Sara Codair has a new queer supernatural/urban fantasy book out, Evanstar Chronicles book two: ‘Power Inversion.” And there’s a giveaway!
Do you have to be a monster to fight one?
Erin Evanstar is a demon hunter, a protector of humanity from nightmarish predators that feed on people’s fears and flesh. They are settling into their dual life of being a teen and hunting demons.
When a tentacled horror abducts Erin’s partner, JosĂ©, Erin and their family go on the hunt to get him back. But Erin gets an ultimatum: help the Fallen Angels bring on the apocalypse or watch JosĂ© die. Erin will do anything to save JosĂ©, but fighting monsters comes with a grim price–becoming one themselves.
Warnings: Violence, Death, Death of a Minor Character, Temporary Death of a Main Character, Mention of Past Abuse, Mention of Miscarriage, Pregnancy of Side Character, Self-harm, Suicidal Ideation, Guns, Grief, Kidnapping/abduction, alcohol use, brief depiction of humans enslaved by a supernatural creature
NineStar Press | Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads
Giveaway:
Sara is giving away a $10 Amazon gift card with this blog tour. Enter via Rafflecopter:
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Excerpt:
White graduation caps fell from the sky like flakes of vaporized Demon. High school was a beast, and Iâd vanquished it like every monster Iâd fought, with one exceptionâmyself.
This moment deserved savoring.
Breathing deliberately, I slowed my perception of time until the caps seemed as if they were falling through cold honey on their way to the ground.
The late-spring sun beat down on me, but a breeze kept the temperature bearable. Some tassels lilted southeastâaway from the towering clouds bruising the northwest sky. The weather wasnât going to hold much longer, but I was okay with that. Thunderstorms awoke something wild in meâa pulse-racing, dance-around-like-no-one-can-see-you kind of wildâa rush of adrenaline almost as good as what Iâd get from battling a Troll or sparring with Mel.
With my sense of time slowed down, the distant thunder sounded like a lion purring. The clouds glowed purple as lightning forked through them like an X-ray, temporarily revealing a mass of tentacles undulating in the clouds.
Mel, did you see that? I thought as loudly as I could, hoping my telepathic cousin would hear me.
Iâd seen a lot of different Demons in the three months Iâd been hunting them, but based on the stories and the Lexicon, the massive tentacled ones only materialized in oceans, and they certainly could not fly. Yet, every time lightning flashed, there they were, waving as if violent updrafts were a gentle breeze.
My heart sped up. My hands closed into fists. Mel didnât reply.
I shut my eyes, opening my mind so I could feel all the energy around me. Most humans were blobs of buzzing heat, but Mel, a hybrid of human, Angel, and Elf, had a hotter, more intense aura with a spritz of simultaneously depressed and optimistically peppy texture. I found her near my Elven grandmother, who felt like a condensed thunderstorm.
Mel? Niben? Can you hear me? Did you see that?
Of course, there was a good chance they were both shielding. What telepath would have their mind open to other peopleâs thoughts when there were so many other people around?
One who hasnât been able to properly shield in months. Melâs melodic yet squeaky voice was a welcome presence in my mind. Shut down the hyper drive. Youâre giving me a headache.
I exhaled over the course of ten seconds, willing my sense of time back to normal.
A garbled din of stretched-out voices morphed to something more akin to a clattering avalanche of pots and pans. A shoulder jostled mine. The corner of a graduation cap crashed into my head.
Erin? What had you wanted to tell me?
There were tentacles in the clouds, I thought at Mel, turning in the general direction I sensed her in.
I crashed into José, who, of course, stood right next to me.
âYou okay?â he asked. Tears glistened in his midnight eyes and trickled down his sun-kissed cheeks. One snagged on the crooked tip of his nose. He clutched two graduation caps, his and mine, so tight that the scars on his knuckles were visibly stretched.
âYeah. Are you?â I wondered if I should tell him what Iâd seen. Heâd been hunting Demons longer than me, but he also thrived on keeping school and the supernatural as two separate entities. And what if they hadnât been tentacles? What if the storm had just appeared that way with the lightning in slow motion? I didnât want to ruin his day if there wasnât an actual threat.
âIâll miss everyone.â He stuffed the caps under his arms and hugged me. While I wanted to celebrate because Iâd made it out alive, he mourned the loss of a place that had been a haven to him for four years.
I leaned my head on his shoulder, listening to his heartbeat, trying to let his steady warmth calm the worry growing in my mind. JosĂ©âs body was a rock in the sense that it was hard and athletic, but also because it anchored me when I felt as if my mind was running away.
Have you ever watched a storm with time slowed that much? asked Mel.
I shook my head before I remembered there were dozens of people between her and me. No. Do storm clouds in slow motion look like tentacles?
JosĂ© kissed my hair and whispered, âAre you talking to Mel?â
I nodded.
âIs she okay?â
âSheâs having trouble shielding. We should go meet up with her and the others anyway.â I stepped away from him and walked uphill.
Students, who wore white graduation robes, and their parents, who were dressed mostly in summer dresses, slacks, and collared shirts, were clumped all over Saint Patrickâs sprawling lawn.
JosĂ© draped his arm over my shoulder as I wove around groups of people. The pressure was calming, lulling panic monsters back to sleep with its warm weight. I glanced up at the clouds. They were closer and darker. The wind sped up, stealing programs from a dozen peopleâs hands. The clouds lit up with lightning, but I didnât see any tentacles.
Melâs voice popped back into my head. I donât sense anything in the clouds, and neither does Niben. I guess sheâs been restraining the storm for half the ceremony. Perhaps you were seeing her power mingled with it?
Maybe. Some tension unraveled from my chest. Iâd heard stories about my grandmother, Niben, controlling storms, but Iâd never seen her do it. In fact, Iâd never witnessed her do any magic unless she was modeling something she wanted me to try. Sheâd come on a few hunts, but sheâd just watched with her unblinking feline eyes and later quizzed me on what I did right and wrong. For all I knew, her fabled storm magic could resemble tentacles.
Sara Codair is an author of short stories and novels, which are packed with action, adventure, magic, and the bizarre. They partially owe their success to their faithful feline writing partner, Goose the Meowditor-In-Chief, who likes to âeditâ their work by deleting entire pages.
If Sara isnât writing, theyâre probably teaching, swimming in the lake, reading fantasy, or walking their dog.
Author Website: https://saracodair.com/
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