Saturday, June 30, 2012

My Spotlight: The Glimpse by Claire Merle



The Glimpse

In a near future, society is segregated according to whether people are genetically disposed to mental illness. 17-year-old Ana has been living the privileged life of a Pure due to an error in her DNA test. When the authorities find out, she faces banishment from her safe Community, a fate only thwarted by the fact that she has already been promised to Pure-boy Jasper Taurell.
Jasper is from a rich and influential family and despite Ana’s condition, wants to be with her. The authorities grant Ana a tentative reprieve. If she is joined to Jasper before her 18th birthday, she may stay in the Community until her illness manifests. But if Jasper changes his mind, she will be cast out among the Crazies. As Ana’s joining ceremony and her birthday loom closer, she dares to hope she will be saved from the horror of the City and live a ‘normal’ life. But then Jasper disappears.
Led to believe Jasper has been taken by a strange sect the authorities will not intefere with, Ana sneaks out of her well-guarded Community to find him herself. Her search takes her through the underbelly of society and into the pits of the human soul. And as she delves deeper into the mystery of Jasper's abduction she uncovers some devastating truths that destroy everything she has grown up to believe, but she also learns to love as she has never loved before.

Friday, June 29, 2012

Fund Raiser (and giveaway) for the Ronald McDonald House

A little Introduction about the work that Ronald McDonald House does.
My daughter Ireland Joy Hose was due to come into the world on March 3rd,, 2012. Since my wife Marcee was going to have a C-section, her doctor scheduled her to deliver Ireland February 13th. It’s typical to schedule C-sections about two weeks before the actual due date, but in my wife’s case, the C-section was scheduled a little earlier because she had complete placenta previa, meaning her placenta was blocking the birth canal. This is normally not a problem unless the previa turns into accreta, which means the placenta attaches to body organs and actually begins to grow into them (pretty alien-like). This can result in severe hemorrhaging and may require a partial or even a complete hysterectomy.
1All of this is beside the point. Ireland decided she wanted to show up on January 27th at 10:35 P.M. She was six weeks premature, 18 inches long, and weighed just 4 lbs. 13 oz.
Marcee had gone to the gynecologist that day. He told her she was having contractions. We went to the hospital, where they tried to stop her contractions. It didn’t happen. Marcee started bleeding, and while I write about blood all the time, seeing it pour from my wife’s body was pretty damn scary.
I was in the operating room when Ireland was delivered. She came out fine, although she would have her own struggles ahead of her in the coming weeks. Shortly after the nurses began cleaning Ireland up, one of the doctors said to another doctor that Marcee had accreta and would need a hysterectomy. I was caught between the joy of my daughter’s birth and my wife’s fragile situation.
The doctors began pumping my wife full of anesthesia and she was fading fast. All she wanted was to hear our baby girl cry, to know Ireland was all right. “Cry, baby girl,” she said, and when Ireland began to wail, Marcee drifted off.
I was ushered from the OR with Ireland in my arms. What followed was a two-and-a-half-hour wait while the doctors performed surgery on Marcee. There was a lot of blood loss, but in the end she came through the surgery alive and eager to see Ireland. Barely able to sit up, she insisted I wheel her to the nursery, where she held Ireland for the first time, a full four hours after Ireland was born.
Because Ireland was premature, she was going to be spending time in the NICU. She was moved to a different hospital—one that was further away from where we lived—the next night. Marcee and I agreed I should go with Ireland. There was really no discussion necessary. This, however, left Marcee alone to deal with the trauma of her experience without me or her newborn daughter to comfort her.
One of the memories that haunts me still is seeing an ambulance with the words Neonatal Transport Unit on the side and thinking, that’s a baby ambulance and it’s here for my baby.
I arrived at the hospital where my daughter was taken late that night. The blur begins here, so I don’t have the exact time. The NICU staff suggested I get a room at the Ronald McDonald House. I insisted I didn’t need one, that I would be staying at my daughter’s side day and night. They worked hard to convince me a room at the Ronald McDonald House made more sense—that it would be more comfortable than a chair in the NICU. If it had just been me, they probably wouldn’t have changed my mind, but since I knew Marcee was planning to join me as soon as she could strong arm the doctor’s into discharging her (which she did in record time), I relented and allowed one of the nurses to contact the Ronald McDonald House nearby to reserve us a spot.
It turns out no reservation was needed that night. Hospital security drove me to the Ronald McDonald House where we would be staying. It so happened I was the only guest at the time. The house was a quaint looking affair that reminded me of a bed and breakfast in the country—from the outside. Inside was a maze of stairways and narrow hallways that housed about thirty rooms. The security guard said I wouldn’t be able to get a key until morning, so once he left, I wouldn’t be able to get in and out. The doors lock automatically.
