by Sean Grigsby
PRAISE FOR SEAN GRIGSBY
“Sean Grigsby has conceived what promises to be a brilliant and harrowing series.”
John Hornor Jacobs, award-winning author of Southern Gods and The Incorruptibles
“Smoke Eaters is a thrilling, exciting, funny and strangely heart-warming book, and Grigsby’s experience as a firefighter shines through on every page, lending grit and realism to this rollicking ride of a tale in which firefighters become dragon-slayers. It’s exactly as bonkers – and as brilliant – as you’d expect and I look forward to more from this author.”
Anna Stephens, author of Godblind
“This smoking debut is a shot of adrenaline to the urban fantasy genre. Grigsby’s knowledge of firefighting combined with hot dragon action and blistering humor create an irresistible romp of a read.”
Jaye Wells, USA Today Bestselling author of the ‘Prospero’s War’ series
“Grigsby’s world is vividly rendered and full of engaging detail (dragons don’t have wings as in the stories, their victims linger on as ghostly spirits). As a romp, it delivers by the gallon drum.”
Irish Times
“This book is as fun as it sounds.”
B&N Sci-Fi & Fantasy Blog
“Read while listening to a thunderous thrash-metal playlist.”
Financial Times
“Smoke Eaters is entertaining, speeding through set-pieces without pausing for breath.”
Sci-Fi Now
“This book had everything I never knew I wanted. It’s action-packed and humorous, yet not afraid to slow down and be reflective every once in a while. Smoke Eaters by Sean Grigsby is a fantasy novel that does practically everything right. 5 stars from me.”
The Fantasy Inn
“A successful action thriller. By the time you’ve finished Smoke Eaters you’ll be searching the ground and skies for potential hazards, and seeing political conspiracies around every corner.”
Strange Alliances
“Old-school fun that doesn’t take itself too seriously… It’s also a fast read, unapologetically honing along like a fire truck with all lights and sirens blazing.”
Grimdark Magazine
“It is a freaking awesome premise that should be appealing to everyone with a pulse.”
High Fever Books
BY THE SAME AUTHOR
Smoke Eaters
Daughters of the Forgotten Light
SEAN GRIGSBY
ASH KICKERS
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Acknowledgements
About The Author
To Collin,
If life’s struggles ever get you down,
may you rise again to meet them and
severely kick their ash.
CHAPTER 1
My give-a-damn was busted.
Now, if my mama had been standing beside me on the top of that Slayer truck, she would have said, “Tamerica Janeese Williams, why are you just staring at that dragon? Don’t you have a job to do?”
I was staring at the dragon – this golden-brown bastard with a wingspan the length of two hover-buses – but I was also following it with the barrel of Slayer 10’s non-lethal, Sandman laser cannon. Gliding twenty feet above the ground, the scaly circled us like a buzzard, and I spun the cannon on a swivel to keep it in my sights. I could have shot the dragon half a dozen times, blasted a laser into its neck and sent it tumbling into the ash-covered ground, unharmed and unconscious.
But that would have been too easy. Boring.
All I kept thinking about was how I hadn’t had a good dragon fight in over a year. Smoke Eater Division’s updated standard operating procedures, effective January 1st, 2123, didn’t give a damn about my feelings, though. They specifically instructed me to take this scaly alive. Any dead dragon, unless it was beyond our control, would result in every responding smoke eater crew to be fined. Headquarters couldn’t afford to suspend us – they needed the manpower – but they could hurt our wallets. More captured dragons meant more dragon blood for the needy.
A quick injection could work miracles.
Even before I joined up, before found out I had the ability to breathe dragon smoke, I knew that “smoke eater” was just another word for “dragon slayer.” I think what pissed me off more than anything was that Chief Brannigan had written the new SOPs, and he’d been the most dragon slaying mofo out of any of us.
It was sunset and one of those days where twilight shone blindingly blood red, so, other than the dragon, there wasn’t much to look at that far out from Parthenon City, except ashes darkened by shadow and the distant, red-painted wall of smoke rising from where the dragon had burned a fledgling settlement. Most of the citizens had gotten away without any injuries and no one had died. That was good. There’d be no wraiths.
The small town had their own firefighters who could tackle the blaze while we handled the scaly.
“Williams!” my captain, Jack Kiesling, shouted from Slayer 10’s front bumper. “Shoot the damn thing already!”
“I’m working on it,” I hollered back.
The circling dragon craned its neck, locking its eyes on me as I kept the Sandman’s sights trained on its middle. The gold of its eyes glowed like a laser sword. The scaly gave a quick roar that sounded like someone dumping a jug of gasoline on a campfire, then flapped its wings a couple times, cutting the air with a deep whoosh as it circled closer. Close enough to throw a rock at.
Captain Kiesling slapped both hands on top of his helmet. “Williams, Goddamn it!”
My captain was wearing a power suit and helmet, same as me and our driver, Zhao, but the captain’s headgear always looked too big on him, like a little boy wearing his mother’s fire helmet. My helmet fit great, thanks to my thick hair – my daddy always says our family originated from the Nubia region and that’s where we get our good looks and even better hair. The smoke eater helmets were different from firefighters in that ours also had cheek guards, like Roman centurions wore way back when.
