Realms Unknown: EZ Taylor, Demon Slayer, #1

By VJ Dunn

What happens when a bullied boy finds out he's so much more than he thought? World-changing adventure!

As a special needs boy living in foster care, Ezekiel Taylor has always struggled with fear and insecurity.

But when EZ meets a mysterious man named Friar, he learns that not only does he have special needs, he also has a special gift…

The ability to slay demons.

Despite his fears, EZ must embark on a journey to a hidden realm where he must confront and defeat powerful demons in order to save the world from darkness. Along the way, he discovers strength and courage he never knew he had and learns the true meaning of bravery…

Facing your fears no matter what.

Through his journey, EZ grows in strength and faith, learning to stand up to demons both real and imaginary. After living in a world where he's one of "the least of these," he discovers that he might just be someone special after all.

But will EZ survive long enough to slay his own personal demons?


EZ Taylor, Demon Slayer is a thrilling and inspiring tale of one boy's journey to discover his true identity and purpose in life. Biblically based Christian action for young fans of L.B. Anne and Andrew Peterson, this will be your next favorite read. Preorder Realms Unknown today to be first in line to start the adventure!

• Language: English
• Publisher: VJ Dunn
• Release date: Jun 9, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223180579

Book preview

Chapter 1

When the Suck Gets Sucky

A drawing of a child with his fist raised Description automatically generated with low confidence

MRS. EASTON WAS raging again. EZ sighed. Nothing new about that, he thought to himself. His foster mother was always upset with him, even when there wasn’t any reason at all.

EZ was tired of being the kid who took the kicks meant for the dog.

The large woman turned from the stove and shook the big metal spoon in her hand at him. Ezekiel Taylor, one of these days—

He lifted his hand to adjust his glasses, mostly to hide the fact he’d rolled his eyes. Mrs. Easton was always saying one of these days, but her predictions had never come true.

Not yet anyway.

EZ would never know what prophecy she’d been about to make because Marcus came running in then, his cheeks pinkened as he grabbed the doorframe.

Mrs. Easton put her meaty fists on her hips as she glared at the boy the others called Snitch.

Well? she snapped. What is it?

Snitch’s right eye twitched, the sign that he had something really special to share. Something that would get one of the other boys into serious trouble.

EZ clenched his jaw, hoping it wasn’t about him.

It’s Psycho… er, Jamal I mean. Snitch’s face reddened even more, which EZ thought should have been impossible. The kid looked like he was about to explode, which would have been pretty awesome to see. Messy, but awesome.

But EZ knew why Snitch had gotten even more agitated; Mrs. Easton hated the nicknames they had for each other, and said they were just setting themselves up for future prison by giving themselves street names.

It was probably a good thing she didn’t know what they secretly called her. The Beaston probably wouldn’t have made her too happy.

What? Mrs. Easton snapped.

Snitch straightened at her tone, his hand dropping from the doorframe as he clasped his hands, twisting his fingers. He suddenly looked unsure of himself, maybe even a little worried.

Good, EZ thought. Serves him right.

He hoped Mrs. Easton would really lay into the kid no one liked. Of course, they didn’t like him either, but EZ pushed that thought aside.

Snitch shifted his feet and stared at the ugly vinyl flooring. Uh… well, um, Jamal was…

Mrs. Easton stomped her foot so hard EZ thought the ugly yellowed tiles were going to crack. Spit it out!

Her anger seemed to kick Snitch into gear. He stole the Nova! he blurted.

The air seemed to suck out of the kitchen and EZ held his breath, waiting to see what such horrible news was going to bring. Mrs. Easton blinked a few times, like she was rebooting her brain after getting stuck with a spinning circle. The info didn’t seem to want to process.

It was several long moments before she reacted.

He WHAT? The screech was so loud, both EZ and Snitch recoiled.

Snitch’s face paled, though his cheeks still had bright red slashes. EZ thought he looked like one of those anime girls.

He… he stole the N-n-nova, Snitch stammered, clearly unsure of himself and his information.

EZ watched while their foster mother again tried to process the impossible news, while secretly hoping Snitch got in trouble just for sharing it.

He knew it was a mean thought, because no one should ever have to be a victim of one of Mrs. Easton’s rages. But Snitch had tattled on him just days before when EZ had snuck into the house ten minutes late.

The punishment had been horrible—locked into the tiny, freezing cold, windowless room in the basement that smelled of pee and mold and tears with no idea when he’d be let out. Possibly even worse, he wasn’t allowed to have dinner for a whole week. EZ needed all the meals he could get.

It didn’t matter that he’d explained he was late getting home because he’d stopped to help old Mrs. Simpson get her groceries into her house.

No good deed ever goes unpunished, Mrs. Easton had snarled when she tossed him into the basement room with just a chair cushion and a dirty, stained, holey blanket to pass for comforts.

After crying all night in damp, cold misery, EZ had practically bolted from the room the next morning when she’d let him out to go to school. He only slowed long enough to grab his backpack before racing out the door, afraid Mrs. Easton would grab him again.

EZ had known he was going to be teased for showing up to school in the same clothes as the day before—though a lot dirtier—but he didn’t care.

He could get free breakfast at school, and he’d been starving by that point.

Startled out of his thoughts when Mrs. Easton slapped the counter with her hand, EZ took an involuntary step back, afraid she might smack him instead. Being a foster kid meant some protection from abuse, since his caseworker would check for any signs of it during his monthly visit. But Thomas had been to the house just the week before and the Easton’s uncannily knew how to time their blows with each kid so the bruises would heal before their caseworkers came again.

