Excerpt:
Griselda
grew up in Malabrava. Her family founded the town. The streets, the smells, the
houses, the people, and even the squirrels with knives run through her veins.
She loves Malabrava and all its quirks.
Grizzy
is a Del Monstruo. Not the youngest, not the oldest. She’s the middle-aged one.
The Auntie. The one who never married, never wanted to. Grizzy’s the one people
call when something needs to be handled. Because that’s what Grizzy does.
Grizzy handles things.
Nobody
asks how. It’s understood. Grizzy is what some might call sketchy with a heart
of gold. She’ll go to war for the people she loves, and she has a clean,
no-fuss method of decapitation for the ones she doesn’t.
She
lives in the family home, dead center in the town of Malabrava. Her parents
retired to a smaller place on the outskirts, saying they needed more land for
at-home burials. Her sister Gracie prefers her condo near their parents. Gracie
said that the convenient burial space is a plus. Makes cleanup easier.
They
left Grizzy the house. You’d expect a gothic mansion, right? This is Malabrava,
where things creep in broad daylight. A home for someone called Del Monstruo
should come with bats, cobwebs, a gong, a butler who only groans, and a maid
with wild frizzy red hair and access to the gong.
But
no.
Grizzy’s
grandfather was a modernist. Way ahead of his time. He wanted to be a
supervillain, and in his mind, supervillains needed sleek, sprawling homes with
underground bunkers, hidden rooms, and plans for a moat.
He
never made it to “super.” He was a decent villain. He refused to recycle and
regularly flipped off children, but he lacked the follow-through. He couldn’t
commit to one evil scheme long enough to earn the title.
Grizzy’s
grandmother was the true force. A science-minded woman with dangerous ideas.
She adored the modern mansion. It gave her room for her lab.
That
lab became Grizzy’s favorite place in the world.
Grizzy
the fixer, the inventor, the one always tinkering away in her lab is deeply
loved by her family. But her mother, a devout occultist with a dramatic streak,
had other hopes. She wanted Griselda to be witchy. Ideally, a Voodoo Priestess.
She always said Griselda looked striking in white. Though, in the end, she
would’ve settled for a kitchen witch with a solid essential oil game.
Her
father, a known vampire, had his hopes too. Gracie inherited the thirst. Gracie
was the one born with a taste for blood.
But
not Grizzy.
Instead,
she snuck into her grandmother’s lab as a child. Touched everything labeled “Do
Not Touch.” Sniffed everything marked “Hazard.” Dreamed of beakers and
blueprints. She ignored every warning.
At
twelve, she came out to the family as a Mad Scientist.
Her
parents told her they loved her. Accepted her, a little reluctantly. Gracie
grinned. She had another reason to be the favorite now.
They
threw a family barbecue for her official announcement. The cousins came. The
uncles, the aunts, the vaguely-related lurkers. Grizzy cut a cake shaped like a
beaker and declared, “I’m a Mad Scientist, like Granny.”
There
was a pause.
Some
awkward glances.
Then
applause.
The
Del Monstruos were known for monsters...being them, birthing them, bargaining
with them. But Grizzy wasn’t rattled by the hesitation. She knew the truth.
What
was better than being a monster?
Inventing
them.
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