The great enemy of the truth is very often not the lie, but the myth.

Confronted by an ancient demigoddess of pain and death, the demon hunter crew knows an open battle will lead to their destruction. The secret to her defeat lies steeped in Akkadian myth, obscured by time and a dead language. Harried by the archdemoness, her powerful servants, and the remaining demons in Oneka Falls, sifting the truth from the legend may prove an impossible task. Nevertheless, the hunters must find a way to save the world.

Can the demon hunters distill the world's mythologies and religions into the key to banish the demons forever?


Praise for Demon King

2019 Top Shelf Book Awards Suspense First Place Winner


2019 Top Shelf Book Awards Horror Finalist


2018 Readers' Favorite Award Horror Finalist

"...the thrills and horrors are engrossing."

"Vick's dark, tense thriller pits young kids--and their older selves--against a demonic evil and his twisted daughters in Upstate New York... Vick bounces the storyline between eras effectively, and the tension never lets up. Stephen King fans will enjoy spotting the references that Vick sprinkles throughout in homage..."

- Publisher's Weekly

"Utter terror and spiraling demonic involvement

drive the plot of Demon King by Erik Henry Vick through intense action and psychological turmoil. Extremely well written, with clearly defined characters and steady action with surprising twists and turns, Demon King is a novel that is impossible to put down. Gripping and intense are only two words to describe the effect of the story, but if horror is your pleasure, that is all you need to hear. Erik Henry Vick is certainly an author to fill you with nightmares. Fabulous story. I loved it!"

– Melinda Hills, ReadersFavorite.com

"Evocative of Stephen King’s work”

"Vick’s (Errant Gods, 2017, etc.) supernatural horror story is evocative of Stephen King’s work in its use of a small-town setting and a gang of friends facing a powerful evil."

– Kirkus Reviews

Praise for Demon King

5 out of 5 Demonic Stars for this one!

"What do you get when you mix elements of fear, mystery, suspense, foreshadowing and a perfectly gripping plot? Give up? Well... if all of these elements are woven together in a seamless piece of writing, you will end up with one fantastic horror story! This is exactly the case with Erik Henry Vick's novel, Demon King. This is one intense book you will just not be able to put down as it will captivate, engross and horrify you from start to finish..."

– Leonard Tillerman, LeonardTillerman.com

Monsters are real!

"I really enjoyed this book, it is sufficiently scary and nail biting suspenseful! The characters are wonderfully written and beautifully evolved. Finally a truly scary story that had me held in it's grip from beginning to end! Most stories claim to be a horror story and fail to deliver that true sense of dread and fear. This story does will not disappoint horror genre fans. It was a griping nerve jangling tale that will chill you to the bone and yet have you coming back for more! A smart well written story that in my opinion makes this author one of the best writers out there. I recommend this book highly to anyone who can handle a griping, nerve rattling story with heart. Well done honestly I loved it!"

My absolute favorite new author

"I read the first book in 36 sleep deprived hours and bought every book he has written that I could find.... If you like Stephen King, Robert McCammon, or Clive Barker then check out Erik Henry Vick, you won't regret it."

The best horror story I've read in years!

"Read the entire book in two days, couldn't put it down. Well written and Erik Henry Vick is one of the best writers today. READ THIS BOOK, you'll love it."

This writer in my opinion is an amazing talent!

"The characters and the plot were really good! I liked how he nods at Stephen King but keeps the story very much his own style. While reading this I was trying to figure out all the mysteries and clues to the very end and I wasn't disappointed when I reached the last page."

Before you know it you're hooked.

"Similar to early Stephen King! Loved the book! Gradually introduces the bizarre in a way that is acceptable. Before you know it you're hooked. I was pleasently surprised."

Grab this one right now!

"If you like a fast moving story with two time lines then grab this one right now!"


"A combination of Stephen King and Dean Koontz. Awesome."

Future of the horror book scene.

"This author may just be the future of the horror book scene. I enjoyed everything about this book, give it a try you will not be disappointed."

