CUSP OF NIGHT - Hode’s Hill #1 by Mae Clair Book Tour and Giveaway :)
CUSP OF NIGHT
Hode’s Hill
#1
by
Mae Clair
Genre: Thriller/Suspense
Pub
Date: 6/12/2018
The truth hides in dark places…
Recently settled in Hode’s Hill,
Pennsylvania, Maya Sinclair is enthralled by the town’s folklore,
especially the legend about a centuries-old monster. A devil-like
creature with uncanny abilities responsible for several horrific
murders, the Fiend has evolved into the stuff of urban myth. But the
past lives again when Maya witnesses an assault during the annual
“Fiend Fest.” The victim is developer Leland Hode, patriarch of
the town’s most powerful family, and he was attacked by someone
dressed like the Fiend.
Compelled to discover who is behind the
attack and why, Maya uncovers a shortlist of enemies of the Hode
clan. The mystery deepens when she finds the journal of a late
nineteenth-century spiritualist who once lived in Maya’s house—a
woman whose ghost may still linger. Known as the Blue Lady of Hode’s
Hill due to a genetic condition, Lucinda Glass vanished without a
trace and was believed to be one of the Fiend’s tragic victims. The
disappearance of a young couple, combined with more sightings of the
monster, trigger Maya to join forces with Leland’s son Collin. But
the closer she gets to the truth, the closer she comes to a hidden
world of twisted secrets, insanity, and evil that refuses to die…
Within
moments, Charlotte was outside in the dismal weather. The drizzle had
steadied into a light rain, pattering in a ceaseless rhythm against
the cobblestones. The gas lamp on the corner was barely visible
through the thickening fog. It would be a rough ride back in the
carriage, bordering on miserable, now that she’d lost the
opportunity to communicate with her deceased mother and share the
news of Reginald’s birth. Drawing the collar of her cloak about her
throat, Charlotte hurried down Chicory toward the alley. How far to
the carriage? The fog played tricks with the distance,
shapes materializing from the mist with an abruptness that made her
regret not taking the lamp Frederick offered. When a cat shot out in
front of her, she gasped. “Silly
animal.” Pressing a hand to her heart, she breathed deeply. The
feline darted across the alley, vanishing into the mist. Were those
footsteps behind her? She
glanced over her shoulder, but it was impossible to see more than a
few feet. Rain trickled from the edge of the umbrella and splattered
onto her gloves. Quickening her pace, she scurried forward. She’d
only managed a few steps when the footsteps echoed again. Once
more she looked over her shoulder. “Frederick.” Perhaps he’d
left the carriage in search of her when the rain grew heavier.
“Frederick?” The
footsteps quickened, lengthening into a fleet run. Hair prickled on
the back of her neck. She hesitated, torn between fleeing and needing
to see who followed. Within seconds, a painted face bobbed in front
of her from the fog. The macabre mask hung disembodied, a leering
devil with ice white eyes and cadaverous grin.
The
Fiend! Dear God, the monster was real. Charlotte
screamed and tried to run, her long skirts twisting about her ankles.
Stumbling, she dropped her umbrella. “Frederick!” Her frightened
cry echoed through the night, swallowed by the fog. “Oh, Frederick,
please help!” Fingers
fisted on the back of her cloak and yanked hard, wheeling her around
and tugging, until she was pressed up against the hard body of the
Fiend. Trapped mere inches from that demonic face and hateful gaze,
she swooned. Her vision spun into a funnel curtained with fog and
rain as if the night had blindfolded her. A stinging flare of heat
ripped across her stomach, chased by something sticky and damp. She
tried to find her breath and wheezed out a faint bubble. “Oh!” Pain
ruptured upward from her navel. Fire seared her voice and left her
choking soundlessly on cold air. Her knees buckled. The Fiend
released her, and she wilted to the cobblestones, conscious of a dark
stain spreading beneath her. Blood. The
stench of hot metal and damp wool clotted her nostrils. She choked on
tears, overcome by the realization she would never cradle her baby
again or see the husband who had given her such a precious gift. A
foolish woman, she’d paid for her folly. Why hadn’t she heeded
Henry and stayed safe at home? Blood plastered her bodice to her
skin, sticky heat against the rain. She folded to the side—down to
the damp press of cobblestones against
her cheek, the thick gathering silt of the dead. The
Fiend stepped closer. Hunkered down near her head. Charlotte
forced herself to grip the hand that clutched the bloody knife.
Twisting her neck, she stared up into the awful leering face. “Why?
Please…tell me why.” The
slice of the blade across her throat paid her passage to Summerland.
Mae Clair opened a Pandora’s
Box of characters when she was a child and never looked back. Her
father, an artist who tinkered with writing, encouraged her to create
make-believe worlds by spinning tales of far-off places on summer
nights beneath the stars.
Mae loves creating character-driven
fiction in settings that vary from contemporary to mythical. Wherever
her pen takes her, she flavors her stories with conflict, romance and
elements of mystery. Married to her high school sweetheart, she lives
in Pennsylvania and is passionate about writing, old photographs, a
good Maine lobster tail and cats.
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I love the cover. So mysterious
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