“What’s taking so long up there?” Zhao asked through my helmet radio. He’d stayed in his seat at the wheel.
“Just trying to get a good shot.” I swallowed at a dry mouth. The lie had already left my lips.
The propellerheads, the scientists working with us smoke eaters, had called this particular type of dragon a smaug. As we’d been driving out to the settlement it was attacking, the propellerheads radioed that it was a run-of-the-mill, four-legged, fantasy-type dragon. Nothing a single company couldn’t handle.
Now, I’m not saying this dragon wasn’t dangerous. Fire breath, slashing claws, and jaws that could snap a redwood in half is nothing to thumb your nose at. But I’d dealt with scalies in the past that shot gooey wads that would pin you to the ground before they ate your face off, and aqueous types that boiled the water within ten feet around i
t.
All I’m saying is that this dragon was within my comfort zone to battle, and I wanted some action. Wanted? Hell, I craved it. The smaug must have had the same idea, because its circular pattern was getting smaller and smaller, and it never stopped glaring at me. It even flexed its brow, bunching the muscles underneath its horns in a “Let’s do this, motherfucker!” sort of way. All I had to do was wait for it to land and charge me. Then I’d tear it up with the laser cannon fixed to my power suit’s right arm.
“Come on, bitch,” I whispered to the dragon.
“What did you call me?” Zhao asked.
“End cast,” I said, cutting our radio connection. This was none of his business. This was between me and the smaug.
“Williams.” Captain Kiesling stomped around Slayer 10, trying to get my attention. “If you don’t shoot that dragon right now, I’m going to write you up.”
Shiver me timbers. What a threat.
As Kiesling finished his grand ultimatum, the smaug suddenly raised one wing, turned away from us, and soared off into the sunset, its pronged tail flicking at the wind.
Kiesling crunched across the ashes toward the fleeing dragon, as if he’d take flight himself and chase after it. He stopped and yelled toward the dying red sun. “Just great. Now we have to start over.” He turned and pointed up to me. “Get down from there, Williams. What the hell is going on with you today?”
Truth be told, I’d been feeling this way for over a month. I thought I could get used to being, basically, a scaly dog catcher, but I missed the feeling that flooded my body after a successful dragon fight – like orgasmic, hot ice. It didn’t matter how exhausted I was after the effort. Actually, that just made it even better. It put me in a trance-like state, where I could relive the fight without leaving the couch.
I’d forgotten what it meant to truly be a smoke eater. We were born with the ability to breathe dragon smoke and resist heat. Now we drove around sniping scalies without any of the fun, without any dragonfire warming my face. Things had changed and not for the better.
I began to make my way off the top of the Slayer, but Kiesling wasn’t done grilling me.
“When we get back, we’re going straight to Chief Brannigan’s office.”
I hadn’t decided if I was going to apologize and play the supplication card or if I was going to smart off. I didn’t get the chance to do either.
First came the blazing roar of the smaug. Then there was the distinct whiz of air, the sound of something flying very fast and speeding toward us. I only had time to say, “Oh, shit!” and hit my power suit’s jump button before leaping off Slayer 10 as the smaug plowed into it headfirst. My suit’s thrusters lowered me to the ground and I turned to see what had happened.
Slayer 10, black-painted with purple emergency lights, rolled several times across the ground. Its windows shattered and tossed pieces of glass everywhere.
Zhao’s voice screamed into my helmet. “Mayday! Mayday! Mayday!”
He was trapped inside.
Captain Kiesling was flat on his stomach, having hit the ground as the smaug sailed over him. The dragon shook its head like a dog drying itself off and leapt back into the air. It flapped its wings to hover just above Slayer 10, which had stopped rolling and now lay overturned on its side. When the smaug inhaled deeply and stretched its jaws open, I knew what was coming.
“No, no, no!” I ran toward the Slayer; I had to get Zhao out of there. I would have power-jumped, but I’d just used it and would have to wait until my thrusters were charged again.
The smaug loosed its breath, engulfing most of the Slayer truck in a cone of flames. Even from where I was running, I could feel the heat. The average dragon can breathe fire continuously for up to twenty seconds at a time, and that was twenty seconds Zhao didn’t have.
“It’s burning me! It’s burning me!” Zhao screamed, over and over again.
I pumped my legs as fast as they’d go. When my thrusters dinged to signal the power was back, I leapt into the air – just as the dragon finished its fiery assault. Slamming against the side of the smaug’s head, I grabbed hold of its horns. My body covered its eye on that side, and the dragon thrashed its head to and fro, trying to figure out what kind of big fucking bug had flown in to pester it.
The smaug raised one of its claws, moving in to swipe at me. I climbed onto its snout as the claw scraped past where I’d just been. Both of the dragon’s eyes looked forward and crossed a little as it spotted me on top of its nose.
