~ by Naomi Clark ~
Like the quote says, sometimes you have to write the book you want to read. When I first came up with the idea for the Deva Chronicles, several years ago now, I was looking for something in the urban fantasy field that didn't revolve around the Big Three – vampires, werewolves, and witches. I'm not saying it wasn't already out there. I just couldn't find it. I can't quite remember now where I stumbled across the Hindu concept of devas and their malevolent brothers, the asuras, but it was just too great a piece of mythology not to write about.
Like the quote says, sometimes you have to write the book you want to read. When I first came up with the idea for the Deva Chronicles, several years ago now, I was looking for something in the urban fantasy field that didn't revolve around the Big Three – vampires, werewolves, and witches. I'm not saying it wasn't already out there. I just couldn't find it. I can't quite remember now where I stumbled across the Hindu concept of devas and their malevolent brothers, the asuras, but it was just too great a piece of mythology not to write about.
I admit I've taken some liberties with the myth, but the basic idea of the nature spirits, the devas, versus the aggressive asuras is at the core of it all. With the devas and asuras able to give particular gifts to their
human hosts (like Ryan's ability to cloak herself in shadows), the
stage is set for supernatural carnage! Hopefully the sneak peek below
gives you an idea of what's in store in the Deva Chronicles...
Blurb:
human hosts (like Ryan's ability to cloak herself in shadows), the
stage is set for supernatural carnage! Hopefully the sneak peek below
gives you an idea of what's in store in the Deva Chronicles...
Blurb:
Ryan's past isn't just haunting her. It's trying to kill her.
Ryan McCarthy fled Kimberlyn Island, her father, and her lover six years ago, desperate to build a life away from the weird science and supernatural experiments of her childhood. But everything she hoped to escape comes back with a vengeance when she's kidnapped and tortured by a possessed madman out for revenge on the man responsible for his possession: Ryan's father.
Now, reunited with the lover she abandoned, Ryan is forced back into a world of danger and darkness she no longer understands, pursued by enemies with powers she can't fathom. But Ryan's not entirely powerless herself. She'll have to use every trick she knows—as well as the mystic gift she hates—to stay ahead of those enemies. And that will be easier said than done.
Excerpt:
“Ryan! Open the door, Ryan!” Irving shouted. “I’ve got a present for you!”
“Stay here,” Jackson told me, tone allowing no argument. He crept down the hall towards the door, metal hand curled into a fist. Tendrils of red hot energy rolled off him, his deva preparing for battle. My own
deva, long suppressed, stirred sluggishly within me, its energy cool
and dark.
My body remembered too well how to use its power now. Shapeshifting
earlier had woken the old skills, and it was almost painless now for
me to tug at the shadows in the kitchen and wrap them around me so I
disappeared. Jackson looked back at me and started. “Ryan?” he
whispered.
“Get the door,” I shot back, my voice sounding disembodied and tinny.
Irving was still hammering, screaming my name. I imagined the asura inside him spurring him on, urging him to violence. To kill and torture and maim. I watched Jackson’s back as he stole towards the door, thought of the chaos deva inside him, and wondered how different the two entities really were. Devas were supposed to be the good to the asuras’ evil, but that was a human idea, wasn’t it? Morality, right and wrong…What did those things have to do with supernatural beings?
Jackson reached the door just as the wood split, a long pale crack appearing in the varnished oak. I trembled at the strength that must have taken. I’d been lucky earlier to escape Irving with relative ease
and only a few scars to show for it. He could have snapped me in
half.
Jackson grasped the door handle and wrenched the door open. Metal shrieked as locks and bolts snapped. Wood flew from the frame in splinters and chips. Amber light flooded the hall from the street lamp outside, gleaming off his metal hand and bathing Irving a sickly yellow color. He clasped a knife in one hand.
Irving stumbled back at the sight of Jackson in the doorway, his crazed eyes wide. There was a split second where neither man moved, then they exploded into action. Irving screamed and threw himself at Jackson, blade flashing as he struck.
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About the Author
Naomi likes writing, perfume, fancy tea, and unfathomable monsters from the dark spaces between the stars, not necessarily in that order. She has been writing stories ever since she learned how to write, but is still trying to master the art of biography writing. When she's not dealing with werewolves, demons, or sea monsters, she's hanging out with her cat and probably watching a documentary about Bigfoot. If the cat isn't available, she's with her fiancé watching cookery shows and silently plotting her next book.
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