BIO
A.L. Davroe writes both YA and adult speculative fiction.
She is represented by Louise Fury of the L. Perkins Literary Agency. She has a
number of self published short stories, her YA Paranormal Romance,
Scar-Crossed, and her YA Cyberpunk, Nexis, are currently on submission with NY
publishing houses. By day, A.L. lives in
Pennsylvania
with her husband and her two feline hench-creatures.
Website: http://www.aldavroe.com/Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ALDavroeFanPage
Twitter: https://twitter.com/aldavroe
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5212441.A_L_Davroe
BOOK SPOTLIGHT
The Krie Seekers is the second short story in a serialized
collection of “vignettes” called CITY STEAM.
This collection is a set of glimpse-teasers for a forthcoming novel -- you
meet some of the characters, learn about the city of Dormorn, and get a taste of the socio-political
conflict in the Windward Empire. The
CITY STEAM collection has an “uncanny horror” or “weird” theme to it. For those of you who are more interested in the
romance or erotic side of things, keep your eyes open for my CITY STEAM X
collection (by Quinn Templeton) which has the same vignette idea but the stories
are all centered around amorous encounters.
In The Krie Seekers, you meet Tatty and Skell, two Seeker sisters
who are recruited to help hunt down their mortal enemies, the Krie. But the relationship between the Krie and the
Seekers isn’t what it seems, even to them!
You’ll learn a little bit about the Krie and the Seekers – two supernatural
creatures who have been put in a unique situation by this world’s god, Ehleis. You can expect to find: horror, romance,
supernatural beings, and some Steampunk elements. I hope you enjoy!
Buy it on AMAZON
EXCERPT
Chapter One:
The one with the long, blonde braid paced
across the starboard-aft engine room of the airship -- her route taking her
back and forth between the B100 tanks. As she moved, her sensible boots rang
hollow on the metal grating and her leather jacket billowed around her slight
frame.
Boone didn't think she'd be stupid enough
to try a run for it, but the way she kept glancing at the dark-haired one in
the jumper made him nervous. He couldn't get the feeling that the two young
women were silently communicating out of his head. That, and the dark-haired
one made him uncomfortable. Just a little bit. While both had an uncanny,
almost ethereal way about them, something about the set of the brunette’s
intelligent green eyes and the angles of her face made him think that she
wasn’t quite human.
“So-” Mardigan's words drew Boone's
attention away from the two stow-aways and back to the tall, stately figure of
his partner. Mardigan placed one gloved hand on his hip and began stroking his
dark mustache with the other. “You found them asleep under the ballast bags? And
that is when you summoned the port authority?”
Shelton Weaver, the captain of the airship
Ariella Sturgeon,
nodded, his oily mouse-colored hair brushing his wind-reddened forehead. “Don't
know how long they been there. We haven't stopped since Fort
Lemonts back on Fair
Isle, and then there ain’t many women there. Just the whores, an'
these ones,” he pointed a thumb in the direction of the two women, “they don't
got the look o' whores.” He shrugged. “But I can't see how they coulda gotten
this far without coming out fer vittles or needin' ta heed the call of the
wild. Ye know what I mean?” He planted an elbow in Boone's ribs and grinned,
showing a severe lack of dental hygiene.
Shifting away from the foul-breathed man,
Boone exchanged nervous glances with Mardigan. His partner removed his bowler
cap and rubbed a broad hand through his coal-black hair; then, sighing,
Inspector Mardigan replaced the cap and shoved his hands into his jacket
pockets. He frowned, indicating he wasn't sure where next to take this.
Squaring his narrow, tweed-clad shoulders,
Boone said, “Have you made an inquiry into the status of your stores? Checked
to see that nothing is amiss? Inspected the surrounding area for any detritus
or debris?”
The captain narrowed a watery, brown eye
at the sergeant as if wondering if the man's use of such language were intended
to stump him. “I have,” he said evenly. “Nothing amiss and I got a man on duty
at the door all hours. Nobody's seen no woman sneakin' out to use the loo and
my ship's as clean as the Empress's backside, I promise you that.”
