Dire Straits

By Megan Derr

More than twenty years ago, Bannick fled the place called No Man's Land with no intention of returning. Now, though, he is a powerful red-collared Crown priest, his duty to fight the many dangerous creatures that plague the country, and exorcise the demons all too frequently summoned by the unwise.

Ordered out to contend with a likely dire, an undead monster difficult to stop, he instead finds himself facing off against the worst abomination of them all: a dire demon, which he can't hope to defeat himself. Only a necromancer can stop a dire demon, but the nearest necromancer might not arrive in time...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Megan Derr
• Release date: Aug 26, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215038789

Megan Derr

Megan is a long-time resident of queer romance and keeps herself busy reading and writing it. She is often accused of fluff and nonsense. When she’s not involved in writing, she likes to cook, harass her wife and cats, or watch movies. She loves to hear from readers and can be found all over the internet.meganderr.compatreon.com/meganderrmeganderr.blogspot.comfacebook.com/[e-mail]@meganaderr

Book preview

More than twenty years ago, Bannick fled the place called No Man's Land with no intention of returning. Now, though, he is a powerful red-collared Crown priest, his duty to fight the many dangerous creatures that plague the country, and exorcise the demons all too frequently summoned by the unwise.

Ordered out to contend with a likely dire, an undead monster difficult to stop, he instead finds himself facing off against the worst abomination of them all: a dire demon, which he can't hope to defeat himself. Only a necromancer can stop a dire demon, but the nearest necromancer might not arrive in time…

Dire Straits

No Man's Land 1

By Megan Derr

Published by Megan Derr

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission of the publisher, except for the purpose of reviews.

Edited by Samantha M. Derr

Cover designed by BookCoverZone

This book is a work of fiction and all names, characters, places, and incidents are fictional or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is coincidental.

First Edition May 2023

Copyright © 2023 by Megan Derr

Printed in the United States of America

Dire Straits

No Man's Land 1

Megan Derr

Rain poured down across the prairie, thunder rolling, lightning cracking open the sky every few minutes. It was a hell of a tempest, especially out in the wild places where rain didn't much often go. The rush and clang of the train was nearly lost to the fierce cacophony as it chugged onward through the stormy dark.

Bannick would much rather be at home, warm and dry in his modest little house on a quaint, peaceful street in Crown City. Work was work, though, and Crown was now four days east by train, so he wouldn't be seeing home anytime soon. He'd hoped to, after his last job, but he'd barely finished packing when he'd gotten the orders to come here instead.

Depending on just how bad the problem he'd been sent to fix was, he might not be home again for days or weeks.

He sighed and shifted around in his seat, trying to get comfortable. Losing battle. These little train seats weren't meant for folk like him, built like a damned bull. He rolled his neck, rubbing the back of it. Assuming the storm didn't flood the tracks somewhere along the way, they should be arriving soon.

Bannick stared down at the file in his lap. It was too dark to read, but he practically had the whole thing memorized anyway.

Casefile 01-92A-547

Status: Active

Assigned Priest: Bannick Poore

Case Summary: Telegram received from Badwater reports cave sealed off with illegible runes almost rotted through. Suspect a dire may be involved. Priest dispatched immediately.

The full report, only barely longer than the summary, gave the name of the man who'd sent the telegram, a bit of information on Badwater that Bannick had already known, and some notes and advice regarding dires.

He really hoped it wasn't a dire. Not only were they the most dangerous of all paranormal creatures, they were outside his scope. He could kill the lesser ones, but more often than not, dires required necromancers, and those were as rare as water in a desert.

Sighing, he returned the file to his satchel, then leaned back in his seat to try and get a bit more rest before arrival. Once he reached Badwater, there'd be a whole lot of going and not much stopping. He let his mind drift: to the house he'd rather be in, the coffeehouse at the end of the street where he splurged on coffee and a pastry every Lenday, the books he wouldn't be able to pick up at the library and which would likely go on to whoever else had requested them…

He jerked awake to the piercing shrill of the train whistle, the distinct clatter of the train slowing down. The rain had abated at some point, and by the time the sun was full up in another hour or so, there'd be little to no sign that there'd been a storm at all.

Goddess, he had not missed this part of the country. Had desperately hoped he'd never have to see it again. At least it was just Badwater, not all the way home to Devil's Lake, a place as miserable and dangerous as its namesake.

And nobody knew the name Bannick Poore. Any name folks out here might have recognized, he'd discarded a long time ago.

When the train had come to a complete stop, Bannick stood and stretched with a long groan, working out the kinks and stiffness that came of sitting in the same damn spot for too damn long. Once his body was willing to move with minimal fuss, he smoothed out his rumpled clothes, shrugged into his leather duster, settled his hat, and slung his satchel across his chest before finally heading out.

It was early yet, not even four in the morning, but people bustled about all the same, using weak hints of sunlight and a smattering of cheap streetlamps to see by. The air smelled of prairie, dust, and animals. Chickens wandered about like they owned the place, and somewhere not far off a rooster was getting ahead of itself.

The heavy weight of eyes prickled along the back of his neck, but he was long used to gawking. Out here especially, where they said even the Goddess herself was reluctant to go, people would have rarely seen a Crown priest, let alone a red-collared one with guns at his hips. Like always, he ignored it, sweeping the train station for the man they'd said would be waiting for him.

Didn't take him long to spot the man, dressed for riding into trouble, with a cheap, shiny badge pinned to his vest—a silver pentacle overlayed with a bronze heart, marking the man a deputy with magical expertise. Not enough expertise to deal with a dire, mind, but enough sense to know that and call for help. Howdy. Are you Deputy Myre Calloway?

That's me, Calloway said with a smile. Didn't expect that accent. Thought you'd be one of them city boys.

I am now, but the dirt sticks, Bannick replied. It was an old saying from those parts, that no matter where you went, what you did, who you became, you'd always carry where you came from. Nobody ever really escaped the dry, dusty sprawl known to the rest of the country as No Man's Land.

The dirt sticks, Calloway echoed with an even brighter smile. He seemed entirely too easy and friendly for a Sheriff's deputy, but then again, Bannick hadn't grown up with the greatest example of either of those. Didn't expect them to send someone of your level.

If it's what we think, you'll need all the help you can get.

Calloway grimaced. Was 'fraid of that. You want some breakfast?

"I would love some breakfast, but I'd best see this cave first, so I know how much time we