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The Spoil
In a rambling split-level house on the outskirts of Tacoma in the 1970s, a young girl is preoccupied by the anomalous phenomena she reads about in alien visitations, ESP, pyramid power, the Bermuda Triangle. Meanwhile, she and her stepbrother, thrown uneasily together by disaster and divorce, grow increasingly convinced that a malevolent presence resides in their house, and they develop elaborate strategies to live with it.
Years later, Mandy is living in Las Vegas in a modern townhouse caring for her mother who is in a terminal decline from Alzheimer’s. She works for a real estate company but struggles to focus on her tasks. She takes medication to manage her ADHD, which has her zagging between distraction and obsession, always halfway through some home renovation project. Then, while digging through a box of her mother’s things hoarded in her garage, she sets something loose. Something old and a demon that soon possesses one of her neighbors, an affable semiretired house flipper and handyman named TK. What follows is a gripping and often terrifying story of familial grief in which the past is both elusive and paralyzing, and questions of science and spirit become urgent.
The Spoil, Maile Chapman’s first novel in fifteen years, is tuned in to the most unusual frequencies, bringing us messages from beyond about the deepest mysteries of grief and longing.
Years later, Mandy is living in Las Vegas in a modern townhouse caring for her mother who is in a terminal decline from Alzheimer’s. She works for a real estate company but struggles to focus on her tasks. She takes medication to manage her ADHD, which has her zagging between distraction and obsession, always halfway through some home renovation project. Then, while digging through a box of her mother’s things hoarded in her garage, she sets something loose. Something old and a demon that soon possesses one of her neighbors, an affable semiretired house flipper and handyman named TK. What follows is a gripping and often terrifying story of familial grief in which the past is both elusive and paralyzing, and questions of science and spirit become urgent.
The Spoil, Maile Chapman’s first novel in fifteen years, is tuned in to the most unusual frequencies, bringing us messages from beyond about the deepest mysteries of grief and longing.
552 pages, Paperback
Published March 17, 2026
About the author
Maile Chapman
9 books22 followersMaile Chapman's stories have appeared in A Public Space, Literary Review, the Mississippi Review, and Post Road. She earned her MFA from Syracuse University and is currently a Schaeffer Fellow in Fiction at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas."
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Displaying 1 - 14 of 14 reviews
Did Not Finish
April 6, 2026Unfortunately, this was a DNF for me.
Though atmospheric, the pacing was simply too slow for me and the book failed to really capture my attention. I will say that the parts dealing with grief were absolutely heartbreaking to me, but not enough to sustain the read.
Though atmospheric, the pacing was simply too slow for me and the book failed to really capture my attention. I will say that the parts dealing with grief were absolutely heartbreaking to me, but not enough to sustain the read.
October 4, 2025
This book was amazing and took me away to do a different world. Loved the time period (70s) it takes place in and I absolutely loved Mandy’s character. I related to her so much between the ADHD and the connections to science and spirit. This story is so beautifully written and every interaction between characters is so well developed. This was certainly a unique and mystical story. I received an advance review copy for free, and I am leaving this review voluntarily.
May 11, 2026
Interesting horror book that focuses on grief, all the small weird things that you get into with your neighbors, cleaning out your dead adopted mom’s house, and the past coming back for you. It felt like the middle bit of this could’ve used some editorial tightening because I almost lost the horror part of this, because it initially slips more into the grief part of things. It tightened back up for the finale, though, and the feelings of grief are real in that they’re something waiting to pull you beneath the surface. Great library read.
March 26, 2026
I received this ARC from Graywolf Press. The Spoil is a psychological and supernatural horror book that focuses less on the actual horrific experience and more on human relationship, the idea of fear, and the reality (or lack thereof) of how fears develop and how that affects our relationships.
It is very subtly scary at the beginning. If you were ever scared of the dark, you know the anxiety and questioning this book portrays. As the story develops, you begin to question reality. Is TK really possessed? Is the main character just traumatized and angry? Who truly are Belen and Sam?
While long and repetitive (unnecessary at times), the increasing tension and psychological fear draws you in and makes you question everything.
It is very subtly scary at the beginning. If you were ever scared of the dark, you know the anxiety and questioning this book portrays. As the story develops, you begin to question reality. Is TK really possessed? Is the main character just traumatized and angry? Who truly are Belen and Sam?
While long and repetitive (unnecessary at times), the increasing tension and psychological fear draws you in and makes you question everything.
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May 14, 2026"It is a rare occasion when the backmatter of a novel leads you to reconsider much of what you’ve just read."
