検索キーワード： ナレーター "Tirzah Hawkins" すべてのカテゴリー

I inherited forty acres of Louisiana bayou from a great-aunt I met once. She looked at me across a diner table when I was eleven and said: you'll do. Twenty-six years old and I still don't know what she was asking. The land came with conditions. A blood tithe, paid at the last hard frost. A boundary that has to be walked. And four creatures who have been keeping this property for over a century, waiting for someone with Vauclain blood to come home and pay what's owed. The one in the house has been here since before the house.

She found the bodies. The Headmaster smiled and gave her a pardon. Scarlett uncovered the worst secret in Obsidian Marrow Academy and lived. Now Malakor — three-thousand-year-old Lich, institutional monster, and the calmest creature she's ever wanted to destroy — has told her to continue her studies. She knows what that means. She's not forgiven. She's being watched. The void inside her is getting hungrier, and the only thing keeping it from swallowing her whole is the three of them. Draven, whose shadows settle around her like a second skin.

Before Clover came home, there was Ivy. And Ivy had one last mystery to solve. Ivy Ashwood is eighty-three years old, and she knows her time is running out. Not because of her aching joints or her shortness of breath on the cottage stairs, but because Bram—her faithful familiar for sixty years—has begun watching her with that particular tilt to his ears. The same way he watched her mother, and her grandmother before that. The rabbit knows when an Ashwood is fading. But Ivy isn't ready to go. Not yet.

Scout is dating a horror author whom her ex is convinced is a serial killer. He's wrong. She's the killer.

I arrived at The Obsidian Marrow as a Null—a hollow space where magic goes to die. I didn't realize I was the one who was going to devour it all. In a world governed by blood oaths and ancient lineages, being a "Null" is a death sentence. At the elite Obsidian Marrow, I’m the lowest of the low, a girl with a void where a soul should be. I was supposed to be a sacrifice—a battery to be used and discarded by the elite of the Iron Vow Society. But the mountain has other plans. And so do the three monsters who rule its shadows.

Her grandmother left her a house. A pile of notebooks in three languages. And a man inside the volcano. He has been waiting for her since 1991. His name is Ahiakua. He has a body of basalt and a voice like distant thunder. He learned English from her grandmother. He reads Wendell Berry on the rim of the caldera, and when he touches her, he leaves dark prints that don't fade. Dr. Hina Akana came back to inventory an estate. She did not come back to inherit a centuries-old monster who has been carrying her name across thirty-five years of silence.

In a city drowning in fog, even a monster can be a sanctuary. In the climate-controlled silence of the British Library, manuscript conservator Cordelia Elliston lives a life of careful repairs and quiet order. But the charred diary she finds in a private estate clearance refuses to be fixed. The leather is fever-hot. The ink moves like living shadow. And when the page pulses beneath her fingers, Cordelia is pulled through a crack in the world. She wakes in the sulfurous, batswing-lit London of 1888. It is a city paralyzed by murder, but the killings are merely a symptom.

England, 1348. The Black Death has taken half the village. Then it takes Elsbeth. Else—healer's daughter, herbwoman, the last person in Ashenmere still boiling water instead of praying—dies of plague and is thrown into a mass grave. Three days later, she claws her way out. The buboes are gone. Her blood runs dark beneath her skin. And when she touches the dying, they heal. The Church sends Brother Callum to investigate—a monk with bruised knees and a faith held together by discipline alone. He expects a fraud.