Krystal Sutherland

From the author of New York Times bestseller "House of Hollow" comes a darkly seductive witchy thriller where, though both men and demons lurk in shadows, girls refuse to go quietly into the night.

Zara Jones believes in magic because the alternative is too painful to bear—that her sister was murdered by a serial killer and there is precisely nothing she can do to change it. If there’s anything Zara cannot stand it's feeling powerless, so she decides she will do whatever it takes—even if that means partaking in the occult—to bring her sister back from the dead.

Jude Wolf might be the daughter of a billionaire, but she is also undeniably cursed. After a deal with a demon went horribly wrong, her soul is now slowly turning necrotic. Flowers and insects die in her wake and monstrous things come to taunt her at night. If Jude can’t find the right someone to fix her mistake, she fears she’ll die very soon.

Enter Emer Bryne: the solution to both Zara and Jude's predicaments. The daughter of a witch, Emer sells spells to women in desperate situations willing to sacrifice a part of their soul in exchange for a bit of power, a bit of magic to change their lives. But Emer has a dark past all her own—and as her former clients are murdered one-by-one, she knows it’s followed her all the way to London.

As Zara and Jude enter Emer's orbit, they'll have to team up to stop the killer—before they each end up next on his list.

The Invocations

Lacey Devlin

A girl walks alone, but not alone. She feels him before she sees him, the way women do.

Men do not know what it feels like to be hunted. Men do not walk alone on dark streets and think about fingers closing around their throats or their skulls thudding dully against the pavement. They do not think about strangers coming to their house and slaughtering their entire family.

The gift of fear was given to her by the women she grew up around: nannies, teachers, friends, lovers. From them all, she learned to carry her keys between her fingers like knuckle-dusters. She learned to pour her own drinks at parties and keep them close to her, always in sight, never unguarded. She learned to walk in busy, well-lit areas at night and to wear bright, memorable clothing so that if- when- she disappeared, she would stick in the minds of those who'd witnessed her final hours.

Her eyes find the figure immediately, standing stationary on the path. He's a slip of shadow, nothing more. No face, no weapon, nothing to indicate that he might do her harm. Just a man.

But she is a girl. And she is alone. And it is night. And that is enough.

They understand what they are looking at. They understand that it could have been them. A wrong turn on the wrong night, and it could have been them. There is no sense to that. That you can be going about your life, minding your own goddamn business, and suddenly become prey.

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