Book Description

Lilian, a thirteen-year-old factory worker in an industrialising town plagued by a serial killer, can see an invisible affliction within other people. When her search for her missing best friend ends with a confrontation with a demon — and learning that the affliction turns humans into demons — another demon named Lucian saves her life and promises answers. Her first clue is that demons are responsible for the many murders. Unfortunately, Lilian’s new lead has problems of his own — Demon Hunters, who claim Lucian is the serial killer and who see Lilian as an accessory. Night Demon tells a claustrophobic gaslamp fantasy and horror story with a dark fantasy twist and edge-of-your-seat suspense. If you're a fan of classic American and British horror fiction but also like dark fantasy world-building and epic fights, you're in for a treat. What can you expect from reading Night Demon? • A strong female lead discovers that she needs to confront her mortality as well as her morality. • Language magic called Elilim, based on proto-indo-european, Mycenean and proto-Semitic languages. • Set in Victorian times and written in the King's English, a classic gaslamp fantasy British horror fiction atmosphere. • Classic strong prose, but that doesn't take away tempo. • Demons and Vampires with compelling and terrifying worldbuilding and lore behind them • Inspired by deep Saxon ghostly folklore. • Terrifyingly brooding, doom impendent and action-packed story structure that will never bore! Night Demon Excerpt from Chapter 11 by Stephen Wolberius She considered trying to make a run for it anyway until the unlit streetlamps to her left and right ignited. The next set of streetlamps lit up, and so did the next and the next until the stalker stood bathed in light — the lamps burned with such intensity that he shielded his eyes with an arm. All the lights except those next to him flickered and extinguished, basting the road in darkness, but then they all shone anew with even greater brightness. There stood the Lamplighter between Lilian and the stalker. He basked in light pale as snow and held his rodded wick to his side, which bore a smouldering ember at its tip. He made no sound, and even his black robe, which swayed gently and touched the snow at his feet, did so in serene stillness. The stalker stood as if frozen shut, one foot still in front of the other and in the middle of making a step before he turned and ran the way he came. The lights flickered, and with the third flicker, the Lamplighter, too, was gone. The lights remained out after that, and Lilian remained alone with nought but the mist’s embrace.