Maddie Donovan is the first vampire western book in J. Round's The Windwalker Chronicles, a dark, edgy coming of age tale set in a barren landscape. Warning: Contains mature themes.

When Maddie’s pa fails to return from the hills, all she’s left with is an angry landlord keen to put her and her twin sister to use in the brothel downstairs. There’s gold in the hills, gold that could keep a roof over their heads far away from any landlord. But no one’s ever come back from the hills alive.

Monsters, spectres, strange beasts that will suck your skeleton dry – Maddie’s heard the tales, but when the landlord demands double the rent overnight, she has no choice. She takes to the hills and soon learns that not only are the tales true, but there are far worse things in the world than dying.

Excerpt:
It’s been five days since Pa left for the hills and the landlord comes knocking every night. It’s been five days since Pa sauntered off into the heat and dry, five days I’ve put off going to the sheriff. Now that I’m here, I know he’s not going to do a damn thing about it.
He tilts his hat back and spits a gob of masticated jerky onto the floor. He leans over his desk. “Now where’d you say your Pa went?”
I hesitate. “The hills.”
He laughs, holding his stomach with both hands. “The hills! Then you know as well as I do the birds are busy picking his brains out.”
I swallow. I recompose myself. “You have to send out a search party.”
He leans forward over me. I’m engulfed in shadow. “I don’t have to do a damn thing, girly.”
“You’re not even going to fill out a report?”
He taps his head. “It’s all up here.”
My composure slips. “You have to fill out a missing persons report.” I swallow, and add, “It’s the law.”
He stands, the floorboards groaning in protest. “Do not tell me about the law, girly. I have a switch back here that’ll turn your bottom black and blue before you’ve even made it to the door. Such disrespect.” Another blob of jerky exits his mouth.
“As I see it, you’ve got bigger things to be worryin’ ’bout than your dead daddy. Running drinks around ain’t going to pay your rent, so you best be begging Mr Black to spread your legs and use what god gave you to keep you and your sister off the street. He’s a fine, upstanding man, that Mr Black, and you’d be well to show him your appreciation for giving you a roof over your cursed heads all these years.
The rent’s gone up three-hundred percent in the last year, I want to say. I don’t like the way he looks at me and my sister, I want to say.
But I say nothing.
I run out into the main street of Dank County, my tears evaporating before they’ve even left my cheeks. I run straight home.