Now, the maneuver I performed was extremely dangerous. I wouldn’t ever recommend it to anybody if they were in the same situation. For the average Jane, getting hit with a claw is much better than getting a mouth full of teeth. But what I did was a move smoke eaters do all the time – or did, before going soft. We called it the widowmaker evolution.
As I expected, the smaug opened its mouth, at first trying to snag me in its teeth. I held tight to the top of its snout and dodged the bites. When the scaly figured it couldn’t get me off the old-fashioned way, it opened its jaws wider and inhaled hard, like someone who’d been underwater too long. Being this close, I could hear the high-pitch squeal at the back of the dragon’s throat, the ignis gland revving up to shoot flames.
What the dragon didn’t know was that I wanted it to breathe fire, or at least try to. When it opened its mouth, I dropped onto its bottom lip and shot a sticky white stream of foam down its throat with the gun on my power suit’s left arm.
“Spit or swallow?” I said, and jumped onto the side of the overturned Slayer truck.
The smaug hacked and scratched at its throat, stomping away backwards. It wouldn’t be breathing fire any more. Not for a few minutes any way.
With the smaug distracted, I bent over Slayer 10’s driver’s-side window and looked down. Zhao was out of his seat and lying on his back across the broken window resting on the ground. His skin was a little red, but he looked okay as far as I could tell.
“Can you move?” I asked.
“It hurts,” he croaked. “Got as far away from it as I could.”
I nodded. “I know it hurts, Zhao. But you’re a smoke eater, you’ll be fine. We have to get you out of here quick.”
Zhao winced when he tried to raise his arm and then dropped it back across his chest.
“Come on, man. You better get moving or I’ll shoot you with a laser long before the dragon gets you.” I shook my gun arm.
That got his ass climbing.
After crawling over the truck’s doghouse, Zhao stretched his arm up to me. I had to lean through the window to grab his hand. I pulled and he screamed – louder than the hacking dragon a few feet behind me. I had to use two hands to do it, but I managed to pull him out.
Zhao rolled onto the top of the Slayer truck, groaning and breathing heavy.
I stood and nudged him in his side with a boot. “Hey, we ain’t done yet. Power jump down and get somewhere safe if you can’t fight.”
His red cheeks jiggled as he nodded. Several grunts later he got to his feet, power jumped to the ground, and ran for cover.
When I turned around, Captain Kiesling stood in front of the dragon with his laser sword extended. The dragon was still dry heaving from the foam in its throat, but it was no longer in a tizzy. Now it had its sights on Captain Kiesling.
I’d never seen Kiesling in a fight. He’d just been promoted and I’d been forcibly transferred to his crew so Captain Jendal could train a new rookie. The way Kiesling was trembling in front of that dragon told me all I needed to know.
“Williams get over here,” he called through my radio.
“I’m coming, Cap,” I said. “Don’t attack it straight on. You saw what its head did to our Slayer. It’s got a thicker skull or something.”
Not to mention the teeth and claws were still in use.
Kiesling ran to the left, his laser sword thrumming through the air. The smaug got down on all fours and pounced in the same direction. Was it toying with him? Skidding to a
stop, Kiesling turned and ran the other way. The dragon followed again.
“Quit trying to fake it out,” I said, huffing as I ran toward them. “You’re just getting it excited.”
Kiesling stopped, but turned his head to the overturned Slayer truck and smiled. “I see the Sandman,” he said. “I’m going for it.”
“No!” I shouted.
But he’d already started running. The dragon roared and bent its chin down. With another quick pounce, it flung its head forward, ramming Kiesling with its skull and sending my captain twirling through the air.
The captain landed in a heap. His groans echoed inside my helmet as the smaug used its wings to sail over to where he lay.
“Hold on, Cap!”
Snatching one of Kiesling’s legs in its teeth, the dragon rose to sit on its ass, lifting the man – upside down and completely limp – ten feet off the ground. I had about two seconds before the smaug tossed Kiesling into the air and swallowed him on the return trip. Dragons like to do that playing-with-their-food shit.
But the smaug didn’t do that. Instead, it spread its wings and raised them as if it was about to take flight. I’d never heard of a dragon taking its meal on the road before, but I’d also learned in my two years as a smoke eater that scalies can do all kinds of unexpected things.
Captain Kiesling woke from his stupor and screamed, squirming in the dragon’s teeth.
I shot my laser at full blast, focusing the shots on the dragon’s closest wing. The shots flew wild as I ran, streaking through the air in a barrage of pew, pew, pew. That sound always got my blood pumping and, I’m only a little ashamed to say, it felt goddamned amazing to fire my gun at a live scaly again.
A few of the lasers hit the ash at the dragon’s feet, but it got the smaug to flinch and turn toward me, providing a better target. The other lasers bit into the waxy flesh of the dragon’s wing, ripping big, unsymmetrical holes through it, reminding me of bleeding Swiss cheese. While it still tried to fly, the scaly quickly found it was going nowhere.
“You need both wings to fly,” I shouted.
I like to talk the dragons while I fight them. Just ’cause.