This story is X-Rated. Reader’s discretion is advised.
This statement is rare.
As a horror writer and major fan of the genre for many years, I must look a little harder into fiction these days to find a certain something, a quality that makes me hold my breath until I see dots in front of my eyes. Many times, I get halfway through a book wishing the Apocalypse would hurry the hell up or roll my eyes thinking I’ve read this story before, throwing the thing in the wastepaper basket.
I love fiction that makes you want to walk through a car wash, after the story is done, until you recoup some modicum of your former self, to make you thank your lucky stars you do not share the same sky with the characters. Unfortunately, you could be, because the author stirs a cauldron of extreme horror and a very grim, gritty, real world. You don’t find goblins and dragons, and ghosts that make whispers in the trees. Here the demons are very real, monsters of unsatiable desire, that discard human flesh as nonchalantly as yesterday’s newspaper.
The characters are fun and unafraid to show their dark side, facing very real situations we wished didn’t happen, but do. And this is where we find the best of us: at our worst.
Like wading through filthy, rancid water, unholy creatures and unnameable body parts slowly passing your nose, you try to keep your head above water. You’ll smile, grimace, and hold back the vomit as the story weaves through the bruised underbelly of the heavens like a needle, a story that sinks so low you’ll look up to see hell.
Demi Mondaine is as gritty as a mouthful of sand, darkly humorous, with all the right ingredients for a horror fan like me. I’m looking forward to book two.
“Dear father, for I have sinned…I’ve read N.R. Mayfield. It’s the one—”
“Yes, my child…I know the one.”
I award this book 4.5 stars.
Not Available to Buy at The Book Dragon