This book sucked me in from the first pages...

"Wow! This book sucked me in from the first pages and didn’t let me go until the very last page. Give me more!

"Demon King" reminded me of Stephen King’s "It" in the back-and-forth, then-and-now story structure. Children are assailed by unknowable evil; then as adults, they must face it again, but without the benefit of the memory of their earlier experiences. Encounters with these vile creatures does some serious damage. Will they be able to pull the necessary courage and grit to survive and triumph?

This guy has some serious story chops.

This is a fast-moving, vivid tale, told with bright imagination and fresh ideas. I first discovered Erik Henry Vick via his novella "The Devil", then "Devils", the short story anthology "The Devil" was rolled into. I had wanted to find a new favorite author, and I certainly did! This guy has some serious story chops.”

– Jackson W Barnett, Poland, Maine

Demon King easily earned 5 stars from me!

"It kept my interest all the way through. Although my days of reading a book a day are gone, I read this in 2 days."

Very solid.

"Often a writer begins a story involving supernatural elements and it seems as if they feel compelled to justify those elements and dilute their impact. Not here."

Perfectly executed horror

"If you are a fan of perfectly executed horror, then I would highly recommend this book!"

Reminds me of Stephen king or dean koontz.

"His writing reminds me of Stephen king or dean koontz. I hope there's a part 2 to this book very quick!"

One of the best books I've ever read!

"I highly recommend this book. It was one of those books that you think about when you're not reading it, and then you're sorry to see it end because you've become so attached to the characters. What an amazing book and an amazing author. You will not be disappointed!"


Power crackled in the air as bolts of electricity arced from Lilitu’s crouched form, piercing the scaled yellow mazzikim flesh she loomed over or charring the macadam. She threw back her head, laughing as she consumed the last bits of the creature that had called himself LaBouche. A betrayer, a sycophant, a fool.

A dead fool, she thought, smacking her lips. But a satisfying snack.

She rocked back on her heels and allowed the lifeless husk to fall to the macadam where it broke, then collapsed in a flurry of ash and dust. She wiped her hands and turned to take in the scene of the battle, her indolent gaze drifting around the parking lot, taking in the bent and broken forms of the dead humans, lingering on the bodies of dead demons.

In the road beyond the parking lot, the black Suburban roared and spun its rear tires. Lilitu lifted her face and narrowed her eyes at the vehicle, and the shrieking grew louder. “Is it true?” she mused. “Could they be so stupid?”

Behind her, Abyzou took a step. “Did you say something, Mistress?”

Lilitu cocked her head to the side and sniffed. “Are they all in the one vehicle?” She tittered for a breath, then snapped her head to stare to the northeast. “No,” she murmured. “Not all of them.” She stood and glanced at Abyzou and said, “You three know what to do with those I leave behind. I’m going to cut the head off this snake.” She spun, a smile on her lips, and strode toward the road.


Three hundred yards into the trees lining the park side of the macadam lot, Dan Delo perched high in the canopy. His camouflage wouldn’t fool anyone determined to find him, but the ifrit, the djinn, and Mother Chaos weren’t interested in the forest.

The goddess strode toward the road, her stride long and determined. She was the most beautiful being Delo had ever seen—even wrapped in the skin of a human woman. His heart twanged as she reached for the black SUV.

He wanted to go to her, to call out for her attention, but the text he’d gotten from Chaz Welsh’s phone had made him wary of Brigitta and Sally McBride—both of whom turned out to be much more than they had pretended. Not mazzikim, but an ifrit and a djinn guardian.

It would be better to have something for them—a gift with which to buy his way back into their good graces. His gaze jumped from Mother Chaos’s divine form to the SUV, and a smile flashed on his lips.
He extracted himself from the treetop. Keeping his distance from the road and skimming just above the highest branches, Dan Delo tracked the SUV.


The tires of the Suburban shrieked as Toby planted his foot on the accelerator. He held the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip, fighting to keep the SUV in the lane. “Are they coming?”

