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THE HOUSE AT BLACKTHORN HILL
Blurb:
A Gothic Mystery Novel Subtitle: A storm. A vanished woman. A manor full of secrets. --- Blurb Everyone in Raven's Hollow knows three things. Nobody enters Blackthorn Manor after sunset. Strange lights appear in its windows every night. And the man who lives there never smiles. When nineteen-year-old Iris Carter arrives in the quiet town of Raven's Hollow, she dismisses the stories as local superstition. But after a violent storm strands her outside the infamous manor, she finds herself drawn into a mystery older than the town itself. A woman disappeared twenty years ago without a trace. Hidden passages lie behind forgotten walls. A secret society watches from the shadows. And beneath Blackthorn Hill, something has been waiting for centuries. As Iris uncovers the truth, she begins to realize that her arrival in Raven's Hollow may not have been an accident at all. --- Chapter 1 The Storm and the Manor The storm arrived just after midnight. Rain lashed against the windshield with such force that Iris Carter could barely see the road ahead. Thunder rolled across the sky, shaking the countryside with every strike. She tightened her grip on the steering wheel. "Perfect." The town's welcome sign had vanished behind her miles ago. The GPS had lost signal. And now, in the middle of nowhere, her car had decided this was the ideal time to start making strange noises. A soft rattling sound came from beneath the hood. Then another. Then silence. The engine died. The headlights flickered once before settling into a dim glow. For several seconds, Iris simply stared at the dashboard. "No." She tried the ignition. Nothing. Again. Nothing. A third attempt produced only an unhappy clicking sound. The car was finished. Outside, rain hammered against the glass. Lightning flashed overhead. And for a brief moment, the landscape illuminated. That was when she saw it. Atop a hill overlooking the road stood a massive manor. Dark. Ancient. Watching. The building seemed almost unreal against the storm. Its towers disappeared into the rain. Its windows reflected distant flashes of lightning. And despite the weather, a single light burned somewhere inside. Another crack of thunder shook the sky. Iris groaned. Of course. Of all the places her car could have broken down, it had to be in front of the town's most infamous house. Earlier that week, a cashier at the grocery store had warned her about Blackthorn Manor. Everyone in Raven's Hollow had. The stories varied depending on who was telling them. Some claimed the house was haunted. Others insisted strange things happened there at night. Most agreed on one thing: The owner preferred to be left alone. Unfortunately, Iris no longer had many options. Rainwater had already begun leaking through the edge of the driver's side door. She grabbed her jacket. Opened the car door. And immediately regretted it. The storm soaked her within seconds. Wind whipped through the trees. Branches swayed overhead. Thunder rolled again. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked. Then another. Then silence. The manor loomed above her. The closer she got, the larger it seemed. Stone walls. Towering windows. Iron gates. The place looked less like a home and more like something pulled from the pages of an old novel. She reached the front steps. Paused. Then raised a hand and knocked. Nothing happened. Rain continued to pour. Iris waited. Then knocked again. Still nothing. She was beginning to consider whether sleeping in her broken car might actually be preferable when the front door suddenly opened. A man stood in the doorway. Tall. Dark-haired. Sharp-featured. His expression revealed absolutely nothing. For several seconds, neither spoke. Rain dripped from Iris's hair. The stranger studied her quietly. Finally, she managed an awkward smile. "My car died." The man continued staring. A particularly dramatic bolt of lightning illuminated the sky behind her. Still no reaction. Iris sighed. "Okay, this is officially the strangest conversation I've ever had." To her surprise, the corner of his mouth twitched. Barely. Almost imperceptibly. But it was there. "Come inside." His voice was calm and low. Iris didn't hesitate. The warmth of the manor washed over her the moment she stepped through the doorway. The massive door closed behind them. And instantly, one thing became clear. The stories had gotten it wrong. The house wasn't abandoned. It wasn't neglected. It wasn't crumbling. It was lived in. Beautifully. Fire burned in distant fireplaces. Books lined polished shelves. Fresh flowers sat in crystal vases. Someone cared deeply about this place. The stranger removed his coat and glanced toward her. "You're staring." "You live here?" "I do." "This place is incredible." A pause. Then: "Most people call it unsettling." "I can do both." For the first time, the stranger actually smiled. It lasted only a moment. But somehow it changed everything. "I'm Iris Carter." The man nodded. "Lucien Blackthorne." The name sent an unexpected chill through her. Because everyone in Raven's Hollow knew that name. And everyone seemed to have a different story about it. What Iris didn't know yet was that accepting shelter inside Blackthorn Manor would change the course of her life. Because by morning, she would discover two things. The rumors about Lucien Blackthorne were wrong. And the truth was far stranger.
