QSFer Hayden Thorne has a new MM historical fantasy/gothic horror book out: The House of Ash.
A dark and deadly curse haunts a dying family, manifesting itself with neither rhyme nor reason in its frequency except for its victim: a male child who will then be born without a soul. Living in a great house designed specifically for entrapment, monsters and the women who become reluctant champions for their children carry on a tragic cycle shaped by an inexplicable mystery.
And every final confrontation between the tainted and the protector is recorded in an old journal—a bloodstained volume handed down from champion to champion who must then learn how to rid her life of the monster she loves.
Helena Ash is terminally ill, and she is forced to take on the mantle of guardian for her grandson’s sake. Crispin is only seventeen, and he is blind and has lived a secluded and sheltered life. Keeping him safe while confronting otherworldly forces intent upon destroying their bloodline means Helena will have to resort to every trick in the book to ensure her grandson’s survival.
Now that includes, perhaps, the recruiting of a young gentleman who stumbles across the great house during a storm. Tadzio Michalak, a cynical Polish student traveling with his tutor, suddenly finds himself caught in a grotesque web that sounds like something his misguided and occult-loving father would prefer him to experience. And the longer he shelters against the storm’s fury outside, the more he realizes there is simply no going back—no, not when Crispin lays unexpected claim on his heart.
Warnings: off-screen incest (depicted as evil), murder, references to rape in distant past
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Excerpt
From Chapter 8
“Thank you for everything,” Tadzio said to Mrs. Ash. She now regarded him with an air of disapproval with Crispin out of the way. “I’m very sorry for putting you out like this.”
“Nonsense. It’s the least anyone can do. I’m just glad you’re comfortable.” Mrs. Ash then turned around and stalked to the fire, checking it and the rest of the wood that had been there when Tadzio first entered. He didn’t know how long those sat there, perhaps gathering dust, and he could only hope they’d still be easy to light. He could manage that, at least, even with his fever and aches. “My grandson will get your food ready, but I’ll bring the tray up.”
“Thank you, madam.”
Mrs. Ash appeared to look around the room, this time her gaze alighting on something on the writing-desk placed in the corner, which Tadzio thought was a clever move. It was private and yet not, with only a bit of outside light illuminating it when the weather was good since the nearest windows were still a couple or so feet from it. The lady picked something up that broke the momentary silence of the room with a sudden shrill tinkling and carried it over to him.
“You can ring this if you need anything. Mr. Dabney’s bedroom is close by, and he’s a light sleeper, bless his heart. He’ll be able to tend to your needs. Unfortunately my room and my grandson’s are at the other end of the hallway, and all the bell-ringing in the world won’t rouse us.”
“Thank you again.”
Mrs. Ash took a step back and appraised him once more, her gaze relentless in its probing and making Tadzio squirm a little, his nerves actively being plucked by the lady’s strange conduct. He could at least tell there were a number of things she wished to say or ask but still refrained from doing it, and the longer he tried to wait for her to utter a word, the more uncomfortable he felt.
“Mrs. Ash, I noticed the windows in this room and the drawing-room share same design and text,” he stammered at length. “Do all the rooms have the same set?”
“Of course,” she replied, seemingly surprised. “Why shouldn’t they?”
Ah—a specific design choice. A peculiar one.
“Oh—nothing, really. I was just curious after seeing the same thing downstairs. Is that prayer for protection because of the house’s location so far from everyone? I imagine being built in such an isolated spot exposes it to some malign influences—I mean—from nature and the wood around it.”
“In part, yes. In fact, this house was purposefully built quite sequestered from everyone else not for its protection from the outside world, but to protect the outside world from it,” Mrs. Ash said with a casual matter-of-factness that instantly drew Tadzio’s attention. Her eyes narrowed a little as she waited for his response—almost as if challenging him to say something to that.
Well, then—time to lighten things a little, and Tadzio offered a wan smile.
“The theme of protection seems to be everywhere. I saw the ivy growing thick on the walls and the roses surrounding the stone, too. I think it’s terribly romantic.”
“If you say so, sir. Previous occupants of this house might not agree so readily to such an optimistic description, I suspect.”
Tadzio blinked at the strange answer and especially his hostess’s stranger behavior. And his fever didn’t help as he struggled to mull over the conversation and whatever hidden meanings he was convinced Mrs. Ash had woven into her curt, cryptic answers.
Protect the outside world from the Ash family? That was what he’d gleaned so far, but it didn’t make any sense. It wasn’t as though she or even Crispin showed any kind of infectious disease to him. She was old—aging—perhaps well before her time, and Crispin was born blind. In all other ways, Tadzio had seen nothing amiss in them unless Mrs. Ash was referencing previous generations given how old the house appeared to him.
Or a legend about the family? She could very well have been toying with him all along, hinting at some bizarre legend or myth about her bloodline, but Tadzio wasn’t in any shape to sort that out.
“I’ll get your dinner,” she said once the clumsy silence stretched itself out. “Keep to your bed and rest, sir. I know it’s quite early, but the weather can play certain tricks to one’s perceptions of time. And we’re not the only ones affected by the abnormal darkness of such a storm, so should you sense anything quite odd or out of place, do ring for help as well. It’s been my experience in this house that your instincts are your last line of defense. Now—I’ll be back shortly.”
Tadzio watched her leave in a heavy whisper of skirts, unable to say anything back.
Author Bio
I’ve lived most of my life in the San Francisco Bay Area though I wasn’t born there (or, indeed, the USA). I’m married with no kids and three cats. I started off as a writer of young adult fiction, specializing in contemporary fantasy, historical fantasy, and historical genres. My books ranged from a superhero fantasy series to reworked and original folktales to Victorian ghost fiction. I’ve since expanded to New Adult fiction, which reflects similar themes as my YA books and varies considerably in terms of romantic and sexual content. While I’ve published with a small press in the past, I now self-publish my books.
| Author Website | https://haydenthorne.com |