After the security guard left, I wandered around the house. It was beautiful. Hardwood floors, stocked library, fully-stocked kitchen (help yourself to anything you want), fireplace, and a playground outside for kids. It was amazing.
And a little creepy.
The house sat in a beautiful residential area with red brick streets and lots of gorgeous trees, but at night, alone as I was, still a little in shock over the premature birth of my daughter and the bloody mess that was Marcee’s surgery, my mind began working overtime. I imagined all sorts of creaking floors and shadows moving through the house—hell, maybe it wasn’t my imagination. In any case, sleep did not come easy that night. I’d seen far too many horror movies, written far too many horror stories myself, not to know what usually becomes of lone visitors in quaint country homes in the middle of the night. I called Marcee to let her know I was settled in and that I thought I had the company of ghosts, or maybe something much worse.
With no key, I used my overnight bag to prop the door open so I could step outside and have a cigarette.
It was a foggy night—isn’t it always?
One cigarette became two, two became three. I stood outside in the fog, looking through the chilly darkness, grateful to have a new daughter, but afraid for how fragile she seemed to be; happy Marcee came through the surgery alive, but sad she was alone at another hospital; missing our boys, who would end up seeing us very little over the next three weeks (although they were well taken care of, thanks to Marcee’s mom and dad).
It was 3:00 A.M when I finally went back inside and stretched out on the bed, fully clothed, lying on top of the covers.
Marcee arrived the next day. She shouldn’t have been walking at all, but she wouldn’t be denied her daughter. We spent the next three weeks living at the Ronald McDonald House (they moved us from the bed-and-breakfast model to one that resembled a fairly expensive hotel). Our days were filled with walking from the Ronald McDonald House to the hospital and back again. We would feed and change our daughter, hold her, and watch as she began to overcome the challenges of prematurity. She did those things like the little champ she is. I believe having us with her day and night helped contribute to her impressive adjustment to being thrust into the world so early. She is just over two months old at the time of this writing and healthy as can be. Marcee is doing great too.
The Ronald McDonald House played a big part in making this happen. They provided food, shelter, homemade gifts from volunteers, and even cards for Valentine’s Day. We didn’t need to do anything except be there for Ireland. If not for the Ronald McDonald House, Marcee and I would have had to travel every day to see Ireland, or we would have had to sleep in the NICU to be with her. We would have gladly done either, but the Ronald McDonald House made it so we didn’t need to.
The Ronald McDonald House does this for thousands of families every hour of every day of every year.
I came up with the idea for this anthology one night while Marcee and I were in our room at RMH. We wanted to give back to the organization not only for what it was doing for us, but what it has done for families since the first Ronald McDonald House opened its doors in 1974. The organization operates strictly on donations, and the best way I could think to give back was to use my talent with words.
I knew I couldn’t do it alone, however, so I called upon some of the best names in horror fiction to help out. The response was overwhelming. With very few exceptions, every author I contacted was willing to participate. I also received stories from writers who saw the call for submissions on Dark Markets. It wasn’t long before I had more stories than I could possibly use—enough to fill two volumes of Dark Light.
I can remember where I was and at what time of the day it was when I received word from each of these fine writers that he or she would be happy to contribute. It isn’t that difficult, though. I was either at the hospital or at the Ronald McDonald House. The days and nights ran together, but each one of these authors responding that he or she would be willing to participate in Dark Light was an uplifting moment.
Dark Light
Dark Light is the light that shines through when some of the finest writers in horror use the power of their words for something good. That’s the case with this anthology—42 writers coming together to help support the Ronald McDonald House Charities and all the good the organization does for families every day of the year.
Make no mistake, though. These are horror writers and the stories they’ve written are not pretty. Traditional and non-traditional horror, dark humor, ghosts, serial killers, alternate universes, magic, zombies, and other creatures of the night hide between these pages. Shadows move and dead fingers stroke unsuspecting flesh, razor sharp knives shimmer in the moonlight, and unknown things hide in closets and under the bed. The stories here are as varied as the writers themselves. If you’re a fan of horror, you will not be let down.
Despite the horrific nature of these tales, however, their very existence in Dark Light stands as proof there will always be a light at the end of every tunnel.
Turn the lights down low and enjoy the show.
I am grateful to the 42 authors included here, as well as to those who wanted to participate but couldn’t be included. I would also like to thank ahead of time all of you who will be helping promote the book after its release (there are several commitments already). Without each of you, this project could not have been realized. Your generosity warms my heart.

