rise, so different from both their
suburban and project homes. The pristine rooms, sprinkled with figurines and
trinkets, made her nervous enough to get the cold crawls down her back every
time she moved. The Ice-Bitch’s rat-dog had barked and snapped at them the
whole time.
Carlos
didn’t mean to break the stupid shepherd figurine when he jumped. The damn dog
would’ve bit him if I hadn’t kicked the yapping rat in the head. I don’t care
if the cabrona told us never to come back again. It’s our right to see him.
Outside
the apartment, the hallway reeked from years of cooking in the eight apartments
of the fifth floor, B-wing. In spite of the blinking light of the security
camera in its wire cage, someone had tagged both sides of the hall. Thankfully,
they left the picture Britt called the “Tree of Life” undamaged. Someone had
painted a huge tree with birds flittering through the leaves. No one told the
artist that real trees didn’t grow alone, especially the big ones. Britt missed
the trees lining the streets of their lost home, and the painting’s survival
gave Britt hope she might survive living in the slums, too.
Be
glad you don’t down near the docks.
The
thought of trees made Britt smile as memories of her summers at Granny Nan’s
flitted through her mind, the pines sighing in the breeze while the oaks
rustled with a brisker note. Her huge white dogs slipping out of the house to
silently disappear into the tree-covered hillsides. Granny Nan standing lost in
thought, rubbing her hidden necklace with the tips of her fingers until the
gems glowed, when she thought she was alone. The three guard dogs, Nan called
her guardians, licking Britt’s face.
Britt’s
heart clutched when she recalled their goodbye last summer. Granny Nan had
bustled about the kitchen, packing a lunch with extra snickerdoodles for the
drive back to Trebridge. Just before she shoved the paper bag into her hands,
she rose to her tiptoes to kiss Britt on the forehead.
“Cheer
up, my girl. Next summer will be loads of fun. You’re going to learn all sorts
of new stuff. Our secret now. Remember.”
The
last word had held force as she tapped Britt’s forehead. She’d loved Granny
Nan. Staying with her was always fun, except when she trained Britt in
self-control. Britt had looked forward to her coming summer, not ever imagining
the old woman would die.
Britt
shoved the memory away because it hurt too much to remember. Won’t learn
anything now since she’s dead.
A
shuffling noise on the stairs put Britt on alert, living in the projects wasn’t
as safe as Uptown. The head of the girl from across the hall appeared, followed
by some older guy with broad shoulders carrying a sack. The girl took one look
at Britt and dropped her gaze before scurrying toward her door.
On
her way, the girl said, “Hi, tree.”
“Why
do you always talk to that silly tree, Sara?” asked the guy following her. His
gaze rested on where Britt’s boobs should be and sank to her crouch area.
When
he smirked, Britt was glad her skirt was loose, happy she did not share Pietra
and her mom’s busty figures.
The
dark-haired Tejano girl pushed the door open after unlocking it. “Gerome, Hurry
up. Mama wants that milk yesterday.”
He
scooted into the door, throwing a backward glance at Britt. “Okay, Sara. Okay.”
Carlos
slipped into the hallway, pulling their door shut without closing it. “Okay,
Britt. Now tell me why I gotta do the dress-shirt shit before school starts.”
He stopped and folded his arms across his chest. His expression mirrored his
father’s when the old man was ready to start a tantrum and throw things when
something didn’t go his way. “I’m not going to move an inch until you let me go
back and get a t-shirt.”
“Yeah,”
said Darin, joining them.
“We
gotta sneak by the co-op’s security, buttheads. If you don’t blend in, they’ll
check their list of undesirables and bounce you out the door faster than you
can spit. So, you’re wear prissy clothes. Comprendes? Or are you guys totally
too stupid to understand?”
“Dad
don’t like you speaking Spanish,” said Carlos.
Darin
parroted in the high-pitched voice that grated her patience raw. “Yeah, we’re
Andorians. Have been forever. You can even join the Daughters of the
Kingscourt.”
“Shut
up, or go watch TV with the bratbies.” Britt gave him a cold stare. Her
fifth-grade brothers hated being lumped with Pietra’s pre-school sons. “Carlos
and I’ll visit Dad by ourselves and get bigger ice creams afterward.”
Carlos
gasped. “You won’t really leave Darin behind?”
Britt’s
glare heated. “Damn sure I would, if he don’t stop whining like a baby.”
“Okay,
but I still don’t like dress shirts,” said Darin. “All the guys around here
wear tees.”
“Duh.
Wear a tee to school tomorrow. Now move your ass. We gotta catch the tram.”
Once
on the street, the boys forgot the argument in a game of shoving and giggling.
Was I ever so young? Maybe before Pietra fell down the stairs and everyone
blamed me for pushing her.
Memories
of her father’s great-grandmother who lived back in the hills flooded through
her mind. Longing pulsed through Britt as she thought of the summers when she
lived with her.
Britt
should’ve hated the old woman, but she loved her. When she was nine, Britt had
been sent away because everyone thought she shoved Pietra down the stairs,
breaking her leg. Pietra had been teasing her by lifting her Mr. Pongo over her
head, and she had been jumping trying to grab him away. But she slipped. Pietra
had fallen down the stairs when Britt had grabbed her for balance. No one
believed her when Britt said it was an accident.
The
summer after, Granny Nan had invited her back. She did teach her to “control”
her temper. She taught her imagination games. Made her use her use all her
senses to examine the world around her. Taught her to sing in descant during
the long evenings with the mages who came to visit her. Granny Nan was a
Dissenter who disliked the Kingscourt and all it stood for. Still, Britt had
loved Granny Nan’s mountain valley. The summers had been the most wonderful of
Britt’s life.
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Author Info
A Northern California gal, M. K.
Theodoratus has been intrigued by fantasy since she started reading comic
books. She has traveled through many fantasy worlds since then. When she's not
disappearing into other writer's worlds, she's creating her own alternative
worlds--that of Andor where demons prey on humans and the Far Isle Half-Elven
where she explores the social and political implications of genetic drift on a
hybrid elf/human people.
A sixth grade English assignment
introduced Theodoratus to story writing. The teacher asked for a short story
and gave a "C" for an incomplete, 25-page Nancy Drew pastiche which
turned into a novel the next summer. Theodoratus has been addicted to writing
stories happily ever after.
Currently, Theodoratus lives with
her old man and two lap-cats in Colorado.
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