Excerpt:
Chapter 1 The Storm and the Manor The storm arrived just after midnight. Rain lashed against the windshield with such force that Iris Carter could barely see the road ahead. Thunder rolled across the sky, shaking the countryside with every strike. She tightened her grip on the steering wheel. "Perfect." The town's welcome sign had vanished behind her miles ago. The GPS had lost signal. And now, in the middle of nowhere, her car had decided this was the ideal time to start making strange noises. A soft rattling sound came from beneath the hood. Then another. Then silence. The engine died. The headlights flickered once before settling into a dim glow. For several seconds, Iris simply stared at the dashboard. "No." She tried the ignition. Nothing. Again. Nothing. A third attempt produced only an unhappy clicking sound. The car was finished. Outside, rain hammered against the glass. Lightning flashed overhead. And for a brief moment, the landscape illuminated. That was when she saw it. Atop a hill overlooking the road stood a massive manor. Dark. Ancient. Watching. The building seemed almost unreal against the storm. Its towers disappeared into the rain. Its windows reflected distant flashes of lightning. And despite the weather, a single light burned somewhere inside. Another crack of thunder shook the sky. Iris groaned. Of course. Of all the places her car could have broken down, it had to be in front of the town's most infamous house. Earlier that week, a cashier at the grocery store had warned her about Blackthorn Manor. Everyone in Raven's Hollow had. The stories varied depending on who was telling them. Some claimed the house was haunted. Others insisted strange things happened there at night. Most agreed on one thing: The owner preferred to be left alone. Unfortunately, Iris no longer had many options. Rainwater had already begun leaking through the edge of the driver's side door. She grabbed her jacket. Opened the car door. And immediately regretted it. The storm soaked her within seconds. Wind whipped through the trees. Branches swayed overhead. Thunder rolled again. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked. Then another. Then silence. The manor loomed above her. The closer she got, the larger it seemed. Stone walls. Towering windows. Iron gates. The place looked less like a home and more like something pulled from the pages of an old novel. She reached the front steps. Paused. Then raised a hand and knocked. Nothing happened. Rain continued to pour. Iris waited. Then knocked again. Still nothing. She was beginning to consider whether sleeping in her broken car might actually be preferable when the front door suddenly opened. A man stood in the doorway. Tall. Dark-haired. Sharp-featured. His expression revealed absolutely nothing. For several seconds, neither spoke. Rain dripped from Iris's hair. The stranger studied her quietly. Finally, she managed an awkward smile. "My car died." The man continued staring. A particularly dramatic bolt of lightning illuminated the sky behind her. Still no reaction. Iris sighed. "Okay, this is officially the strangest conversation I've ever had." To her surprise, the corner of his mouth twitched. Barely. Almost imperceptibly. But it was there. "Come inside." His voice was calm and low. Iris didn't hesitate. The warmth of the manor washed over her the moment she stepped through the doorway. The massive door closed behind them. And instantly, one thing became clear. The stories had gotten it wrong. The house wasn't abandoned. It wasn't neglected. It wasn't crumbling. It was lived in. Beautifully. Fire burned in distant fireplaces. Books lined polished shelves. Fresh flowers sat in crystal vases. Someone cared deeply about this place. The stranger removed his coat and glanced toward her. "You're staring." "You live here?" "I do." "This place is incredible." A pause. Then: "Most people call it unsettling." "I can do both." For the first time, the stranger actually smiled. It lasted only a moment. But somehow it changed everything. "I'm Iris Carter." The man nodded. "Lucien Blackthorne." The name sent an unexpected chill through her. Because everyone in Raven's Hollow knew that name. And everyone seemed to have a different story about it. What Iris didn't know yet was that accepting shelter inside Blackthorn Manor would change the course of her life. Because by morning, she would discover two things. The rumors about Lucien Blackthorne were wrong. And the truth was far stranger. ---
THE HOUSE AT BLACKTHORN HILL
Blurb:
Chapter 2: The Room at 3:17 A.M.