For a few snippets, you can check out this link Smile
a Rafflecopter giveaway

Saturday, June 23, 2012

My Spotlight: The Complex by Cathy E. Zaragoza


The Complex (Linx, # 1)

Helena Linx is dying. Isolated and quarantined for over a decade, sixteen-year-old Helena lives in a virtual utopia run by a medical council bent on saving the world from a fatal and almost incurable disease. The pandemic has been contained, but she and hundreds of others are still waiting to be cured. Helena dreams of returning to the outside world and leaving behind the heavily regulated world of the Eyam Complex, a place where everything runs according to plan…until one fateful morning.
Things begin to change in the complex. And after everything dear to Helena—her father, her brother, and her boyfriend—is taken away, she finally gets what she wants.
But life on the outside isn’t what Helena expected. Never in her wildest dreams did Helena think that she’d leave Eyam only to become so desperate to get back in.

Friday, June 22, 2012

Book Blitz and Excerpt: The Watchtower by Darke Conteur

The Watchtower (for web)

His first day of work wasn't what Martin Cunningham expected. A sultry boss, a classy receptionist, the drama-queen foreigner, and a painfully shy techie who prefers hiding to human interaction, was the oddest group of characters he'd ever met. When an assassination attempt is made against his new boss, Martin comes face to face with the stuff of nightmares.

Now he and his new co-workers must race to prevent another attack, but where do they start? There's very little to go on, and the only solid piece of evidence escaped through the u-bend in the toilet. By the end of the day, Martin becomes one of the privileged few who really understands what lies in the shadows, and what it means to work in THE WATCHTOWER.

Author Bio:


Darke Conteur is an author at the mercy of her muse. Writing in several genres, she prefers paranormal and science fiction and has stories published in several online magazines including Bewildering Stories, Aphelion. When not busy writing, she looks after one wannabe rock star, one husband, three cats, and one ghost dog.!novels


He stepped out of the elevator, package tucked uncomfortably under his arm, and into a Goth’s dream. Old grey flagstones covered the floor and walls, with medieval looking wall sconces holding drippy candles mounted to the wall. A wrought-iron barrier blocked the corridor several feet in front of the elevator. Its cemetery-like gateway pad locked closed.

Martin stood there, dumbfounded, and wondered if being here was the right idea. He didn’t need this job that bad, did he? Yet something pushed him on, edged him to give in to his growing curiosity. Besides, there was still the package to deliver.

He walked up to the gate and squinted, trying to get a better view of what lay beyond. There was a huge wooden desk, nothing on it, and two wooden doors embedded in the wall behind. More of the drippy candles lined the walls, but he didn’t see or hear anyone.

“Hello,” he called out, shifting the package around to his other hip. “The eleven o’clock appointment is here.”

Dead silence.

“And I have a package.”

A low and drawn-out creak came from the door on the right as a young blonde woman emerged. Even in this dim light, Martin could tell she wasn’t impressed.

“Sorry,” she said, as the door creaked to a close behind her. “I should have been out here waiting for you, but I hate this hall. Gives me the creeps.”

He recognized her voice immediately as the woman he’d spoken to on the phone the other day. Perfect hair and make-up, fashionable clothing, pink-lace gloves to match her stiletto shoes. She was definitely at odds with her surroundings.

Martin smiled as she unlocked the pad lock with a huge skeleton key. “I know how you feel.” He handed the package to her. “As do some of your delivery guys.”

She gave him a strange look and held the package away from her body.

“You must be Martin Cunningham,” she said, and shoved the package back at him so fast he almost dropped it. “I’m Barb Dole. Jezryall’s personal secretary. I screen all outside applicants who wish to work at Terin Global.”

Martin frowned. “Jezryall? That’s a unique name.”

“She’s a unique person, and you’ll love working for her.” She shot a disgusted look at the package. “You can give that to her yourself. Follow me, please.”

Martin frowned. “How do you know I’ll like working for her, when I don’t even know?

Barb walked up to the wooden door. “We all do. Now hurry up, she probably has a few things she wants you to do already.”

