Synopsis

Kraken monsters come from the sea. Don’t they?

Devora Kraken seems to have everything under control and all she could ask for. Like the neighbourhood tunnels, where she can hang out with monsters and mermaids both. If sometimes it’s not clear which is which, that’s only normal—right? Anyway, Devi has plenty else to keep her busy, including a good cop, bad cop set of family members. And if all of that isn’t enough, there’s even a cute girl at the new school across town trying to get Devi’s attention!

From the deep waters of the past, something wakes up and marches through Mainland. One terrible night, blood is spilt, and gangs gather in the woods. Devi’s cousin, Jon, leaves for the speak-and-listen trials, and nothing will be the same again.

Devi sets off on a journey of discovery that will take her from her home in Exer City across Mainland and into Craw. It won’t be easy—her brother Korl refuses to talk about the past, or why Jon left. He won’t speak of the gun under the bed or the pile of mermaid figurines. Korl refuses to talk about anything!

What’s a monster anyway? Who better than Devora Kraken to find out?

Book two of The Volcano Chronicles

Nine Star Press * Amazon

Excerpt

This is the diary of how a shield spends its days. To be honest, I hate writing, and I’d never keep a dumb diary except if dying of boredom. Yeah. I’m dying of boredom. There’s nothing to do except write, draw, and turn into turnips. We used to be kids, and now we’re shields. That’s about it. Uncle says we don’t have names because shields are all the same (which is stupid). Except Jon, who gets the name of Shield One because he’s oldest.

I’m fifteen. Jon’s sixteen, and my little sister, Devi, is just three. Devi Bumble Bee because she likes buzzing around everywhere like this: bzzz.

I’ll never get used to thinking of myself as a shield. How could I? Does anyone? Lead can’t speak, but when I said so to Ma, she said I should be quiet. I swore under my breath, so it doesn’t count. Sorry, Ma. Anyway, my shield isn’t made of lead but some kind of cheap plastic. It’s useless, but what can I do? As a joke, I told Jon we could defend Craw by reflecting the sun off the plastic into the enemy’s eyes. He didn’t laugh.

I like saying the rhyme. It’s the only part about war that’s good. When we do it together, I feel brave and good. Important.

It’s been weeks since we left home. Shields live in the Gatehouse now, with the merfolk gatekeeper. Devi has always loved the silly old stone lady, but I’m not so sure I do. To me, she’s moody and angry. I never thought we’d end up living here. When Ma first brought us, Jon was shocked.

Uncle, Ma, and Da. Oops, I mean, the boats go out every morning and come back at night. They lock us in with a big key attached to Uncle’s belt. When I asked why, he said it’s for safety. How is being locked inside a stone hall safe? Some nights, not all the boats come back. Nobody mentions it. I told the little kids they were still out at sea. In a way, I guess it’s true.

We’ve been here fifty days. It seems like fifty years. I’m bored out of my skull, but I’m doing okay. Shield One gets to go outside with the boats. I want to go, too, once I’m trained properly. Shield One has started showing me how to be a shield. I can’t believe he’s a better aim than me, not with hands which won’t stay still.

What else? My little sister doesn’t talk much now. Just sits with the stone mermaid by the door.

I’m a bit worried today. I don’t want to talk about it. Being made of metal and steel like we are, shields don’t have worries. It doesn’t stop me from worrying. When the boats got ready to leave today, Shield One cried and refused to go outside. I was embarrassed for him! I wouldn’t have cried.

Uncle was pissed, so I asked if Jon could stay and teach us to use our shields. When Uncle left, my cousin was so relieved he cried again.

“Halt the tide! What are they even doing out there? Why don’t they come back? Jon?” I know he doesn’t have any answers. I want to hear his voice.

“Who?”

“Ma and Da.”

“Shh! The boats, remember. We don’t say Ma and Da. No names anymore.”

“Why? It’s turnip. Of course we’ve got names.”

I want to wind him up, like before we turned into shields. When we had sun and rain instead of dark windows, and when we could spend all day arguing and messing about.

“Because we’re symbols,” Jon says. “A shield is the Mainland symbol for strength. That’s us! Parents are boats which will carry us to shore.”

“Turnip, like I said. I don’t want to be a symbol.”

He sniffs and might be crying again. Now I feel bad. I still can’t believe Auntie got shot by a sniper. I keep expecting to wake up back in my bed and Ma saying “time for school.”

“Sorry, Jon,” I say. “The boats. Where are they?”

“Don’t say ‘Jon,’” Jon says.

And that’s how it is. It’s ages since Uncle left. I’m cold. I wish I could see what’s going on outside, if the big light of victory has come, the shining light to take us to the land of our fore-parents (whatever it means).

About the Author

Eule Grey has settled, for now, in the UK. She’s worked in education, justice, youth work, and even tried her hand at butter-spreading in a sandwich factory.

She writes novels, novellas, poetry, and a messy combination of all three. Nothing about Eule is tidy but she rocks a boogie on a Saturday night!

For now, Eule is she/her or they/them. Eule has not yet arrived at a pronoun that feels right.

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