Excerpt:
The guest room was beautiful. That was the problem. It was too beautiful. Too comfortable. Too warm. Too normal. Nothing about it matched the stories Iris had heard about Blackthorn Manor. A fire crackled softly in the fireplace. Rain tapped against the windows. A neatly folded blanket rested at the foot of the bed. Everything felt peaceful. Yet sleep refused to come. Iris lay awake staring at the ceiling. The storm outside had weakened, but the house seemed alive in its own way. Every now and then she heard something. A distant creak. A floorboard settling. The faint whisper of wind moving through old hallways. Normal sounds. At least that was what she kept telling herself. Eventually exhaustion won. Her eyes drifted shut. And for a while, everything was quiet. --- A sudden sound woke her. Iris opened her eyes. Darkness filled the room. For a moment she didn't know where she was. Then she remembered. Blackthorn Manor. The storm. Lucien. The guest room. She glanced toward the bedside clock. 3:17 A.M. Exactly. The glowing numbers stared back at her. Something felt wrong. Not dangerous. Just... wrong. As though the house itself was holding its breath. Then she saw it. A faint light moving beneath her bedroom door. Someone was walking through the hallway carrying a lantern. The light passed slowly. Then stopped. Directly outside her room. Iris sat upright. The light remained there for several seconds. Then continued down the corridor. Common sense told her to stay where she was. Curiosity disagreed. Curiosity usually won. Five minutes later she was standing barefoot in the hallway. The manor seemed different at night. Larger somehow. The shadows deeper. The silence heavier. The lantern light had disappeared. Yet at the far end of the corridor another light glowed beneath a partially open door. Golden light. Steady and warm. The only source of brightness in the entire hallway. Iris hesitated. Then walked toward it. The old floor creaked beneath her feet. The closer she got, the stronger the smell of old paper and wood polish became. Books. Thousands of books. She could smell them before she even reached the doorway. Slowly she peeked inside. A library stretched before her. Massive. Towering shelves climbed toward a painted ceiling. Ancient ladders stood beside endless rows of books. Candles flickered across polished desks. It looked less like a room and more like a forgotten world. And seated at the center of it all was Lucien Blackthorne. Reading. Of course he was reading. Without looking up, he spoke. "You should be asleep." Iris nearly jumped. "How did you know I was there?" Now he looked up. A faint smile touched his lips. "You've been staring at the doorway for thirty seconds." She stepped inside. "I thought you might be secretly plotting something mysterious." "I am." Her eyes widened. Lucien calmly turned a page. "I am plotting to finish this book." For a moment she simply stared. Then laughed. To her surprise, he looked pleased by that. The library suddenly felt less intimidating. Until she noticed something strange. Every clock in the room had stopped. Every single one. A grandfather clock. A wall clock. A small silver clock resting on a desk. All frozen at the exact same time. 3:17. Iris frowned. "Why are all the clocks stopped?" The atmosphere changed instantly. Lucien's expression hardened. Not with anger. With sadness. Deep sadness. The kind that comes from old wounds. He closed the book slowly. "They aren't broken." Not a reassuring answer. "What does that mean?" For a long moment he didn't speak. The fire crackled softly nearby. Rain whispered against the windows. Finally Lucien stood. His eyes settled on the nearest clock. "Twenty years ago, something happened in this house." Iris immediately wished she hadn't asked. And yet she couldn't stop herself. "What happened?" Lucien looked toward a portrait hanging above the fireplace. A young woman smiled from the painting. Dark hair. Silver-gray eyes. The same eyes as Lucien. "My sister disappeared." Silence filled the library. The words landed heavily between them. "What do you mean disappeared?" "No one knows." His voice was calm. Too calm. As though he'd repeated those words hundreds of times. "She entered this room at 3:17 in the morning." A pause. "And nobody ever saw her again." Iris stared. Waiting for some sign he was joking. There wasn't one. Every clock in the library remained frozen at the same moment. 3:17. The exact time Eleanor Blackthorne vanished. A chill ran through the room. Somewhere above them, a loud crash echoed through the manor. Both froze. The sound came from upstairs. The third floor. Lucien immediately looked toward the ceiling. His expression changed. "What was that?" Iris whispered. "I don't know." For the first time since meeting him, he sounded genuinely concerned. Another crash echoed through the house. Closer this time. Then came a slow creaking sound. Footsteps. Heavy footsteps. Moving across the abandoned third floor. Iris felt her stomach drop. Lucien grabbed a lantern from the nearby desk. The golden light flickered to life. "What are you doing?" He looked toward the doorway. "Finding out who's upstairs." A perfectly reasonable answer. Except for one problem. The third floor was supposed to be empty. Neither of them spoke as the footsteps echoed once more above their heads. Slow. Measured. Deliberate. As though someone was waiting for them to follow. And despite every instinct warning her otherwise... Iris knew they were going upstairs. ---