Summer Countdown Blitz: Day 9

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.

  

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"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."

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Snippets:

Being stalked by the most terrifying thing he’d ever seen, Grey realized a glaring fault in his romanticized dreams—the ones where Tate returned to rescue him. This wasn’t a dream…it was a nightmare.

“Rune, stay back.” Grey gripped the dagger—it gave him all the confidence of trying to take down a polar bear with a toothpick.

The wolf was so close now. All he could see was a giant snarling mouth, glittering brown eyes, and the deliberate movement of the shoulders as it stalked its prey.

The thing leapt, and dinner-plate sized paws punched into his chest like sledgehammers, knocking him flat on his back and pinning his arms to the ground. Grey struggled, trying to defend himself, but a few hundred pounds of wolf kept him immobilized.

A deep rumble rolled through the werewolf’s chest, a very human-like chuckle. There was a devious glint in the eyes and it leaned closer, jaw opening wide. The stench of its breath was overwhelmingly foul but played second fiddle to the palatable flavor of death that overrode Grey’s senses

He turned his head away, the only defense against watching his own demise.

There was a blur of legs and shoes, and then Rune barreled into the side of the beast, shoving her shoulder into its ribs like a linebacker, knocking him sideways and clear of Grey. The werewolf snarled, rolling immediately to its feet. Rune scrambled backwards onto her heels and the palms of her hands, looking around for anything she could use to defend herself—there was nothing but grass. 

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Great Summer Countdown - Day 2

Devri Walls lives in Meridian ID with her husband, two kids and the cutest must you've ever seen. After suffering from an abundance of creativity with not enough places to put it, she turned to writing. Which in the end, turned out to be exactly where she should have been putting it all along.


Q&A With The Author:

11.    What is your favorite part of writing?

The creating. I love making something out of nothing. I love world building, character creation. And then that amazing moment when that thing you created that was mostly garbage—because all rough drafts are—transforms into something you’re really proud of.

6. Do you have any advice for other writers?

Finish the book. Rough drafts are always really bad. Like, really bad. Sometimes a novel needs to be trashed, but often it just needs major revision. You have to polish the stone before you see its beauty and it’s the same with stories. The other piece of advice is, hire an editor. They are worth every penny.  AND, I have one more—develop a thick skin. You could write the most brilliant book in the world and somebody will hate it. Don’t believe me? Pick some of your favorites and go read their one star amazon reviews. It helps put it in perspective for you.

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Tybolt’s a Deviant, a hated race immune to direct magic in a world where Wizards ensure survival. But when he loses his entire family to a spell-made storm he joins an elite group of Wizard hunters, organized beneath the new non-magic wielding king.

Now eighteen, he spends his days capturing Wizards. But the nights are his, reserved to feed the starving villagers of Eriroc under cover of dark. There’s always more people in need than he can help, and one of these days he’s going to hang for theft from the royal kitchens.

Although Tybolt and his fierce partner, Auriela, have imprisoned many Wizards, the one partially responsible for the storm that killed Tybolt’s family is still out there: Alistair. When an old informant claims to have information regarding their elusive prey, everything changes.

In a cruel twist, Tybolt realizes he isn't who he thought he was at all. How can he save himself, the people, and those he loves while keeping his secrets safe? Can he hide his true nature and allow the corrupt king to remain on the throne?

Or will he have to unveil himself and risk possible execution to save them all?

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Snippet:

Auriella struggled within herself. She wanted to look away, to put on the blinders she’d worn for so many years, but Tybolt seemed to have disarmed her..

What she remembered of living amongst these people was cruelty and hate, but this room and these faces…it looked nothing like she remembered. They were laughing and dancing, but above all she saw what Tybolt wanted her to.

She’d heard his comments time and again about how the people were starving. She’d never looked at them closely enough to really see it. She’d always kept her eyes above them. But now, this close, she could see arms that looked like the limbs of a marionette—tendons and joints too defined, large and out of place. Collarbones jutted out, spines were carved piece by piece on the backs of the ladies—like children’s blocks carefully stacked. The men’s clothes hung, hiding what was left of them, but speaking loudly as to the men they used to be.

And despite her best efforts, her heart ached for the people who’d been the cause of all her pain. Then suddenly she marveled at what she was really seeing and wondered how they had mastered something while having nothing—something she’d never been able to accomplish while having everything. “How are they so happy?” she asked.

“I think they’ve learned that grasping happiness wherever they can helps to ease their misery.”

Suddenly Auriella marveled at what she was really seeing and wondered how they had mastered something while having nothing—something she’d never been able to accomplish while having everything. “How are they so happy?” she asked.

“I think they’ve learned that grasping happiness wherever they can helps to ease their misery.”

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