Title: Demon Killer
Author: Myra Nour
Series: Stand Alone
Publisher: Self Published
Release Date: July 2014 (Originally Published in a Anthology Shifter, NCP in 2002)
Editions/Formats Available In: eBook
Attacked by a soldier of the demon race, a young woman has a child from their union. To her horror, he bears the mark of the demon, and her people will stop at nothing to kill it. Being part fairy, Azra uses her magic to try and save her child from his demon blood. In spite of her best efforts, he briefly turns into the monstrous Sartwor beast, slaying her entire village.
A perilous journey to the home of the pure blood fairies ensues as she races to save Bretuck before he turns into the beast again. This time she may not be able to pull him from the grasp of the creature ruling his body. Can a mother's love prevail over her son's cursed blood?
Myra has been published since 2001 with Ellora's Cave and New Concepts Publishing. She decided in 2014 to take some of her books the Indie route, starting with Demon Killer. Myra loves to write stories with a mix of romance, s/f, paranormal and fantasy elements. Since April 2012 she is the CEO and co-owner of BTS Book Reviews, a digital magazine dedicated to promoting authors work and bringing great books to readers. Magazine at: www.btsemag.com.
The trees surrounding the glen where the witch was reported to live, were bent over and twisted into odd shapes, as if they suffered arthritic pains. It was dusky dark under those snake-like contortions of limb and leaves, and smelled of mold and dampness under the deep purplish shade. Azra felt sure sunlight had never touched the earth beneath the overhanging giants, yet the sun had seared her shoulders before stepping into the trees gloom but a moment before.
At first glance, she thought there was an overgrown hill nestled between the giants, but in reality, it was a profusion of vines and greenish-black creepers crawling into and over a tiny hut. A small door was barely distinguishable between the virulent growths, but someone kept the doorway cleared. Before her hand descended on the cracked wood, an ancient sounding voice called for her to enter. Her nostrils flared, offended by the strange smells emanating from within, the sickening mingling of ancient magic making it worse. Dark power. Dark magic. She shivered in reaction.
She found a haggard old woman with lank hair dragging the ground, sitting on a small stool and stirring a smelly concoction in a hearth blackened pot. The interior was darker than the tree shadows, relieved only by the hearth fire, which threw out shoots of sparks and faint light. It lit the witch’s face and Azra realized she’d held her breath for a horrified moment, for the old crone looked an ogre in its lair.
The woman grinned widely showing two bone white teeth, everything else in her mouth blackened or greenish with decay. Azra shivered as she realized how the witch’s appearance replicated the hut’s exterior, and the old sorceress knew well the image she created.
“Fairy child, come to the old witch for help, eh?”