“Go!” shouted Eddie. “Go, and don’t stop! No matter what, don’t stop!”

“She’s coming,” said Amanda in a voice curiously devoid of emotion. “The redhead.”

Toby glanced toward the parking lot, and for a moment, his gaze locked on the eyes of the thing walking toward them. Her eyes brightened, her irises glowing, spinning. A small smile played on her lips; the kind of smile people use when they want to tell an inappropriate joke.

He snapped his gaze away, back to the road ahead of him. The engine of the Suburban roared and whined, its tires scrabbling along the road’s surface, fighting for traction.

“Oh, good Christ,” whispered Amanda in the same flat voice.

GO!” screamed Eddie.

A strange song began to play in the back of Toby’s mind, though he was sure he’d never heard anything like it in his life. It sounded rough and raspy—as though hummed deep in the throat. The tune danced along his neurons, whole circuits coming alive at its call. For reasons he couldn’t fathom, he imagined dots of color dancing on a wall.

“Do you hear that?” asked Toby, his voice sounding distant.

“Oh, shit,” muttered Eddie.

“Hear what?” asked Mike.

Though he didn’t want to, Toby turned his head toward the oncoming thing with red hair and orange eyes. His gaze skimmed past hers, and it was as if he’d touched a live wire. The electric sense of connection with something of vast, ungovernable power jolted him, and, at the same time, the volume of the lament worming into the back of his mind increased. The melody evoked a primal fear, the dread of something unknown, of something moving in the dark, of being stalked by a man-eater. Again, their gazes met and locked on one another. It was as if her eyes had become a powerful magnet, and his focus locked on her eyes.

Where are you heading, gringo? she asked in a sultry voice that sounded from deep inside his own mind. Where is it you believe you can hide where I can’t find you? She tilted her head to the side, a grin broadening on her lips. Don’t you see me, chulo?

Why are you doing that?

Doing what, chico mio? Her grin became a lopsided one, and a mechanical, monotone chuckle rang inside his mind as though she stirred his thoughts with a spoon. Oh! The slang? It’s just who I am, Tobes. You don’t mind if I call you ‘Tobes,’ do you? The dreadful melody playing in his mind took on a spectral wailing, a frightful, eerie quality.

Toby felt time sliding away from him, his body sliding away from him. He tore his eyes away from the redheaded fiend’s gaze and watched his hands drop away from the wheel and his foot come off the accelerator. He struggled to grasp the wheel, to plant his right foot, and the melody playing in his mind doubled, then trebled in volume. A countermelody began, high-pitched and reedy in opposition to the throaty hum of melody. He fought to control his limbs, and the spectral lament grew stronger until agony speared through his head.

Do not try to resist me, vato. Je ne pense pas que j’aime ca. No, I don’t think I like that at all. Inteendo?”

His hands twitched, his forearms quaking with the attempt of lifting them, but his efforts only slowed their fall toward his lap. The reedy countermelody demanded his attention. He seemed to sense it through his eyes—blotches of color dancing before his eyes. Sorry, lady, I only speak English.

Kei te pai tena, Tobes. I speak all the best languages, more than enough for both of us.

Even shaking his head seemed beyond his ability. The song wormed its way into his thoughts, unlaying every impulse, every idea. It sapped his will to resist, scrambled his mental commands to grab the steering wheel, to plant his foot.

“Toby! What the hell are you doing?” cried Mike. “She’s almost on us! Drive!”

Toby’s foot twitched, his toe pointing toward the gas pedal. His hands no longer slowed their fall, only the tips of his fingers fluttering in time to the dirge that rang in the hallways of his mind. As if beyond his control, his head lifted, taking his attention away from his lap, then turned toward her. His gaze snaked to her face, circling and circling its boundaries as if trying to prolong the moment. His gaze spiraled inward, toward pits of blazing orange warmth.

When their eyes locked, Toby fell away, sliding toward darkness, toward the relief from his war against the demons, toward bliss.

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