Red crept up his foster mother’s neck, a sure sign she was about to really lose it. EZ slid his right foot back, hoping to sneak out of the kitchen before she decided to take her frustration out on the closest kid. He had a sudden desire to push Snitch at her.

With a snarl, Mrs. Easton threw the spoon toward the sink. It missed, clanging on the tile counter and slamming into the toaster before bouncing off onto the floor, splattering spaghetti sauce everywhere.

EZ grimaced; it looked like a crime scene and he hoped it wasn’t an omen or something.

Well, Jamal is going to be sorry for this little stunt, she growled as she marched toward the kitchen door. Both EZ and Snitch jumped out of arm’s reach as she passed.

"Very sorry."

Their foster mother stomped toward the front door and yanked it open. She didn’t hold onto it, though, and it slammed into the wall, the knob impaling in the plaster. She glanced at it, made a sound like a wounded bear, then stampeded out, a raging bull looking for someone to trample.

Poor Psycho, Snitch whispered. He’s gonna really get it this time.

EZ whirled on him. If you hadn’t ratted him out, he wouldn’t be in trouble! he hissed. Snitch winced, looking guilty for a change. Usually, he was more than happy with himself when he managed to get someone on Mrs. Easton’s list.

Snitch turned to leave the kitchen. Well, he shouldn’t have stolen the Nova, he muttered quietly, as if trying to convince himself he’d done the right thing.

You know he’s just trying to see his kid! EZ argued, following after him. Snitch’s shoulders stiffened, the only sign that he’d heard him. The Beastons won’t take him, so he had to figure it out for himself!

Snitch kept walking like he hadn’t heard him.

Though EZ didn’t really like Jamal—who was just as mean to him as the other boys in the foster home—he appreciated that the teen cared about his daughter. He’d only been fifteen when Maria was born, and Jamal had done everything he could to be a part of her life.

EZ wished he could say the same for his own parents.

He closed his eyes as he tried to shake the unwanted thoughts and feelings away. Anytime he thought of his parents he got heartburn. At least, that’s what his counselor said it was when he described the pain in his chest. EZ had his doubts about that.

It felt more like the burn of betrayal.

Snitch headed to the room they shared with two other boys. EZ hated it—both the sharing and the bedroom—but it was better than the alternative of sleeping in an alley behind a dumpster, worrying about being found.

And yet, also being terrified you wouldn’t be found.

It wasn’t that long ago that he’d experienced a time of homelessness when he’d run away from the Easton’s not long after he’d been sent there to live. He’d had a really bad day of being everyone’s punching bag and had started crying.

Mrs. Easton laughed at him along with the others, then said he was just emotional because he was a booze baby. The other boys decided then and there that was going to be EZ’s nickname.

That night he’d climbed out the bathroom window and disappeared into the darkness.

After the police found him three days later and he’d been returned to the home, EZ had suffered a lot at the hands of his angry foster parents. But even that had been better than the alternative of staying on the streets. He’d never been more scared in his life.

And that was saying something, because EZ was scared a lot.

At least he knew there was a reason for it... for being scared all the time. A judge had ordered him to see some head doctor after he was taken from his parents. The doctor said he had PTSD from growing up with them. EZ didn’t really know what that was, but the guy had explained it was the reason he was so jumpy and scared all the time.

Dr. Pollack also told him he had Fetal Alcohol Syndrome because his mom drank a lot when she was pregnant with him. He warned EZ that he’d probably have problems in school and with getting along with others and warned him about impulsive behaviors.

The doctor had gotten the caseworker to take EZ to a different doctor—the kind that looked at your body and not your brain—who said the same thing about the syndrome and told him it was the reason he was so much smaller than everyone else his age. And why his eyes were so bad.

Be thankful you don’t have more things wrong, that doctor had told him with a totally fake smile. FAS kids can have a lot of very serious problems. You’re one of the lucky ones.

EZ sure didn’t feel lucky.

He’d just reached the bedroom when he heard Wheezer—aka Rodrigo—say, Hey, Snitch, what’s up with the Beaston? Heard her yell. EZ paused, waiting to hear what garbage Snitch told them. Not only was he an informer, he was also a big, fat liar.

Oh, uh, she found out Psycho stole the Nova.

EZ’s lip curled up; he wanted to go in the room and tell Wheezer and Chubs exactly how she’d found out, but he knew they’d figure it out. Whenever someone got in trouble, most of the time it was because the informer had ratted on them.

One day he hoped Snitch got what he deserved.

Yeah? Chubs asked, breathless as always. EZ always thought Chubs—aka Ernie—should have been named Wheezer Two. Wonder how she found out. There was no missing the sarcasm.

Oh, uh, well, BB was in the kitchen with her, Snitch said.

EZ frowned at the use of the shortened version of his nickname. Booze baby was bad and mean enough, and BB was just stupid. His frown deepened as he wondered what Snitch was getting at.

Huh, Chubs said, while Wheezer said, That so?

Yeah, Snitch replied. EZ could hear the excitement in his voice, like he’d just thought of a great story. EZ’s frown turned into a scowl.

A great story alright, he thought. Total fiction too. He knew what was coming and it wasn’t going to go his way, that was for sure. Chubs was Psycho’s little brother and the two of them watched out for each other. If EZ was going to get blamed for tattling on Psycho, he knew Chubs was going to beat him up good.

And since he was the newest kid in the home, EZ knew they weren’t going to believe him when he told them he didn’t have anything to do with it.

Heart pounding, he turned and hurried back down the hall with no destination in mind. No matter where he went, they’d find him, and he wasn’t allowed to leave the house.

And the last thing he wanted was another stay