Showing results by publisher "Tantor Audio" in Horror

Red is the color of Kia Alcott's hair. It's her temper, which blazes hot and always gets Kia into way too much trouble. And it's the color of fire. Fires that Kia can start . . . just by thinking about them. When her latest "episode" gets her kicked out of school, Kia is shipped off to her grandmother, who works for the wealthy Blackwoods. It's an estate shrouded in secrets, surrounded by rules, and presided over by a family that is far from normal . . . including the gorgeous and insolent Ethan Blackwood.

Before Emily Benson heads off to college in the fall, she'll be with six housemates in a summer share house on exclusive Ocean Island. She's excited about meeting her housemates and making some new friends. But nothing goes as planned. Emily feels awkward silences when she's with her housemates, like they're leaving something unsaid, leaving her out of the conversation, and that gives her the creeps. Emily soon learns she looks just like a girl one of the guy housemates used to date—and that girl died in an accident—which maybe wasn't an accident.

It starts innocently enough. Four kids—three girls, one boy—are at one of their houses, playing games. One of them has read about "Bloody Mary" and the idea that if you look into a mirror and say her name thirteen times, she will show you the future. Some legends say she'll show you your one true love or a skull to mark your death within five years. Others say that conjuring Bloody Mary will bring her into your world.

Willow is alone, confined to a bed with restraints. She can't remember how she got there . . . or how long she's been there. An old lady appears in her room to feed her twice a day. Granny doesn't talk, but Willow can hear thumping from somewhere beyond her door. It's not Granny's shuffling steps. It's too loud to be Granny's cat. Is it someone? Something? Then Granny's cat dies in Willow's room. And Granny follows a few days later. Willow will do anything to survive. But freeing herself from her bed is only the beginning . . .