Title: We, Kraken
Series: Volcano Chronicles, Book Two
Author: Eule Grey
Publisher: NineStar Press
Release Date: 10/11/2022
Heat Level: 1 – No Sex
Pairing: Female/Female
Length: 53200
Genre: Fantasy, YA, alternate universe/fantasy, lesbian, intercultural, culture and inclusion, student, artist, wartime trauma, PTSD, anxiety, othering, child abuse/endangerment, human rights, equality, voice and representation, redemption, creativity as a vehicle of change, atonement, family, identity, folklore, sea creatures, restorative justice
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Description
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?
We, Kraken
Eule Grey © 2022
All Rights Reserved
It wasn’t over. Next morning, the flat was empty and quiet. My cousin’s bed was unslept in, and his bag and coat had disappeared. Jon was gone.
My brother had left me the stupidest note.
Party tonight. Get rid of the purple chair.
I ran from room to room searching for clues—evidence—anything.
I looked everywhere for Jon. Nothing. By lunchtime, I was desperate for evidence and crawled under Korl’s bed. At best, I’d hoped to find a goodbye letter or maybe the stub of a train ticket.
The dingy, cramped space was as dusty as a coffin. At first, it was too dark to see anything much except a thin film of chalk covering the floor and some smelly-looking socks. The middle floorboard had recently been disturbed.
Whilst rootling about, my hair snagged on a bed spring. I noticed a package in a dark corner, wrapped in a shirt.
It unravelled in a grotesque sequence. Gun—stain—gun—blood—blood—gun, gun, gun.
My mind hurtled to a horrific conclusion. A gun. My brother is a murderer. He’d killed someone the night before and Jon too.
As I fought for breath, the front door opened. I flung everything carelessly back under the bed. That time, the spring pulled out a chunk of hair, but I was too panicked to feel pain.
Korl would soon guess the reason I’d been crawling about on my hands and knees—chalky jeans and filthy hands. My brother was a turnip, but he was no fool. If I asked him outright, there was no way he’d tell the truth about what had happened to Jon. I’d have to be cleverer.
Using his dressmaking scissors, I cut a hole right between the shoulder blades of his best shirt. I figured it was as good a diversionary tactic as any other.
Afterwards, I folded the shirt exactly as it had been, buttons up front. Then I legged it to my own room, and waited.
I was lucky. Korl didn’t notice anything. By the time he sauntered in—wearing the hacked shirt—my jeans were free from telltale chalky evidence, though there were other telltale signs things were amiss.
“’Lo,” I said in a high-pitched squeak.
For all the world like a regular guy and not a murderer, he planted a resounding kiss on my cheek.
“Devi Bee, favourite sister. Are you ready for the party? What’s up? You look like you’ve swallowed a crab.”
“I’m your only sister,” I said shakily.
“And my best one.”
He looked me up and down suspiciously but didn’t poke for answers. There was no time for a showdown anyway. I suppressed the image of the gun, and Jon, and got on with Kraken business.
The other members of the gang dutifully arrived and took their respective places around the table: Anees, Farlo, Tomi, and Bersha. The final space was empty but for a purple chair. Back when he was a decent person, Korl had painted an octopus with writhing tentacles on the seat. It belonged to Jon, who loved to pretend the octopus had gotten him. I could still hear the echoes of his laugh.
Despite the apocalyptic undercurrents, it was a calm enough party. Everyone made jokes and contributed to the ‘fun.’
I watched and waited for clues and evidence of my suspicions. It didn’t take long before the cracks appeared. After dinner, the gang fell quiet. They gaped at the octopus and maybe thought about who used to sit there.
By then, shock and despair had dripped into a boiling ball of rage. I hoped the chill got under the hole in Korl’s shirt and gave him a cold, if not pneumonia.
“Terribly nice night. Isn’t it?” I said tightly.
“Terribly nice? Why are you talking that way?” my brother asked, laughing.
It had been almost twenty-four hours since Jon’d vanished, and still, we hadn’t talked about it. Not Anees when she arrived with wine, or Farlo as he hung his coat on the peg where my cousin hooked his bag. Jon’s peg. Not even my brother, who used to claim Jon was his best friend.
Party tonight. Get rid of the purple chair.
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Eule Grey has settled, for now, in the north UK. She’s worked in education, justice, youth work, and even tried her hand at butter-spreading in a sandwich factory. Sadly, she wasn’t much good at any of them!
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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