Tobias Carroll reviews Maile Chapman's The Spoil, a book sprouting bugs, timelines, and hauntings while daring the reader to follow it down.
Tobias Carroll reviews Maile Chapman's The Spoil, a book sprouting bugs, timelines, and hauntings while daring the reader to follow it down.
March 27, 2026
The house is haunted but first let me tell you about aquarium hardscape
BWAF Score: 7/10
TL;DR: Maile Chapman has written a grief novel disguised as a demon story, or possibly the other way around. Either way, The Spoil gets under your skin through sheer accumulation of dread, of objects, of everything the dead leave behind. Literary horror at its most patient and its most unsettling. Shirley Jackson would recognize the frequency.
The first thing you notice about The Spoil is that it doesn’t seem interested in scaring you. It’s interested in something harder: convincing you that the world has more layers than you’ve been told, and that the rot is already there, under the floor, waiting for a careless foot.
That’s the literal setup of Maile Chapman‘s opening chapter. Young Mandy, a child of the 1970s Pacific Northwest, wanders into a dead neighbor’s abandoned farmhouse and falls through the rotten porch floor. Her leg drops into the root cellar below. She dangles there, assessing the damage, and then something in the dark cups her heel. Closes around her ankle. Tightens. It’s about four pages in and Chapman has already done what most horror novels spend 300 pages trying to accomplish.
The Spoil operates on two timelines: a childhood in a rambling Tacoma split-level, where Mandy and her stepbrother Jeff develop elaborate systems for coexisting with whatever is wrong in the house; and an adult present in Las Vegas, where Mandy is managing her ADHD, tending her mother’s aquariums through a terminal Alzheimer’s decline, and apparently failing to notice that she has dug something out of her dead mother’s stored belongings and set it loose on the neighborhood. That something takes root in TK, the affable semi-retired handyman next door, who has an upcoming surgery and a growing habit of showing up where he shouldn’t. Meanwhile, a more textured and unsettling threat arrives in the form of Sam, a houseguest who quotes alchemical texts and seems to be doing something to Mandy’s conscious mind that she can’t quite perceive or name. The book is interested in possession not just as supernatural phenomenon but as what happens to us slowly, daily, through grief and illness and the accumulated weight of things we haven’t unpacked.
Chapman’s writing is a particular kind of first-person: it moves like ADHD actually moves, associative and darting and pausing on objects with the intensity of someone who knows they should be focusing on something else. The domestic texture is extraordinary. You will come away from this book knowing more than you ever wanted to about enzymatic urine cleaners, aquarium hardscape design, the rewiring of vintage lamps, and how to restore outdoor furniture without stripping the wood. This sounds like it shouldn’t work and it absolutely does. The house is a character. The stuff inside it is a record of everyone who has lived and died and left traces. Chapman is doing something like what Shirley Jackson did: physical space as pressure system, as accumulated biography.
Maile Chapman is from Tacoma, the same landscape where the novel’s childhood sequences are set, and those details carry the weight of firsthand memory: the farm party lines, the brooder houses, the smell of goldenrod, the barn cats flat in the afternoon sun and then streaking alive in the same instant. Her debut, Your Presence Is Requested at Suvanto (Graywolf, 2010), was shortlisted for the Guardian First Book Award and named a finalist for the PEN Center USA literary award. That first book was a dense gothic about a women’s convalescent hospital in 1920s Finland, built on compression and historical atmosphere. Fifteen years is a long gap between novels, and the acknowledgments of The Spoil explain it without sentimentality: caregiving, illness, Covid, a decade of revision. Chapman teaches creative writing at UNLV and has been a fellow at the New York Public Library’s Dorothy and Lewis B. Cullman Center for Scholars and Writers, where the alchemical research that saturates this book’s middle chapters apparently began. She was also, and I say this with full admiration, briefly a kindergarten teacher at a particle physics research facility in Hamburg, Germany. The Spoil is recognizably the work of someone who takes fifteen years because the structure is load-bearing, not because she is precious. Chapman has said she finds it infuriating when horror novels change their rules midway through, and everything about how this book is built reflects that conviction.
