Lee Mountford is clearly flexing those horror muscles in Dark Spirits: The Watcher, and I have to give it to you: the guy’s growth as an author is like watching a awkward teen horror fan evolve into a full-blown nightmare architect. He’s cranking up the creep factor to eleven here, with descriptions of shadowy whispers from the dead and that bone-chilling sense of being watched. The writing drips with dread, painting Parson Hall as this decaying monstrosity where every creak and flicker feels like the house itself is plotting your doom. It is genuinely unsettling stuff, much like he was able to convey in previous books like The Demonic and the majority of the Haunted series’s
But let’s pump the brakes for a second.
Plot-wise, we’re following Jodie Callaghan, our plucky paranormal investigator who’s basically the lovechild of every ghost hunter trope you’ve ever met. She’s tough, haunted by her own past (shocker!), and inexplicably drawn back to Parson Hall for “one last job” before it’s sold off to some clueless developer. Enter the mysterious stranger (because every good haunting needs a shady sidekick), who shows up and performs a ritual that unleashes Nathaniel Barrow, (aka The Watcher), a vengeful dark spirit who’s been stewing in the walls like a bad tenant refusing to vacate. Cue the uneasy alliance, unraveling of the hall’s sordid history, and a “game of survival” where the line between hunter and hunted blurs faster than my patience during the slow bits. It’s all very Haunted series, but remixed. There are familiar haunted-house shenanigans, recycled character archetypes and plot beats that feel like Mountford hit copy-paste from his greatest hits. If you’ve binged his earlier stuff, you’ll be nodding along slowly, recognizing all of these things
And speaking of slow, this 280-page book likes to drag its ethereal feet. What should be a taut, pulse-pounding romp turns into a slogfest, with endless buildup that feels like waiting for a ghost to text back. Pages upon pages of atmospheric setup and character brooding make it balloon in your mind to novella-turned-epic proportions, where tighter pacing could’ve turned the tension into a real page-turner instead of a “maybe I’ll finish this tomorrow” yawn. The creepy writing shines in bursts (like when the hall “comes alive” with dead whispers or The Watcher’s vengeance twists into something truly nasty) but those highs get buried under meandering scenes that test your commitment harder than being a Chargers fan.
All in all, it’s a solid swing from an author who’s leveling up his scare game, but it doesn’t quite escape the gravitational pull of his own formula. Mountford fans will gobble it up like spectral snacks, chuckling at the familiar frights, but newbies? Save this for later and start with something that hits harder.
So 3 stars. It’s creepy enough to recommend with a smirk, but not revolutionary enough to haunt your dreams forever.