Daily Archives: July 15, 2020

Devils Islandby Ron Hall

Jacob frantically stumbled over the fallen log, crashing uncontrollably through the dense underbrush and falling to the ground. He scrambled quickly back up to his feet and began running again. Jacob had no idea where he was going, but he knew that he should run. He crashed through some more undergrowth and into a little less dense part of the forest. He spun, looking around. His heart felt as if it were trying to jump out of his chest. His mind was racing. Where had Rick gone? Was the thing following him? Was it following Rick? The two friends had just split up, hoping that at least one of them could get away. He turned and ran again, as he ran; he tried looking over his shoulder to see if that thing was after him. He saw no sign of it. Running through this jungle was tough and he kept stumbling and falling. He looked back again; nothing. He turned his head back just in time to dodge around a large tree, as he jumped to his left, he was knocked off balance with a vicious blow. He felt like he had been run over by a truck or a middle linebacker. He hit the ground hard and bounced once. He tried to regain his balance and scramble back to his feet but just as he began to rise he was knocked backward again by the heavy blow of a large hairy paw. Jacob did not even realize that blood was seeping out of his body in several places. The claws had opened his face and falling through the brush had opened several small wounds on his arms and legs. He tried to rise up to his feet again; his entire body was protesting the movement. He felt as if he were moving in slow motion. A cold blackness was beginning to overcome him as he saw the big paw with the razor sharp claws swinging down toward his face. The blackness now enveloped him, his last thought was: I hope Rick makes it out.

A Face Like Glassby Frances Hardinge

An enchanting underground world hides sinister secrets in this YA fantasy from award-winning author Frances Hardinge

An ALA/ALSC Notable Children’s Book

In the underground city of Caverna, the world’s most skilled craftspeople toil in the darkness to create delicacies beyond compare–wines that remove memories, cheeses that make you hallucinate, and perfumes that convince you to trust the wearer, even as he slits your throat. On the surface, the people of Caverna seem ordinary, except for one thing: their faces are as blank as untouched snow. Expressions must be learned, and only the famous Facesmiths can teach a person to express (or fake) joy, despair, or fear–at a steep price.

Into this dark and distrustful world comes Neverfell, a girl with no memory of her past and a face so terrifying to those around her that she must wear a mask at all times. Neverfell’s expressions are as varied and dynamic as those of the most skilled Facesmiths, except hers
are entirely genuine. And that makes her very dangerous indeed . . .

Reclaiming Our Ownby Christopher Irons

When his nephew is kidnapped, former Army Ranger Brett tries to intervene but is himself taken hostage. He and his former Ranger team find it’s part of a deeper conspiracy.

Blood, mixed with dirt, is a familiar taste to him. As the dirt blends into the blood, it forms a pasty consistency that is difficult to spit out. There is enough of the mixture present to restrict his breathing. He turns his head to the right and coughs in an effort to clear his mouth.

It’s a weak attempt resulting only in a large dribble down the side of his cheek. His eyes are slow to open and his vision is blurred. Lifting his left hand, he reaches to the back of his head to inspect the pain and wetness. He uses he left arm as leverage to roll over onto his stomach. The concrete floor is cold on his face, but this position allows him to clear his mouth.

A change of position brings no relief to any of the pain. It’s a struggle to get both arms out from underneath his body. With palms down, he extends his arms and pushes his body back into a four-post position. His head feels like it weighs fifty pounds, as he lifts it to look for a way out. His vision starts to clear and a metal door appears in the distance.

Right hand forward, right knee forward, left hand forward, left knee forward, right hand forward, right knee… “Aaaaahhh!” His upper body collapses. His head bounces off the floor and his vision returns to a blur. Now on his left side, he squints his eyes to get a look at his ankle.

Blood streams from the rusted chain into his white socks. It’s a struggle to get back on all fours and push himself to the back wall, below the window.

The air is brisk, and the sun is rising. “Where the hell am I?”

The Business of Bloodby Kerrigan Byrne

Heart-pounding mystery awaits the reader brave enough to crack Byrne’s sinister cover. This series is everything… E. V. E. R. Y. T. H. I. N. G. BoB has a Ripper Street, Penny Dreadful, Frankenstein Chronicles vibe.” — Whiskey & Wit Book Reviews

London, 1890. Blood and death are Fiona Mahoney’s trade, and business, as they say, is booming.

Dying is the only thing people do with any regularity, and Fiona makes her indecorous living cleaning up after the corpses are carted away. Her childhood best friend, Mary, was the last known victim of Jack the Ripper. It’s been two years since Fiona scrubbed Mary’s blood from the floorboards, and London is no longer buzzing about the Ripper, but Fiona hasn’t forgotten.

And she hasn’t stopped searching for Jack.

When she’s called to a murder in the middle of the night, Fiona finds a victim mutilated in an eerily similar fashion to those of the Ripper, and only a few doors down from Mary’s old home. The relentless, overbearing, and irritatingly handsome Inspector Grayson Croft warns her away from the case. She might have listened, if she hadn’t found a clue in the blood. A clue that will lead her down a path from which there is no return.As a killer cuts a devastating swath through London, a letter written in blood arrives at her door, and it is only then that Fiona realizes just how perilous her endeavor is. For she has drawn the attention of an obsessive evil, and is no longer the hunter, but the prey. Fiona Mahoney is in the business of blood.

But she’s not the only one…