Hal and Margaret Hartman, and their daughter Katherine, had never truly had a home of their own. They flitted from apartment to rental house and back again, continuing the cycle of their own upbringings. Sure, they wanted a house, but it never worked out, with Hal's modest writing career and Margaret's art not exactly filling the bank account to overflowing. After Katherine went away to college, Margaret found their ideal home, a blue Victorian at not only a great price, but also one in pretty good shape. They both fell in love with the house as soon as they walked through it, barely even hearing the agent mention that someone had died there. This house had so many incredible amenities, how could they resist?
Well, for one, it came with its own live-in housekeeper named Fredricka. She was always quietly tidying up, making a cup of tea just when Margaret needed it, and cooking delicious meals. The fact that her skull was split open was a bit off-putting though. Then there were the "pranksters," as Margaret had dubbed them - children who exhibited the brutal and gory means of each one's demise, but hardly ever said a word, except for, "He's down there," while pointing at the basement. Then there's Elias, who didn't exactly speak, but he did make sounds like the roar of a jet, and he was a biter. They learned to keep their distance. It was just one of the many rules that Margaret created so they could continue living in the house. These things were minor inconveniences, that is, until the month of September rolled around and things went a bit nuts. Blood started pouring down the walls of the third story, eventually making it down to the first floor as September marched on. The pranksters got a little bit more invasive, crowding the living inhabitants of the house. It might not sound so bad, except that Margaret would experience that person's death when she touched them. Not so much fun. Then there was the moaning, which began at midnight and continued until 6am, gaining in momentum throughout the month until it was full on screaming towards the end. Then once October rolled around, it all but stopped. Sure, Fredricka was still puttering around and the children would make quiet appearances, but it was livable. At least to Margaret.
Hal, on the other hand, found he'd had enough three years in, following an unfortunate incident with the creep who lives in the basement, Master Vale, the ghostly illegitimate son of the first house's owners. Hal was ready to throw in the towel and leave the home altogether, but Margaret dug her heels in, refusing to be pushed out of her dream home. Their marriage certainly wasn't perfect, so she just let him go. Things were fine until Katherine called, insisting she speak to her father. After all, he'd been gone a month and Margaret had been keeping this a secret from her daughter, with excuse after excuse as to why he couldn't come to the phone. Needless to say, Katherine insisted on jumping on a flight and coming to help find her dad immediately, even though she'd never actually been to the house. Of course, it was the middle of September.
Margaret called Father Cyrus, an elderly local priest who had been helping with the ghost problem, and typically, things would quiet down after he visited. But Father Cyrus' visit didn't go exactly as planned, what with the flies and all. She hoped this would buy her some peace and to be rid of Katherine before the blood started pouring again. However, Katherine would prove more tenacious than anticipated, and despite her tenuous relationship with her father, she was determined to find him.
Katherine tried getting the police involved, but they weren't much help. After all, Hal was a grown man who could leave if he wanted. Then she dragged Margaret to bar after bar, in the hopes someone would remember her dad, who was a recovering alcoholic. She finally started checking seedy motels and picked up a small trail of Hal's previous whereabouts. However, all the while, Katherine was noticing strange things at the house such as furniture and dishes being moved to odd places, a kettle being left on the stove with her mother nowhere in sight, and her mom behaving as if someone was in the room, but there was no one there. Could her mom be going insane, as Margaret's own father did before her, or was it early onset dementia? When Katherine and the police confront Margaret after some disturbing information comes to light, all will be revealed, and things will never be the same.
Although this is Carissa Orlando's first novel, it certainly feels like she's a seasoned pro. I couldn't put this book down and it's simply terrifying on so many levels. Murderous ghosts, mental illness and dementia are all pretty horrifying concepts individually and I loved the way Orlando wove these concepts throughout this story. It's a horrifying tale and just perfect for the upcoming Halloween season. Highly, highly recommended. Carissa Orlando has a new fan in me and I will be anxiously awaiting her next book.