What she does best is atmosphere that accumulates rather than announces itself. Consider the moment you understand what Sam has been doing at 3 AM in Mandy’s living room: standing at the fish tank with a tiny jelly jar, filling it from the waterfall outlet of the algae scrubber, drinking it with complete deliberateness, unaware he’s being watched through a gap in the blinds. There is something about the smallness of that glass, the precision of the gesture, that is deeply fucking wrong in a way that resists analysis. It just sits there in your brain. Or the moment Sam mentions casually that a house full of reflective surfaces is a house full of divination tools, and you look back at every dark aquarium Mandy has described in these pages, all that water catching light, and realize you’ve been reading a haunting from the inside without knowing it. Or the thing in the cellar of Mrs. Field’s house. The way it holds on.
The book is not without problems, and the biggest one is length. At 480 pages, The Spoil sags badly in its middle third. The Las Vegas chapters trust Chapman’s observational eye a few chapters too long, and I say that as someone who gives a shit about aquarium hardscape. Mandy’s relationship with her stepbrother Jeff generates real comedy and texture, but the novel then largely exits him, making those long domestic sequences feel like setup for a payoff that gets redirected somewhere else. This is a 350-page book wearing a 480-page coat. It fits, mostly, but you notice the seams.
The ending opens, quietly, like something that was always going to be there when you got to the bottom. It earns what it finds down there by making you understand that what Mandy has been excavating this whole time was never just a demon. It was her mother. It was everything her mother left behind, and everything she couldn’t.
That’s the kind of book this is: one that makes grief feel like archaeology and archaeology feel like horror, and still manages to land somewhere that feels true.
BWAF Score: 7/10
TL;DR: Maile Chapman has written a grief novel disguised as a demon story, or possibly the other way around. Either way, The Spoil gets under your skin through sheer accumulation of dread, of objects, of everything the dead leave behind. Literary horror at its most patient and its most unsettling. Shirley Jackson would recognize the frequency.
The first thing you notice about The Spoil is that it doesn’t seem interested in scaring you. It’s interested in something harder: convincing you that the world has more layers than you’ve been told, and that the rot is already there, under the floor, waiting for a careless foot.
That’s the literal setup of Maile Chapman‘s opening chapter. Young Mandy, a child of the 1970s Pacific Northwest, wanders into a dead neighbor’s abandoned farmhouse and falls through the rotten porch floor. Her leg drops into the root cellar below. She dangles there, assessing the damage, and then something in the dark cups her heel. Closes around her ankle. Tightens. It’s about four pages in and Chapman has already done what most horror novels spend 300 pages trying to accomplish.
The Spoil operates on two timelines: a childhood in a rambling Tacoma split-level, where Mandy and her stepbrother Jeff develop elaborate systems for coexisting with whatever is wrong in the house; and an adult present in Las Vegas, where Mandy is managing her ADHD, tending her mother’s aquariums through a terminal Alzheimer’s decline, and apparently failing to notice that she has dug something out of her dead mother’s stored belongings and set it loose on the neighborhood. That something takes root in TK, the affable semi-retired handyman next door, who has an upcoming surgery and a growing habit of showing up where he shouldn’t. Meanwhile, a more textured and unsettling threat arrives in the form of Sam, a houseguest who quotes alchemical texts and seems to be doing something to Mandy’s conscious mind that she can’t quite perceive or name. The book is interested in possession not just as supernatural phenomenon but as what happens to us slowly, daily, through grief and illness and the accumulated weight of things we haven’t unpacked.
Chapman’s writing is a particular kind of first-person: it moves like ADHD actually moves, associative and darting and pausing on objects with the intensity of someone who knows they should be focusing on something else. The domestic texture is extraordinary. You will come away from this book knowing more than you ever wanted to about enzymatic urine cleaners, aquarium hardscape design, the rewiring of vintage lamps, and how to restore outdoor furniture without stripping the wood. This sounds like it shouldn’t work and it absolutely does. The house is a character. The stuff inside it is a record of everyone who has lived and died and left traces. Chapman is doing something like what Shirley Jackson did: physical space as pressure system, as accumulated biography.
Maile Chapman is from Tacoma, the same landscape where the novel’s childhood sequences are set, and those details carry the weight of firsthand memory: the farm party lines, the brooder houses, the smell of goldenrod, the barn cats flat in the afternoon sun and then streaking alive in the same instant. Her debut, Your Presence Is Requested at Suvanto (Graywolf, 2010), was shortlisted for the Guardian First Book Award and named a finalist for the PEN Center USA literary award. That first book was a dense gothic about a women’s convalescent hospital in 1920s Finland, built on compression and historical atmosphere. Fifteen years is a long gap between novels, and the acknowledgments of The Spoil explain it without sentimentality: caregiving, illness, Covid, a decade of revision. Chapman teaches creative writing at UNLV and has been a fellow at the New York Public Library’s Dorothy and Lewis B. Cullman Center for Scholars and Writers, where the alchemical research that saturates this book’s middle chapters apparently began. She was also, and I say this with full admiration, briefly a kindergarten teacher at a particle physics research facility in Hamburg, Germany. The Spoil is recognizably the work of someone who takes fifteen years because the structure is load-bearing, not because she is precious. Chapman has said she finds it infuriating when horror novels change their rules midway through, and everything about how this book is built reflects that conviction.