Boone raised his eyebrow. “Stowaways who
neither ate nor defecated after weeks in the air? Seems highly unlikely.”
“Not entirely,” Mardigan breathed, stepping
forward and eying the women with newfound interest.
Boone didn’t like his expression. “What’s
on your mind, Inspector?”
“Stasis,” Mardigan barked. The heads of the
females came up in perfect unison.
Uncertain, Boone bit his lip. He'd only
ever heard of one kind of creature that went into stasis, but before he could
ask the Inspector, Mardigan was turning back toward the captain and speaking
again. “Have you ever heard of the Greene Street Massacre, Captain Weaver?”
The man nodded, a slow jerky movement. “Yeah,
who hasn't?”
Mardigan's black eyes slid toward where
the women were standing a few yards away. They were both watching the men now,
curvaceous bodies still and bright eyes alert. They reminded Boone of street
thieves ready to take flight.
Almost as if he were telling the women and
not the captain, Mardigan began his tale. “I was only a constable then. We were
called out to the eastern province to investigate a rash of disappearances. We
were lucky -- arriving on the night of another murder and we were able to trace
the killer back to his lair. A squadron broke down the door and stormed in. No
one came out.”
The dark haired one blinked and turned
toward the blonde one. Again, Boone got the distinct feeling that the two were
communicating in some way beyond the human tongue.
Mardigan turned back toward the captain. “Eventually,
when we went in to investigate what had become of them, the entire squadron was
dead. Not just dead, torn limb from limb, their innards strewn about like
festival garland and, like the gruesome murders before them, parts of their
bodies went unaccounted for. A foot missing here, a set of eyes there, the skin
of another over that way. Strangest part of all was that, for such a massacre,
not a sound had been uttered by a one of them.”
He waited for his words to sink in before
continuing. “Murders like that have spread all over the Empire and we've yet to
catch a damn killer. It's like some kind of plague of elusive cannibals.”
“Yeah,” Captain Weaver interrupted. “I
know this. Everyone knows this. It's the Krie. Worshipers of Ehleis is claiming
we woke the Krie. They says our mining up in the mountains and down in the
earth has stirred up the Krie hives -- broken some kind of long sleep ‘er
somthin’. Says they come to take vengeance for disturbing the sacred order o’
things.”
Mardigan nodded. “We’ve disturbed the
hives, it's generally accepted. We've managed to find some mention of them in
ancient texts, from times before the Babel Decree, and-” His eyes wandered
toward the women. They regarded him with cocked heads and eyes too predatory
and intelligent to leer from any human's face. “Records of the Seekers who
hunted them,” he mused.
Scoffing, the captain waved his hand in
dismissal. “Ain’t no such thing as a Seeker. Wishful thinking's all. Imma go
with the Believers on this, the Krie are Ehleis' punishment for breaking the
Decree. The whole o’ the Empire's gonna be overrun by something that no
Mechanic or Alchemist, no class-defying Empress, and no amount o’ human pride
can beat.”
Boone couldn't help the horrified look
that broke his features. This man, this captain from far off shores, was
blaspheming the Windward Empire in front of two law-men with no regard for the
fact that they could, without question, exterminate him right here on the
grounds of heresy and treason. “Good cogs, man, do you know what you are
saying?”
The captain shrugged. “Course I do, ye
can't tell me ye ain’t thinking it too. Much as I want to think we're beyond
the reach of the Sun-God, I've seen a Seer and his Suldal in my time and they
ain't no gran-nanny tale. Only thing keepin' me from bowin' and scrapin' to
every word o' that Decree is that I'm more piss-scared of the Empress and her
legions of fighting men than I am of Ehleis and his Seers and demons.”
Boone nodded. “She is, indeed, not a woman
to be trifled with.”
“Still,” the captain muttered as he
scratched his head. “I don't believe in no Seekers. They're just kiddie
stories.”
Mardigan turned to the women, his eyes
bright with a laughing humor that Boone did not understand. “I wouldn't say
that."
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