Martin stopped at the front of the desk and tucked the package back under his arm. “Wait a minute. I thought this was just an interview.”

Barb hesitated before opening the door. “Why would you think that?”

“Because you never said anything about me having the job when we spoke on the phone.”

“Yes I did.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did.” Barb turned the huge brass knob on the door. “I said, ‘you’ll do’, and then told you when to show up for your first day on the job.”

Martin thought back to the conversation. “But how do you know I’m even right for the job?” he asked, walking toward the door. “How do you know I even want this job?”

She gave him a wicked smile. “I just know these things.”

Martin shrugged and walked into the main office. The weirdness of the hall décor continued in there. A cathedral ceiling stretched several floors up with heavy wooden doors scattered around the main floor. There were doors positioned higher up, connected to one another by a wrought-iron walkway. More old sconces with drippy candles lined the walls, and a shiver ran up his spine. It looked as though it had been modeled after Frankenstein’s castle, with one exception: a huge picture window sat directly opposite the door he entered, with a plush black leather chair turned to face the window.

“Jezryall, our new Public Liaison officer is here,” Barb said, as she strolled over to an identical desk as the one out in the hall. There was a pile of fashion magazines fanned out, along with a scattering of manicure objects.

Martin slowly walked toward the chair. “Hi, uh, Miss Jezryall, um, is it?” he stuttered. “I think there’s been some sort of misunderstanding. I haven’t decided whether or not I’m going to take this job. I was under the impression this was only an interview.”

“Were you a member of the debate team at university?” The voice was strong but seductive, with a hint of a Russian accent.

“Captain, actually.”

“This means you were good at it?”

“Well, yes. You don’t get to be the Captain unless you are.”

The chair began to turn. Martin’s heart beat faster. How the chair moved, he couldn’t tell, but he knew it wasn’t from the occupant.

“Good. What I need is someone to run interference for me,” she said, “None of us here are any good with dealing with the public.”

Jezryall was stunning. Long, black hair that hung down to her waist, but it was her eyes that struck him. He couldn’t stop himself from staring into their smokey grey, almond shape. He felt as though he were being drawn toward her. She was saucy, seductive. He could see it in the way she moved as she left the chair; her hair falling about her waist as the low-cut, red dress with black lace hugged her well-endowed body. Oddly enough, she was barefoot.

“I’m sure there are others who--”

“No!” She walked toward him, keeping her focus on him. Martin was paralyzed, but not with fear. The way she looked at him made him feel like he was the only one in the world. “Barbara has informed me that you are the one we are looking for. And I trust her instincts completely.”

“Why? You don’t even know me. How can I be right for this job?”

“How are you wrong for it?”

The question left him speechless. What was he supposed to say? Apart from the fact this place gave him the creeps, Martin couldn’t see any reason not to accept it, except for this underlying feeling...

“How about this,” Jezryall said, taking a few steps closer to him. “You work for me for one week, and after that, if you do not want the job, you will be free to go. Two weeks’ pay included, of course.”

His eyebrows rose. “Two weeks?”

Jezryall nodded. “Consider it compensation for your time.”

Martin took a second look around the room. It was creepy, but nothing he couldn’t get used too. At least for a couple weeks. “I guess we have a deal.”

Saturday, June 16, 2012

My Spotlight: Revived by Cat Patrick



As a little girl, Daisy Appleby was killed in a school bus crash. Moments after the accident, she was brought back to life.
A secret government agency has developed a drug called Revive that can bring people back from the dead, and Daisy Appleby, a test subject, has been Revived five times in fifteen years. Daisy takes extraordinary risks, knowing that she can beat death, but each new death also means a new name, a new city, and a new life. When she meets Matt McKean, Daisy begins to question the moral implications of Revive, and as she discovers the agency’s true goals, she realizes she’s at the center of something much larger—and more sinister—than she ever imagined.