What she does best is atmosphere that accumulates rather than announces itself. Consider the moment you understand what Sam has been doing at 3 AM in Mandy’s living room: standing at the fish tank with a tiny jelly jar, filling it from the waterfall outlet of the algae scrubber, drinking it with complete deliberateness, unaware he’s being watched through a gap in the blinds. There is something about the smallness of that glass, the precision of the gesture, that is deeply fucking wrong in a way that resists analysis. It just sits there in your brain. Or the moment Sam mentions casually that a house full of reflective surfaces is a house full of divination tools, and you look back at every dark aquarium Mandy has described in these pages, all that water catching light, and realize you’ve been reading a haunting from the inside without knowing it. Or the thing in the cellar of Mrs. Field’s house. The way it holds on.
The book is not without problems, and the biggest one is length. At 480 pages, The Spoil sags badly in its middle third. The Las Vegas chapters trust Chapman’s observational eye a few chapters too long, and I say that as someone who gives a shit about aquarium hardscape. Mandy’s relationship with her stepbrother Jeff generates real comedy and texture, but the novel then largely exits him, making those long domestic sequences feel like setup for a payoff that gets redirected somewhere else. This is a 350-page book wearing a 480-page coat. It fits, mostly, but you notice the seams.
The ending opens, quietly, like something that was always going to be there when you got to the bottom. It earns what it finds down there by making you understand that what Mandy has been excavating this whole time was never just a demon. It was her mother. It was everything her mother left behind, and everything she couldn’t.
That’s the kind of book this is: one that makes grief feel like archaeology and archaeology feel like horror, and still manages to land somewhere that feels true.
March 13, 2026
Dubbed as literary horror with psychological elements, this is one of thee most unique stories I have read.
A story of familial bonding followed by bouts of longstanding grief; interests in paranormal and phenomena coupled with evil spirits.
The beginning has a nostalgic feel: a trip back into the 1970’s-quad plex homes, shag carpeted floors and the feeling of being safe in one’s home without locking the doors.
That feeling quickly fades away and is replaced with shock, grief and a most unsettling/creepy vibe of something hiding in the shadows. Something that raises the hair on the back of your neck-the unsurmountable pressure that your mind is playing tricks on you.
Main character, Mandy is in the wrong place at the wrong time, when a glass jar with a questionable gelatinous substance slides out after its broken, along with a noxious gas that Mandy breathes in(all while emptying her grandmothers cellar of canned goods). This sets off a serious chain of chilling events and darkness covers the first section of the story.
Intensely long, the story covers the bond between mother and daughter through the years and the curiousness of all things bizarre and health wise mentally.
Thanks to Greywolf Press for this epic journey!
A story of familial bonding followed by bouts of longstanding grief; interests in paranormal and phenomena coupled with evil spirits.
The beginning has a nostalgic feel: a trip back into the 1970’s-quad plex homes, shag carpeted floors and the feeling of being safe in one’s home without locking the doors.
That feeling quickly fades away and is replaced with shock, grief and a most unsettling/creepy vibe of something hiding in the shadows. Something that raises the hair on the back of your neck-the unsurmountable pressure that your mind is playing tricks on you.
Main character, Mandy is in the wrong place at the wrong time, when a glass jar with a questionable gelatinous substance slides out after its broken, along with a noxious gas that Mandy breathes in(all while emptying her grandmothers cellar of canned goods). This sets off a serious chain of chilling events and darkness covers the first section of the story.
Intensely long, the story covers the bond between mother and daughter through the years and the curiousness of all things bizarre and health wise mentally.
Thanks to Greywolf Press for this epic journey!
