The
Casquette Girls
By
Alys Arden
Paranormal
Teen Romance
Seven
girls
tied by time
Five powers
That bind…
One curse
To lock the horror away
One attic
To keep the monsters at bay
tied by time
Five powers
That bind…
One curse
To lock the horror away
One attic
To keep the monsters at bay
SYNOPSIS:
After
the Storm of the century rips apart New Orleans, Adele LeMoyne wants
nothing more than for life to return to normal, but with the silent
city resembling a mold-infested war zone, a parish-wide curfew, and
mysterious new faces lurking in the abandoned French Quarter, normal
will have to be redefined.
Mother
Nature couldn’t drain the joie
de vivre from New Orleans, but
someone or something
is draining life from its residents. Events too unnatural—even for
New Orleans—lead Adele to an attic that has been sealed for three
hundred years, and the chaos she unleashes threatens not only her
life but everyone she knows.
Caught
suddenly in a hurricane of eighteenth-century myths and monsters,
Adele must untangle the web of magic that links the climbing murder
rate back to her own ancestors. But who can you trust in a city where
everyone has
a secret, and where keeping them can be a matter of life and death –
unless, that is, you’re immortal.
BUY
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EXCERPT:
I
threw my arms over my head, determined to pull it together.
The
imposing concrete wall surrounding the old Ursuline Convent was
directly across the street, which meant I was on Chartres Street,
only about six blocks from home. My hand throbbed, and I felt liquid
dripping down my arm, but before I could inspect it, a rattling noise
caught my attention. I held my breath to create perfect silence, and
heard the noise again.
From
my vantage, all I could see were the five attic windows protruding
from the slope of the convent roof – two left of center and three
on the right. (Blame my father for teaching me to always notice
symmetry.) One shutter had become detached and was hanging loosely,
rattling in the wind.
I
watched the shutter methodically flap open and snap shut again, but
the man’s dead blue eyes stained my mind. What had happened to him?
A car accident? The rhythm of the knocking wood put me into a
meditative state. My tears stopped, and my breathing evened. The
claps gradually became louder and louder, drawing my focus back to
the window.
A
rusty smell pinched my nostrils, and only then did I realize the cut
in my palm was now bleeding profusely. I untied the sash from around
my waist and wrapped it tightly around my hand. Back less than a day
and I already have two injuries. Dad is going to freak. I silently
mourned the death of the Chanel as the blood soaked through it.
Sweat
dripped down my back. Gross. I tugged at my now-damp dress and wiped
the tears from my face with the back of my bandaged hand, all the
while watching the attic window. The heat was incredible, rippling
down my torso in waves, almost feverish. Was it wrong to pray for a
cool front, I wondered, staring at the convent. Maybe just a little
breeze?
The
shutter snapped back shut. Something bothered me about it... and then
I realized what it was.
I
stopped and stood perfectly still. There was no breeze; the air was
dead. The shutter flapped back open and snapped shut again, as if
demanding my attention.
My
pulse picked up.
I
squinted up as the shutter flapped open again – there was a flash
of movement behind the panes before it swung shut again. What the
hell? I blinked the remaining water from my eyelids.
When
I looked back up, the shutter swung open.
Faint
clinking sounds came from the convent courtyard, like metal raindrops
hitting the pavement. Curious, I crossed the street and approached
the convent’s iron gate, trying to keep my eyes on the dark window
behind the shutter.
Through
the bars, the overgrown garden looked as if it had been abandoned
years ago, but then again, that’s how most of the city looked
presently. I reached for the ornate handle, but the fixture turned
downwards before I touched it. The loud clank made me jump back, and
the gate creaked open just enough to let me pass through.
A
little voice inside pleaded with me to bail, but instinct led me
through the maze of overgrown hedges as if I’d been there a hundred
times before. My eyes went back to the window and refused to look
away. As I drew closer, the wooden shutter continued to open and
close – slowly and precisely. Once I was directly underneath, I
could see the nails popping out of the matching shutter, which was
still closed. I glanced at my feet. The ground was covered in long
black carpenter nails – clearly the work of a blacksmith, not a
modern machine. Had it really been necessary to use so many nails to
secure the shutters? A tiny raindrop hit my face.
The
shutter flapped twice more, faster and faster.
It
was slowly pulling itself off the building. Only a single stake in
the center hinge kept it from falling, but it, too, was protruding,
as if being pulled by some invisible force. The cut on my hand
throbbed; the blood had soaked completely through the sash.
A
loud clap of thunder made my pulse race, but my feet still wouldn’t
carry me away. I stood motionless, neck craned, watching the shutter
wrench itself free until it was suspended by just the very tip of the
stake.
For
a brief moment, the world seemed to freeze.
Then
gravity prevailed.
My
arms flew over my head as the dangling shutter crashed three stories
to the ground – just a few inches from my feet.
The
speed with which the sky became dark felt wholly unnatural. Bigger
droplets of rain began to fall. Too stunned to move, I tried to make
sense of what had just happened.
Suddenly,
the remaining wooden shutter slammed open, and the window pane blew
outward in an explosion of showering glass. I fell to the ground and
curled into a tight ball, shielding my face. A whoosh of wind whipped
around me, and there was a loud whistle that faded into what sounded
like sardonic laughter.
This
is not happening right now. This is a dream.
The
clank of metal nearby forced me to release my tense muscles and
unwrap my arms from my head. I peeked out with one eye. The thick
iron stake that had held the shutter was rolling along the cement
towards my face, as if pulled by a magnetic force. It stopped right
before it touched my nose.
I
quickly sat up and grabbed it. The metal felt strangely powerful in
my hand, and looked like a giant nail, thick and twice the width of
my palm.
My
eyes told me I was alone, but my gut told me I wasn’t. Every ounce
of my being screamed, Get out! Now I really was trespassing, and on
the private grounds of the archdiocese.
Another
loud crack of thunder made me scramble to my feet.
The
wrought-iron gate banged shut behind me, just as the chapel bells
began to clang in the background.
EDITORIAL
REVIEW QUOTES:
“Debut
author Arden offers readers a full plate of Southern gothic
atmospherics and sparkling teen romance in a patiently crafted tale
that will best reward careful readers... Satisfying teen
entertainment but also a cathartic, uncompromising tribute to New
Orleans.” — Kirkus
Reviews
"In
the way that it fuses the experience of adolescence, the city of New
Orleans, history, magic and vampires, THE CASQUETTE GIRLS can't help
but be a fun adventure, but more than that, it's a smart story with a
surprising amount of emotional depth." –
IndieReader
AUTHOR
INFO:
Alys
Arden grew up in the Vieux Carré,
cut her teeth on the streets of New York, and has worked all around
the world since. She still plans to run away with the circus one day.
Website:
www.thecasquettegirls.com
Twitter:
www.twitter.com/alysarden
GIVEAWAY:
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