Saturday, June 9, 2012

My Spotlight: The Darkest Minds by Alexandra Bracken


Expected publication: 
December 18th 2012 by Disney Hyperion

The Darkest Minds

When Ruby woke up on her tenth birthday, something about her had changed. Something frightening enough to make her parents lock her in the garage and call the police. Something that gets her sent to Thurmond, a brutal government “rehabilitation camp.” She might have survived the mysterious disease that’s killed most of America’s children, but she and the others have been cursed with something far worse: frightening abilities they cannot control.
Now sixteen, Ruby has spent nearly half her life desperately trying to hide the fact that she’s outwitted the camp’s sorting system—that she isn’t powerless, or safe. She’s one of the dangerous ones… and everyone knows what happens to them.
When the truth comes out, Ruby barely escapes Thurmond with her life. Now she’s on the run, desperate to find the one safe haven left for kids like her—East River. She joins a group of teens who escaped their own camp, pursued along the way by terrifying bounty hunters. Liam, their brave leader, is falling hard for Ruby. But no matter how much she aches for him, Ruby can’t risk getting close to him. Not after what happened to her parents.
When they arrive at East River, nothing is as it seems, least of all its mysterious leader. But there are other forces at work, people who will stop at nothing to use Ruby in their fight against the government. Before the end, Ruby will be faced with a terrible choice, one that may mean giving up her only chance at a life worth living.

Friday, June 8, 2012

Book Blitz: Hope’s Betrayal by Grace Elliot

clip_image001Book Blurb:
One wild, winter's night two worlds collide.

Known for his ruthless efficiency, Captain George Huntley is sent to stamp out smuggling on the south coast of England. On a night raid, the Captain captures a lanky lad, but finds his troubles are just beginning when the lad turns out to be a lass, Hope Tyler.

With Hope as bait, the Captain sets a trap to catch the rest of the gang. But in a battle of wills, with his reputation at stake, George Huntley starts to respect feisty, independent Hope. Challenged by her sea-green eyes and stubborn loyalty Huntley now faces a new threat - his growing attraction to a sworn enemy. And a love where either Hope betrays her own kind, or Captain Huntley is court-marshalled, is not an easy destiny to follow.

Available from:


Injured on a smuggling run, Hope wakes to face the naval officer who captured her.
Hope kept her eyes closed as she became conscious of a man's heavy tread pacing the room. She waited until he was at the window and opened her eyelids a fraction. With the light behind him she saw an athletic man with wide shoulders, tall enough to have to stoop under the sloping eaves. Her stomach felt hollow with foreboding, for without doubt, this was the same man who'd pursued her over the dunes.

He must have sensed a change in her breathing, for suddenly he turned. He stared, with piercing blue eyes that penetrated her soul. Dressed in a naval uniform, the jacket cuffs ringed with gold braid, the man exuded authority. He continued to stare, his face unreadable; wilful, she decided, and yet uncommonly handsome. She blushed and reached for the covers, pulling them up to her chin.

"So, enough pretending. You are awake at last." His voice, deep and melodic, brooked no argument.

"Please, sir, where am I?"

"Under house arrest." He growled, obviously no friend. And yet, she touched her bandaged head, someone had taken care of her.

"You are in pain?" His consideration was surprising.

"Not so much now."

The answer pleased him. "Good, then you have some explaining to do."

"Please, sir, who are you?"

The man threw her a sideways glance and started to pace.

"Captain Huntley, RN. And you are?"

She decided against lying, her name alone couldn’t incriminate her family.

"Hope Tyler."

"Well Miss Tyler, have you the slightest idea how much trouble you're in?"


The Captain stared at the ceiling. "A man died because of your felony. A Revenue man. He leaves a wife and three children."

"I'm so sorry." She whispered in distress.

"His fellow officers are baying for blood."

Hope trembled, things were worse than she imagined.

"Someone must hang for his death."

Her throat closed over.

"Be it you…or the man who pulled the trigger….my men don’t care." Captain Huntley stepped closer, his presence dominating the room. She couldn’t breathe, he seemed made of granite, his eyes like flints, sparking with anger. "But I'm different." His expression softened imperceptibly. "I like to think of myself as a fair man."

Hope nodded, to encourage him.

"Any fool can see you are just a bit-player, a lackey. The men I want are the leaders, those who finance the contraband and organise the landings. Tell me who they are, and I shall intercede on your behalf with the authorities."

"What if I don’t know their names?"

His wide mouth twitched downward. "Then I cannot help you."

She would have shaken her head had it not been too painful. "The men you speak of aren't stupid. They will know I am taken, and know if I betray them. If I do… they will come for my family."

"Then put them behind bars."

"It's too risky. This way, it's only me."

He tried to hide it, but he looked surprised. She saw him drinking in the logic of her words and a shadow darkened his face. Clasping his hands behind his back, he turned to stare through the window.

"Tell me," he said benignly, "what does it feel like to be abandoned? Because that's what the smugglers did. Sailed away without a backward glance and left you to your fate."