March 29, 2026
3.75/5
this book had me hooked but it was just so different than what i expected from the description, in a good way
rather than focusing so much on the evil/villan/darkness, you’re immersed into the eerie feeling you get when you think you see something in the dark, the goosebumps you get on your skin, the way your heart pounds when you used to run to get under the covers as a kid… that was described incredibly from mandy’s pov and this was a super refreshing pov to read
not to mention the moments of grief and coping and the fine balance between mental fortitude and spiraling
there was a bit of repetition and at times 500+ pages felt like a bit too much for the plot but somehow i couldn’t put this book down
this book had me hooked but it was just so different than what i expected from the description, in a good way
rather than focusing so much on the evil/villan/darkness, you’re immersed into the eerie feeling you get when you think you see something in the dark, the goosebumps you get on your skin, the way your heart pounds when you used to run to get under the covers as a kid… that was described incredibly from mandy’s pov and this was a super refreshing pov to read
not to mention the moments of grief and coping and the fine balance between mental fortitude and spiraling
there was a bit of repetition and at times 500+ pages felt like a bit too much for the plot but somehow i couldn’t put this book down
December 1, 2025
First off, thanks to The Wolves at Graywolf Press for this ARC! Bothering everyone for months to get it was absolutely worth every text to the author and email. 😉
After fifteen years, Maile Chapman has proven once again that she is a force to be reckoned with in the literature world. This time, in the psychological horror genre with a narrative that hits close to home. In stark contrast to her first novel that was filled with isolation, running from grief, icy snow, and 1920-30s historical gothic, the start of Chapman's latest semi-autobiographical novel, The Spoil, feels like the sun's goldenrod rays hitting your face as an old friend tells you their life story over tea --- an exposé of personal narratives and blunt anecdotes that are interwoven to reveal bursts of imagery, from homely rural Washington to the darker suburban undersides of Las Vegas, that unravel an introspective exploration of the main character's intimate memories. The eclectic familial life of The Spoil's primary narrator, Mandy, blooms and combusts throughout the pages as she recounts the complicated intricacies of the transition and balancing act between being a daughter and becoming caregiver to her beloved mother, as well as what lies beyond. Mandy's resilient, yet somewhat paranoid voice shines as she's faced with several difficulties and manages to persevere through them on her own terms… doesn't she? What makes this novel truly unique is its hold on a spiraling reality while weaving superstition and supernatural, cult-like beliefs to lead the readers on a puzzling, yet transcendent journey of one's memories and the paradoxical spore that holds them together. Overall, Maile Chapman's The Spoil: A Novel is like finally finding missing pieces to a puzzle bought at the thrift store years ago. It’s a conglomerate and feat of realistic grit, skepticism, grace, warmth, and heartfelt messages of love preserved through grief that you don't want to miss in 2026. I'm grateful that I got to experience it in its ARC form before the final version is published this coming March. Thanks, NetGalley, Graywolf Press, and Maile Chapman. Between you and me, Mai, I think this is the "something pretty" your mom asked for... with your own personal twist. 💛
After fifteen years, Maile Chapman has proven once again that she is a force to be reckoned with in the literature world. This time, in the psychological horror genre with a narrative that hits close to home. In stark contrast to her first novel that was filled with isolation, running from grief, icy snow, and 1920-30s historical gothic, the start of Chapman's latest semi-autobiographical novel, The Spoil, feels like the sun's goldenrod rays hitting your face as an old friend tells you their life story over tea --- an exposé of personal narratives and blunt anecdotes that are interwoven to reveal bursts of imagery, from homely rural Washington to the darker suburban undersides of Las Vegas, that unravel an introspective exploration of the main character's intimate memories. The eclectic familial life of The Spoil's primary narrator, Mandy, blooms and combusts throughout the pages as she recounts the complicated intricacies of the transition and balancing act between being a daughter and becoming caregiver to her beloved mother, as well as what lies beyond. Mandy's resilient, yet somewhat paranoid voice shines as she's faced with several difficulties and manages to persevere through them on her own terms… doesn't she? What makes this novel truly unique is its hold on a spiraling reality while weaving superstition and supernatural, cult-like beliefs to lead the readers on a puzzling, yet transcendent journey of one's memories and the paradoxical spore that holds them together. Overall, Maile Chapman's The Spoil: A Novel is like finally finding missing pieces to a puzzle bought at the thrift store years ago. It’s a conglomerate and feat of realistic grit, skepticism, grace, warmth, and heartfelt messages of love preserved through grief that you don't want to miss in 2026. I'm grateful that I got to experience it in its ARC form before the final version is published this coming March. Thanks, NetGalley, Graywolf Press, and Maile Chapman. Between you and me, Mai, I think this is the "something pretty" your mom asked for... with your own personal twist. 💛
Review of advance copy received from Netgalley
This is a psychological horror thriller which I usually enjoy. But I had a love hate relationship with it and still not sure where I ended up.
