Devil's Harvest (A Short Story Prequel): Doormaker, #0 by Jamie Thornton

Author:Jamie Thornton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: TWO HOURS. ONE INTERSTELLAR DRUG DEAL. If Esson doesn’t track down some magical drugs within the next two hours, the drug dealer he got involved with might just kill him anyway.
Publisher: Jamie Thornton
Published: 2017-12-16T00:00:00+00:00

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Thanks for reading Devil's Harvest. This marks the end of the book, but not the end of Esson! Keep reading for a preview from Doormaker: Rock Heaven (Book 1).

Three worlds. One rule. She must never open a door.

Doormaker: Rock Heaven (Book 1)

Available in paperback and ebook

Chapter 1

Before Maella’s father left, he made her promise to never, ever open a door.

Maella still didn’t understand why those were his last words to her.

She knew the family rule.

She had kept her promise even as her family had broken it again and again.

Her cousin fixated on a medicine cabinet and opened it to a starry void that sucked him away. A car dashboard mesmerized her aunt and she brushed it open to an angry swarm of wasps—she died from an allergic reaction after swelling to twice her size. Her uncle had been in a depression while house-sitting for a neighbor, and he opened the fridge door. A tiger dragged him into a humid jungle, neither cat nor uncle seen again.

Two years after moving to their current house, her older brother, Esson, had disappeared through a door. He had only been thirteen.

She lived with her mother, her grandmother, and her little brother, Josa. They were all who remained of the family, but Maella didn’t dwell on it. Well, she did, but only at night, when the darkness created its own form of privacy, since, after all, there was no door for her bedroom.

The lack of privacy bothered her more than it used to, but on days when Josa’s noise and her mother’s demands and her grandmother’s guilting became too much, she escaped to the overgrown field behind the house. No one could see her there. It was the closest thing she had to a closed door.

She sat on a decomposing oak log and faced the door in the field. The field backed up to a creek that ran dry most of the year—but not right now in the spring. She always faced the door in the field, even on days like today when the grass had grown tall enough to hide it. The door was a black hole of decay and death and magic and magnetism.

“Maella!”

Maella stood on top of the log and waved her hands. “Over here, Claritsa!” She was tall enough to see the stalks of grass shift as Claritsa moved.

Claritsa came crashing onto the flattened space around the log, stirring up lizards and pollen and mold. Out of the whole neighborhood, maybe this whole world, only Claritsa knew about her family’s door problem. A pair of dark braids whipped around her shoulders. Her thick bangs were just a little too long, but she had screamed bloody murder when her grandmother tried to cut them. “It’s the latest style in Hollywood,” Claritsa had said later to Maella.

Maella’s mouse brown hair clung to her head in tight curls. She’d been born that way. She knew that because her grandmother always brought up this troubling fact when Maella acted rudely.

Claritsa stumbled on a clump of crabgrass, caught herself, and collapsed on the log.

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