Author Bio:
Grace Elliot leads a double life as a veterinarian by day and an author of historical romance by night. Grace is an avid reader and believes intelligent people need to read romance - as an antidote to the modern world. She works in a companion animal practice near London and is housekeeping staff to five demanding felines.

"Hope's Betrayal" is Grace's third historical romance novel - to find out more please visit:

Blog: "Fall in Love With History"

Twitter: @Grace_Elliot

Tuesday, June 5, 2012

Book Review: Monument 14 by Emmy Laybourne


Title:  Monument 14
Author: Emmy Laybourne
Series: Monument 14
Genre: Dystopian novel
Publisher: Macmillan Children's Publishing Group
Publication date: 05 June 2012
Author’s website:
Source:  NetGalley

Goodreads blurb:
Your mother hollers that you’re going to miss the bus. She can see it coming down the street. You don’t stop and hug her and tell her you love her. You don’t thank her for being a good, kind, patient mother. Of course not—you hurdle down the stairs and make a run for the corner.

Only, if it’s the last time you’ll ever see your mother, you sort of start to wish you’d stopped and did those things. Maybe even missed the bus.
But the bus was barreling down our street, so I ran.

Fourteen kids. One superstore. A million things that go wrong.

In Emmy Laybourne’s action-packed debut novel, six high school kids (some popular, some not), two eighth graders (one a tech genius), and six little kids trapped together in a chain superstore build a refuge for themselves inside. While outside, a series of escalating disasters, beginning with a monster hailstorm and ending with a chemical weapons spill, seems to be tearing the world—as they know it—apart.

My thoughts:
I just love dystopian books and was ecstatic when I got my hands on a copy of this book. 

This is the story of 14 kids that take refuse in a superstore complex when disaster strikes.  No adults, no rules and lots of pizza.  Unfortunately it doesn’t remain a party for long and soon the little kids want to go home.

The story is told through the eyes of the writer of the group, Dean.  For most of the book, he is just an outsider telling the story – he does not really get involved. 

I must admit that none of the characters really grabbed me and I felt as if this is just a prequel to the real story.  In this book we get to know a little about each character and the background of the disaster.  And off course the ending just feels like the beginning . . . I can’t wait for the next instalment.


Monday, June 4, 2012

The Host Movie

The Host (The Host, #1)

I loved The Host by Stephanie Meyer and cannot wait for the movie that will be released next year.  Here is a snippet of a movie trailer.

Saturday, June 2, 2012

My Spotlight: Junked by Boyd Brent


I’m Penny. I’m 17-years-old. And for the first time in my life I’ve met a guy who gets me. I mean really gets me. Sees through me like I’m a pane of cracked glass. And believe me, from the outside looking in, my pane is head-on-collision cracked. His name is Red. I’ve only just found him. And already some preternatural bitch wants him dead. No. She’s not a vampire. My life is nothing if not original. Come closer, I’m not safe anywhere and I need to whisper … apart from the book’s opening pages, this is the only time I get to speak to you directly … and I’m terrified that the vibe I’m giving off is too sane … you see, that preternatural bitch I just mentioned has creatures everywhere … listening. If they discover I haven’t fallen out of a crazy tree and hit every branch on the way down, they’re going to whisper junk into my head and change me forever. If that happens, who’s going to watch Red’s back? Look, wherever you are right now on this totally junked planet … find a way to enter my world and watch my back … who knows, if you close your eyes tight and SCREAM at your Kindle I might hear you … then open one eye … peer around … the way people are looking at you? … that’s how they look at me all the time


No one over the age of 13 is safe. Everyone is junked eventually: made neurotic, insecure or fanatical. Mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters, relatives and friends. And they're the lucky ones: those who resist are terminated in seemingly random accidents and killings.
Thomas Sheepsbane and Edward Wolf are teenage psychopaths. It's their job to orchestrate these 'accidents'. When they deviate from their list of sanctioned methods with 17-year-old Red Phoenix, they trigger something so macabre that the world believes it's witnessing a genuine miracle.
Red is convinced he's losing his mind ... until he gets to know Penny Lane. Penny may be the town freak but she's the only one who seems to have an inkling into the horrifying 'event' that keeps on happening to him. Red and Penny go on the run from the police, the media and supernatural forces that want them both dead. And the future of humanity's sanity depends upon them surviving long enough to unravel the mystery of Penny's grandmother Erin Bow. Erin was abducted from Stonehenge in 1969 ... leaving only her tambourine behind ... through which, Penny alone is able to see ...