The book starts in the 1970s in Tacoma. A young girl is hooked of the strange and weird like alien invasions, paranormal visits, the Bermuda Triangle. She lives with her stepbrother and both believe their home has some unholy or evil presence. So they work around this but life isn’t easy. Years later caring for mother who has Alzheimer’s, the girl releases an evil force into their home while rummaging in boxes her mother brought from their old home. The force takes over forcing the girl to have to face her past.
I just felt the book was too long and didn’t make sense to me at times. I live a good horror book, but I missed something here.
Thank you NetGalley and Greywolf Press for allowing me to read this ARC.
The book starts in the 1970s in Tacoma. A young girl is hooked of the strange and weird like alien invasions, paranormal visits, the Bermuda Triangle. She lives with her stepbrother and both believe their home has some unholy or evil presence. So they work around this but life isn’t easy. Years later caring for mother who has Alzheimer’s, the girl releases an evil force into their home while rummaging in boxes her mother brought from their old home. The force takes over forcing the girl to have to face her past.
I just felt the book was too long and didn’t make sense to me at times. I live a good horror book, but I missed something here.
Thank you NetGalley and Greywolf Press for allowing me to read this ARC.
March 27, 2026
The Spoil is a psychological horror novel that centers on the complicated relationship between a daughter and her mother over the years. As a young girl the protagonist Mandy has a fascination with supernatural phenomena and is living in a house that she is certain is haunted. Years later, Mandy is caring for her mother with Alzheimer’s and a malevolent force is set loose forcing her to grapple with her past. The Spoil is a page-turner that offers an unsettling and surreal perspective on grief, fear, and the slipperiness of memory.
November 24, 2025
Staring with the positives; Mandy is incredibly likable, the writing is beautiful & the concept is original. Cons: I found this book a bit chaotic & found that it was a lot longer than it needed to be. Some parts really didn’t hold my attention & ultimately didn’t feel necessary. Overall it was an okay book, very middle of the road.
Big thanks to Netgalley & the publisher for allowing me to enjoy this.
Big thanks to Netgalley & the publisher for allowing me to enjoy this.
April 25, 2026
i haven’t got a single clue.
Review of advance copy received from Netgalley
This book is about double the length it needs to be. While it is well-written it feels like two separate stories rather than one novel and could have done from another round of editing it down. That said it is an interesting read if you're committed to all 553 (ebook), 480 (print book) pages of it. AT times Mandy's relationship with her mother is deemed important and at others it seems irrelevant. Her mother dies early in the book, but confusing unmarked time jumps make it hard to keep track of when in the story she is alive and when she is dead. The first half of the novel builds the relationship between the siblings just to ditch her brother halfway through the book once he has introduced her to another prominent character.
Mandy is raised by her mother, but we're introduced to her at her grandparents' home before she is quickly spirited away to her new home with her mother, stepfather, and on the weekends a stepbrother. Mandy has always been interested in occult ideas and hauntings, so it doesn't take much for her to involve her stepbrother in brainstorming elaborate ideas to deal with what may be a haunting in their own home.
Years later, Mandy is in Vegas and Jeff comes frequently for visits, claiming their youthful beliefs were a side effect of carbon monoxide poisoning in the home due to furnace issues. Mandy however has studied her interests and is surer than ever that it was real. So, when she lets something loose while unpacking boxes and her neighbor starts to seem possessed, Mandy feels like she must solve the issue. With the aid of Belen, Jeff's new friend and her acquaintance Sam, Mandy must try to figure out what is going on.
Thank you to NetGalley for an eARC of this novel.
Mandy is raised by her mother, but we're introduced to her at her grandparents' home before she is quickly spirited away to her new home with her mother, stepfather, and on the weekends a stepbrother. Mandy has always been interested in occult ideas and hauntings, so it doesn't take much for her to involve her stepbrother in brainstorming elaborate ideas to deal with what may be a haunting in their own home.
Years later, Mandy is in Vegas and Jeff comes frequently for visits, claiming their youthful beliefs were a side effect of carbon monoxide poisoning in the home due to furnace issues. Mandy however has studied her interests and is surer than ever that it was real. So, when she lets something loose while unpacking boxes and her neighbor starts to seem possessed, Mandy feels like she must solve the issue. With the aid of Belen, Jeff's new friend and her acquaintance Sam, Mandy must try to figure out what is going on.
Thank you to NetGalley for an eARC of this novel.
Displaying 1 - 14 of 14 reviews